Owed To My Father

Art must be an expression of love or it is nothing. ~ Marc Chagall Years ago I took an abstract painting course. Our teacher advised us that the dollar store is the abstract artists friend, & encouraged us to look there for things that we could stick onto the canvas to boost our creativity. The night before, I’d been watching an episode of "Chopped" on the Food Network. Four chefs compete with mystery baskets to create the best & most creative food. In the dessert round, one clever chef took the giant ostrich egg they’d given him, and made a custard & peach dessert. He turned a half peach upside down to look like an egg yolk, surrounding it with custard to make the custard look like the egg white. Thus the entire dessert looked like a fried egg, but was instead peach in custard. With this episode floating inconspicuously in the far reaches of my unconscious mind, I went off to the dollar store to see what treasures I could find. There, I spotted the styrofoam balls, a number of things clicked into place, & my idea was born. When I was diagnosed with cancer, it came to me that it was time to complete this painting, preferably before I had my surgery. Somehow, I thought it would have some kind of healing effect on me. To understand where the idea for this painting comes from, you need to know the background story, & why such an idea occurred to me in the dollar store that day. When I was 13, my breasts, were of course starting to develop. As friends started getting their first bras, one of them pointed out that I should do the same. So I went to my mother, explained & asked. She said she’d take me shopping that weekend to buy it. When the weekend arrived however, my father wanted to do a big clean up. He wanted the garage & the house cleaned, & he wanted me at home to help. I explained that I could not stay to help, as I had to go shopping with Mum. "Why?" he asked, "Can't she just get what you need?" "No," I explained, "I have to go with her, because we are going to buy me a bra." "Can't she just pick it up for you?" "No, I need to go with her." "Why?" I remember wondering how it was that he would not know why. Perhaps he didn't know anything about women and bras? I sighed, "Because, Dad, I have to try it on!" "What, try it on? All she has to do, is tell the lady behind the counter, 'two fried eggs'!" It is precisely this type of sarcastic, wonky sense of humour I share, which is owed to my father. And so, I present to you: Owed To My Father