When I got up this morning, I was saddened to hear of the passing of Andrew Wyeth. My mom read a quote to me from an article about his life, and it was spooky because his was one of the portraits I’d been looking at just last Sunday, when I felt like the paintings were communicating with me:
But his granddaughter, Victoria Wyeth, told The Associated Press in 2008 that he no longer gave interviews. “He says, ‘Vic, everything I have to say is on the walls,'” she said.
We went to look again at his paintings at the NC Museum of Art today, partly because I had the thought that they might be requested some day soon for a retrospective, and partly, to pay our respects. I know we both admired him, not just for his great talent and skill, but for his independence from the trends within the art world. He really did his own thing, which, I think, is one of the biggest and best things anyone can strive for.
This morning also, a Christmas card marked “return to sender” was in with our mail. I had meant to call our friend Dottie to wish her a happy birthday on December 21st, but had a sad and worried feeling about it. I knew she hadn’t been well, but I now know that she was no longer with us at that time. She was a truly good and honest person. I liked her and trusted her completely, from the first time I talked to her. I never had one doubt about her. I often dreamed of walking to her house to visit her, only to wake up to realize I lived many hours away. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to NY to see her again, but she will remain, for me, a barometer by which I measure the goodness and the honesty in other people.
