The Flying Dutchman
In 1996 on a weekday night I drove our old Pontiac to the store and bought a few groceries. It was a wierd thing, coming home from shopping on a meager income in a piece of crap car in pouring down rain. I turned onto a road that always scared me because on one side of the road was a deep dark ravine ending in the Tennessee River as you crossed a huge bridge, on the other side was the huge smoke stack of the Bull Run Paper Mill.
But, I made it home. Shaken.
but on this night, I drove in and I looked to my right and there on the window was something so interesting, like someone painted me a picture with rain.
The image was a worn and tattered ship. I went inside the house, brought the groceries - my boyfriend was working, he did not bother to help. I went back out with tracing paper and pencil and sketched it from inside the car.
I spent the next 3 weeks thinking about it and did research on ghost ships, the only one that I found any info on was the flying dutchman.
so I painted my piece.
a year later, on one day, we had moved to another house, one I did not care for, but we had to move, the other house sold, we had a visit from my boyfriend's father and stepmother, they came through the front door and Ginger (my boyfriends stepmother) exclaimed when she saw the dutchman piece which stood before her on the wall opposite the door. She went over to it and she stared at it long and hard. I stood beside her.
I said, "what is it?"
she said, "this piece is about life isn't it?"
I said, well I dunno, is it? She said yes, she said it was all darkness and strife and not knowing what will happen next and the dark waters are all around you, but there is just this hint of light, there on the horizon.
Seems simple, or even not that profound but to me it made sense.
she was right.
I never know what a piece is saying until someone tells me later. Thankyou Ginger.
