Stinson Fog

It was revealed to me in 2012 that in 1962 I gave a painting as a wedding present to some friends of mine who had gotten married in 1957. I was informed I gave the painting to the bride with the words, “Here, I was waiting to give this to you until I was sure the marriage would last.” This painting has returned to haunt me mainly because I have, seriously, no memory of it. In early December of 2012 when I saw it in the flesh (as it were) I did recognize it as my own work but, although I have searched my memory, my conscience and my cuticles, I cannot remember when and where I painted it.

For most of its existence it has been hanging unframed in a basement rec room in Charlotte, NC where the man of the house went to hang out and, well, smoke his brains out. The painting obviously suffered the consequences along with those brains. Through a labyrinthine process the painting finally made its way from the first owner to a daughter to a nephew to a sister and finally back to me. I took it, cleaned it, had it framed and officially named it Stinson Fog. I was reluctant to actually date its creation because of the aforementioned lack of evidence but, nonetheless, it has been preserved and has started its reverse trip to ownership, presumably stopping with nephew.