Last year I wrote here about meeting up with a great fellow who had been touched by my telling him about the painting “Head of Christ” that Mary had donated to the church where she is now buried. Evidently the pastor at that time had found it too intense for him and had it stashed it in a closet in his office where he showed it to me on the day of her funeral.
In August I again visited the church to pay my respects to my mother where she is buried in the memorial garden, by the lush plant in the photo. Within the building by a picture window overlooking the garden are two plaques with small brass plates bearing the names of all buried there. Her name is in the first column.
On this 2022 visit I sought out the gentleman who had been so kind to me last year and who had brought the painting up from the church basement where it had been propped against a wall for who knows how long.
Over the year we had maintained an occasional correspondence about life and about the painting. It was too intense for either us as it turns out. The eyes can seem to follow one wherever it hangs. He couldn’t find a good spot for it at home and offered to return it to me.
I am blessed to have dozens of my mother’s paintings in my home, and I collect the work of other artists as well. And then there is the practical fact that I am Jewish by religion and Buddhist by spiritual practice so this large and intense portrait of Jesus Christ wouldn’t work for me at home. It wasn’t appropriate for my psychotherapy office either, being of such a religious and highly personal nature. Therapists generally do not even display photographs of their family members where they meet with patients.
I said I’d come get it on my next trip to Maine, and in the meantime I began to search for a new home for this unusual painting.
I showed the photograph to everyone. I offered it to several friends, none of whom felt it was right for them. I contacted the Eastern Orthodox Church near my home to see if they would like it, given its iconic character. I offered to have it appropriately framed, imagining an ornate gilt frame worthy of the sacred subject. The only way I was able to communicate with the church at that time was by email, due to COVID. Perhaps it was because of COVID that I never received a response.
So I texted the Camden acquaintance who had the painting when my friend and I were back in Maine in the summer of 2022 and found he was still working at the church. We arranged to meet him there. After hugs all around and again paying my respects to my mother I asked about the painting.
In the interim he had shown it to friends. One day a young woman in the area saw the painting and said she would love to have it. Now it graces a room in her home, welcomed and loved and exactly where it belongs. I was so happy to learn that this unusual and beautiful painting now has the home it deserves and is bringing joy to someone who cherishes it.
And so this saga continues to unfold as it will. One day all that you or I own of such a significant nature will belong to others. Such is life. Galleries, showrooms, antique stores, collectibles shops and thrift stores are filled with this largesse. Sadly, even landfills and garbage dumps contain beautiful objects and personal treasures no one wanted anymore. Cherish what you have in this life and gift it to those who love it while you can. Do make sure your loved ones know what you want them to have when your time here is done. And in the meantime, may you be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.
