Flipping through Dad’s sketchbooks (there were many, but I didn’t have time to document every last drawing or, in truth, to look at every single sketch - a project for another trip…), it was strange to see myself making an occasional appearance on the page.
He did a few drawings of me sitting at my dining room table under a rustic lamp we both liked and installed when we tackled a renovation project together back in the 90s. I had been writing for years already by that time, mostly shorter pieces, and was working on my first novels for children.
While he sketched and took some reference photos, we talked about places where writers could feel welcome to sit awhile, and where writing (and art) culture was celebrated. We both imagined a Paris café with a red and white tablecloth and a friendly waiter who would happily ply the local wordsmith with coffee or wine during daily visits to the café for writing sessions.
It’s because of this Paris side conversation that we decided to pose me with a glass of wine and a bottle on the table. Truth is, I don’t drink much at all and never when writing (it’s hard enough to string semi-coherent thoughts together when I’m sober). So - this is sort of a creative non-fiction portrait…
We spoke many times about how great it would be to take a trip to Paris together - he would sketch and I’d write as we each captured the experience of the day in our own ways. The closest we came to accomplishing this was years later when I spent a few months living in Paris.
Dad emailed me with his visual wish lists and sent me off to take photos of boats on the Seine, cyclists, and pedestrians, which I dutifully emailed back… During the recent cataloging process of all his artwork, I found sketches inspired by those photos as well as a few finished paintings that are a strange hybrid of my experience and his interpretation of what I had seen.
Now, working on the graphic novel memoir of his life feels like I’m engaged in the reverse process (with more scribbly drawings and cartoons and no oil paint…). He has provided me with a LOT of raw visual material out of which I am hoping a cohesive story will, at some point, emerge.
But it’s proving to be a difficult task in part because he left behind so much with which to work. I can’t include every painting sale, every conversation we ever had, every crazy building project we took on, every notebook, scrap of paper, sketch, drawing or finished work… but there’s enough hard evidence of his life as an artist and the impact that had on me that I don’t need to make much up.
That’s both reassuring and onerous. There’s a lot of decision-making to do and it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed.
So, I’m trying not to overthink this too much, to tackle smaller moments and capture them. Later, the accumulation of a stack of moments will reflect something of who he was and how he shaped who I am today.
By the way, if you are on Facebook and if you happen to know of anyone who has a painting by E. Colin Williams, please follow his artist page and share what you know. (or, share the page to see how effectively we can leverage the hive mind…) I’m trying to track down works from each decade of his life and I’ll gather them there.
Thanks for reading!
What a lovely way to honor your Dad and his legacy. I have quite a few of my Dad’s paintings and sketches and it definitely makes me feel closer to him, though he wasn’t nearly as prolific as your father!