I was the classic kid who couldn’t draw a straight line. That’s what I said about myself from early childhood. Yet I’ve always loved art and there’s plenty of talent in my family.
My Great Uncle Hymie (my maternal Grandfather’s brother) was a world-class New York artist, better known as Francis Hyman Criss or just Francis Criss. Not a lot of famous 20th century artists named Uncle Hymie lol. When my parents were married he gave them a painting as a wedding gift. It stayed in our living room or dining room our entire young lives.
Painted in the 30s, the dapper young Uncle Hymie can be seen in the foreground.
As a kid I knew in theory that Uncle Hymie was supposed to be an important artist, but unless you were Picasso, I didn’t know what that meant.
When we kids grew up and left home, my father sold the home and its contents, including the painting.
About 15 years ago I was an eBay junkie. I found an industrial lithograph made by Uncle Hymie in the 30s, a time when the government-sponsored WPA paid artists to keep them going. I’ve had it ever since and it while it’s not particularly exciting I keep it in a prominent place.
A decade ago with the explosion of the Internet, I looked up my Great Uncle. Not only was there tons of information confirming his importance, but there was the painting, Morning in Florence, that I had grown up with. It was hanging in a New York City gallery and the 6-figure price tag ensured that I’d never see it again.
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In 1965 I was 12 years old. My parents, who were close and shared many hobbies, started painting. It quickly became a daily obsession. Each evening they sat on either side of their king-sized bed and painted, often with the TV going. Their painting styles were consistent with their personalities. My father was meticulous and took a month or more to do a painting. My mother was free flowing and once she found a photo or image she liked would often knock out a painting in a day or two. They were amateurs, but talented amateurs. I have nothing from my father but thanks to my sister’s generosity have one very small still life done by my mother. In the lower right hand corner you can see A (for Aileen) ’65.
So, when we built our house in the Philippines I wanted art. Of course over the years I’d collected various simple (meaning cheap) works of art and a half dozen framed photographs. So there were things to hang in the new house.
But I wanted Philippines art. Over a couple of years Janet and I had looked a little bit and seen stuff we liked but nothing that really said, “this is it.”
Then in July we were in Bravo Resort in Sibulan, north of Dumaguete. The hotel lobby had 4 paintings by an artist named Boy Mata. I asked the Front Desk Clerk about the artist; he only knew that he was out of Manila. I found his Facebook page and sent him a message asking what he had available and for how much. I told Janet not to get her hopes too high because in all likelihood the work would be beyond our budget.
A couple days later Boy sent us 8 images with sizes and prices. We narrowed our choices to two and since this is the Philippines asked “Last price?” Boy lowered the price, found a shipper who could send the painting to Dumaguete. We agreed to split the shipping charge. Boy sent me pics of the painting being packed and the shipping receipt. Three days later we received the painting and Janet and I were ecstatic! We took a picture and sent it to Boy. To my surprise he didn’t respond.
A week later I got a message from his daughter. Boy Mata had passed away the night before. In all likelihood we were his last customers.
I don’t know how to feel about the death of someone I don’t really know and yet feel that I do. We certainly feel blessed that we were able to discover his work and purchase one before his passing.
And as Janet always says, “Life is short. Enjoy it while you can!”
I really like all 4 of those.
Thanks Doug. So do we!
A touching story. Any day could be our last. Good to think about that at least once a day.
Thanks Reed.