DADS ART BY FIONA CUMMINGS

DADS ART

I have always wanted to paint. Even when I could see, I loved drawing though I wasn’t really any good. But in my mind, I paint. I have beautiful art all around the walls of my mind but then there is a corner of what can only be described as modern art, well, that is the kind words for it.

 

Imagine for people who are blind, if they could put their pictures into words. Obviously, we can’t see art, but we can write it? My weird painting the other day was as follows.

A face but not necessarily human, kind of mystical, alien. Peering through what could be interpreted into long thin petals from flowers. In my head they were Japanese. And I don’t even know why I say that as I don’t know what any Japanese flowers look like. But these were really elongated abstract as they were abnormally long. Really thin. Different shades of reds and orange. The face could be seen in the gaps of the petals but the petals if you look at them in another way, could represent flames from the fire.

Most of the painting was taken up by the red flickers of petals. Now, where on earth did that come from? And who would want that on their wall? Not me that’s for sure an yet day three I am still seeing that painting.

 

Most of my mind paintings are of white horses running along the sandy beach just next to the edge of the water with its white frothy waves and salt spraying backwards as the horse gallops along. It’s main and tail is floating back away from the wind!

 

I have other horse paintings and angels as well as fairy pictures. And another one I love is a long wide river with edged greenery and in the distance just under a bridge, there is a fisherman. Now I’m a vegetarian and I don’t like people who kill any kind of creatures, so, why on earth would I have a fisherman?

 

I could go on forever to tell you about what pictures I have painted in my mind. But I wondered if anyone else has done this? May be people who used to be artists and now are blind? Or just maybe I have an overactive mind and deep down, I’m trying to keep alive images in my mind. But then why would I have this vivid piece of art with the floral flames?

Just weird.

 

Some people are very exact when they describe photographs or even in their writing. What if they put their words out there as in some kind of art work? So, people who are blind can sit and imagine a beautiful picture?

 

Some very kind readers tell me I have written something that makes them feel as if they were there at the same time as me. I love that as that is what I want. I want you to escape with me. Some people can read something like a book, and get into that world. So, why can’t they also get into a picture? There are so many writers out there who never get published. You don’t have to have books out there to be a good writer.

 

What is art? It’s normally a visual thing. But for those who don’t have the gift of sight, what do they do for art?

 

If you are blind, do you have pictures on your walls at home? It’s something I haven’t asked my friends who are blind. But I have pictures/paintings. Would I have. Had if I had been born blind? I couldn’t answer that as how would I know? I am sure my Husband wouldn’t have pictures on the wall, though we went on holiday some years ago and he bought me the most beautiful painting in the most exquisite frame.  But that was because he knew I love pictures. In my sitting room it hangs on the wall. It’s a really thick piano black frame that is slightly shaped. It features the head of the most stunning. (In my imagination) white tiger. She is a tiger from a safari park in the UK. She has the brightest blue eyes. Obviously, I don’t know what she really looks like, but she is beautiful inside of my head.

 

I love this because I know she is a real animal.

I have many paintings in my sitting room, but this one is the only really good one. The rest are not at all expensive and are painted by a local man to where I used to live. They are all the castles of my beautiful homeland of Northumberland. We have a large lovely canvas picture of our wedding day and a couple of chunky wooden things like a Braille barometer and a log with a carving of a chalet from Austria. I have a small canvas of my Son when he was little too. On my landing, and at the bottom of our stairs, I have the loveliest silver thick carved frames with paintings of angels on canvas.  And I have some plates too mainly with horses and dogs on. And finally, a picture of my Dad and myself which I treasure as it’s the only picture I have of him.

 

When the picture of me and my Dad was taken, I could see. So, I remember the picture really well, I have to keep thinking about it as when you don’t see something for so long, your memory forgets. And it’s been over twenty years since I saw that photograph, so it’s getting more faded as the years go by, but I hope I will never forget it totally. Last year I went to my Dads picture. It was his birthday. I always go to his photograph and say some words. As I don’t have a grave stone to attend. And I was heartbroken as I couldn’t remember which side of the picture my Dad was, and which side I was on? That was awful. And that memory never came back to me. But I know it’s the two of us and I know what I was wearing as I remember what my Dad had on. It’s a close up of the two of us. But which side is Dad on?