Ordinary Saturday Morning 

For as opposite as he was of you both - you were all the best of each other. In this painting, it was my intent to paint the movement of all of your years spent together as best friends. Saturday mornings taking over a Panera bread, loudly telling the stories from the week's happenings. Him cutting raw chicken with one hand and handing you something to eat with the same hand ten seconds later. Something that felt busy and chaotic - with no real beginning and more importantly no way to identify an end. Something that fit into your home as perfectly as he did, and be loved just as much (though the painting is by far more quiet.)

So much life. So many memories. So much contrast and movement. I asked my Dad. I said please give me some energy so I can make Rhonda something that she will love. And please make it look nothing like something you would pick out, because your tastes in things are very different. But please just be there so it can be really special, and remind them of all of the parts of themselves you brought, even if it was all so ordinary at the time. 

I see in this painting the bright white hill snow hills we would sled on, all of your chic black cars and nice black boots. Easter and Thanksgiving dinners - your brownies always with powdered sugar on top. Brownies are still my favorite dessert but none of them are ever like yours. I see fussed over brand new sweater vests in the winter for the holidays and dairy queen at twilight on the weekends when we were all still so young. 

This painting is a portrait of not necessarily the pictures that make up all of the memories - but a picture of the variances of contrast, movement and frequency that we operate at over a lifetime of friendship and family. Because you are my Godmother, I always grew up secretly thinking that I too would end up fancy and successful by association. Thank you for giving me that gift, and thank you for all of our ordinary days together, that through time and change became extraordinary. Thank you for inspiring this art, and for being such an important part of my family.