Where Lethe Runs Dry

This is an old oil painting. It’s not good, even by my low standards, and I can’t deny it might even be kitschy. It was just an experiment, and an experiment is what one does when one doesn’t know what one is doing. I wouldn’t have posted this painting if I had chanced upon a more successful piece on the same theme. The reason I’m posting it now is because I’m reading a biography on Henry James and I’m at a part where many of his family and friends are dying. That brought to the fore remembrances of people I knew who have passed away. They weren’t expatriate literati or cosmopolitan aristocrats, but they certainly deserve some sort of memorial. This piece is not ideal, but it’s all I had on hand to pay a silent tribute and pensive farewell to all those who have stepped over the threshold. “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

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One Response to “Where Lethe Runs Dry”

  1. Jeanie says:

    Jeff, I truly LOVE this painting. I think the details, colors, and images are remarkable. The sensitivity, yet power, of this composition touched my heart. If I had possession of it, I would immediately take down my Bouguereau print above the guest bed and replace it with this. TRUTH! You just don’t realize what a tremendous and awesome artist you are. Take it from your big sis because there is no doubt in my mind that your talent and skill are masterful. I’m so glad, when we were mere children, that I encouraged you to become an artist. You’re welcome.

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