When I grow up Ill be a painter
too.
Near the end of World War II, when I
was three years old, I moved to a very large house on Fifth Avenue
in
the small town of Union City, PA. There I lived with my grandparents,
my parents, my sister Paula, my aunt and uncle, the Goldfinches,
and my cousin Bobby. Grandfather was in a wheel chair and had become
senile and argumentative and my grandmother could no longer handle
him and the house. My memories of everyone, including my grandfather,
are wonderful.
My grandmother, Clara Baker, had retired
from teaching and seemed happy to have children around again. Based
on a drawing I made that first year, she decided I was destined
to be a painter. She supplied me with art materials and read the
biographies of artists at bed-time. Since then, I have never wanted
to be anything other than an artist.
My parents, Mavis and Paul Hulings were
indulgent, if not entirely enthusiastic, and took me to almost all
the museums I requested. They gave me an unlimited budget to buy
the post card sized reproductions of the paintings I loved best.
Over time, my bedroom walls were papered with art.
These paintings recall the painters who
allowed me to believe I could be a painter too. The large group
portrait, The Lost Lautrec, includes, from left to right, Picasso,
Soutine, Monet, Laurencin, Gauguin, my cat Rascal, me in my Brownie
uniform, Vuillard and Lautrec.
Janet Hulings Bleicken 2017
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