Page 28 of Who's Playing You
“The work is, well, all over, I suppose. Some private collections, some museums, and so on. That said, there are a few local exhibits and museums that do have a select few pieces on display.”
“Fantastic. And are those by the head honchos, the best guys from the school?”
I laughed yet again. “Well, I guess that’s a matter of opinion much like who you’d consider a head honcho. But Vassar actually has a section of their museum on campus dedicated to the Hudson Valley River School and has a few paintings by Thomas Cole, Asher Durand and Frederic Church.”
“Vassar?”
“Yeah, that’s a private university across the river in Poughkeepsie.”
“Oh, that’s not far.”
“Not at all.”
“So, can we go? Can you take me - show me? We can consider it one of our sessions.”
“Oh, um, sure. If that’s what you’d like. They have a beautiful campus and even though their museum isn’t too big by comparison to some of the larger and maybe better-known ones, it is extremely impressive. They have quite the selection in their permanent collection as well as in the exhibits they put on throughout the year.”
“See! I knew I picked the right person for the job. You know all about this.”
“Well, it’s kind of my thing.”
“Right. You’re right with that. And you said Church? As in the guys at the school had a church?”
“Oh, no, that’s the last name of one of the guys in the school. Frederic Church. He’s actually quite fascinating. He builta moorish castle on the banks of the Hudson River a little bit up-river from here.”
“A moorish castle?”
I grinned at him and his wonderment. “Yeah, so he and his wife traveled to the Middle East and he was so enamored and influenced by the artistry there that he brought some of those elements home with him, and when he designed and ultimately built his home on a hillside above the river, he incorporated quite a few elements. You can best see them in the window and door designs as well as the different artistic flourishes on the house, or I guess it would be considered a mansion. Some of the furniture and interior is also a nod to the Middle East, showcasing a few pieces he bought and shipped back, too.”
“That’s amazing. But you said castle.”
“Well, yeah. I guess by some it is considered that. It’s beautiful. I was fortunate enough to get a private tour of the house some time ago, while it was closed to the public because it was undergoing some renovations. And my friend, who was a curator there at the time, brought me into Church’s studio, which was the room that had windows on three sides and literally looked North and South up and down the river, and west over at the Catskill Mountains. There were art supplies laying around and a half finished painting on an easel. It was as if he had just walked out of the room to get a drink or something. It was just… beautiful.”
“Wow. That sounds so incredible - a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You said your friend was a curator there? So I assume that means the house isn’t a private residence, is it a museum?"
“It’s actually a New York State park of sorts because Church owned quite a bit of land and he designed the grounds so that the horse-drawn carriages coming to his house, or people on horseback or on foot, had to wind to and fro on the road as itclimbed the hill to the house. And while the road turned this way or that, parts of the house would be revealed - just little glimpses, a tease. Until you finally crested the hill and the house was there like a beacon. It’s very dramatic.”
“That sounds like another excursion for us after the Vassar trip,” he beamed at me.
I grinned at him and then looked out over the overlook. “I guess that in moments like this one, where I take in this beautiful view and my mind is conjuring up ways to capture it on paper or canvas, that it makes me feel a little more connected to those masters. Ya know? Does that seem weird?”
“Not at all. In fact, now that you shared that nugget of history with me, without ever having seen those guys’ work, I too feel more connected to them, to the history of this place, but also to the natural surroundings here. It reminds us that we’re just visitors.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Just visitors. I like that,” I told him honestly.
“So, boss, tell me what to do so I too can strive to become a master like those maestros,” he just smiled at me as he held a paintbrush in one hand and twisted a wing of a pretend mustache in the other.
I laughed. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, calling me boss. I’ll have youplein airoil painting in no time then.”
“Oh Scottie,” he said on an exhale. “You’ll soon learn how you can probably get me to do just about anything you say.” He said the last thing on a quieter exhale, making me wonder if he meant for me to hear it or not.
But also,what?
14
NICK SOBA
Scottie and I had had the literal best morning getting acquainted before we spent the rest of the day making art. I had thought I’d probably have to fake my way through the wholeartpart of everything, but with her at my side, it was actually… amazing.
