Monday, June 2, 2014

On Family

The artist. That's him and his brother in the photo. They're were my grandmother's nephews and they lived all their lives in their mother's house without ever getting married. The one I'm referring to, the youngest, eventually grew up to become an architect that loved to paint/draw and collect art. When my grandfather died, my grandmother decided to pass her nephew's sketches onto me. Each one is signed and dated and each one has something that I love. I've always felt lucky to own them, but today while cleaning the room I decided to finally scan and show them. 
Somehow I get a glimpse of what was he like with his caricatures, his graphic aesthetics and his obvious fascination with movement in sports. 
Even though I never saw photos of him as an adult I can almost picture him sitting on a big leather armchair, with a deep frown and cigarette, sketching on his lap until he's interrupted for some reason, my guess would be dinner being served.

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