The finished Version . . . I think . . .

The man in the portrait is my Papa Joe -- my Great Grandfather I think, I've always called him Papa Joe -- who died around this time last year at 92.

The piece is sort of an exploitation of the overwhelming capabilities of death beyond taking a life. Papa Joe was to me one of those people who I had never pictured the world without, even if I only saw him a couple times a year. I'm fully aware that one day my friends, my parents, my peers and myself will one day be gone, but the thought never occurred to me that I would outlive him, go to his funeral, etc. So that was a very surreal experience, and it all happened very quickly at a time where there was a lot going on. As much as I wanted everything to stop it didn't, and I was more aware than ever of the world's ability just keep spinning.

Even stranger was this past year. I feel like Papa Joe has moved to a different place in the consciousness of my family. It seems that his memory brings thoughts of sadness rather than happiness, and that when it's possible we avoid mentioning him, regardless of how relevant he may be to the conversation. He was always a fun guy, the kind where he would do something that would normally make you angry but since it was him you'd laugh instead (IE: Leaving a mitt in the oven on Christmas and filling the whole house with smoke).

It just seems that all his happiness and liveliness has been outframed by his death and now we don't look at the picture, pretty as it is. The context reigns over the content.

Oil on canvas
22" x 50"

PS: Coffin Shaped canvases are harder to stretch than rectangular ones . . . >.<