The Afternoon Knows

The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.

Robert Frost

This portrait of me, by Hendrik Grise, sits on the mantle above the fireplace. It moved around the condo for a few years and eventually, settled where it is now. I have considered moving it to a less visible location. Nevertheless, it remains where it is. I’m torn between not wanting to see this reminder of a younger me and being nostalgic for that time. Over the years, the painting has inspired a couple of pieces I have written

Hendrick Grise was teaching commercial art and figure drawing classes at a small college in California when I first met him. During the heyday of fashion illustration he worked for many of the large, luxury, department stores in New York and Los Angeles. Besides teaching, he painted nudes and abstract images. Exhibiting and selling his work didn’t interest him. He was more concerned with his own desire to create. He did do a show with Henry Miller, writer and watercolor artist. Looking back, I see why he and Miller were friends. They had in common their lifestyle and views on sexuality.

At the time, I was infatuated with him. He was forty years older than I and a father figure. I didn’t know my father, so I might have been looking for a substitute. Looking back on it, he definitely was not father material. In those days I could listen to him talk for hours. His life sounded so worldly and glamorous to a young women who grew up in a small resort town where the most exciting thing to happen was the tourists arriving in the summer. I don’t think I could have imagined a life like his really existed.

Fifty years later, looking up at the painting above the fireplace, I see that women and how her actions shaped who I am today. Maybe that’s why I keep the painting where it is. All these years later, she still is a part of who I am.