Sometimes in life, an unexpected opportunity shows up, often when we need it most.
Jim came to painting late in life, carrying preconceived ideas, many of which he picked up from his father Cyril, an academic painter, and from general cultural beliefs and notions about what makes an artist.
This is what makes his story remarkable. Despite the obstacles, Jim took the leap. He stopped only admiring art from the sidelines and began creating art himself.
His newfound freedom to create infused him with new energy and brought to life unexpected treasures.
This is how it happened.
⏐
Dad Becomes a Painter
by Robin Mills
In his mid 80's, many big things were fading away from Dad's life. It was an uncomfortable time of new vulnerabilities; it wasn't easy for him at all. One afternoon while he was visiting me in New Mexico I could sense boredom and irritation setting in. I decided that we might try painting.
He was open to it. I cleared the kitchen counter and brought out the supplies. I got out paper and brushes, pots of water, some rags, a palette for each of us, and lots of acrylic paint. We jumped in. I could tell right away that he kinda liked it. Yes, it was brand new and totally unfamiliar but I watched him get drawn into it. He gravitated to the color orange immediately and that color remained a favorite color choice. He picked one very bright color after another. That day he painted a little landscape with a palm tree. I thought to myself, "He has a real knack for this." I sat across from him and painted also but he was so involved with his own painting he barely noticed mine. "Wow" I thought, "This is something for him." I'm not sure if he still has that first painting but I do know he took it home in his suitcase along with a few others from that first day.
When he went home, we decided to keep going. Very soon I was helping him order all his own supplies and an easel. We painted over Skype every Saturday around noon-time for a couple of hours. That went on for a year and a half.
We were quiet for long stretches when we painted. If he felt stuck in some way, we stopped and talked about it. If he became judgemental, we would stop and talk about that. I routinely encouraged him not to take any of his critical thoughts too seriously and to go back to feeling out where he felt drawn to go next in the painting. Just make that next mark, I would tell him. Sometimes he really disliked his painting and, when that happened, I shared with him that it is totally OK to dislike or even hate your painting at certain points but to keep open to it if only just for a little. If he really hated it I said "Well, start a new one, but do not throw this one away." I shared from personal experience that later he might come back to it and see it with fresh eyes and feel happy it was still there and that he had not destroyed it. I'd learned that the hard way, I told him. There was only one thing I really insisted on as we painted: that he be kind to himself and his creations. We painted and painted and before long he had quite a few paintings. I noticed this pleased him – having a growing body of work.
He had trepidation as many do with the blank canvas and where to find inspiration, as he called it. He looked in art books, began by choosing a picture he felt attracted to, and then set out to copy it. I saw this worked for him and reminded him to go his own way if he couldn't match what he was looking at. I called that "making it your own." I was always trying to get him to experiment without a preconceived starting point. I called that "just jump in". Sometimes he went along and tried that. I give him great credit for that because I knew it had probably been 80 years since he had drawn freely as a child. Those completely original paintings have more figures in them. Some of them are exceptionally bold and quite evocative. They are precious and in a way it is miraculous that they found their way into self expression at all. Many visual surprises emerged and I asked him to share what he saw in the images and how they made him feel. We always did this at some point. Sometimes he would say a little something but mostly that part remained inaccessible and difficult for him, like an unsolved mystery.
In our shared sessions I found myself painting subject matter that was clearly stimulated by being with him. That was not always easy, but it was revealing. It was unusual in our history to spend time quietly doing our own thing side by side. Sometimes for me it was very emotional.
We went on like this for months. Before long he was mixing paints, using a palette knife, and finding out what he liked. I taught him about "happy accidents," how sometimes the best part of a painting happens by accident when we smudge it or the paint drips or we mix colors and things get a little wild or even what we might call ugly. I showed him about going with all of that and slowly I repeated again and again how he could not make a mistake. I am pretty sure he never believed me.
We got to share a world a little bit like kindergarten. A place of play which he embraced occasionally and where he could also be serious without fear of being told it was incorrect. That safe open space was pretty new to him. He has a thing about wanting his images to look "right". I attempted to share that if you are painting from feeling, things will not necessarily look like they do objectively. They will take on qualities of line and shape and color that express feeling, and when you paint like that there is absolutely no right or wrong ever. Sometimes he seemed to soften with that. Sometimes not.
After several months, I found art therapist Deb del Signore. She could come to his apartment and carry on, which she has. She helped him tackle his desire to draw things from life and how they look to his eye. That proved to be very hard for him but he gave it a good try, which I feel was important for him because he wanted to do that. I am sure he felt that kind of technique is a necessary skill to call oneself "a real artist". That is one of those deep beliefs he brought with him into his creative journey. But, I feel his most powerful paintings are not like that at all. They are much freer and express something deeper.
I believe Dad's weekly meeting with Deb is one of the brightest spots of his week. I wanted Dad to continue because my hope was he would not only enjoy himself and keep his hands and mind engaged, but that he might discover personal meaning and connection in the images he created. I know the profound value of that and I so wanted him to be able to have some of that for himself.
He is a man of few words and, with the Parkinson's, words don't come easily or at all, so he will not be able to share with me in words the meaning and significance he has found in his own imagery. But he has wanted to continue painting despite many health crises and all kinds of difficulties. For me, that is a sign he has found something in it that continues to mean something to him.
I am grateful this is so.
“Dad & Me” - By Robin Mills
©2025 Robin Mills