So ... A friend asked me to do something for them ~ complete two paintings her father started but didn't finish before he died. I said yes.

This artwork above was almost abandoned several times 

as the demands of my teaching job made 

painting such a detailed drawing almost impossible. 

It took two months to finally finish it. I am so glad I did. 

You can see it here.

I was recently engaged in a chat, over lunch, with my friend Lisa about starting and finishing creative work. We talked about how the creative leap into a new work can be thrilling; a bit of an adrenaline rush. But, if the work has complex issues to resolve including grammatical editing or re-sketching areas of what was thought to be a final drawing, much gets housed into filing cabinets, wicker baskets or cut into bits for re-use.     

I pencil sketched this work, started painting it, 

tipped the water cup and it was lost. 

I cut up the paper for other use and started again. 

I added to our talk, between bites of egg salad / tuna salad sandwiches, that I truly believe that the craft of writing and of art is to return to those creative pieces and doing the work needed to finish them. I spoke of a poem that I wrote a few years back titled, Roof Walkers. I had submitted it for publication, received a "Sorry, this work isn't for us" email, pulled it out from my files two years later, re-worked the language and stanzas, resubmitted it to the same journal and got a second email from them accepting it for publication. Art, written, painted or otherwise, is a commitment

Yet, what happens when an artist starts a work and then finds themselves in a race to complete it as their declining health impacts their ability to see, hold a brush, open their computer or mentally understand what the brush and paint do? They may have advancing dementia, Parkinson's, arthritis or have been injured in a fall or accident. Too, they may die before they finish the few remaining brush strokes or write the last dozen pages of their memoir. 

There are many examples of books being completed by another after the author dies before finishing the final draft. One of these is "Poodle Springs." Raymond Chandler completed four chapters of this novel before his death. The author Robert B. Parker was later commissioned to complete the remainder of the book. 

These works are posthumous publications. There are also sequel novels written after the original author of an established series dies. These are called continuation novels and sustain the style of the previous books in the series. 

Works of art by established, deceased artists are generally finished or repaired by a museum conservator. These are highly trained staff who work to sustain the integrity and longevity of the art. I have heard, not read, of work being completed by a friend, family member or gallery owner who had worked with the artist for decades and knew that selling the final artwork would be significant to the inheritance funds for family, and perhaps them too. 

Yet, not everyone: friend,  family member, or collaborator is comfortable dabbling paint onto a started canvas in an attempt to finish it. Some hold on to those incomplete pieces for years in hopes they meet someone they trust the work with having seen their art at large. 

I knew my friend T's father was an artist and that he had completed many works in his lifetime. What I didn't know was that he hoped he could finish a pair of rose paintings before he died, but didn't. T had held onto both unfinished works for over a decade. Last year, she noted my artwork via my social media accounts. She decided I was the person that could finally finish them.

We worked together and so one day she just asked me if I could do it. If so, what did I need to finish each oil painting. She then showed me photos of the paintings on her phone and pointed out unfinished areas. 

I remember hearing oil and thinking to myself, "You don't know how to oil paint." I followed that thought with the statement, "It would be an honor. I will need linseed oil, one oil paintbrush, I will message you which one later, and a small tube of both sage and white oil paint." She said she'd bring it all into work the following week along with the paintings. I spent the next several evenings watching YouTube videos on how to oil paint roses.

When I brought home the supplies and the paintings, I spent a weekend just looking at each work studying his style and brushstrokes. Then I became very busy at school and at home posting grades and writing report cards. Two weeks passed before I sat down committed to finishing the paintings of my friend's father.

First, I mixed the colors on my palette. I added some yellow ochre (a tube a nabbed from the local thrift store) to the sage green. Then I compared the mixed color to that used by T’s father. It was a good match.

I then painted one leaf on the artwork itself. I thought it looked pretty good. Yet, I sat back and said to myself, "This is not a watercolor painting and it's not your artwork." I could so clearly see my style in every brush stroke. I drew the paintbrush through the sage and ochre oil paint and re-worked it to echo the leaves in the painting he had completed. Now, it looked like his work.

There were more unfinished areas, smaller and not as visible as the larger places. I completed those, too. Ultimately, I decided to use a slightly lighter green (sage, yellow ochre and titanium white) for the leaves in each painting so as to lighten up the works. Their overall color had slightly faded. When I finished both paintings, I noted they looked similar but very different from each other. I later learned that one was painted for T and the other for her sister; the variance was intended.

Oil paint does not dry quickly like watercolors. It can take weeks for partial drying and even a year to fully dry. T waited two weeks before picking up the paintings and carefully placing them in her vehicle. She told me she thought "they looked great!" She was very happy with her father's now completed artworks. Also, she felt the lighter green leaves worked well and gave the work a refreshed look, as if he had only recently painted them. She kept one (noted below) and gave the other to her sister, who was equally pleased.

T. gave her sister the one above and kept the one below.

For me, this was a remarkable experience. I never felt so completely trusted by someone who wasn't a family member or long-term friend. I knew T a little over a year when she asked me to do this. I don't get to see the paintings hanging in their family homes. These are treasured heirlooms that do not belong to me or represent my own family's history. I was, though, vastly honored to do this work for both T and for another artist whose life concluded before he could finish his work. 

T = Tammy Baxter

⚓.