Clearing out biofather’s house. Inventory of everything imaginable. Mostly art, of course — but there’s all the detritus. Up in the studio, where the paintbrushes lived. And the rolls of silk paper and chops and engraving materials. Chemicals. Chinese watercolors. Favorite everythings: scissors, cameras, even silk cord. That was all upstairs. But then I ventured…
Tag: Chinese painting
closure, or something like it — a kaddish for milton g. nobler
People say you need closure. But does that mean that there are no more stories to be told? I woke up this morning with two imperatives: 1) a sense of real or imminent closure, and 2) the need to tell this tale. It’s a tale biofather told me, and I’m pretty sure he never told…
the inheritance
First they told me I was inheriting the biofather’s art supplies and his own paintings. Biofather was a Chinese painter. Then they found a new copy of the will, and next to my name was one word, in his handwriting — with an arrow to be clear: OMIT is what it said. And I thought,…