Vincent's Red Barn Doors
by RC DeWinter
Title
Vincent's Red Barn Doors
Artist
RC DeWinter
Medium
Painting - Digital Oils-paintography-photopainting
Description
Copyright 2014 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
It had been a rough couple of nights - steady rain and isolation had worked together to put me in a dark place. Too much brooding and too little sleep left me exhausted and uninspired. Before bed that night I resorted to taking a quarter of a sleeping pill to take the edge off and hopefully, finally get some decent rest.
I started dreaming. Vivid fragments of this and that eventually kaleidoscoped and I found myself sitting at a small outdoor cafe table at sunset - I couldn't place where - having a cup of mocha cappuccino.
Suddenly a shadow fell across the table and there stood Vincent, his usual satchel slung over his shoulder.
"I thought I might find you here," he said. "May I sit down?"
"Of course," I replied.
He pulled a chair over from an empty table and settled himself.
"I was hoping to see you," he continued. "I had the distinct sensation that you have not been feeling all that well, and I have something to both tell and show you."
"How did you know, Vincent? I've been struggling with thoughts that leave me feeling pretty hopeless."
He smiled wryly.
"Yes, we who feel deeply can sense when others are caught in that morass. And while I certainly haven't managed to cure myself of that affliction, I would like to share some thoughts with you on the subject."
I was all attention now, nodding at him to continue.
Vincent gestured to a passing waitress and asked for a cafe au lait. He sat, silent, as did I, until she brought it to the table. Taking a sip from the steaming cup, he said, "I know you have been marked, and heavily, by the quill that scratches out the book of life. You often seem, beneath the gaiety you put on like a costume, to be wearing a cloak of shadow. While you talk freely and easily, you rarely reveal your inner emotions. It is as though you have locked your heart behind doors made of every sorrow, every scar that has ever been inflicted since you were born."
Vincent's poetic but accurate assessment nearly reduced me to tears. I had no idea until now he had paid such close attention, since he so often gave the impression of being preoccupied, either with his own darkness or his art. I couldn't speak, and in the silence he reached into the satchel and drew forth what was obviously a small canvas.
"Look at this," he said as he unwrapped it and laid it on the table. "I know you didn't see me sketching this as we walked across the lot behind that alley in Amherst after dinner. You were caught up in looking at the sunset reflected in the restaurant door."
Vincent had painted the locked and battered doors of what must have once been a barn converted to a garage that stands to the side of where the alley gives out into the parking lot.
"It's wonderful, Vincent, anyone can see it's your work. But it's not done in quite your usual style."
He gave another smile, this time not wry but kind.
"I knew you would notice and remark on it," he answered. "I deliberately underplayed the outlining and the flecks of highlighting. I was thinking of you as I painted, wanting to soften the harshness of the piece."
I looked directly at him. "Why?"
"Because," and here he leaned forward, "you must soften the harshness surrounding your heart. Nothing will take away all the pain, nothing will eradicate the memories. But you have a long time to live and you cannot do it peering out from behind those doors."
I dissolved into tears, and as I did, Vincent and the table and everything else dissolved away too. I awoke with the image of those doors burned into my consciousness, determined to try and follow Vincent's advice.
~ copyright 2014 RC deWinter
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Thanks to the group hosts for their encouragement and support.
barn, doors, rustic, brick, clapboard, new england, amherst, massachusetts, locks, building, picturesque, architecture, summer, antique, red, landscape, vintage, rc dewinter, dewinter
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July 23rd, 2014
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