And then there’s Maude

My mind amazes me. I mean, it just blows me away sometimes.

About a dozen years ago, I went to a small gallery in downtown Portland, where I saw several things I loved. The gallery is no longer there, but they had a habit of finding things I was in to. That day, in the back corner of the room, I saw a small kandinsky-esque abstract and fell in love. It was painted by a woman in the mid-50s. I stared and stared. I knew I had to remember the name of that artist–something I’m not very good at. I was painting eggs for Christmas ornaments at the time, and I immediately went home and painted a few in her style. I then promptly forgot her name.

Fast forward to ten minutes ago. I’m sitting around thinking about Wayne Thibaud, as is sometimes my habit, when I wished for the billionth time that I could remember the name of that long-ago woman who moved me. In fact, I’ll go so far as to credit her with helping me finally love abstract art.

Then it came to me. Apparently she’s a local leader in the arts community. Shows ya what I know. Frustratingly I couldn’t find any of her actual work on the web. I’ll be in Eugene in a few weeks, and shall have to drop by the Center.

Today is a happy day.

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