My Grandfather I never got to meet my Mother's Father. He died when my Mother was only a young teenager. Much of my memories of him are from viewing his water color and oil paintings, besides my Mother's, her Sister's and my Grandmother's fond memories. He was a masterful scenic artist and portrait painter. Around the 1940's our house in the Bronx caught fire, and regretfully much of his work was destroyed. I only have a few of his works, but his details are not really revealed in these jpegs. His hand must have been rock steady to create the details and his eyes took in everything. And this is how I know my own fate and destiny to a measure. Although I am more imbued with the technical world, and his view was the natural world.
The detail on the lace collar, cuff, and coat are Magnifico.
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