How gorgeous are these? They are two of my grandfather's many paint palettes. They now hang in my studio and I think of him and his artistic contributions every time I look at them.
I find the dried oil smears absolutely beautiful. Although intended as the means to an end, what is left of the paint is just as wonderful as the finished paintings. The flurry of color is hypnotic. If you really study it, you can get lost in it. I can still see my grandfather holding a palette board, waving his knife from color to color, trying to arrive at just the right mix needed to tell the story of whatever painting he was working on at the time. And there were so many. He truly loved what he did. If nothing else, he proved that by the sheer volume of work he created. And he loved WHAT he painted just as much or perhaps more. He took such care with his subject matter, rendering it again and again, leaving a legacy of fondness for the times gone by. Time is forever fleeting, but his work helps us remember who we are and where we have been. That is why his work is so personal. Not only personal to him, but personal to us. You can look at a Dellasanta painting and instantly feel a familiarity. He lived, died, and rests mere blocks from where he was born to Italian immigrants and all of that history is in his work. We can walk into any of his frames and find a bit of home inside too. We've walked that street, seen that monument, prayed in that church. And we can fall in love...even with paint smears left on a board.
This painting that once hung in granpa's studio, now hangs in mine alongside his precious palettes. It isn't his work, but I love thinking that he drew inspiration from it, and so it inspires me.