No longer my canvas to paint on

Over the last 21 years my son has been my favorite model.  Not only was he handsome (OK, I might be a little bias) but he was readily available to pose for me.  Well, most of the time.  There was the one time when he fell asleep just before I posed the entire neighborhood for my next painting and could not be awakened.

All the neighborhood children except my son.

In addition, I have periodically chronicled my son's life with portraits.  I got the idea from another member of the the Portrait Society of America who said he painted his children's portrait every year.  I'm guessing he has a lot more time and wall space then I do.  I accomplished a portrait about every 5 years.

My little patriot.

At age four he helped me put out the flags and bows on our split rail fence for the 4th of July and happily it turned into a photo op, which because one of my favorite portraits.

At age ten I was so struck by the light in his hazel eyes so I decided to go in for an ultra close up.

As many teenage boys he took up playing the guitar.  So the most natural choice at age 15 was to paint him with his favorite guitar!

Red Guitar

This year he turned 21 and my little boy is now a man!  Wow, when did that happen?  So what do I do to commemorate this right of passage!

I'm always one to glean inspiration from those around me and this time it came from a childhood friend.  Over dinner one evening our conversation turned to how hard it can be to step back and respect our adult children's decisions after years of raising and guiding them.  She mentioned that her daughter had made a choice she would not have made but concluded "That is no longer my canvas to paint on."  Of course, the metaphor caught my attention. And my creative light bulb went on.

How perfect for an artist mom!  An unfinished portrait of a young man gazing off as if toward the future, combined with a letter to my son expressing the sense of pride I feel as a parents on having raised an amazing human being while acknowledging that my job of parenting is done.

 No longer my Canvas to paint on.