Sam and the Perfect World

Sam and the Perfect World 44” x 46” oil on linen

 

My husband and I visited the Charles Allis Museum in Milwaukee yesterday to view a portrait done by a local artist of his son and were both moved to tears. We had only a few stolen moments with this magical painting as there was a piano recital due to begin in the gallery but that was all that was needed to evoke a strong response from us. We had seen the painting in the newspaper when it won first prize in the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition at the National Portrait Gallery of the Smithsonian but there is nothing that compares with viewing the piece in person. We have known David Lenz for several years and have been in awe of his work, his technical mastery of color and detail, people so real that you expect them to step off the canvas and engage you in conversation. But it is his mastery of light, an inner light he imbues in his work that instills spirit in his subjects and evokes an emotional response from the viewer. Spirit and emotion have never been more evident in David’s work than in this personal portrait of his son, Sam who was born with Down’s syndrome.

Along with the portrait were two small studies for the painting in which he had experimented with the sky, one a blue sky and the other a curtain of rain. These were as telling for me as the final painting featuring a haloed sun. David's descriptions of the silence at Sam’s birth and then Sam’s enthusiastic response at the Smithsonian award presentation were equally moving.

As Mother’s Day approaches each year I reflect on the occasions that have made me a mother- the birth of our two children and the miscarriage in between. Our daughter was crying and looking around before she was even fully born. Our son was ominously silent. He had a double cord wrapped around his neck and there was a frantic race to get him out. My daughter was immediately placed in my arms where I could stare into her blue eyes and hold her tiny hand. My son was quickly whisked away to a warm incubator where he was rubbed and finally coaxed into making his presence known. His crying was not loud enough to prevent me from hearing the doctor say, “I think we got him out in time.” I held my breath until the pediatrician arrived in the morning to say, “You have a perfect, healthy baby boy.” Then I wept.

As parents we are united in our love of our children and our hopes for their future. We wish them a perfect life rich in passion, happiness and love. But as parents we come to know that perfect is a relative thing. Without challenges in their lives we would never know what strengths lie within our children and without eventually letting them go we would never be able to stand far enough back to see the inner light that makes them shine.