Before I reveal too much about my find I will need to provide you with some of the events leading up to the discovery.
The day was Saturday July 31, 2010. Exactly 4 days after my 47th birthday. For my birthday gift my daughter invited me to the brewery tour of an Atlanta area microbrewery called the Sweetwater Brewery. Everyone that goes on a brewery tour knows that the best part of the tour centers on the sample room. In the case of the Sweetwater Brewery the sample room is really nothing more than a bar with limited drinking hours. They have a band, an outdoor patio, and for $8 a person you get a beer glass and opportunity to have it filled 6 times before you depart. It is a very good deal. The only catch is that the tours start at 2:30pm and end at 4:30pm. This short time frame is intended to limit the alcohol consumption of the patrons. It doesn’t. What is does do is force the beer drinking public to consume their 6 sample beers in a 2 hour time frame. Since it was my birthday, and since Lovie does not drink beer, I received a few extra samples and was forced to consume them in the allotted timeframe. I had a good time.
After the brewery tour the plan was to head to one of my daughters favorite Tapas dining restaurants in the Virginia Highlands section of Atlanta. Virginia Highlands is the section of Atlanta where every single person in their twenties should strive to live. It is an area of older craftsman style homes that were built in the 1920’s and 1930”s. Today it is populated with artists, musicians, hippies, and just plain old regular people. The downtown area of “The Highlands” is filled with shops, trendy restaurants, bars, and maybe one or two tattoo parlors. On this night the food was great, the company was even better, and the beer was cold.
Following dinner, and sort of on a whim, I decided that we were going to hang out for a few more hours with my daughter and her pals. We were headed to the home of one her friends that lived in the area. As it turns out, it was also time to celebrate his birthday. Being that we were showing up on short notice I quickly realized that I was ill prepared to attend the birthday party of my soon to be new friend. I panicked and swung in to action in search of an appropriate gift. As luck would have it, we arrived at his house and parked on the street next to what many would perceive to be a pile of junk. A quick study revealed that this was no ordinary pile of junk. One of the neighbors was throwing out some belongings and had piled them on the curb for pick up.
Seizing the opportunity to pick through one man’s junk I quickly found the perfect gift. As soon as I was about to claim my prize the neighbor appeared at his door. Many in my party panicked. I have been known to talk to anyone and politely asked the owner about his intentions for the pile of goods at the curb. As expected, he indicated that it was “free for the taking”. And taking I was as I needed a birthday gift. Buried deep in the pile was a portrait. From some reason this painting spoke to me. Not really as I don’t hear voices. But I saw something in the portrait that needed to come out. A story that needed to be told. About that time the now former owner of this artwork meandered to the curb. He said, “I see you have found the painting”. “My wife hates that thing”. “Please take it”, were his words.
I could tell by his words that the story was about to be told. As it turns out, the portrait was painted by a family friend. He was mental patient. An institutionalized mental patient. A full blown schizophrenic. This guy saw voices and heard colors. The man at the curb speculated that the portrait may have been a self portrait by the artist. Based on these details I knew I had stumbled upon the perfect gift. I collected my prize and proceeded to the birthday party.
Below the portrait.
The day was Saturday July 31, 2010. Exactly 4 days after my 47th birthday. For my birthday gift my daughter invited me to the brewery tour of an Atlanta area microbrewery called the Sweetwater Brewery. Everyone that goes on a brewery tour knows that the best part of the tour centers on the sample room. In the case of the Sweetwater Brewery the sample room is really nothing more than a bar with limited drinking hours. They have a band, an outdoor patio, and for $8 a person you get a beer glass and opportunity to have it filled 6 times before you depart. It is a very good deal. The only catch is that the tours start at 2:30pm and end at 4:30pm. This short time frame is intended to limit the alcohol consumption of the patrons. It doesn’t. What is does do is force the beer drinking public to consume their 6 sample beers in a 2 hour time frame. Since it was my birthday, and since Lovie does not drink beer, I received a few extra samples and was forced to consume them in the allotted timeframe. I had a good time.
After the brewery tour the plan was to head to one of my daughters favorite Tapas dining restaurants in the Virginia Highlands section of Atlanta. Virginia Highlands is the section of Atlanta where every single person in their twenties should strive to live. It is an area of older craftsman style homes that were built in the 1920’s and 1930”s. Today it is populated with artists, musicians, hippies, and just plain old regular people. The downtown area of “The Highlands” is filled with shops, trendy restaurants, bars, and maybe one or two tattoo parlors. On this night the food was great, the company was even better, and the beer was cold.
Following dinner, and sort of on a whim, I decided that we were going to hang out for a few more hours with my daughter and her pals. We were headed to the home of one her friends that lived in the area. As it turns out, it was also time to celebrate his birthday. Being that we were showing up on short notice I quickly realized that I was ill prepared to attend the birthday party of my soon to be new friend. I panicked and swung in to action in search of an appropriate gift. As luck would have it, we arrived at his house and parked on the street next to what many would perceive to be a pile of junk. A quick study revealed that this was no ordinary pile of junk. One of the neighbors was throwing out some belongings and had piled them on the curb for pick up.
Seizing the opportunity to pick through one man’s junk I quickly found the perfect gift. As soon as I was about to claim my prize the neighbor appeared at his door. Many in my party panicked. I have been known to talk to anyone and politely asked the owner about his intentions for the pile of goods at the curb. As expected, he indicated that it was “free for the taking”. And taking I was as I needed a birthday gift. Buried deep in the pile was a portrait. From some reason this painting spoke to me. Not really as I don’t hear voices. But I saw something in the portrait that needed to come out. A story that needed to be told. About that time the now former owner of this artwork meandered to the curb. He said, “I see you have found the painting”. “My wife hates that thing”. “Please take it”, were his words.
I could tell by his words that the story was about to be told. As it turns out, the portrait was painted by a family friend. He was mental patient. An institutionalized mental patient. A full blown schizophrenic. This guy saw voices and heard colors. The man at the curb speculated that the portrait may have been a self portrait by the artist. Based on these details I knew I had stumbled upon the perfect gift. I collected my prize and proceeded to the birthday party.
Below the portrait.
At the party it sort of took on a life of its own. Clearly, it was the hit of the party. People left disturbed, others found religion, and still others went mad. I have also shown the portrait to a few friends. Words like troubling, demonic, and satanic have been used to describe the picture. Study it if you like, comment if you want, and laugh if like to read a good story.
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