The painting shown is another room I have painted from memory of my grandparent’s lake home. This room was my Uncle Russ’s bedroom. Located on the second floor, the wall facing outside was lined with windows, shaded by the branches of a large tree that sat just out front of the house. This shade, combined with the wood paneling generated a cool darkness to the room, as opposed to my mom’s bedroom next door, full of light and floral wallpaper.
Russ’s room was typically used only over the 4th of July during his annual trip home. For that reason, it provided a safe space for me to retreat, where I could be alone, for no reason other than just that. I am trying to recall where objects were, and what their details are. I do remember a pinball machine that was later replaced with a desk and apple computer which my dad and uncle taught my grandpa how to use. The dressers were festooned with awards my uncle won as a water-skier. There was a flip clock, making that distinct clip sound every minute.
I chose to leave the telescope out of the painting because I recently put it in a different painting of my mom’s bedroom, as it migrated between these rooms. What I’m coming to understand about this painting and my work is this could all be false, even though it feels very true.
The title comes from the cake my grandma made for all birthdays: German chocolate. And being my uncle was often home for his birthday, (2nd of July) we had it every summer.
In the fall of 2000, I started high school and it wasn’t an easy transition for me. During that time, I dove deep into music that now feels minorly embarrassing to admit how much it meant. When I think back to that time, and the wave of depression that would come over me that year, there was such comfort in being in this space alone, listening to a CD.
That fall I had just come across the band Coldplay, buying their first album Parachutes, it lived in my discman. I remember laying back on the bed nearest the door, with my legs dangling off the edge as I pressed play. Before the music starts the sweet sound of the disc spinning momentarily before the song begins is how I know this album — as if when playing Don’t Panic now via Spotify something is missing before it begins.
