His Granny in Blue
45 cm x 62 cm
Location / Date:
Material Painting / Rahmen:
Spray and oil on canvas, drawn on canvas with wooden frame
His granny lived at Schäferkampshof near the main through fare with six lanes in a block of flats left over from the demolishing of houses in the post war times. In the stair case you still saw enamel signs reading “Begging and Paddling Strictly Prohibited”. The stairs always smelt of floor wax when he called on granny which happened rarely in recent times. When he turned up there were coffee and cakes and they talked about what he was busying himself with. Granny was not enthusiastic about his painting business. Could one make a living of that? Probably not if you were not famous. But how did you become famous? Many afternoons granny and he racked their brains over coffee and cake. Granny was a pensioner. She did not have much money. It can be gathered from her teeth (picture). She could hardly afford an expensive dentist to repair them. She despised dentures. Once she asked him whether he would not have her radio. It was an ancient prodigy, the loudspeakers covered with old-fashioned fabric. Granny was hard of hearing and it had begun to get worse. “No”, he answered, this kind of crate was nowadays totally out of fashion. Later he regretted his answer. Then she asked him if he wouldn’t want to have the old clock from the cupboard in her bedroom. Granny’s commodes and tables were covered with doilies. From her kitchen window you could see a football pitch. Matches took place on Sunday afternoon. You could hear the whistling of the referee and the thin applause of a crowd.
Granny had a blue canary that started twittering when he came in. When he had been away in Rome for a few weeks where he had made it to the Sixteen Chapel after hours of pushing and shoving and wanted to call on granny again he noticed an awkward hustle and bustle in front of the block 75. A removal van was in front of the door which stood wide open against all customs. Things were carried out. He recognized at once that it was granny’s furniture. He ran through the court yard and up to the second floor. The door to granny’s flat was wide open too. Hustle and bustle inside. Two packers were carrying out chairs and tables. By the window of the living room stood a man in a blue suit. His pose reminded him of the brandy aria from the painting of Max Slevogt. “What the hell is going on here?” “Are you a relative?” “Yes!” “Your grandmother has been …well… psychiatry …., you probably know …” “What?” “She opposed the measures of the health department in an unladylike way”. “Unladylike way …?” The official handed him a letter. There it said that granny had become a danger to the house. She had more than once almost caused a fire as she had forgotten to put out the gas in her kitchen.
The last thing left in the living room was the radio. The official had gone. The visitor pressed one of the buttons with inlays of false ivory. In a clear manner as though he had just begun to sing the voice of Roy Orbison rang out through the ether. It resounded in the living room which was now entirely empty:”Golden voices in the sky”…
Price on demand
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