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Show NOW! Easier, surer protection for your most intimate marriage problem Art by Lou Peters Be SOON AS I saw the painting I knewit was the best in the exhibition. Whenever I could get away from the paper, I had spent my time at every amateur showing around, hoping to makea discovery like this one. It was truly a work of art. Thetitle was “Last Scene.” It was a seascape of what I imagined to be the New England coast. But it was much to a large. comfortable room with a high bay window “Will you be having dinner here? We're having a boiled dinner —corned beef and cabbage —and it should be ready any second, Mister oT “Williams,” I said. “Fred Williams. The dinner sounds wonderful. I'l] wash up and be down in a minute.” “The room is two dollars and dinner give up. Each day when I got tired, he would send me to bed and clean my brushes for the next day. I couldn't havefinished “Last Scene’ without him.” Av DINNER we three men went into the parlor while Laurie washed the dishes. 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Also available in Canada. A Nerwich Product fv Ry y J Re NORFORMS morethan that. It was the Sea in all its might and fury andsolitude. As I studiedthepicture, there seemed to be something reminiscent about the technique. The longer I looked, the surer I was that this was the work of someone I knew well. It was clear to me that a master’s brush had added a touch of genius to the work. His style, his technique were woven into the baser fabric of the painting almost as though he had signed it. But his name escaped me. In the frame was a cardneatly typed: Loretta Freeman South Seaside Road Larkhaven, Maine Larkhaven was alittle fishing town 50 miles up the coast. I could be there just after dark. I called the paper and said I would be back in the morning. As I drove northward along the icy NewEngland coast, I began to realize the possibilities of the situation. This kind of story was what I had hopedfor ever since getting out of college. The position of art critic was open on the News-Herald, and a story like this would get me the job. It could mean the end of hanging around dreary police stations, interviewing pompous politicians, and chasing fire engines. The Freeman home was at the edge of town. It looked out over a long stretch of desolate coastline that, even by moonlight, I recognized as the scene in the painting. In front of the rambling white-frame house was a weather-beaten sign: Room and Board. Luckily I had brought along a small piece of luggage. A lovely young woman of about 25 answered myknock. “Can I help you?” she asked. She Tested by doctors + Trusted by women Mail this coupon today . FREE informative Norforms booklet + . . ust mail this coupon to .: . Dept. FW-711-17 . . . . Norwich, N. Y. . . . Please send me the Norforms book. ° . let, in a plain envelope. . . . Name. (ecease print! Street —_ Cit eeeORCeen State—_________ ccc Norwich Pharmacal Company, smiled but her eyes looked past me with the vast, vacant stare of the blind. “I'm looking for Loretta Freeman,” I said. “They told me in town she might, be able to put me up for the night.” “I'm Loretta Freeman, but everyone calls me Laurie. Won't you come in? I have a lovely room overlooking the ocean. We don’t have manyguests this time of year.” She walked confidently up thestairs 28 Family Weekly, November 17, 1957 isa dollar fifty. If there’s anything you need, just call me.” HEN I entered the dining room, Miss Freeman and two men were already at the table. The older of the two had the weather-beaten look of a NewEngland fisherman. The other—a short, bald man—was the great Frederick Votella. Of course—it had to be Votella! I was a fool not to have recognized it immediately. “Comein, Mr, Wilhams,” said Laurie Freeman at the sound of my entrance. “Wehaven't started yet. This is my grandfather.” She indicated the old man at het right, who nodded mutely. “And this is Mr. Davis. our star boarder. He’s been with us since Summer.” I could see a flicker of recognition and fear in Votella’s eves. We had met several times in Boston. “Nice mecting you, Mr. Williams,” hesaid, concealing anyhint of surprise. There were several paintings in the room and I studied them as we: ate. Each bore a sharp resemblance to the one I had seen that afternoon, but these lacked that indefinable quality that separates the craftsman fromthe artist. “IT see you collect paintings. Miss Freeman,” I said. “Not really,” she laughed, “those are my own work. You see, I've just recently lost my sight. For alittle over a year nowI've been going blind. I finished mylast painting just this Fall.” “Which one is it?” I asked. “I would like to seeit.” “It’s not here now. I sent it to Boston for an exhibition. Mr. Davis said it was better than the others, and I hoped that, since it was mylast, it might win a prize. It would make closing the door on that part of mylife so mucheasier.” “Well, this certainly is the place for painting,” I said brightly. “Have you ever tried it, Mr. Davis?” “Not lately,” said Votella. “My businessis insurance. I'm just up here for a short rest.” “He's just being modest.” said Laurie Freeman. “He was a great help. He kept me going when I was ready tos molding the girl's last chance for recognition into a masterpiece, and she had been too blind to know. The story had humaninterest. It was better than I could have hopedfor. The wire services would grabit up. “Pardon me. Mr. Williams,” Votella said, “but I thought we might have a little talk while Miss Freemanis away.” “I've been wanting to talk to you too, Mr. Davis,” I replied. “As I sat here watching you just now, you somehow reminded me of myself at your age. Have you ever wanted to be an artist. Mr. Williams?” “I studied painting for two years, but I'mafraid I don’t have what it takes.” Votella paused to light his pipe. “I think you are wrong, myfriend. I believe every person, in his own way, can be an artist.” “Without ability?” I asked. “You are thinking only of painting, seulpture, music, literature. But what is art? I] have just recently made the discovery myself.” “T had thought you must have known long ago,” I said. “No, it wasn't until I camehere for a rest that I found out that art is just giving pleasure. Every real artist has this as an object whether he works in oil, or music, or clay, or deeds. So you sce, God has givenall of us the opportunity to be great artists. It is just the size of the audience that varies. But then, would the Mona Lisa have been less of a masterpiece if only a score of people had seen it? I think you have the opportunity to become a genuine artist, Mr. Williams.” We were silent while I pondered his remarks. Later, Laurie Freeman came in and sat down to herknitting. “T hope you two have found something to talk about.” she said. “I'm afraid things have been pretty dull here for Mr. Davis since Winter came.” “We were discussing your painting. Mr. Davis has just convinced me that it would certainly win honors at the exhibition,” I said. “I'm glad you agree with me.” said Votella. “I have great respect for your opinion as an artist.” |