The Man Vanishes

Decisions, decisions.  There are a myriad of them when creating a painting, usually of the relatively inconsequential variety.  "What size brush should I use now?"  "Should I tone down that red?"

These decisions each on their own are but one piece of the puzzle.  Rarely are they a stark either/or.  But in the case of this piece, "Love on the Gapstow" I faced just such a decision in the initial planning stages.

All along I had intended to paint a scene of the iconic Gapstow Bridge in New York's Central Park.  That there would be humans in the piece was a given (story is always foremost in my mind), and so the couple on the bridge was an obvious early element.

But then I decided the picture needed more.  It seemed just a bit too trite to only have a couple on the bridge.  And thus I entered into a conundrum of my own making. 

 I often include a person in the foreground of my pictures.  To me it helps lead the viewer in and adds an element of humanity to a scene.  And if they are off to the side, with their back to us, it doesn't then detract from the overall scene.  Some previous examples:

"Heading Home"

"The Shinny Player"

"The Winter Farmer"

And so I thought "I think I'll put a guy in the scene in the bottom left corner.   But this time, I'll turn him towards us, and perhaps by doing that it will involve him in the story more.  Does he know the couple on the bridge?  Is this a love triangle playing out?  Or is he a completely unrelated passerby?"

At last the painting would have the mystery it needed. 

Since I was injecting an element that technically didn't need to be there, I asked the opinions of people I trusted.  Film-maker types who also like story and mystery.  The consensus was 'do it'.  

The mystery man was the last thing I painted on a fairly complicated and large piece, which had taken many hours to that point.  I must confess he wasn't my best effort.  By then I was bored of the painting, and I don't feel I executed him that well, but I was 'over it', and reasoned that his vague lack-of-realization would ensure that at the very least, he wouldn't distract from the rest of the painting.  Besides, the piece had now moved from the banal to the more grim, and that's always a plus for me. 

The original "Love on the Gapstow"

I painted "Love on the Gapstow" in 2013, and for the next 3 or 4 years, it accompanied me on my rounds at art shows and in galleries.   

I even considered my mystery man to be such an integral part of the painting, that when I was in New York in fall of 2015, I got a photo of myself occupying his spot in the scene.

But over those years, something started to happen, or rather didn't happen.  While there were people who said they liked the piece, almost no one ever mentioned the man, nor opined on the story element it was his duty to supposedly provide.  Usually, if people want to be complimentary about your art, they'll look for something that they like.  "Oh, I love how you've handled the sky", or "That dog's bowl looks really realistic".  What I began to notice was that nobody was talking about the man in the corner.

As the years wore on and the piece remained unsold, I began to see him as the hold-back.  And so in early 2017, I decided to paint him out.  I matched the stone of the bridge and completed the snowy pond bank in the bottom corner.  It wasn't the simplest erasure I've ever done, but I knew I had an advantage in the fact that nobody will miss what they didn't know was there.

The revised "Love on the Gapstow"

I felt the piece had fresh life, and so out it went again on the art circuit.  I used it as a central work at  prestigious exhibitions, like the 2017 McMichael and the 2018 Toronto Artist's Project.  

And still it didn't sell.  But there was no way the man was going back in.

Finally at the Rosedale Art Show in 2019, it sold to a young couple who had recently been to New York.  Six years and one major revision later, it was great to see it at last find its forever home.

But there is one odd footnote: the Gapstow man still exists in cyberspace on ancient blogs or postings that predate 2017.  As well, he appeared in print form several times, on calendars, greeting cards, and even in a feature on me in Arabella magazine.  So from time to time, he appears, ghost-like, to haunt me once again.  

Arabella Magazine Winter 2014