My paternal grandmother Anna (circa 1901 – 1979) was an artist. Even though her father didn’t allow her to attend art school, she followed her passion her entire life.
I own several paintings and pastels she did (as well as a hand-painted umbrella handle and baby rattle, both products of the small company she and my father owned in the 1950s that offered that service), as well as about half a dozen small sculptures she made later in life, after she lost her eyesight to macular degeneration and could no longer paint.
I’ve been toying for a while with the idea of “collaborating” with her by writing short stories based on some of her pieces. I thought I would kick the project off by straying outside my comfort zone with a haiku, an obvious choice, considering the art that inspired the words.