It made sense to paint a portrait of my mother next. But when I saw it after the first day it made me feel a little sad. My mother when younger was an avid bowler and tennis player. In each of the three photographs I used to begin this painting she was a two-toned blonde. Recently she had to stop her volunteer work which consisted of holding premature babies at a local hospital. Her smile is similar to her mother’s (see below) with one side of her mouth slightly raised. The cat eye shaped glasses she had been wearing when photographed with my father at the Copacabana are now very much in vogue. Hers may even have had rhinestones attached. Both portraits (mother and daughter) are testaments to how older fashions are brought back to life with each new generation. There is obviously more to do here, and it would seem the logical thing to paint a portrait of my father next. Honestly, I am finding these family portraits to be some of the most difficult: memories, and the effects of time are constantly asserting themselves and I turn to reading to not think about the past. Because of the years of tumult, it was my immediate family that instilled a true sense of compassion within me and a desire to avoid all such turmoil in the future.