Stories

stories

M A R Y L A R S O N A R T s e a t t l e

“Joseph” 2009.
Joseph was a man I first met when I helped take care of him in a homeless shelter. Over the years as I got to know him, he shared that one of his biggest dreams in life was to learn to read. Joseph passed away before he ever learned to read. The background of Joseph’s painting is copy from a page in the dictionary to help remind me just how much Joseph wanted to read.

“Leonard” 2009.
Leonard came up to me one day in clinic and was so excited to have me paint his portrait that he leaned so close to the camera as I took his photo that he almost touched the lens with his nose. When I asked Leonard what he would like people to know about him when they look at his portrait, Leonard was the very first person ever who told me he didn’t feel as though there was anything special about himself. I painted Leonard with his big smile and for the background, chose an ad for a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. Patients regularly leave behind things in the clinic lobby after their visits (from empty packs of cigarettes to cans of soda); I often incorporate some of the items we find into the backgrounds of my paintings to help tell stories. In Leonard’s case, there seems to me an irony of sorts - where Leonard finds himself in life and the words, “Lucky Strike”.

“Cowboy” 2003.
Every morning before our clinic door opens, there is usually a long line of people waiting to come inside to see the doctor. Some people begin lining up at 6am after spending the night outside. One morning as I walked past the line, I saw a man waiting who looked like a genuine cowboy from the Old West. I couldn’t help but exclaim, “You look like a real cowboy!” He was dressed with a beautiful silk scarf around his neck, a denim jacket, blue jeans, a giant belt buckle and sturdy cowboy boots. When the man named Jerry came into the clinic to see the doctor, he shared with me that he was a real cowboy. He had just arrived in Seattle after leaving his home in the Southwest United States where his job was to put horse shoes on mules that are used to deliver mail to villages in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It was the middle of winter and he’d gotten a lead on a job in Seattle where the weather was warmer. Upon arriving in Seattle, the job fell through and Jerry found himself homeless. He stayed in a shelter in Seattle until he saved up enough money to return to the Grand Canyon.

“Laron” 2002.
One afternoon Laron came running into the clinic and announced in the lobby that he had just come from completing an afternoon of work. For a small amount of money, Laron helped someone move out of an apartment... moving boxes from an apartment to a little four door car. Laron didn’t care at all about the money but instead went on and on - in awe of all the things that the person moving owned. Laron exclaimed with a sense of wonder, “I never knew that one person could have so many things, Mary! It was amazing all of the things he had! I didn’t know it was possible for one person to have that many things!” I was struck by Laron’s comment - and I still can’t help but think - not that much could be stuffed into a small car (most of us have a lot more). But to Laron - it seemed like the world. The background of his painting is copy from a magazine I found in our clinic lobby that encourages its readers to live simply; I thought it ironic.

“Gerard” 2005.
Whenever Gerard comes to the clinic, he reminisces of his family in his hometown of Boston. No matter that he is homeless in Seattle, Gerard beams when he talks about his family and life in Boston. I’ll never forget how meaningful it was to Gerard to speak of the letters that would arrive in the mail in Seattle from Boston - keeping him connected with his family. The background of Gerard’s painting includes Boston Baked Beans.

“John” 2004.
John once stayed at a homeless shelter in Seattle where volunteers make and serve sandwiches to the shelter clients for dinner. Many years ago, my mother and a friend of hers spent an evening serving sandwiches at the shelter. After passing out a lot sandwiches and after lots of visiting, one of the homeless men approached my mother and her friend. He gently leaned over the sandwich line and said, “These sandwiches sure are good! Really good! But the next time that you make sandwiches would you use Velveeta cheese?” Of course, their next sandwiches included Velveeta cheese! A pretty little thing to do to help make someone happy! The background of John’s painting helps me remember this story.

“David” 2004.
David used to keep a close eye on all of the staff at our clinic as we would come and go, on our way to and from work. You would never know he was there watching but he prided himself in letting us know that he helped keep us safe. Homeless once-upon-a-time, David eventually got his own apartment - and it meant a lot to him. The background of David’s painting is copy from an ad I found in a magazine in our clinic lobby; the ad was highlighting the development of new luxury, high-rise condos “with incredible 360 degree views”. It made me think, “who really cares about views...”

“Marvin” 2009.
Marvin was a homeless man and a former Marine. Everywhere he went he always wore a tattered straw hat, a sportcoat and a crumpled necktie. Around his neck he always wore a rosary like a necklace and on a chain - his old, laminated United States Marine Corps ID. Every single time Marvin I ever saw Marvin, he hollered at the top of his lungs with a big smile on his face, “Semper Fi!”

“Meredith” 2002.
I ask each subject to tell me something special that they want people to know about them when they look at their portrait. People usually take a few minutes to think about it. Meredith was the second person in a row to answer me in just a couple of seconds. With a twinkle in his eye, his head tipped back and his chest stuck out, he said, “You tell them I’m a survivor! I’m a survivor!”.

“Tommy” 2001.
In and out of homeless shelters in Seattle since 2001, Tommy has held onto his painting for the last eight years. He brought his painting to show me this Fall of 2009. I didn’t let on to Tommy that I noticed the left edge of the painting no longer matched the other sides... somewhere along the way the stretcher bar was crushed and Tommy found someone to repair it best they could. In 2001 a stranger in Seattle “bought” his painting for almost 1,000 new, warm stocking caps.... when the buyer came to pick up the painting, they announced that Tommy was supposed to have it... & requested to remain anonymous. Tommy hasn’t let go of it ever since. He’s pretty proud of it I think!

“Ernest” 2000.
Ernest was a tall man with shoulders as wide as a refrigerator and hands that were as large as catcher’s mitts. He was so big in size that whenever Ernest spoke, I imagined he would have a deep, booming voice but he didn’t. Ernest always whispered. I helped take care of him in a Washington, D.C. homeless respite program while he was going through treatment for cancer. As I got to know Ernest I discovered he loved plants. Throughout the day, I would always find Ernest sitting next to the house plants around the building. He sat and visited with the plants many of which he named. Ernest could often be overheard whispering to the plants, “How are you, Shirley? That sure was a nice lunch they fixed us today.” The background of his painting is an ad for Miracle-Gro plant food.

When my paintings were hung at the clinic where I work, without having been told, patients began to identify that many of the portraits were of homeless people. One man said, “They look the same everywhere. I was homeless once and I know that those are paintings of homeless people...I just know it.” Before long, patients began asking me to paint their portraits. And so I began bringing my camera to work, taking photos of folks and going home at night to paint their portraits. These are stories of some of the extraordinary people I’ve had the honor of painting.