by Natalya B. Parris

Artwork Description

Will you fly with me

0.0 x 0.0

Story of my painting “Will you fly with me”, acrylic on canvas, 16"X20" I always liked owls; they symbolized my mother to me. Looking back to my early childhood, I remember Sunday brunches at my home. My mother always created interesting, new dishes using the most unusual recipes she could find from around the world. My very conservative, macho, tuff father, who nevertheless had a great sense of humor, added to the Sunday events by telling funny stories about family members. Father did not merely tell stories; he acted them. The main character in his stories was my mother. Looking at her with great admiration and tenderness that I had never seen in him on any other occasion, he put his index finger to the bridge of his nose, bend it to the angle, opened his eyes really big and I knew at this moment that it is not my father,  my mother - owl was looking at me. The whole look, the hilariously funny way my father would retell what my mother did during the week, or at the party they attended, made me laugh to tears. My mother could not stand it, but in most cases she would not say a word. She would just puff her gorgeous lips disapprovingly. As a result, the word OWL was prohibited in our family. One time when I was about five after one of the stories I laughed so hard that I had to leave the table. I heard that mother say to my back, “I did not find anything funny about it.” That was it. I was concerned that mother would put an end to father’s Sunday performances and I decided to talk to her. I carefully waited for a quiet moment in the kitchen and said to her, “Mom, I really do not understand why you do not like it when father imitates you. Don’t you see that it is his way of saying, I LOVE YOU! He focuses on your nose because he thinks that you have gorgeous nose. He imitates your eyes, because he is mesmerized by them. He thinks that you have the most beautiful eyes and nose he had ever seen. Honestly, I think he married you because of your eyes and nose. He talks about you all the time because he adores you, because he could not have enough of you. After all, he symbolizes you with the owl, the symbol of wisdom. What could be better?” My mother was listening to my speech in complete silence. An ocean of emotions swept over her face and finally it was as frozen as an iceberg. The silence was screaming so loud that I thought I lost my hearing. Mother kept looking right into my eyes; I felt as though I was going deep under that iceberg and drowning in the ocean. My thoughts were popping like the air bubbles in the water, “Don’t you learn Natalya by now that your speeches scare people to death. Change the subject. Say something that a five year old would say.” I do not remember what I said, but that moment is engraved in my memory. After that talk, I decided not to laugh, no matter how funny my father would perform. Time past by and my father stopped imitating my mother as an owl. Many years later when I lived in the USA and became an artist, I wanted to paint the owl so much. It remains my favorite bird and a symbol of my mother to this day, but I did not dare. Recently, owl jewelry became a fashion trend. I wanted to have it very much, but the childhood memories and great respect to my mother kept me from buying it. In June 2011, my mother came from Russia to visit us. We went to a jewelry store to find a birthday present for me and here it was a ring with adorable owl. I tried to pretend that I did not see it, when my mother exclaimed, “Look, at this owl ring! I came here and hoped to find some owl jewelry. I want it so much.” That was my turn to be frozen. I looked at my mother and I could not move. I could not talk, but obviously expression on my face said it all. We were looking at each other in a complete silence and I realized that my mother finally “got it.” Now, she knew exactly what I was talking about so many years ago. I asked her, “Mom, was it exciting, fascinating, amazing to have such an unusually wise, mature child?” She was not surprised that I asked her this question. It was like we had finally broken that silence and were continuing that interrupted dialog in the kitchen of our home. I did not see mother’s enthusiasm about my question, so I continued, “Or how it was?” Finally, mother said, “Yes, It is exciting, fascinating and amazing unless you feel that your five years old child is wiser and smarter than you are.” I created this painting for my parents. Their great, insane, unbelievable love and my childhood memories are the inspiration for it. This art is my thank you to the people whom I love more than life itself.

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