Casual Decisions

More than 28 years ago, a young, optimistic artist decided to sing with the Community Choir and shared his story with a young, optimistic singer, handing her a publicity pamphlet with his story printed within. The young lady was never very accomplished at absorbing a lot of information at one time and was simply enamored with the beautiful print of the painting on the front, and may have never even read the words inside.

She was grateful for the pamphlet and decided to frame it in a suitable frame and display it, which she did for the next 28 years. She casually cut the picture to fit the frame, neglecting to preserve the pamphlet in tact, so that it could be read in it's entirety at a later date.

On this day, as she pondered the loss of him, she remembered, that this was not just a print, it had something inside. She opened the card and saw him, sitting in his studio, causing her to remember seeing it for the first time, long ago, sun coming through the windows, the perfect space. Thinking how delightful it would be to have your very own space to create and dream, her imagination danced in the example he set.

The words that could be read inside said:
Philip Davison's studio near Coos Bay, Oregon overlooks the woods and fields he roamed as a child and has returned to as an established artist. his paintings, portraying the simple, familiar things he loves most, have earned wide recognition. In 1978 he received top awards from the First American Artist Magazine National Competition, and the First International Society of Artists competition. His paintings have been shown in many museums and gallery shows on both coasts, and in publications by the Smithsonian Institution, American Artist Magazine, The I.S.A Communicator and The Saturday Evening Post. In 1971, one of his works was included in the National Portrait Gallery show that opened the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington D.C.
Mr. Davison is currently working as a full time artist, and teaching an evening class at Southwestern Oregon Community College.
Cover: Miriam Davison, Playing Piano, 1977, pastel- 18 x 24
Collection: Mr. and Mrs. George Walker

Phil, she's slow, but she finally gets how excited you must have been to come home and share the entirety of your adventures with the people in your home town. She feels sad for how disappointed you seemed when you later went away and developed a new style of painting, and the world didn't seem to embrace it, but wanted you to return to the familiar paintings they had grown to love. How sad your heart must have felt when friends didn't encourage you to chase your dreams and express your heart, but held you to that which pleased them and expected you to keep serving up the art they loved so. She wonders if you feared they loved your art more than they loved you. How sad you seemed when she saw you upon her return from her adventures, to your little home town, and your world seemed broken and she didn't have the right words to encourage you.

She sees so much more now, and wonders why she couldn't see it then. She's grateful that her life was enriched by who you were, grateful you reached out and asked her to sing with you. She won't ever forget you, nor will she forget the lessons that remembering has taught her.