Thirty Two Years Gone

Cold currents run slow and deep in the oceans, one I've heard of taking thousands of years to flow from Greenland's glaciers past Hawaii.  So do the things that pass into our hands and back out again.  Some keep their stories, most are lost to the landfill, and others float through the lower levels of the economy anonymously.  A cut glass punch bowl set for sale at the Goodwill store is surely a legacy of Christmas and Thanksgiving holidays, maybe a retirement party, of some family whose name you will never know.

The other day we dropped in on one of the regular half-price sales at said local Goodwill store, immediately finding one thing we'd been looking for (new, for only $5).  Then we threaded our way to the back corner where the artwork, frames and books are to be found, our favorite spot.  One old painting was on the floor, propped against the end of the metal shelving, which made me do a double-take.  It looked familiar, the way something would if you had donated it yourself and saw it again, surprised.  It looked like the reproduction oil painting (in the exact frame, too) that was on my grandparents' living room wall above the long grey sofa for the entire time they lived there -- 38 years -- and had probably been in two previous homes they had in the area.  My father had given it to them at the end of the Thirties, when he was working downtown and living at home.

I had always liked it, and was sorry to see it disappear when the auctioneer cleared out their house after my grandfather's death in 1988.  I was at work all week and missed my chance.  Not knowing the artist or its title, I couldn't look for another.  What were the chances it stayed in the community for thirty two years -- who knows where -- and just we happened upon it?  So, for $3.50 and quite a long wait, it came back with us.

The label on the back with the title and artist noted, along the yellowed, torn backing paper, looked right for being from either side of 1940.  Online, I found there were several other very similar pictures by Anthony Thieme of the same scene from different viewpoints, one copyrighted 1939.  The title, "Sunny  Afternoon," was also shared, with slight variations, with some of them. He was quite a prolific landscape painter, whose work is still in museums, galleries and at auctions today.

I had always guessed this Impressionist work was by a 19th century artist who depicted a familiar French village, due to the sycamore tree and the look of the houses with red roofs, shutters and white stucco exteriors, as well as its feeling of serene timelessness.  Good thing I'm not pretending to be an art appraiser.  It is actually a 20th century rendering of a street in Rockport, Massachusetts.   Despite the facts, I'm going to keep on thinking quiet French village anyway.

Anthony Thieme, 1888 - 1954