How the Shaman came to live at our house

AgfaPhoto

AgfaPhoto

A couple of months after we move to Comox, Heather arrives. No, she’s not the Shaman, she’s my friend. I’m thrilled that she could come for a visit and we trot about town, checking out the stores and the markets, the marina, and the beaches.

On her last evening with us, we take her out for dinner at one of the many great restaurants to be found in the area. Martine’s is just a few blocks from our place and known for fine dining. We settle at our table, Heather sitting across from us. I look up and behind her is the most amazing painting. It’s full of color and cave like paintings with outlines of horses and snakes and fish—and yes, the shadowy figure of a shaman or two or three. It’s a semi-abstract that draws us in. We know it’s the right piece for our new home.

We’ve fallen in love with it and, luckily for us, there is a tag with the artist’s name—Wesley Clark—and a phone number.

We call Mr. Clark, negotiate a price and after dinner, pay the restaurant owner for the painting and the food—easily making this the most expensive meal we’ve ever had.

The restaurateur has nothing to wrap the painting with so we lift it off the wall, and to the apparent astonishment of fellow diners, walk out the door.

We carry it home and a few minutes later it is hanging in its honored spot—a painting that we will love and admire for many many years. A painting that will be handed down to our granddaughter.

To see more of Wesley Clark’s work go to:   http://www.wesleyclarkfineart.com/