Henry Inman "Staking the Trees"

I have a number of fairly valuable paintings in my possession. I am ready to make a little traveling money and try to sell some of them off. I researched art appraisers and the one that seemed to come out on top was ValueMyStuff. I liked that they also gave an online opportunity to show and sell the work. Unfortunately when I tried to put it up for sale, it said something like- at this time this piece does not qualify for sale. Perhaps because they are in UK they are not able to see it and actually assess that it is authentic- but it is.

I like also that they gave it a name. It mentions that many of his paintings were used for illustrations in contemporary publications. I wonder if that found the actual work in an old newspaper or magazine. I would find that interesting. There are only a handful of Inmans in museum. The same five come up over and over. When I visited the Philadelphia Art Museum, their catelog said that they had two in their possession. Unfortunately they were in storage. Probably not a good sign for the public appeal of the artist. I know that he is pretty much the only post colonial American artist who was famous for painting children, and this painting has a child in it.

I had actually tried to title the painting myself- The Teacher, The Grafter. The Tree Planter. But the appraisers either knew or gave it a title themselves: The Tree Staker. That sounds good for me. They have appraised it for auction between $3,000 and $6, 000. I was satisfied with that. Below is their assessment sheet.

John E. Lynch

I have just started teaching again after a wonderful relaxing and musical summer. I have had two difficult years and there are many reasons why they were difficult. Some reasons were due to my own inadequacies but some due to circumstances beyond my control. I have been moved back to the English Department after five years away. I am determined to make this a good year. I have come up with a few new strategies and two days in seem to be working fine. If you know anything about teaching, on the first days the students are very well behaved. We shall see. Perhaps I will discuss the situation in a later blog. Suffice it to say that we have a forward thinking, seemingly competent, new, young principal. I am teaching in a department that gives me a lot of help and support. It should be a good year.

My real reason for writing today is that next Sunday there is a memorial service for my much beloved Uncle John and Aunt Phyllis. John died in 2001 but Phyllis died just this past February after suffering serious dementia beginning the day John died. The memorial service is in Phyllis's home town of Burnside, Illinois. Unfortunately the beginning of school prevents me from being there. Terry, Phyllis's nephew and my partner in taking care of the trust for these seven years asked me to write a obituary for John. I thought that I might also post it here, as well as having it read at the ceremony.

John Lynch: July 14, 1914- June 12, 2001


I remember…

John was born in Philadelphia, in 1914 oldest of 4 brothers and one sister. Also in the house lived his generous mother, his scrappy father and his Irish grandmother. John dropped out of school at 15, because of his father’s work disability and delivered packages on his bicycle for Adam’s Express.

In 1937, John and three of his friends, Charley Grodson, Bill Winters, and Jim Kelly, rented a studio in downtown Philadelphia at 1109 Walnut Street. The four attended the Philadelphia Museum School of Art, 1937 and Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, 1938 and also took classes at the Barnes Foundation.

John was drafted into the Army in October, 1941. He was an artillery site calculator for the 30th Infantry and entered Europe through Normandy in the D-day invasion. He was an avid sketcher of the French and German countryside. He also painted some watercolors of some of his fellow GI’s. He was one of the first American soldiers to see some of the German Concentration Camps.

John went to Bradley College in Peoria after the war to join a friend, and made many more. He took advantage of the situation in the summer of 1946 when he and Phyllis Pope were the only two of a group left on campus during a vacation.

John and Phyllis, as newly weds, went to San Miguel Mexico on the GI Bill, but had to leave when the U.S. government withdrew funds because of a teacher’s strike.

In 1950 John and Phyllis moved to San Francisco briefly, then rented a home on a creek in Larkspur. A year later John bought a small lot on that same creek, designed and built a house with the help of Phyllis and many other friends.

John continued to draw and paint through the 1950’s, 1960’s, 1970’s and 1980’s while working a “day job” researching land titles for Western Title Company in San Rafael, California. He enjoyed some prominence as a painter in Marin County, as president of the Marin Society of Artists, teacher at the College of Marin and President and Archivist for the Arkites Association. Their little house was for many years the center of the “Boardwalk” celebrations and the place to go for a sympathetic ear, a few jokes, maybe a drink and certainly a good story or two.

Their home was a welcoming refuge for teenagers from the Midwest and East Coast in the late 60’s and early 70’s. Nephew, Ed moved West in the Spring of 1978. Both John and Phyllis were his family, his counselors and the center of every holiday celebration- Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Fourth of July and a few others. They welcomed, always warmly, first a line of girlfriends, then his wife, Donna, his son Truckee, his daughter Anna and his other son, Joey.

I will remember John’s warm welcome, his brilliance, his stories, his jokes and his kindness.

John Lynch died in his sleep on June 12, 2001- the date of his and Phyllis’s 54th wedding anniversary.

May they both be happily remembered.

Nude Realism in Toronto

OK, six months and no blog. Hey, six months and no readers either. My plan for the fourth blog was my first sexual experience. Maybe that will get some marginal literary types. But, no. I am going to break the mold. I will move to present day. I shall move??? We shall move... We shall not be moved...

I had a friend tell me. "I want a life like yours." It was a nice compliment and yes, for 58, my life is pretty good- in the summers anyway. (You know I am a teacher?) I flew to Toronto on July third to attend a two week workshop in figure painting- nude of course, at the Academy of Realist Art. During the first days I was overwhelmed by my incompetence. By the second week, I was starting to feel a little practiced again. All of this explanation for you is an esoteric discipline but I love it- a la prima, French 19th Century Realist methodology.


An abbreviated version of a longer story: About 15 years ago I began taking lessons from David Hardy in Oakland and he changed my life- Since moving from the East Bay, I have been using my summers to pursue this style of art. I teach all year long- history..., computer skills, etc. Then in the summers I take this fantastic journeys trying to learn this style of art. It has been a family tradition. Well, my dad was an amatuer artist, but instilled in me a love for it. I have done it as an avocation for my whole life, sometimes marginally, sometimes very seriously.

In Toronto I stayed in a 10 foot by 10 foot room (toilet and shower right there in the room), tiny color TV, sink, my clock radio and a Chinese computer (another story that will not be told here). I will tell the address: 588 Dundas, an incredible deal at $40 a night but no English spoken- the heart of Chinatown and near Kensington Market. I purchase a bicycle for $50 and drove to the other end of Dundas for my lessons- wonderful and perhaps a little dangerous commuting by bicycle especially over the the railroad bridge under construction.

Back to painting: You may know this. Talent in art is overrated. Practice is the key and there were some wonderful artists at the school and in our class. I was on Day 4 of the 4 day pose by Cindy (not her real name). I needed one more day for a basic fill in of areas but then another week for final glazing. I write this because I feel compelled to show at least one of the pieces I did in Toronto. (My sister in Philadelphia is the proud (embarrassed) owner of this partially finished work. Then I would need another week for the final glazing. With all of those caveats I am posting the painting here. I will leave for another blog the rest of my exciting summer and the my earliest sexual experience.

Hey, maybe the words: nude and sexual will get me some more readers. Feel free to write me. I will give a prize to my first unsolictied reader. That another good word unsolicited, rather solicited may jar the search engines of the sexually bored.

Benvenuto Cellini

I am reading an autobiography written in 1558 by an artist, a rogue, an opportunist, a braggart, and most of all a human being like ourselves. Benvenuto Cellini. It is my escape for now but I am dedicating this blog to him. For he and the recent CUE (Computer Using Educators) Conference that I just attend brought me to this spot and the words that I write in my first blog. Like me, he was 58 years old when he started his autobiography. Like me, he fancied himself an artist. Perhaps that is where the similarity ends. But he brings me in touch with many things I love. I love art, most of all and especially the art of the Renaissance. Cellini was a musician, albeit a reluctant musician. Cellini rubbed elbows with Popes, Medici's, Princes, Priests, artists, soldiers, writers and the common man. I love Italy- the culture, the food, the language- especially since my culinary tour in the summer of 2004. I love Cellini's fallibility, especially the contrast of his thoughtful polite responses to confrontation to his hot-headed impulsive responses. In many ways he lived a careless life and escaped death on many occasions. That he lived long enough to write this autobiography, I consider close to miraculous. My life has been spared most of physical dangers Cellini faced, save a near drowing as a child and several dangerous situations that I found myself in as a youth. But this first entry is a start and my hope is that others may find it interesting. I will not give away the entire plot, except to say that the experiences of my youth to the age of 21 was far different than that of most people who read this blog. I welcome comments and questions as we take this journey.