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This pastel portrait of my paternal grandmother hangs on the wall across from my work table. My father and uncle called my grandmother "the Duchess" behind her back. She thought that "the Duchess" was a close friend of her sons- she never suspected. When my grandparents passed away her portrait came to reside with me.
I love it. She looks so glamorous in it. And my friend Harold has identified from whence my "look" has come from. The "look," unfortunately not being her smashing sense of style, but the "I cannot believe you just said/did something soooo stupid look." I have never seen the look myself, but apparently Harold has... heh heh heh...many times.
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I also inherited the Duchess's Canton china collection. The basic blue and white china is so classic, but I have been told quite toxic. Does anyone know if orchids can get lead poisoning? Can I blame its refusal to bloom on that, and not my dismal gardening skills?
My life was blessed with three grandmothers, with two of them I had very loving affectionate relationships. But the Duchess didn't do warm and fuzzy well. I always knew that she loved and was proud of me, but personal displays happened rarely. It was made clear to me how much, when in her final days I went to sit with her in the hospital. My grandfather had brought to the hospital some of her favorite things, a needlepoint pillow I had made for her as a child and a picture of me.
Does the Duchess influence my art? Not sure about that, but I often think she is looking down from the wall with a look of approval at my latest creation, if not my gardening skills.