17/06/2026
432 Abercom St, No. 301, Watercolor and Acrylic on Panel, 12in x16in, 2024.
Archival prints in size A4 and larger, worldwide shipping:
https://www.erikastearly.co.uk/products/432-abercom-st-no-301?_pos=1&_psq=abercom&_ss=e&_v=1.0
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My family got a dog around the time I left for college. My youngest sister, who had wanted one for years, was beside herself with joy. My dad, who moaned and groaned about "that damn dog," had such a soft spot for her. But Cinnamon only had eyes for my brother.
One day, I was sitting in the dining room with my mom, and she says, "Watch this," and yells my brother's name up the stairs.
"Hey, Samuel!"
(Cinnamon's ears perk up).
Somewhere upstairs, a chair creaks and a door opens.
(Cinnamon is on high alert).
There are footsteps coming down the hallway.
(Cinnamon's tail is wagging).
There are footsteps coming down the stairs.
(Cinnamon is practically vibrating with anticipation)
My brother pops his head into the dining room, and barely gets a chance to ask what's up before Cinnamon is jumping up and demanding attention because her favorite person has just come downstairs. It's a funny and sweet memory I have from the era of life when my parents house was still home base for all of us.
Sometimes, when I think about what's happening in a painting, I don't reflect on the formal qualities of the painting (the color, the shapes, the scale of the objects), but I think about what might be happening in the scene. Staircases are really interesting in paintings because it makes me think of the things that I can't see. What's happening upstairs? What's down the hall?