The show's opening was yesterday evening, when John would have celebrated his 68th birthday. His artwork is so simple with minimal brush strokes oftentimes paired with a couple words.
"War is Over"
As I was moving through the panels, reading his words along the walls, I started getting a lump in my throat. For one, here was this man who just wanted to spread harmony to all who'd listen. A man who absolutely adored his wife - evident through the countless doodles of the two of them together - and who truly loved being a father to Sean. His drawings for his son, titled "Real Love," included all sorts of animals and whatever little Sean would say about the picture would become its title.
"A Cat Purring"
"A Bird Dreaming"
"A Horse Laughing"
"An Elephant Forgetting"
That was their game.
So I'm reading and taking it all in thinking, "Why? Why did someone like him have to be a victim of such cruelty? Just doesn't seem fair." I also started thinking about the ex. He would've loved to have been there I'm sure. And I so wished I had someone who cared as much about me as John did about his wife. By the time I got to the framed song lyrics I was fighting back tears. So I left. I walked for a while; I needed it. Past the Crate and Barrel where we talked about what we wanted our apartment to look like. Past Washington Square Park where we people-watched and took silly pics. Past the tiny restaurant where we ate crepes. Past, I guess, the past. How is love so tangible one minute you can practically see it floating in the air around you and then gone the next? Where does it go?
And what do you do when you want to have faith it will be back again...but deep inside you're not really sure?
"Imagine Peace" runs until this Sunday with donations benefiting Citymeals-on-Wheels (so you can help feed NYC without donning a cape).
Images: pe.com, liverpoolmuseums.org, news.bbc.co.uk, daylife.com, thewalrusspeaks.blogspot.com