<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">My Father’s Studio, 2005</span><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">As if browsing in a gallery, <br class="">                     I flip through canvases leaning against the wall<br class="">                     behind my father’s studio. A clear October day, </span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">the air breezeless, birdless. Silence<br class="">                     still cloys like oily mud, two months<br class="">                     since the flood. The studio’s siding sags;</span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">the back door won’t close. I look in:<br class="">                     heaps of clothes rotting, shelves of LPs, <br class="">                     their jackets fused, some swollen books, </span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">and, further back in muck and shadow,<br class="">                     forty years of work my father made, <br class="">                     and catalogues, and slides, and reviews.<br class=""><br class="">I step back into the sunlight, <br class="">                     look through the canvases again,<br class="">                     remember my father working on them,</span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">and time unravels and I see myself<br class="">                     doing the things a ghost does, <br class="">                     shuffling inside the narrow frame</span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">of a world of ruined images. Yes, <br class="">                     I remember these paintings. <br class="">                     They were good. And I remind myself: </span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class="">he’s already repainting them. <br class="">                     They’re still good. <br class="">                     Stop acting like a ghost. <br class=""></span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class=""><br class=""></span></p><p class=""><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">  </span>- Brad Richard</span></p></body></html>