The Holes in His Pocket
book cloth, book board, watercolor paper, xerox transfer, ink, water color, letter press
11 x 16 x 15 in.
My father passed away when I was young and in my latest work I have been putting my memories of him into a visual form. These memories are an agglomeration of stories I have been told, vague recollections, family photo albums and my own imagination. Always in these stories involving my father and me, he plays the hero. Though these memories and stories of him are precious to me, I struggle with their authenticity, and I have come to realize how strongly I play the role of director toward my memories. It is a strong conflict I feel, in that I don’t want to let go of these memories as I see them yet I also want to know and understand him fully and realistically.
This particular box represents the memory I have of my father making quarters fall through the holes in his pocket so that I could use them to get gumballs in the grocery store. My mom didn’t want to spoil me by giving me quarters whenever I asked, so my dad’s solution was to make it appear as if I magically kept finding them whenever I had to go to the store with him.
On the grocery cart are my three brothers who are all older and whom often are the ones relaying the stories of my father to me.
© Nichol Brinkman