commemorative art: for Robert F. Winne

Robert F. Winne commemorative art

© 2014

completed on the one year anniversary of his death

center design by Robert F. Winne

complimentary border design by Lise Winne

My father always loved pattern. He was an architect, but made lots of little doodles. This is one that I responded to and thought I would use for a commemorative piece. It is a rare color doodle (he tended to work in pen and ink because he was color blind). It is interesting that he included red and green in this design since he often couldn't tell them apart. 

His doodles focused on pattern and shapes and they tended to be symmetrical (unusual for a man since women tend more towards symmetry in their art than men do).

When I was younger, particularly in highschool, my art was mostly abstract art and some of it looked quite a lot like his. Perhaps I will share it some day. But then after getting the "sculpture bug" after going to a lecture and slide show on Kathe Kollwitz when I was 18 years old, I decided that I wanted to make visceral art instead, in the Kollwitz tradition, pieces that made statements, had meaning, spoke about things that mattered. It went with my Quaker background too (causes). I did make quite a lot of it (never published on the web) until about 1998 or so, when I decided to compliment my Renaissance CD, "Wingd With Hopes" with fantasy related art and music. Now I have gone back to "Expressionist" art and illustrations for a little while until I complete a few "assignments". Then I'll be back here. Promise.

I hope this border design is like a big hug to my dad. I think he would have liked it? He tended to like bold pattern.

I started a blog about my father HERE. The table of contents is on the right hand side. Unfortunately I haven't been able to put as much time into it as I would have liked. That's another story...   

my memorial piece for my father

my father
photo © the Winne family

We called my father "Dood" because when I was a little girl I couldn't say "Dad." It stuck. And so my younger brother, Tom, also called him that.

Dood was a deep and profound thinker, always writing notes and keeping articles on spirituality, music, art, community and architecture. Our conversations on subjects could drag on for hours and even days. In speech he was always careful and thoughtful about what he said; in thought he tried to see all sides of an issue before formulating an opinion. Never one to be impulsive, his thought processes could get mired in many, many details and possibilities before they were formulated into speech, thus in order to really know Bob Winne you had to be patient enough to hear his words.

He told me many, many times throughout my life that I was like him in health, mind and spirit. Indeed we could talk with ease and intuitive understanding about all kinds of subjects. Our love of long walks and conversation dominated our relationship. We rarely parted ways in taste or opinion.

My father fought in World War II in the Battle of the Bulge. Shortly afterwards, he got to know some of the German soldiers he had fought against. He said he realized how impersonal war was from that experience, shooting and killing souls who could be saints -- only because their respective governments told them to do it.

Because of his experiences in war, he became a Quaker, heavily influenced by his conversations with Ken Webb who had started Farm and Wilderness Camps. From there he went on to study the writings and teachings of Gandhi and Martin Luther King.

My brother and I were also brought up Quaker, and in the Quaker way, taught by our parents to respect the speech, identities and life experiences of each person equally, to be humble, to be non-ostentatious, to be careful of our speech towards others in terms of how we effected others. He loved deeply and with sensitivity.

Dood also was constantly working on his own integrity, to be pure and full of heart in his deeds and actions towards other people. He always tried to see the best in everyone around him and take into consideration the challenges they faced; indeed he expressed anger very rarely. During our childhood, I had seen him break into anger only a handful of times and then by the time I was 11, he stopped.

I asked him when I was a teenager why he didn't show anger. His response was that anger was mostly unproductive; it is good only insofar that it serves justice, not hatred or intimidation or for motives which aren't moral.

When I was 18 and leaving home, I thought there were more people like Dood. I came to find out that Dood was rare. Throughout my long life, Dood and I had cross words only 4 times, and three of those times it was trivial: turning down loud music for instance. The more I got beat up in the outside world, the more I sought out the heart and advice of my father.

When he got dementia, it was my cue that I was on my own now and that I had to use what he had taught me to the best effect. Our conversations became about simpler things, but I will always be thankful that his dementia didn't progress to the point where he forgot my name or our common goals and interests.

I feel honored that I was the one who got to spend the last minutes of his life with him. He turned and looked at me as he took his last breath. In many shamanistic cultures, if a dying person looks into your eyes as they take their last breath, their soul merges with yours. I sure hope that is the case and I will let you know...

I don't relish my life without him, but I hope I will hear his voice in my head as I go through all of life's challenges. I hope that I will see certain scenes over and over in my head like the one time Jim and I parked in the driveway where Dood was waiting for us and he outstretched his arms to me and we danced in the driveway. Every moment with him was precious, a gem of enrichment in my life. I hope I can go forward with the joy of having known him rather than the grief of having lost him.

I hope all of you will too.