I found this at the Goodwill in Santa Monica the other day. It's pretty unremarkable, but I love it. When I was young, I would often spend the weekends at my grandparents house, playing cards, tossing a Frisbee with my brother, riding bikes through tranquil suburban streets. Their house was always neat and modern in a 1950's sort of way; simple, sturdy wood furniture lovingly crafted with smooth lines and light finishes, ornately patterned finishes on angular couches, yellow vinyl floor tiles with a vaguely cubic geometric pattern. The whole place felt like the late afternoon sunshine on a still summer day, the sounds of children playing drifting on a distant breeze. They had a painting of a battered dinghy washed up on a stony beach, bleached after years of sun and salt. The mood is the same is my secondhand painting. The nostalgia is warm in my heart.
