Where are We Going?

I've returned from the what was probably the most stressful yet healing week of my life. We gave Grandpa David a send off that was fitting and found some closure, I think.

I received a great honor as well. I sent out the finished David Numerism drawing to my family, and I was asked to have it on display at the service. It meant so much to me to be able to memorialize him and have it standing there next to my uncles, cousins, my mother and of course my grandfather, close to them and at their side. I only wish he could have seen it. He never did see an original numerism piece; it was always prints I sent to him. I think he would have liked it though, and I can only hope that the drawing and the meaning behind it can be of some service to my family in their time of grief.

On the other side of the display was a painting my father, Thom Boffi, created for David years ago, when I was 2 years old. It is a very large painting, inspired by Gauguin and my grandpa's portrayal of him in "Gauguin the Savage", as well as images from other movies he was in, including "Americana". It's a beautiful painting (I will put up a picture as soon as I have one), and up at the left hand corner, is Gauguin's quote (in french, I believe) "Where are we from? What are we? Where are we going?" D'où venons-nous? Qui sommes-nous? Où allons-nous?

I also found that my drawing of Grandpa David was on the back of the program above the lyrics to "Midnight Rider". I can't express how much I appreciate that. To have been thought of amidst this tumultuous time. Everyone lost someone so very close to them, and the ones who had the most to loose were taking care of everything. Thank you so much. We are all so grateful that you were in charge and helped to send him off in style and grace.

Right, that's what I wanted to say.

Family's are complicated, and people individually even more so in some respects, but to hear stories about my grandpa again, and to see the impact he's had on so many, reminded me of aspects of him and of my family that I am holding onto during this time.

Grace. He always had grace. In everything he did. Okay, maybe not always, but most of the time, and it was something important to him. I'm holding onto these things and trying to make sure they're expressing themselves through me. Grace, grace under pressure, style, passion, being yourself against all odds.

Seeing my family stand proud and strong through this was beautiful. Seeing Cade playing piano so beautifully, my mother, Calista, singing "Stormy Monday" with all her soul, Ian, Deedee, Coby Brown, Henry, Bobby and Keith, all playing for him with such strength and style showed me that we'll be okay. We're all artists in some way, and that's how we live life, experience it and deal with it, and seeing my family stand up and play music during this difficult time made me so proud. They kept it together and I felt waves upon waves of pride. It wasn't until then that I knew we were all going to be okay, and I felt grateful that we all have our art forms to heal through.

I will miss him, and it's hard to imagine a world without him, being that he's always been in mine, but I have the consolation of knowing that this giant tree that he was such a big part of lives on, and they are beautiful people who I am proud to know and love.

Also, a note to any extended family in our giant tree: all family members (and that include inaugural family who have been with us for decades and are pretty much Carradines at this point), are welcome to a print of this. I have paper and canvas prints, though I am giving most of the canvas prints to close family. So, if you would like a print, please email me and I will make sure you get one.

To everyone else who is not family but would like this piece, I will be printing a limited edition run of prints. They will be available for purchase online as well as at some galleries, however, I will not have these at art walks.


Send requests to Sienna.Morris@Gmail.com