Author: miguel

A male voice said he was calling from San Diego: ” My name is Thomas Aguilar and I’m trying to find an artist named John Michael Keating. I am hoping you might be him.”

“That is my name and I am a painter. Years ago I used to live in San Diego. Why are you trying to find this person?”

He explained that he was a volunteer worker in a thrift store and that he had discovered an unusual painting. “We get a lot of amateur stuff donated here, paintings of mountains and sunsets and paintings of dogs and cats, but never artwork of such high quality as this one. So I was curious. I found the name of the artist written on the back.” Then he added, “the painting shows the reflection of a man in a blue sweater looking into a store window.” Then I knew Mr. Aguilar had found the artist he was looking for.

Let’s say it was an early morning in July some years ago and you happened to find yourself in a small town in Northern California. Let’s say you were taking a walk through the nearly deserted streets, admiring the houses and stores built in the architectural style of a hundred and fifty years ago when the town was settled during the Gold Rush of 1849. As the town awakened, sunlight poured through the clouds and cast long shadows on Commercial Street. You noticed a rusty pickup parked on Pine Street and a dog in the back of the truck. His coat was amber-colored. His head was perked up and attentive to what little was happening on the street. He looked like he was posing for a photograph.