Bo Bartlett

I like this story about the painter Bo Bartlett because of the serendipitous way it happened. I was in Rockland with curator Bruce Brown. We traveled up together from Portland on a raw December day to see a show at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art, grab a bite and then do some gallery hopping.

We ended up in Dowling Walsh, ostensibly so Bruce could look at some prints he was considering purchasing. Hanging in the main part of the gallery was a huge painting by Bo Bartlett of a mysterious Christmas scene involving Mary and Joseph praying over an empty manger, while a little boy rides away on his bike with Baby Jesus in his backpack.

Biblical in scale, mystery and content, the painting, titled “Christmas” and with a price tag of $335,000, enraptured me. While Bruce did his business, I kept marveling at “Christmas” and wondering all about it.

I had interviewed Bo before, and knew a bit of his story. I knew he painted near Matinicus, was an acolyte of Andrew Wyeth and that he grew up in Georgia – and that he liked to make big, dramatic paintings with Old World themes and sensibilities. There was a mystery to his work, and some would say a coldness. But “Christmas” begged the question: What is going on? What is the story?

The story idea nagged at me, but I didn’t have a good angle other than my curiosity. And then one day, I got a press release announcing the opening of the Bo Bartlett Center at Columbus State University in his hometown in Georgia. The center would feature Bartlett’s paintings and specialize in American realism.

It was a perfect news hook, and an opportunity to write about this amazing painting hanging in Rockland that stopped me in my tracks. One of the things that I love about my job are the opportunities for surprise – and serendipity. Oftentimes, when I am not looking for stories is when I find the best ones. You have to be open to them, and willing to be surprised. You can’t be cynical.

That day in Rockland, I was rewarded for wandering with a friend, for taking our time and considering our options. That’s a luxury I don’t take as often as I should. All my minutes are accounted for.

One of the things I was supposed to do after winning the Rabkin Prize was slow down, pause and breathe. I don’t do any of those things often enough, despite the promise and hope of the Rabkin award.

But I did for this story. I took the time to look, to wonder – and wander -- and to let things percolate. Bo was a delightful interview. We spoke by phone, which is not ideal. I like talking to people face to face, so I can see their eyes. But he was in Georgia and I was in Maine, and our geographic circumstances weren’t going to change soon enough to do anything but talk by phone.

The mystery of the painting that sparked my initial curiosity carried over in my writing. I wanted to use language that was appropriate for this work and that captured whatever it was that drew me to it. I wanted people to feel my what I felt.

I kept thinking about Bob Dylan as I wrote this story, and I think that shows in how I chose to tell it.