DRAWINGS - Click for more
Louis Henri Pottier, 1925-1999, was my father. He was a self-taught virtual engineer, gifted that way. Always soft-spoken, deferential to a fault, really. Though never fully accepting or understanding of my life choices, he only went icily ballistic once. My third year at Dalhousie University, I’d moved into Fenwick Towers ... with roomates ... including one male. Which begat the one and only phone call Dad ever made to me. He read me the riot act, to wit: Walter was to find himself another place to stay, or, Dad would be in Halifax at 8:00AM the following morning to move me out and find more suitable accommodation. Those were the days and times, my friend. I adored him from the get-go, and miss him still. This is a practice sketch. If I can get it just so, it should become a painting.