Pop’s Paintings

Many people who have been following my Social Isolation journal on Facebook think of my Dad, Pops, a.k.a Quick Carlson, as a poet, but he also has impressive artistic achievement of other kinds. I was amazed the other day, when I was looking for something in his basement, and stumbled upon a map drawer filled with dozens and dozens of his beautiful watercolor paintings from the 80s and 90s. “How come these are just living in a drawer?”, I accused. “Oh, those are my rejects”, said Pops. Maybe time is also the great healer of self-criticism, too, because when I showed him some of the photos I had taken of the paintings he admitted that they weren’t too bad. “There’s enough to have a show”, I said, but he had zero interest in that or in selling any. So, I have turned my attention to getting them to live on the walls of his descendant’s homes by introducing them in the family chat and getting response that way. The scribbly picture above is what I am getting to sort things out. In the meantime, Pops said I could make a 2021 calendar, free for download, for anyone that is interested. It’s done! Get it at

https://thirdagethoughts.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Pops-2021-Calendar.pdf

My walls are very full, but I couldn’t resist claiming this one that reminds me of the shore walks that I take so often these days.

Thanks Pops!

8 thoughts on “Pop’s Paintings”

  4. Absolutely beautiful. I just printed a copy. Thanks Lona. Thanks Quick. I especially love the tall ships.

  5. These are fantastic. I like your thought around healing self-criticism…thanks for sharing them with all of us.

  6. Terrific Pops – thanks for sharing. The shoreline painting is great, but I like them all. Here’s something for you that you have stirred in my memory, Cheers!

    Sea-Fever
    by John Masefield

    I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
    And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
    And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

    I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
    And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
    To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

  7. Beautiful! I downloaded to my desktop so I can enjoy every day of the month. Thank you

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