It could be a village square or main street but our neighborhood-gathering place was the hockey arena. A microcosm of ordered chaos reflecting familial dramas and binding a cross-section of generations in spite of different interests.
An over-nurturing Mom anxiously reaching out a lunch box to her adolescent young man who is wishing that she would get lost, his discretely roving eyes on the girls, and his kid sister, running forward toward fresh prospects and mischief.
In our arena we see them all - infants to grandparents - performing the comedy of life together.
Oil 40" x 30"
neiltoulch.com
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