This is a piece 30 years in the making. Back when I was a junior at the University of Pittsburgh, I took the 61C bus from Squirrel Hill to Oakland every day. Same bus. Same people. Same routine.
But one particular day was different. I was on my way to meet with the Dean of Students to discuss graduating early and transferring campuses. My brain was spinning with what-ifs—what if the answer is no? Am I making a mistake? What comes after this? In the middle of that tailspin, the woman sitting beside me gently tapped my arm and whispered, “Excuse me.” I jumped up to let her out, assuming it was her stop. Instead, she looked me directly in the eyes and said: “No, this isn’t my stop...” To which I was very confused. She continued, “The Lord wanted me to tell you that He has a wonderful plan for your life.” I never saw her again, even though I rode that same route every single day.
Through all of the unravelings, the fallings apart, the putting myself back together again—she was right. That stranger’s words have echoed through my life for three decades. And this is how I see her now in my painting: standing in the sun, radiating wisdom, with a look of pure surrender on her face. My angel on the 61C.
18”x24” in a black gallery frame.
This is a piece 30 years in the making. Back when I was a junior at the University of Pittsburgh, I took the 61C bus from Squirrel Hill to Oakland every day. Same bus. Same people. Same routine.
But one particular day was different. I was on my way to meet with the Dean of Students to discuss graduating early and transferring campuses. My brain was spinning with what-ifs—what if the answer is no? Am I making a mistake? What comes after this? In the middle of that tailspin, the woman sitting beside me gently tapped my arm and whispered, “Excuse me.” I jumped up to let her out, assuming it was her stop. Instead, she looked me directly in the eyes and said: “No, this isn’t my stop...” To which I was very confused. She continued, “The Lord wanted me to tell you that He has a wonderful plan for your life.” I never saw her again, even though I rode that same route every single day.
Through all of the unravelings, the fallings apart, the putting myself back together again—she was right. That stranger’s words have echoed through my life for three decades. And this is how I see her now in my painting: standing in the sun, radiating wisdom, with a look of pure surrender on her face. My angel on the 61C.
18”x24” in a black gallery frame.
