The Gallery of Greg
I can't believe it's taken me this long, but the Gallery of Greg has finally been installed. Part of the delay was due to the fact that two of the pieces never made it up in the old apartment because they needed hangers on the back, but most of it had to do with the fact that the hallway in which the gallery is hung didn't NEED artwork, and there were always more pressing matters at hand. That said, I'm glad it's finally done.
Greg, if you don't know, is the older brother. As is the duty of any younger sister, I idolized him as a child. To the point where he broke my leg when I was around 10 or 11 months old. Best as my parents can tell, I was following him around (he was about 3 or 4 at the time) and he was trying to escape from me. He crawled up on his bed, and I tried to follow suit. He tried to push my down, but my leg got caught in the bed. OUCH!
Not to say we haven't had our issues, but in retrospect a large part of that has to do with the fact that he's paranoid schizophrenic. He wasn't diagnosed during our teen years, but that's when he first started to exhibit symptoms. Years later with a very loving and tenacious mother doing what she can to take care of him while not sabotaging the rest of us, and a few bits of dumb luck, and we've made it to a happy place where we can all function in a way we call normal.
It's not without it's problems. He was scheduled to be homeless right around the time of the wedding, which really stressed my mom out, but he's a resourceful guy and got it all taken care of.
Sometimes I may seem very blase about issues facing Greg. When he was facing the most recent stint of homelessness my response was basically that he's done it before, he can do it again -- at least it's summer, so the weather is nice. It's not that I don't care, but the fact of the matter is that although he will never be a productive member of society he has always succeeded in getting his needs met. I specifically recall one Christmas. I was living in the city at the time, so picked him up in the morning to drive him out to the folks for festivities. He wanted to stop at Pioneer Courthouse Square, where a group had set up facilities to feed the homeless for Christmas Day (he wasn't homeless at the time, but has been on SSD for about 12 years, and qualifies for Section 8 housing and food stamps, although I don't believe he takes advantage of them). He'd already taken advantage of a few such resources, to the point where he was complaining he was full and wouldn't be able to eat once we got out to the folks'. He managed to eat, though.
He's also the reason I won't give money to pan handlers. I've seen him pan handling on the street before, and know for a fact (from his own admission) that the money was used towards dishonorable purposes. I will, however, look the pan handler straight in the eye and give them a smile. A bit of respect. Everyone deserves that. It's actually one of the things I miss about living in Portland the most. Me, respectable person dressed up for business at hand, running into a scroungy looking tattooed guy, and striking up a lengthy conversation with him. Always makes people do double-takes.
Despite the challenges Greg has some really outstanding qualities as well. He is one of the most compassionate people I know. The death of a bird would practically throw him over the deep end in our younger years.
He's also a pretty incredible artist, which brings us to the Gallery of Greg. It's all abstract stuff, but I'm proud to display his artwork on my walls. Friends often comment on the work. And, as a younger sister it is a way I can show that I still look up to my big brother.
Greg, if you don't know, is the older brother. As is the duty of any younger sister, I idolized him as a child. To the point where he broke my leg when I was around 10 or 11 months old. Best as my parents can tell, I was following him around (he was about 3 or 4 at the time) and he was trying to escape from me. He crawled up on his bed, and I tried to follow suit. He tried to push my down, but my leg got caught in the bed. OUCH!
Not to say we haven't had our issues, but in retrospect a large part of that has to do with the fact that he's paranoid schizophrenic. He wasn't diagnosed during our teen years, but that's when he first started to exhibit symptoms. Years later with a very loving and tenacious mother doing what she can to take care of him while not sabotaging the rest of us, and a few bits of dumb luck, and we've made it to a happy place where we can all function in a way we call normal.
It's not without it's problems. He was scheduled to be homeless right around the time of the wedding, which really stressed my mom out, but he's a resourceful guy and got it all taken care of.
Sometimes I may seem very blase about issues facing Greg. When he was facing the most recent stint of homelessness my response was basically that he's done it before, he can do it again -- at least it's summer, so the weather is nice. It's not that I don't care, but the fact of the matter is that although he will never be a productive member of society he has always succeeded in getting his needs met. I specifically recall one Christmas. I was living in the city at the time, so picked him up in the morning to drive him out to the folks for festivities. He wanted to stop at Pioneer Courthouse Square, where a group had set up facilities to feed the homeless for Christmas Day (he wasn't homeless at the time, but has been on SSD for about 12 years, and qualifies for Section 8 housing and food stamps, although I don't believe he takes advantage of them). He'd already taken advantage of a few such resources, to the point where he was complaining he was full and wouldn't be able to eat once we got out to the folks'. He managed to eat, though.
He's also the reason I won't give money to pan handlers. I've seen him pan handling on the street before, and know for a fact (from his own admission) that the money was used towards dishonorable purposes. I will, however, look the pan handler straight in the eye and give them a smile. A bit of respect. Everyone deserves that. It's actually one of the things I miss about living in Portland the most. Me, respectable person dressed up for business at hand, running into a scroungy looking tattooed guy, and striking up a lengthy conversation with him. Always makes people do double-takes.
Despite the challenges Greg has some really outstanding qualities as well. He is one of the most compassionate people I know. The death of a bird would practically throw him over the deep end in our younger years.
He's also a pretty incredible artist, which brings us to the Gallery of Greg. It's all abstract stuff, but I'm proud to display his artwork on my walls. Friends often comment on the work. And, as a younger sister it is a way I can show that I still look up to my big brother.
posted by Swankette at 7:13 PM
1 Comments:
Meeting your brother was one of the unexpected pleasures of the Wedding of Swank. Sweetie was particularly taken with him. Post some pix of the art!
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