I have a wonderful cousin who gave me a painting of my great-grandmother, Bathsheba Cushing Devol Threewit Powers. Folks called her Barsha. I knew her as Gran. Gran was very tall and my daughter Emilie inherited her tallness. I can remember Gran’s apartment on Beacon St. in Boston. It had a tiny elevator, that you walked into from the front hall and it opened right into her living room, which was very dark with lots of wood and burgundy velvet. I was so tiny then.
Gran had a stroke and was moved to a nursing home in Chestnut Hill and I remember her coming to Thanksgiving at Mamie’s (her daughter, my grandmother). She then had a wheelchair and some of the nicest bathrobes ever. Gran would be parked in the little study, with the fireplace and we would all spend turns buzzing in and out to visit.
I remember the nursing home as well. She had a huge selection of pretty robes and bed-coats. A bed-coat is a cute little cape that you can wear in bed and still look all dresses up. Very 50’s I think. She always had a black oval tin of fancy candy drops, and if I was good, then I could have one, or two. I was not to bother the other residents, nor the nurses or the staff.
So cousin Jennifer downsized from one house to another and was so very kind to give me this portrait of Gran. But she looked a little grubby and the gold frame was chipped in a couple of areas, so she needed a good cleaning. This is where we lucked out. I actually know someone who does fine art restoration. Go figure.
Maria Roosevelt did wonderful restoration work on a portrait of Mamie a few years ago, and was able to verify the artist who painted her. A man named Peter Cook, who did a lot of landscapes in wide brush strokes, so a portrait was a bit unique. But Mamie has hung in my living room watching over us all for a while, so when Gran came last year we had to find a good spot. Having the two alpha women in the same room was a bit over powering and Gran came to be in my office. She is a bit more reserved then Mamie and it worked out well.
Gran went off to Maria’s in late August or September with a jar of home made pickles. Maria likes home made pickles and things. It is socially very OK to bring a jar of pickles to your fine art restoration professional in Vermont.
Maria emailed just the other day:
” I’m pleased with how she came out and hope you’ll like her as well.
The most time consuming part was getting rid of (and then repairing the damage from) a wash of green/gray that had apparently been added to “antique” her at some time. While she did have to be cleaned and had a mildly dirty surface, that wasn’t bad. It was this green/gray wash that was rather unbecoming (and stubborn). I suspect it was likely added at the same time she was cut down and re-framed in the oval frame. Yes, she has some greenish shadow tinting that would have been appropriate, but now this actually looks appropriate rather than overwhelming.
The damaged spot in the board (as seen in the background above her head) was trimmed down, filled and then re-touched. I elected not to removed it completely since I would have had to also remove a wider area of the board and then re-build that same area. In a technical sense, what I did do was the most effective and least invasive of the possible options. The frame has been glued, repaired and touched up as needed.
I like the way she came out and hope you do too!“
At some point my Aunt Bob, ( also given the family name of Barsha ), Jennifer’s mother cut the original portrait and had her crammed into a smaller oval frame. The artist name was lost, but given the time when she was volunteering at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, we might be able to get a pretty good guess at who painted it.
The value of having this painting and that of my grandmother is to help show my daughters what strong and unique roots they come from. A bit of their own history. Emilie is much like gran and Elizabeth is much like Mamie. We can find out so much about the male line of our descendants, but tracing our mother’s mothers is a challenge.
Here is what I got so far:
Em and Liz, my girls, then me. My mother is Holly, her mother was Polly, her mother was Bathsheba and her mother was Ella (called Nellie) Sophia Work, and her mother was Anna Bathsheba Cushing, and her mother was Ann Eliza Reynolds born 1811 in Logan Ohio. Gotta love those mid west roots. That is 8 generations of women.
Not that the dudes don’t count, but frankly the female line is more interesting.
I will pick up Gran in early December and she will be coming home.
Editors note: picutures forthcoming.
