Sometime in the mid to late Sixties Howie went to Cleveland for a seminar. It may have been when he got his certification to design bomb shelters, although I don't think he ever did design any. He did go hear the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra, with George Szell conducting. He also brought me a few postcards from the art museum, and I still have one on my bulletin board. On the postcard, Georges Roualt's palette is more subdued and earthy.
It seems like a very simple, almost childish painting, and yet I can ponder this twenty-five cent reproduction for a half hour without realizing I'm doing so. What is it in the outline of the nose that makes me inhale deep into my sinus cavities and have a sense of the third eye? Why does the tilt of the head convey such deep compassion? Why does the small mouth suggest quiet, determined action rather than speech? Why do the large, cockeyed eyes evoke such wise external observation, such openness to all experience, and expanded inward eternal sight?