The real estate agent wore a fedora, smashed almost flat, a cartoon hat too small for his head. He advertised the quality of his coat with a label sewn near the cuff of one sleeve: 100 percent wool. Beneath it, a shirt stretched so far the buttons barely held; I could have rested my hand on the balloon of his belly.
With the windows open, light poured in, a pure yellow Catskill’s light Marc would have loved. We drove from Wallkill, to Bethel, Warwick and Mt Hope. We drove to Kingston, Cottekill, Olive Bridge and Accord. None of the homes suited. “Your husband’s some kind of artist, right?” I nodded. “Well, he said, I have a house. It’s small and kinda beaten down, but it has another little house next to it. Maybe your husband could do whatever he does there?”
In High Falls, a small village of wooden homes, cows grazed; cats on front porches turned their bellies to the sun. He parked the car on a narrow side street. With his hand on my elbow, we picked our way along, the air phosphorescent with fir trees and the clean, mineral smell of water. “Look up,” he said. Miles above us the falls roared down as if God had slashed the sky and emptied the oceans.
“Waterfall at High Falls” 2018 | Oil on panel | 6″ x 8″
“Footpath to High Falls” 2018 | Oil on panel | 8″ x 6″
“Boulder at High Falls” 2018 | Oil on panel | 6″ x 6″
Amy Talluto earned her BFA from Washington University and her MFA from the School of Visual Arts. She is a 2018 NYFA/NYSCA Artist Fellow in Painting. She recently had solo shows at Jeff Bailey Gallery and Black & White Gallery. Amy’s work has been included in a two-person exhibition at PS 122 Gallery in New York, and several group shows.