My dad, painter John Jagel, smoked cigarettes for most of his life. Driving in the wintertime in Boston, in the backseat of his VW Rabbit my brother and I had two choices. Windows closed and desperate we’d tuck our faces into the fronts of our shirts. Or windows open to the rush of freezing air and still, basically, breathing in smoke, just not as much. The experience was emblematic of the challenging relationship we had with a father who could be wonderful and also caused us a lot of harm. As a father of two, I’m doing my part to change a multi-generational history of pain. This painting is an ode to my own and my father’s fallibility, to human frailty. It is an ode to the beauty, strength and vulnerability that exists within family interconnectedness.
Donated by: Gallery 15
