Childhood Portrait of Ginette at the Old House

Have I mentioned that I love to talk? Tell stories, especially from my childhood.

It's a good thing I have to type it because otherwise my mouth would run away with me, but I am not the best typist.

A few years ago I painted this little watercolor and ink and it sold to a dear lady who at that time lived and worked in Charleston South Carolina. I think she now lives in Mississippi.

In this painting I sit on a little wooden bench at my grandparents place we called "The old House"!

It was an old house but a good house because it was a real home. Cooking was done on gas and the gas was delivered in a red tank and hooked up beneath I guess the stove. As a child I wasn’t too interested in the details of home keeping, but I remember the red tank, bright shiny red it was.
My memories from the days at "the old house" were all happy until I learned that they would soon move to yes "The New Place". Luckily my grandparent knew how to comfort me and reassure me, that just because they moved it wouldn't mean that I would not see them anymore, which is what my greatest fear was.

I still vividly remember when my grandmother found me crying in bed, only to pry out of me the reason for the tears. All I knew in my child's simplistic though processes was, that everything I knew would be no more. They were "leaving" the old house, that place I connected with happiness and safety, with roses and the creek, the garden and the apple tree. Grandpa with the garden shears, grandma with the baking and cooking. Fun  times marching around the house like a choo choo train with grandpa being the locomotive, us singing songs and blowing paper party curls through the air.

I remember laying in bed, on my back as she explained to me how it was going to be, that I would see them just the same and nothing would change, only where they lived. As she spoke, I watched the lights from cars, from the nearby street travel across the ceiling, the lights traveled left to right, I was fixated on it. I slowly became calm and the tears went away, with every comforting word she spoke.

In this painting, I recount a day when I was sick with a cold. I felt pretty peaky but even sick days were good days at the old house. Grandma gave me some ice cream, vanilla with a chocolate coating that was crunchy and  crumbled when I bit in to it. It was cold and soothed my sore throat. I was allowed to sit outside in the sun for a while right under the kitchen window where grandma could see me. I was way overdressed but she wanted me to stay warm, so I wore funny little pants and a dress over it. It was probably autumn but I am not sure.

I ate my ice cream before it melted and came back inside, where I was promptly told to lay on the little couch that was inside the family room/kitchen. I was Ok with that, because I was weak and tired and laid down, it was late afternoon and grandma was fixing something, Abendbrot (supper/dinner) probably. She took a towel and laid it over the lampshade to dim the light from my eyes. I see her hands laying the towel and adjusting it to make it right as I doze off.


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Ginette Callaway
Ginette Callaway


I am an independent, self supporting artist and Renaissance woman, working full time on my art. I absolutely love what I do. Creating art consumes me. I paint original art with oil paints, watercolors, also ink and pastel. Additionally I use the photos of my art or scans to create mixed media, where I use digital tools to layer texture or change the colors of these original paintings. Not a day goes by where I don't create something new. My original paintings are on My art prints are on and over 1000 pieces or art prints, that includes some of my earlier work and many abstract pieces are on

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