Part 6: The Portrait Committee

The arts foundation met in November to plan a new exhibition at Vale House. A board member suggested using Theo and Mae's drawing in the publicity campaign. He had seen it on the exhibition wall and thought the image of a family tree would make a compelling symbol for the foundation's work.

I understood the appeal. I also knew that the drawing belonged to the children and that their presence at an exhibition was not permission to use it everywhere.

“We need their mother's agreement and, in a way appropriate for their age, theirs,” I said. “We should also explain where the image would appear.”

The board member looked surprised. “Their names don't have to be printed.”

“That doesn't make it ours.”

The program director spoke with Nora, who asked the children privately. Theo did not mind the drawing appearing in a small exhibition booklet. Mae did mind having it printed on a large outdoor banner. She liked the picture, she said, but did not want strangers deciding what her family meant.

The foundation respected both answers. The booklet included a photograph of the drawing without identifying the children, and the banner used a commissioned illustration of the gallery's windows instead. The director updated the consent form so families could choose separately for exhibitions, print materials, and online posts.

The decision made me think about the large portrait in the gallery. For years the painting had been treated as a complete account of our family, though it included only the relatives my grandfather had wanted represented. My aunt Clara, who had left the family business to become a teacher, was absent. So were the people who had cared for my grandmother when she was ill.

I asked the curator whether we could add labels explaining when the portrait was commissioned and who had chosen its subjects. She suggested a small display about how family portraits are constructed rather than a claim that the painting showed every important person.

Clara came to see the proposal. She studied the portrait and smiled at the space where she might have stood.

“I was offered a place,” she said. “Your grandfather wanted me to pose with the company ledger. I asked to bring a schoolbook instead. We couldn't agree.”

“Were you angry?”

“For a while. Then I found other walls for my photographs.”

She had brought one of those photographs: her students holding paper lanterns at the end of a school year. She allowed the curator to use it in the new display after the former students had been contacted and the permissions checked.

At my next visit, I told Theo and Mae about Clara. They wanted to meet her. Nora agreed, and we arranged a short lunch at the community center rather than surprising them with a new relative at a crowded event.

Clara arrived carrying a puzzle. She asked the children what they liked to do before saying anything about family history. Theo showed her his bridge. Mae showed her the robin. Clara listened as though both were the most interesting things she had seen all week.

On the way out, Mae whispered to Nora, “Can Aunt Clara have a branch?”

Nora smiled. “It's your drawing.”

Mae looked at me. “The tree is getting crowded.”

“We can use a bigger piece of paper,” I said.

She considered that. “Or we can draw a forest.”