In many advertising agencies years ago, each of those in the creative department would be assigned a partner. A writer would be paired with an art director, and they were called a concept team.
One of my first partners was Lydia.
Each frame of her storyboards was like a masterpiece—the figures were drawn with such flair they moved, and their faces spoke a thousand words. "When I grow up," she used to say, "I'd be a painter."
"You could be one right now," I'd reply, meaning it.
"But I need a regular income," she said. Her kids and my own were still of school age then.
I teamed up with other art directors through the years, till I I found myself solo as the department head. Lyds finally took the risk and mounted a one-man show, where I fell in love with one of her mother-and-child paintings.
"Why don't you take that?" she suggested.
"I can't afford you," I said.
"I'll give it to you at half the price, on installment." Deal!
From then now, the works of Lydia Velasco are some of the more recognizable art pieces in the country. Her impressionistic renderings of the human form with expressive faces (women especially) hang in many mansions, homes, art galleries, and museums; some had been auctioned at Sotheby’s.
She fell ill recently, and I visited her—what a grand reunion it was at her huge art studio! Then an idea hit me as I swooned over her chefs-d'oeuvre. Would Lydia lend me one of her faces for the cover of The Other Cheek?
“Sure,” she said. “Choose!”
I took close-up shots of many faces and after saying our good-byes, I sent all photos to my publisher, explaining why.
The cover artist and editors gushed over her images and tada!
I thank the Lord for the grace of Lydia and her art—specially for this book on forgiveness.
“. . . If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also.” Matthew 5:39 (NLT)
|Lyds and I at her studio|