If you’ve always lived within a Metropolitan Statistical Area (those areas in green below), I expect this post to have limited resonance with your soul as it does mine.

While I recognize that I fit squarely into the inerudite redneck stereotype in regards to my lack of appreciation for the finer “arts,” I do find inspiration when I encounter man’s attempt to copy God’s work on a canvas or with a piece of stone. I have toured some of the world’s most renowned museums and gazed upon the beauty of the Sistine Chapel and the Bascilla i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia, but nothing tugs at my soul like a Terry Redlin painting. Some of you Metro Statistical Area types either just spewed your mocha latte across your iPhone 14 Pro screen or threw up in in the back of your mouth, but it’s a badge I proudly wear.

As I make this proclamation, I do struggle with the perceived oxymoron of my appreciation of Terry Redlin, while despising any country music made after 1994. I’ll save my diatribe towards what passes as country music these days for a later post and focus today’s post on how Terry warms my soul.

Take a minute and just gaze upon “A Bountiful Harvest”

I can’t critique this on its artistic merits, but I can explain how it makes me feel. I remember driving a grain truck like this when I was only 12 years old, afraid that the brakes were going to go out at any second or the engine would backfire and start a fire in the grain field below (this actually happened). I remember my grandfather, my dad and their hands gathering on the edge of the field at dusk, grain dust filling the air, discussing the yields and moisture levels of the beans from the day. A dog was always near by, ducks and geese headed south was a consistent view above, maybe even a faint sound of the play call announcer on the PA from your home team’s football game traveled through the chilly air – the beauty of harvest at dusk is difficult to put into words, but Mr. Terry did a fine job with it here.

There is nothing real about this painting, it’s an imagined reality – what our memories become when we forget the details and sweeten it in with the ideal rather than truly how it was. Almost every Terry Redlin painting does this for me in some way. Most include wildlife, especially waterfowl, which is near and dear to me. They usually are set at sunrise and sunset, which are the two best times of the day if we’re willing to stop and appreciate them. Dogs seems to always be around. Is there anything we remember more fondly than dogs, when the majority of the time we owned them, they were nothing but a money pit.

Redlin is the Bob Seger of modern American art. Seger’s modus operandi was his nostalgia trope. His lyrics always have had me longing for my youth and those moments when I was free from the heavy burdens of my adult life. In the same way, Redlin’s paintings give me a window into my idealized memory banks of the days gone by.

I recognize I lack some sophistication in my appreciation for these more common visual and auditory elements, but I sure hope some day when I get to heaven it looks like a Terry Redlin painting and I hear “Against the Wind” on the radio.

By the way, Mr. Redlin isn’t the only artist that has given me such memorable paintings. Another favorite of mine is Brett James Smith. His waterfowl paintings are some of the best. My favorite “A Good Morning” is below. Jessica, if you’re reading – this would be an awesome gift for my office wall.