When we’re young, our understanding of our parents is shaped equally by our limited experience so far in the world and the stories we’ve been told by others about them. Our perception is more similar to family lore than reality, as if our parents are not real people but characters in our favorite storybooks.
Taking on the task of cataloguing my dad’s art demanded that I revisit these childhood perceptions, the thoughtless patterns of understanding of who my dad was as a person and as an artist that were frozen in time when he suddenly passed away. Who was Mike McClintock to other people and to himself? What truly inspired him? What motivated his work and actions in life?
This process has allowed me to identify his artistic obsessions, inquiries and curiosities that become common themes in all his later work. Like the linear pier contrasted with the calmingly organic, yet manmade shape of a surfboard. Inquiries into using color and texture to create movement in his large format oil paintings, hyper realism and thinking in opposites in his etchings, reducing expression to mere symbols in his prints and oils alike. What happens when you scale bigger and bigger? What’s the result of that on the viewer?
I wonder if my dad ever thought I would be poking around his college portfolios - looking at those types of sketches that are intimately mindless - never thought to be seen by another set of eyes. Flipping through faded and crinkled life drawing sketches and studies for future pieces, mock-ups of invites to his fraternity’s ragers, not sure those parties deserved such handcrafted invites… My dad was pluralistic, his identities as a fraternity bro rugby player, vagabond surfer and thoughtful artist all informing one another, and likely confusing people as a student at UC Berkeley.
Then flash forward to his identity as a father raising three teenage girls, waking up at 4am to make produce deliveries, done in time to paint in the afternoon and then pick us all up to go to our various extracurriculars, gymnastics, volleyball and art classes. A man who always painted exquisite birthday cards for friends and family, orchestrated communal art projects with his young daughters, and found all possible moments to encourage another’s artistic process, even by taking art classes with them (Beth!).
Birthday card for “Papa Jim”, Mike’s father, late 1990s
Birthday card for my sister Becca, late 1990s
Portrait of Papa Jim, Family Collaboration, late 1990s. My dad drew the portrait and my sister’s and I were each “assigned” to pastel the various sections.
Juggling all his responsibilities at the end of his life, my dad still managed to make space for his art. Shortly before he passed away he had set the intention to make art a bigger part of his life by pursuing galleries and exhibiting his work. As an artist, this process of codifying my dad’s work has made me reflect on the real-life odds he overcame to continue to make art, he made it a priority and found time where it seemed impossible. The process has reminded me to be resilient and disciplined - having the willingness to put in the hard work to create the life I envision for myself. His example and legacy continue to teach me potent lessons nearly eighteen years after his passing.
I hope that visiting this site and flipping through his work will give you a chance to remember by dad and reflect on his work. We all had a unique relationship with him, having our own special connection that others didn’t have. Our own treasured memories that keep him vividly alive to us today.
I would like this blog page to be a place where we can all share and celebrate our memories of Mike. I encourage you to share any stories, photos, or anything - brief or long. If you would like share on the blog, please email your content (words and photos) to michaelgordonmcclintock@gmail.com and I will post it here.
Alternatively, all of the pages allow for commenting so feel free to share your thoughts on the photos themselves.
If my dad was here today, I know he would be living somewhere in a humble beachside casita, surfing in the mornings and spending his days painting and working in his garden. A lovely vision I extend to all of you!
Thank you for being here and being present.
Warmly, Madison McClintock
Shooting Becca’s new BB gun on Christmas, 1994
