In My Dreams I Ride Wild Horses

Without courage there cannot be art.… Whosoever feels that he would not like to think out to its end every thought that may happen to come into his mind I would dissuade from art. —George Moore, Irish writer, 1906 The full body of work of artist Billy Roper can no longer be measured. Record keeping was never important to him, and, indeed, never occurred to him in the early days when he was struggling. But there are a number of photographs extant, and what can be examined are the themes that have occupied his thinking from the first time he began to put paint on canvas and chisel to wood and stone. Examples of the thoughts that he has pursued to their conclusion and committed to permanence can be found with art enthusiasts throughout North Georgia. One of the favorite artistic devices among Roper fans is painted patchwork with its built-in warmth awash with nostalgia. But patchwork in the hands of an artist is more than comfortable memories of bygone days. It becomes a vehicle to portray deep emotion as well as serene beauty. Consider, first of all, an eleven-inch by fourteen-inch acrylic painting on canvas called Making Friends. It is a piece of perfection. A loveable rabbit constructed of many patches of vintage fabric with a few loose threads showing is attempting to make friends with the denizens of a nearby beehive while the sun shines brightly from a clear sky and a tendril of small white blossoms twines through the entire scene. A net is evident in the background and seems to enclose the animals in their own small world. It is a scene out of a child’s coloring book finished in extravagant color with a flourish of ecstatic styling. Billy recalls, “When I was in first or second grade, for Christmas one year, I got a box of little coloring books—we called them spit coloring books; you could spit on them and bring out the color—and they had rabbits and all kinds of stuff. And in first and second grade I can’t remember anything that weren’t wonderful. I think of them colorin’ books, and it is a very warm feelin’.” The suggestion that Making Friends personifies perfection draws from Roper the poignant account of wife J. J.’s recovery from surgery. He had taken his artist’s tools with him to the hospital while he waited for her to return from the operating room. When he was told that she was going to recover completely, the world looked perfect to him. There in her hospital room, he poured his exultation into the colorful patchwork rabbit that radiated happiness at being alive. But transport the patchwork rabbit motif to a larger canvas, add a second patchwork rabbit, and seat them facing each other with playing cards in their hands—an ace or two squirreled away—and you get a different message even though the scene is just as meticulously and charmingly rendered as Making Friends. The message becomes clearer from the title You Show Me Yours First, Rabbits in I Wonder Land—incidentally, a title that has conjured up even further messages somewhat afield from Billy’s intentions, though he is not at all bothered by this circumstance and just smiles when it is mentioned. This picture harkens back to the period of time when Billy and J. J. were drifting apart, each harboring grievances and suspicions against the other. Billy explains, “The way I felt at the time, I can’t win no matter what I do.… It (the painting) is not a dance in the sun at all.” Another minor masterpiece of patchwork is called Visitors. It is one of the artist’s imaginative flower arrangements that in its execution becomes a great deal more. A bouquet of twelve blossoms of different shapes, sizes, and colors—all done in patchwork and arranged in a lavender vase—rests on a red and yellow striped table. The title refers to the column of ants climbing one side of the table to inspect the flowers. The painting is quite simply a thing of beauty and far more engaging than realistic flowers would be. Patchwork, sometimes only a touch here and there, adds its warmth and charm to many Roper paintings. A subject that Roper’s following finds especially pleasing is musical instruments. He has painted a still-life series entitled Soul Mates, each of which pictures a guitar and a banjo positioned together. One such painting is done in crayon and acrylic on paper, showing the guitar with broken strings that have been magically transformed into delicate tendrils that sprout in many directions. The pale pink tendrils at the base echo the various shades of rose in the wood grain of the guitar, while the beige tendrils sprouting from the opposite end coordinate with the less showy banjo. It is a serenade or, more appropriately, a ballad about the fate of two worn-out musical instruments that still exude life. The initial impression to a viewer might be that of a colorful Spanish guitar. The felicity of the design as well as the magical quality of the theme are not only delightful, they are a balm to the senses. Roper has painted many musical instruments, some in various states of disrepair but still appearing to have music left in them. One of his outstanding works to date is an impressionistic painting of a guitar, on a background of other instruments, rendered in shades of blue-green against brown. Such paintings seem to break down whatever barriers still exist between written word, sound, and images to combine poetry, music, and painting into one sublime aesthetic encounter.