Following Richard Carlyon

I was in the minority without a memory of the man himself.

As I was standing at the Anderson Gallery admiring a Richard Carlyon painting from the 1970s, a man approached me and asked if I remembered the paintings from that period. I didn't because they were before my time; I didn't get to Richmond until the late '80s.

He looked like he felt sorry for me, but introduced himself as a former art history student and fan of Carlyon's work.

Minutes later I was inspecting a large work, intrigued by the pencil-looking lines etched into the flat color plains of the painting when another man asked me if I thought the lines were intentional (I did). He was an artist and also, it seems, a Carlyon admirer of many years.

We backed up from the work and admired it from a distance, losing sight of the lines and seeing nothing but color.

The retrospective I saw tonight at Reynolds Gallery, Visual Arts Center and the Anderson Gallery (I ran out of time and didn't make it to 1708 Gallery by 9:00 for the fourth part of the show) was a fascinating look at a major local artist whose work mirrored all the important periods in modern art.

I'm telling you, the transition from the art of his senior portfolio to his post 9/11 work was staggering and inspiring at the same time.

I loved that his actual studio, in which he had created art for over 50 years, had been fully recreated, down to his house slippers and music collection. As I admired paint brushes of all sizes and shapes and more art supplies than I even knew existed, it wasn't difficult to get a real sense of Carlyon's devotion to his art.

And my goodness, walking home just now, wasn't that a beautiful moon?