Abstract Thinking

Posted On July 23, 2025

I bought my first house, a modest Craftsman bungalow, a few years after I moved to the Pacific Northwest. The house was small, with a tiny front lawn and a small backyard dominated by an ancient apple tree. One sunny weekend there was a knock on my front door. The “knock-er” was a bespectacled man of average height, probably in his late thirties. His frame was slight and his features sharp, as if he was undernourished. His round glasses and high forehead gave him a professorial look. 

“My name is Bill Turner,” he introduced himself, “and I was cutting the lawn and doing the yardwork for the previous owners. Would you like me to continue doing that for you?” I hadn’t lived in my new home very long and hadn’t given much thought to yard maintenance. I didn’t even own a lawnmower. So, after discussing his fee, I said “sure, why not?” Over the next few years Bill showed up regularly, keeping the lawn nice and tidy with precise edging, trimming the apple tree, and spreading Casoron™ granules to keep the weeds down. 

Bill was an interesting fellow. He was very laid back, with a calm demeanor and a dry sense of humor. If I could give a textbook example of a non-threatening person, it would be Bill. He was a lover of jazz and the fine arts. In fact, he claimed to be an artist himself. However, during those early years mowing my lawn I never had the occasion to see any of his work. 

After a few years on my payroll, so to speak, Bill let me know that his days doing yard maintenance were soon ending. He was nice enough to give me a few months’ notice so that I could line up another service. Apparently, his paintings had by then gotten some recognition and he was making some money from his art, enough money that he felt comfortable quitting his day job. Bill invited me to a few gallery openings and shows that featured his works, many in the Pioneer Square neighborhood of Seattle. Not long afterwards, a couple of his paintings were displayed in Nordstrom’s flagship store in downtown Seattle.

The Nordstrom paintings were huge canvasses – maybe 8 feet by 10 feet – and were boldly displayed in the high-ceilinged store entryway. What really grabbed your eye about his art was the liberal use of primary colors in wild, mostly unidentifiable shapes and swirls. Blotches of deep red, blue curves transitioning into green and then yellow, zig zag shapes of white or black that, if you used your imagination, looked like a child’s first attempts at handwriting. Amidst the visual cacophony of hues and textures were camouflaged items – is that part of a chair? Wait – is that a plant? An infinity symbol, or part of a number?

Bill and one of his compositions

Bill’s paintings were abstract, but perhaps better described as figurative and contemplative. His pieces were studies of shapes and colors that stirred the imagination, his style reminiscent of the earlier schools of fauvism and abstract expressionism, but somehow different. I imagined the ghosts of Juan Gris or Joan Miro lurking behind Bill’s canvasses, whispering advice and offering encouragement. While his early pieces were playful, unbounded explorations of imagination, later in his career Bill shifted toward specific themes, like interiors, or landscapes. The pieces were still a riot of colors and shapes but more disciplined, with some recognizable elements.

I kept in touch with Bill long after he finished his yard maintenance gig. He was no longer the neighborhood guy who mowed my lawn, but a friend who had become a respected figure in the pantheon of Pacific Northwest artists. One day Bill told me that he and his wife were taking a trip to Paris, France. A lightbulb went off inside my skull. “Bill, do you ever do commissions?” I asked, “and could you do one of Paris?” In his typical laid-back fashion, he said sure he could do that, and said he would do some preliminary sketches on their trip and start working on a painting when they returned. I got the sense that commissions weren’t really part of his repertoire, but that he would do it for me as a favor. Other than specifying Paris, we made no particular requests, nor provided any specific instructions, to Bill, happy to give him free reign to do whatever he pleased.

Now, my impulsive request required some discussions with my wife. For one thing, there was no mention of cost when I made my request to Bill. His pieces were selling for a pretty penny in some of the gallery shows I attended. But of more concern to me was Bill’s style – being primarily an abstract painter, who knew what our commissioned piece would look like? “Listen honey” I said, “when Bill gets around to finishing our painting, don’t expect to see anything that looks like Paris. Just pretend to love it, and if you see something like a piece of the Eiffel Tower, consider that to be a bonus!” 

Months went by after Bill returned from France, without a peep. Eventually I reached out and he assured me he hadn’t forgotten. Finally, the telephone call came – “Larry, I’ve got your painting ready. Can you come down to my studio in Tacoma to pick it up?” We headed down the next day, quivering with anticipation. I reminded my wife of Bill’s abstract painting style. Upon arrival Bill led us into one of his work rooms, where the painting sat on an easel, covered with a cloth. With what might have been an exuberant “Voilà!” – I can’t recall because the only sense that seemed to be functioning at that moment was my vision – Bill pulled the cloth off and revealed the painting. 

It was nothing like we expected. The scene was a view from a window, with shutters opened wide. In the foreground, espresso cups and a folded newspaper sat on a table. Outside the window was the river Seine with barges moored, and small figures strolling along the quais. On the opposite bank were Paris’ quintessential elegant buildings with their Mansard roofs. And in the distance, the iconic Notre Dame cathedral. 

The commissioned painting

I remember staring expressionless at the painting. It was so unexpectedly realistic! Internally I was confused and conflicted. This wasn’t at all what I anticipated, and certainly wasn’t the typical William Turner style. I had convinced myself that we’d be getting a colorful, abstract painting, hopefully with a Paris theme. A part of me was disappointed. On the other hand, the painting could not have been a better representation of the City of Light, and that was really what we were hoping for. We gladly received the painting and thanked him effusively!

Years later we moved to a different house and upon hanging the painting in our new home, we noticed that Bill had written something on the back side of the piece. It said: “View of the Seine (from Matisse’s window) oil on canvas 2006.” I never paid any attention to the backside of the canvas, but reading his words inspired me to do a little internet sleuthing. I discovered that Henri Matisse had indeed painted a whole series of “View from…” pieces, in different locales, including Paris. The view and perspective in Matisse’s View of Notre-Dame was remarkably similar to Bill’s painting. 

Matisse’s View of Notre-Dame, 1914

After enjoying the painting for so long, my heart sank. Had Bill copied Matisse? Had I paid for a Matisse knock-off, instead of a William Turner original?^[1] I never had the courage to question Bill about his process for planning and executing our painting. But I suspect he must have assumed that his wildly creative compositions wouldn’t have provided us with the type of memento of Paris for which we were hoping. 

Regardless, we cherish the painting and display it prominently in our dining room. Still, I must admit to having lingering questions about its authenticity and value. That is until I had a conversation with Cathy Carey, an award-winning painter based in California.^[2] Cathy explained that it is common and completely acceptable for artists to produce their own interpretations of works by other famous artists, as long as they acknowledge the original compositions. “In a musical sense, think of it as a recording artist doing their cover version of a famous song,” she said. “It’s completely legitimate.”

Taking a closer look at Bill’s painting, I now see that although it was based on Matisse’s version, Bill incorporated his own style in the piece. He added interior details, and features of the room like the table and chairs are strong shapes done in familiar primary colors: deep blue, reds, and a splash of yellow. The window shutters are bold and swung open to odd, almost abstract angles. And the exterior scene, though reminiscent of Matisse’s original, has a more complete, updated feel to it. It IS completely legitimate, and rarely a day goes by when it doesn’t evoke fond memories of my favorite city!

My friend Bill passed away from Parkinson’s Disease on Christmas Eve, 2021, surrounded by his wife and family. William Turner’s works can be found in various fine art museums throughout the Pacific Northwest and beyond.

© 2025 L. Wechsler. All rights reserved.

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^[1] Note: William Turner, the subject of this writing, is not to be confused with Joseph Mallord William Turner, an 18^th century English painter, sometimes referred to as the “Painter of Light.”

^[2] See Cathy Carey’s works at: https://cathycareygallery.com/About/index.php