This painting should be mine, but I think my brother gets it. But right now it's sitting in the guest bedroom at my mom's.
The painting is ugly and odd, but there is a story behind it. It hung in the dining room of the Irvine house, I don't know where it hung before that, but I've watched it change over the years. My mother swears that when she first saw the painting it was dull and bland, and that over the years it has brightened and cleared. I've spent many dinners staring at that painting and arguing with my mother about that painting. It's yet another childhood thing that brings back memories of youth. More sentimentality at a time when I want less.