In the mid-sixties, Théo's daughter persuaded him to come to America to live with her. Here, his only duty was to keep a watchful eye on his precious grand-daughter, Caroline. He accepted this responsibility with great relish, as it still permitted him a lot of time to paint.
And paint he did. In flush times with the best oils and canvas available, and in leaner times on anything that came to hand. He painted on tree limbs, pieces of discarded roofing tin, wood panels from worn-out furniture, wine bottles, scrap plywood, old glass window-panes anything that was not already painted might well be a candidate for his latest ideas. And, it was the idea that was important, Théo did not paint for money. He refused steadfastly ever to sell a painting. It was his belief that his paintings were too precious to sell he did not want to expose himself to the insult of an artisan's price for an artist's work.
So he often gave his work away. If he liked someone, and that someone appeared to appreciate his work, the painting often became a gift. He took great pride in the fact that he never sold a painting and Van Gogh DID! Never mind that Van Gogh needed to pay the rent, Théo would never have sold his paintings (which he believed to be a reflection of his soul) for mere rent money.
Théo's last twelve years were spent at Elam, a country house in the heart of Virginia, purchased by his son-in-law as a retirement home. The house, an ancient log dwelling built in 1742, and lovingly restored in recent years.
Here, Théo spent what were, perhaps, his most prolific years. He filled notebooks with small paintings purely from memory then painted the covers of the notebooks! He painted the farmhouse, the sunrises and sunsets that occurred there, his darling grand-daughter, his wife Anna, and her eyes, the trees and flowers of Elam, the road that runs by, the cabin in which he lived, the flowers, as they grew, and as they wilted. In short, Théo painted his life. And, when he knew he was drawing near the end of that life, he painted what he thought heaven should be.
Theodore Wildanger left the colors and shapes of his world to us. He never failed us. We should not fail him!