Inspired artists play (and paint) by their own set of rules

Tis the season for a masterpiece inspired by the true tradition of spring (no registered trademark required), the Masters golf tournament, presented by your friends at Augusta National Golf Club. I have a new leader in the clubhouse, although this is a place of life that really should have a ranking system, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that. What I have to say is that I am drawn to the Masters/Augusta/New Season/Ye Olde Game art that celebrates the joy of it all, and the charm that golf always has. Modern life is trying to eliminate that. There are artists, thankfully, who draw a line in the sand with their brushes.

One of my favorites in this section is Bruce McCall’s painting that was on the cover of The New Yorker on April 11, 2011. The drawing shows a golfer in a tree playing the ball between the trunk and the limb. Naturally, the two tourney officials in green take the entire departure terra firma. A flock of birds has the best view of it. The point to me is clear: Golf is ridiculous, and we’re still going.

Along those same lines, artist and caricaturist Edward Sorel provided the cover art for Sports Illustrated Masters preview release dated April 4, 1966. In this clip, Sorel (who turned 97 last month) shows Jack Nicklaus (looking killer with cherubic cheeks), Arnold Palmer (looking hunky) and Gary Player (looking slim and ready for a promotion) in one green jacket. Sixty years later, his unspoken message (as I see it) is timeless: There’s no need to take it. anywhere this is serious. The blinkered newsroom term for the paper’s sports section used to be “the toy department.”

Which brings me to a painting, fresh and playful, that our daughter, Alina, recently stumbled upon while wandering a green corner of the world wide web, looking to ease the pain of Tax Day for her golf-nut dad. A watercolor called Chipping Season by a young artist named Liesel Anne Callahan. It shows the chipmunks golfing somewhere in Amen Corner. Another thing that makes the Masters tournament work is that it has many rules, for players and fans and everyone, and people are willing to follow them, in the name of respect and order. One of the things that makes this painting fun is that the artist doesn’t need any rules at all. Golf chipmunks have their own carry bags right on the green. Another group of golf cart chipmunks, with yellow and white surrey tops, is parked near the green. The painting itself is a study in green in all its many shades.

I called Ms. Callahan. “I don’t play golf, but I’m surrounded by people who play,” she said to her husband. She joins him in watching the Masters every year at their home in Lawrence, Kans. Liesel is a fourth generation Jayhawk.

In real life, do golf chipmunks wear green knickers or a pink and white striped skirt? No, but during Chipping Season they do. See the golf carts going the wrong way over the Hogan Bridge on 12? You don’t, at least during the CBS telecast of the Masters. It’s late in the Chipping Season.

“I know Augusta has a lot of rules, but as an artist I like to take what I see and make my own rules,” said Callahan.

During the broadcast, he saw Amen Corner – 11th green, 3rd 12th, tee shot 13th – and made it his own.

The artist’s father is a doctor. His mother is a musician, an organist. Her husband is a runner. They are new parents. They live in a house overlooking a city park. When the Masters is open, Lawrence, for some years, is still coming out of the winter. His brother-in-law came up with the name, Chipping Season.

“When I think of an animal that plays golf, I think of chipmunks,” says the artist. “I do not know why.”

Michael Bamberger welcomes your comments at Michael.Bamberger@Golf.com