Don Quixote and Sancho on the Green
By Dan Miller
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To enjoy more of Dan Miller’s fun, golf-themed art — and meet Sus Cat, who doesn’t believe your score card — check out putmedownforpar.com and @putmedownforpar
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My art-meets-golf story starts young. It may even be my first memory: a golf painting at my grandparents’ home. Two guys on horses, the men wearing medieval armor while also golfing towards the green with a windmill behind it. It turns out the golfer and his caddie were Don Quixote and Sancho. It was painted by Greg Telthorster, an artist, art teacher, and my uncle. This epic golfscape painting lit the art spark in me that would eventually catch fire with the golf gene I inherited from my grandparents.
Fast forward to the summer of 2019. Some D.C. friends and I casually picked up golf again. None of us had played much since our high school days. We were happy just spending time outdoors. The D.C. courses (our favorites were Langston and East Potomac) were accessible and convenient, which encouraged us to hit the links early and often.
Before long, we found ourselves in a pandemic. Amidst the uncertainty and lockdowns of most indoor activities, it was a fortunate coincidence our newfound hobby was one of the only social activities that was not heavily restricted. At first our scores plummeted when the courses put the pool noodles in the holes to limit touching surfaces like the flagpole, easily saving me from many a three or four-putts. With not much else going on, we were out playing several times a week. Two-dollars-a-hole skins sometimes, and I’d make oversized checks for the match winners, for whopping sums reaching as high as 18 dollars. Golf saved our spirits at that time and spurned a new fascination for the game.
My better half made the big life decision to have a cabin built on the water an arm’s length from D.C. Partly for a change of scenery, partly an escape from the commotion of the city, she mostly wanted to float on the water. The adorable town of Woodstock ended up capturing her heart. The first thing she found me down here was a golf course: Shenvalee, the closest option, with one of their tracks called the “Miller” course, was obviously my first choice. Those mountain-range views on the opening holes struck me, and wow, that view coming down the long hole five is astonishing!
All that beauty seen on the golf courses, the town, even the interstate, started to get me back to doing art forthe joy of it. My first painting in many years was of the Burnshire Dam waterfall backed by the ever-present Massanutten Mountain Range. Art has been my day job since college — I do web design and branding for corporate clients — but it was refreshing to get back to doing art for the fun of it. So of course we had to catch Artfest, where in 2020 we met several local artists with whom we are still friends today. Some of them were part of VECCA, the Valley Educational Center for the Creative Arts, a local arts and educational organization right in downtown Woodstock. The art world was finding me again.
My reconnection with golf and an arts community have made it a great few years here. This valley has all the conditions for me to continue my artistic passions, as well as to continue golfing. As any golfer knows, there is much that the game gives to each of us in different ways, at different times. And while I was out there among the rolling green golf-scapes, I was inspired to start making different kinds of golf art. For starters, the focus was minimalism and expressionism, and I built putmedownforpar.com to compile my pieces in one place, along with animations and some golf-meme type pieces. This was supposed to generate some passive income to complete a self-fulfilling cycle of golf and art. While I’m definitely not even close to achieving that yet, it felt good to do this project and get the ball rolling. My goal for this year is to have a golf-themed art show at one of the local clubhouses. Investing time in this spectacular valley and its golf courses is all the inspiration I need.
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NEVER MET A PAR PUTT I COULDN’T BOGEY.
