Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

Friday, March 20, 2009

Fond Memories


I am sometimes reminded of the great opportunities which have come to me across the years. Things I knew at the time were pretty cool, but which usually involved a lot of detail and a lot of work and, at the end, I just moved to the next project.

This week, the reminder was the unexpected death of Will Fahnoe. Will was a good artist and he contributed much to the arts community in our area. And he was my friend.

Twenty years ago, when I moved back "home," Will was one of the first artists I met after I was asked to serve as the Director (volunteer) of the Mayor's Program to Spotlight Local Artists. I visited his studio to select some work to hang in the Mayor's office. I was impressed by the variety of work which he produced in such a tiny space.

Over the next five years, I met and exhibited the work of almost one hundred artists -- from high schoolers to eighty year olds -- who had been recognized in some way outside of our town for their art and most, like Will, I did not know. But, Will was one of the ones whose path began to cross mine and who I could count on for support whenever I needed a group of artists.

When I began to look for participants in Artists Row on Broad Street, he was among the first I called. I knew he had outgrown his small bedroom studio and that one of the five storefronts in the City-sponsored project would be perfect for him. He had a good following of patrons and students, so he could afford the expenses of the rent-free building. He hung some track lights, set up a model stand for Tuesday and Thursday figure drawing classes and hung some paintings -- and some curtains. We had selected buildings which shared a wall, so Will became my neighbor.

For almost ten years, I was involved in the Sister City program -- another opportunity for me. I made my first international trip alone with 19 wooden crates as my personal baggage and experienced Japan for the first time. On my third trip there, I made all the arrangements for six artists and their paintings to go as well. Will was one of the six -- the only male.

As we approached the Atlanta Airport, I realized that I did not have my passport! I asked Will to take responsibility until I could arrive two days later. He handled the chore with good grace, but seemed relieved to give me back the reins. Each of us had a host family and partnered several days with Kansai artists for touring and art discussions. Will's considerable expertise and charm made my job easier.

When we returned, the seven of us planned a show of our Japanese paintings. Will created a delicate drawing for the invitation and painted a large image high on the studio wall -- the contrast of a small pen & ink drawing and a building sized mural being typical of his daily output. His good cheer and jovial laugh rang out during the evening of the opening reception.

Because of Will's death, I have been thinking of other special times in my life. When I returned from a trip to France and was no longer his Artist's Row neighbor, he opened his studio/gallery to me for my show. When I was a guest instructor in France for a group of Canadians, he was again one of six artists who traveled with me. He often greeted me with an insult and a hug -- and that big smile -- whether it had been three days or three months since our last greeting.

Our community gathered in celebration of Will Fahnoe last night. We will miss his drawing skills, his spirited living, his brusque ways, and his gentleness. I will miss his participation in my life and will cherish these fond memories.

My photo of Will Fahnoe on train in Japan. Coincidentally, the train car was #1016; the same as his studio street address at the time.

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Thursday, February 05, 2009

Which Is The Echo?

After noting the quote of the week on January 18th, the phrase "paintings that arise from memories or visual impressions" continued to noodle around in my head. I began to think of how seemingly disconnected parts of my life seem to put themselves together in spite of me.

Last summer, during a visit with Linda Stanley in Florida, we traveled over to see Martha Marshall for a tiny workshop on her techniques and a trip to her favorite art supply store. Working on a surface which was neither canvas nor paper, with pigments and mediums which bloomed, was energizing and Linda and I spent several days back in her studio playing with our new goodies. I loved the depth and texture which I was able to create in "my" square.

Later, needing to meet a deadline for an invitational and wanting something totally new, I decided to try the new ideas and materials. I checked that entries for this show did not need to be my typical style. I gathered supplies and planned for a week of experimentation.

Working in my little house in the country, I had several panels in progress spread across the big table when one of them began to speak and then another echoed. In the red textures circling a golden glow, I felt the experience of Niaux in France -- that heart-pumping anticipation of seeing these particular cave paintings, that frisson of fear when going into the unknown with only a flash light and a guide, the other-world awareness of the images illuminated by a single beam of light in the black rotunda deep in the mountain. The echoing painting did not come from inside the cave --its exciting red brought me out into the sunlight and up to the top of the mountain where the wind blows fiercely, the bones of old trees refuse to give up, and the view is 360 degrees.

That day near the Pyrenees had been a glorious day and there are things in the paintings which I still don't understand, but which I know belong. So I put the two pieces together and hung them as one.

But wait, there is more . . . . In October, as I walked through the woods to my sister's house, I came upon a little sweet gum tree, its glorious leaves shining like stars in the late fall day. It seemed to come from the echoing half of the Niaux Diptych! How could that be? I was stunned. It was as if I had found my name on a canvas I didn't know I had painted. Too weird. The painting which was created with the memory of France seemed to be echoed by the Georgia countryside! Or did the autumn Georgia countryside inform my impressions on that spring day in France.

Memories, experiences, images, and techniques continue to cross over in my mind. On my best days and in my best creative efforts, I don't know which is the echo.


Photos:
My Square
Niaux: Out and In
Red Sweet Gum



BushStrokes (c) AAB