 |
| White Vertical WATER, Louise Nevelson, 1972 |
Lousie Nevelson
Artist Sighting from my New York days.
In my early days in New York, fresh out of school from the University of Iowa, I would periodically have Artist friends from out of town, drop by for a visit. Often they came to see various art shows in the city. Their art networks were very interesting, so it was always exciting to be invited to join them.
On one particular occasion, a sculptor friend invited me to join him for a party in SOHO. Soho in those days was still a very dark part of town in the conversion process from an old factory loft area to artist's studios and undocumented residences. A place you were careful not to go to, unless it was with a trusted friend or two.
After the taxi deposited us in these darkened and quiet streets, I was still a bit uncomfortable. We proceeded into the designated building, again dark inside. One small beacon of light, designated the freight elevator that would take us upstairs to our destination. I was thankful that my companion was familiar with navigating this part of town.
The elevator groaned as we were lifted to the correct floor. The door opened to a huge room filled with people and light. A gathering of artists, all famous in their own right. I remember being introduced to various artists, but the one that got my attention, was Louise Nevelson. At that moment, Louise was experiencing great frame and had to be well into her 70's. Floating her way through the crowd with her long lashes, heavy mascara and the crowning turban, she gave off an aura of who she was....and indeed very comfortable with herself.
Years later, I discovered a couple of friends here in Chester County, who had also known Louise and were good friends with her. Ritchie Beards, the owner of The Bookplace in Oxford, Pa...told me of his acquaintance with Louise. And some time later, his wife Ginny, left a poem at our house after a local writer's critique gathering.
I thought you would find this interesting so I asked Virginia's permission to share this poem........
_______________________________________________________________
Mrs.
Nevelson
by Virginia Beards
The
tail lights on I-95, “burning roses,”
of
a long polished polenta pot, “Now dear,
that’s beauty.”
Indifferent
to utility, she savored shapes—
a
velvet riding helmet for theatre going,
a
black cat for form, not for mousing.
From
the detritus of everyday life
she
hammered out a cosmos,
ordered, harmonious, whole,
regal and compelling.
Stuff
left curbside on garbage night—
packing
crates, machinery guts,
chair
stretchers, spindles
stair
balusters, finials, BB gun butts.
She nailed, sawed and glued them all
into towers, totems,
labyrinthine walls—
gold and white, but mostly black:
“Sky Cathedral,” “Dawn’s Wedding Feast,” “Sun Garden,”
“Black Moon,” “Totally Dark,” “Homage
to 6,000,000.”
Undulating
spires, geometric groupings, vertical coffers.
Chaos
tamed, anarchy framed.
Spectacular
melding of right and left brain.
All the while the rarely sober Teddy
stood by,
an operating room nurse
passing along the required tools—
gin, nails, advice and complaints.
Nevertheless,
her empowering muse.
