The Farmhouse by Joan Miró

On first seeing La Masia (The Farmhouse) by Joan Miró i Ferrà – incorrectly translated as “The Farm” in English publications – I was transfixed. It spoke to me like none of Miró’s other paintings. It was personal: within the picture were images from my childhood in Spain. As I studied it, remote memories took form and engendered an inner calm.

I was born in 1950 in Lleida in the northeastern region of Spain called Catalunya. While I grew up in this ancient city, my affinity for the countryside took root in nearby Borges Blanques, my mother’s hometown. Occasional trips through the surrounding landscape expanded my awareness. Those formative years before I moved to the US at the age of seven left a lasting impression. 

La Masia

Joan Miró i Ferrà was born on April 20, 1893, in Barcelona, Spain. In 1911 his parents bought a farm in Mont-Roig del Camp, a historic Catalan town near the city of Tarragona on the Mediterranean coast. The many summers Miró spent at Mont-Roig inspired his first “masterpiece,” La Masia, which he painted in 1920-1.

Detail of La Masia by Joan Miró

Among the first elements one encounters on viewing La Masia are the arid, ruddy-red soil, and the central spindly eucalyptus tree. Anchoring the scene, they provide an ideal setting for the items strewn about: a bucket turned on its side, a watering can just in front of a tally sheet, a dog baying at the moon. Within the fenced structure on the right are a goat, a rooster, a plow, a bucket, a ladder, and other constituents of an active family farm. 

In the distance, to the right of the farmhouse, is a raised rectangular pool, similar, to the one located in my family's walled orchard on the outskirts of Borges Blanques. In front of the main pool in Miró’s painting is a smaller one where a woman washes clothes.

Beyond the pools is a well: together with sun and soil, the farm’s lifeblood. While silty brown canal water supplied our Borges Blanques pool – which as children we cheerfully splashed in – the pool at Mont-Roig was likely filled with clear well water. 

To the well's right is a horse mill, which is possibly engaged in grinding corn, a crop prominently represented in La Masia by the large corn stalk in the foreground. 

The Farmhouse

The most resonant component of Miró’s painting, is its namesake, the masia or farmhouse. Inspired by ancient rural Roman mansums (villas), masias originated in the 12th century in the Crown of Aragon, a confederation of kingdoms including Catalonia, Valencia, Aragon, Languedoc, and Provence in northeastern Spain and southern France. 

Often rectangular, masias are solidly constructed, their thick walls made from materials available in the region: stone and mortar in the "pre-muntanya" (pre-mountain) and mountainous areas, or adobe where stones are scarce. Roofs are slate in the mountainous regions, while those in the lower areas, as in the Miró family masia, are composed of tiles. While some masias are two stories in height, the prototypical design is three floors, each with a specific function.

In the three-floored farmhouse, the ground level is reserved for the livestock, or, as seen in the entrance of the Miró masia, the family horse. A stairway within the first level ascends to the living quarters on the second. The upper level attic, although occasionally serving as a pigeon loft, is commonly used for drying and storing crops.

Finally – beyond the design - is the masia’s alignment to the rising sun. In La Masia, Miró’s precise shadows from each planting row pull the viewer into the image and create rhythm and depth. We see the farm from a southern view, bathing in the warmth of the sun. 

Finding A Buyer

Despite the coherent historical image it captured, La Masia languished without a buyer. According to The Art Story: 

“One dealer suggested cutting it into several smaller paintings for ease of sale. Fortunately, the artist had become friends with the writer Ernest Hemingway, then a struggling unknown, and, after hours of working the two would meet for boxing sessions to unwind. Hemingway was determined to buy The Farm and, after borrowing money and working as a grocery clerk, was able to purchase it and kept it throughout his life. As he wrote: “I would not trade it for any picture in the world. It has in it all that you feel about Spain when you are there and all that you feel when you are away and cannot go there.”

In 1987, Ernest’s widow, Mary Hemingway, gifted La Masia to the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. There, the mid-morning sun continues to illuminate a time and place in the Catalan countryside. Spending summers at Mont Roig until 1976, Miró’s spirit was nourished by country living. He absorbed it, painted it, and shared it. Speaking to a journalist in 1928, Miró reflected:  

"It is the summary of my entire life in the countryside, one period of my work and a point of departure for what was to follow."

John Oró, MD, FAANS

Comments, suggestions, and corrections are welcome.

On a gorgeous fall evening

Some years ago, this little gal wandered into the courtyard of an old hotel in a Mexican pueblo. I was on a bus tour to Copper Canyon, spending the night before we started the climb up and into the Canyon. It was a gorgeous fall evening, and I was sitting in the courtyard when she "drifted" in.

We smiled in greeting, and she sat on the steps. THEN I noticed her shoes...tennies!! Here she was in her Quinceañera gown, tiara, flowers, gorgeous hair, and tennis shoes! (The photographer was bringing her spike heels.) In my stilted Spanish, I told her how marvelously comical she looked and what fun it was that she could have a few moments of comfort before she dressed up for her pictures. So we laughed together! (She was no doubt laughing at my Spanish.) I asked if I could take her picture, and she agreed quickly, pointing to her tennis shoes, like, "Be sure to get THESE"!

Georgia Merz

Denver Art Museum: "Ann Gardiner with Her Eldest Son, Kirkman"

Nathaniel Hone
British, 1718-1784

“Ann Gardiner with Her Eldest Son, Kirkman
1776
Oil on canvas
Gift of the Berger Collection Education Trust, 2019.16”

“Portraits that represented their subjects as allegorical, mythological, or biblical figures were popular in the late 1700s because they communicated the sitter’s (or patron’s) knowledge of history and culture. In a portrait likely commissioned by her father, a prominent Irish politician, Ann Gardiner and her son posed like an Italian Renaissance Madonna and Child. The boy’s toga-like garment and the classical column in the background also allude to images of Venus and Cupid from Greek mythology.”

Photo taken at Denver Art Museum, July 28, 2019.

AT REST by Jason Kimes

At Rest by Jason Kimes. Canal Street, New Orleans, 2013. (Image: John Oró)

Little is written about the sculptor Jason Kimes. However, in 2014, Christina Austin was able to interview him. Among her questions:

Where have you displayed public art? Why are these places good ones for public art?

I’ve displayed work in traditional settings such as university campuses and in municipal downtown settings where sidewalk traffic comes into close contact with the sculpture and transportation depots. … I very much like the sidewalk and terminal entrance sites because the work is so directly approachable by the public, providing for very intimate and sometimes funny interactions. 

Jerry Merz: The blizzard of 1949

1948, I was 14 and we had a New Year’s party and my mother had Lou and Dorothy and maybe Joe and Wilma for dinner, - but I’m not sure of that. I had just turned 15 on Christmas eve. After dinner, all of the old folks were playing cards and my dad told me to go to the south pasture and check the water. We had a pretty new Jeep pickup that I loved to drive. So I took it out and was driving in the hills. There was a big snow drift and instead of going around it, I decided to go through it and got stuck. I scooped and scooped most of the afternoon and finally got out and came home. There had been a lot of snow in November.

We had a radio but it was battery operated and barely came in. We didn’t have electricity. The weather looked menacing and thought we had better get to town. Christmas vacation was over and I had to go back to school on the 2 nd. Lyn was going to school in Seneca and so was Larry and Dottie. Dad had a new 47 Chevy and that’s what Mom kept and drove back and forth on the weekends. We put a caravan together with Dad ahead and Lou and Dorothy had a 48 Chevy and not sure if Wilma had a car or a pickup? I think they were in the caravan and we just got to town using the winter road – out through the pastures. The main road to Seneca was blown full of snow. All of the hills south of Calf Creek were full of snow. We’d go through the hills until we got to the stock yards and back on the road. The gravel stopped at the County line. It took 1 ½ hours to get to Seneca and it was snowing pretty hard. Dad and Lou turned around and headed back home and Joe took Wilma with him. Lyn stayed with her grandma. Mom and I went on to Mullen and by the time we got there, we could hardly see. We made it to Mullen and rented a basement at John Mallory’s right south of the Jewel Diner on highway 2. The Mallory’s were gone and the 2 nd day of the blizzard the furnace went out. So Mom called Louie Folk who sold hydro gas or propane and had probably put the furnace in. He made it down there in his big 4-wheel drive truck with the propane on the back and got the furnace started.

Later we found out that Dad, Lou and Joe got within ½ mile of the old ranch (Lou’s place) and the jeep quit. They all had to walk into Lou’s and spend the night. The next day it was a “real blizzard” of 1949. My Dad saddled a horse and rode over to his place and drained everything – stools and what water we had, then went back over and moved in with Lou. I think Wilma and Joe were there too until the blizzard ended.

Joe rode a horse home, got another horse and came up and got Wilma. It stayed cold and the wind would blow every day. We didn’t really have any way to feed hay. They were in the process of converting from horses to tractors and had a hay rack and fed what hay they could. The tanks were full of snow and the cows had ice on their faces. Dad and Lou had to go around and knock the ice off their faces so they could drink. The loss was pretty great. The cows and calves drifted and died. There was some protection in the Rowdy. I don’t know if they ever counted them. They counted the live ones. 

When the storm was over, they had called school off. I could see a little up to the school. It was a pretty nice day. I walk[ed]  down town and the drifts were as high as the buildings. A guy named Bud Gibson had a new little jeep with a canvas top. He got it started and drove up the sidewalk to the street that runs south and got out as far as highway 2. He came back and said it was plugged up solid. So the state got their snow moving equipment out which amounted to a 4-wheel drive truck with a V blade on the front. They got the word out that they needed help and asked if some of the high school kids would shovel. So I went to Lowe’s hardware and bought the last scoop they had for $2.89. So, I hired on to the state with about 30 of us high school kids. We would dig a trench down through a snow bank about 3-4’ foot wide. It was hard to get the snow scooped over the top. The truck would back up about 100’ and take a run for it and plow through the trench. They were able to get 4-5’, then start over. We did that for 3 days. We got to the top of the hill west of Seneca. – This was about 3-4 miles before Seneca.

That’s when a truck with a snow blower on the front came from Broken Bow and could move a lot more snow. So our job with the State was finished. So after that, Lee Boyer was raising turkeys – kind of a turkey farm about 5 miles east of Mullen and another one about 5 miles west of Mullen. He needed someone to scoop out his turkey houses. So he hired some high school boys, so I went along and scooped there, but never saw a turkey. I don’t know if it was a total loss. I never saw a live one or a dead one. We did the one east of Mullen first then went to the west one. There were numerous other little jobs around town that needed use of a scoop shovel, so I made good use of it.

We eventually heard from my Dad, but the phone he had – had to go through Seneca central. I don’t know if we even had a phone in Mullen, but heard from Dad anyway. We never made it back to the country and he never made it to town for 5 weeks. He was exhausted. He spent the night and loaded up groceries and went back to the ranch. After the army had airlifted hay in – in big airplanes. If they saw cattle, they would dump a few bales out. The Army sent in bulldozers and personnel to plow the roads to the ranches so they could get more supplies and feed for their cattle. Not knowing where they were going, it was just like a maze trying to follow their tracks but they eventually got to each ranch. Mostly the ones north of Seneca. Jim Miller had a half track that he brought up from Omaha that he had bought after the war. He went up to Lou’s but had to go in east of the place. It was impossible to get in on the west of the place.

He got stuck east of the place but had a winch and was able to winch on through the drift. The Army followed later. That’s when my Dad finally made it to town after the road was bulldozed. It was a few more weeks and Mom and I were able to come out to the ranch. I was doing the driving by then and was 15. Every time the wind would blow, which was every day, it would fill the tracks and they would have to start all over. It may have been March before we ever got back out to the ranch. A lot of the snow had dissipated. We were still following the tracks the Army had plowed. Karen and Georgia were with us. The main Seneca road didn’t thaw out when we came out here. It must have been late March, early April or maybe May before the snow was gone. The first of June, there was still snow in the lane on the way to the old ranch. 

The blizzard lasted 3 big days and 3 nights.

Left: “A Drift between Mullen & Seneca 3-4 weeks after 49 blizzard.” Right: “Dad had a new 47 Chevy and that’s what Mom kept and drove back and forth on the weekends.”

In 1946, Dad built on to the original house so we had a bathroom with running water. There was a kitchen and bedroom added on also. Was originally a couple shacks that made an L. The addition made a square. He had a carpenter finish it and Dad did all of the plumbing. He built on a porch.

One night about midnight in 1948, Georgia got the croup. Mom sent me to Doc Walkers. I knocked on the door and he answered and gave me something. It must have cured her. That was the first year I went to school in Mullen in the 8 th grade. We were living in the old Matthews Motel at the time which is where the drive-inn is now.

Jerry Merz
1933-2019

FROM HIS OBITUARY -

“Jerry was a true family man, taking the time to teach his children and grandchildren many important lifelong skills. While his grandkids were growing up, he spent time with each of their hobbies, whether it was cowboying, fishing, working on cars, welding, or watching high school sports. He was a wonderful neighbor, always willing to lend a helping hand. He was known for his kindness toward all animals, including numerous granddogs. He rarely hired anyone for repairs or labor, always saying “why would I pay someone to do something I can do myself?” Many of his projects included unusual components, therefore, his kids developed the term ‘Jerry-rigging.””

SHARP HARDNESS BY WASSILY KANDINSKY

Sharp Hardness by Wassily Kandinsky, 1926.

The remarkable painting above is just one of an extensive collection painted by Wassily Kandinsky. Born in Moscow in 1866, Kandinsky was first attracted to art in grammar school. He would later recall his initial motivation: 

"I remember that drawing and a little bit later painting lifted me out of the reality."

At the age of 20, Kandinsky entered the Law Faculty of Moscow University. After graduating with honors, he joined the school's faculty as Associate Professor. His return to painting would not occur until a decade later.

The organizing principle of Kandinsky's work became the study of "color, line, and composition," components readily apparent in his 1926 painting Sharp Hardness. The piece is also a delightful example of his view that "color lives by its mysterious life."

Invited to join the Bauhaus school of design and architecture in Weimar, Kandinsky and his wife moved to Germany in 1921. However, in 1933, the Nazis closed the Bauhaus, and the following year, Kandinsky and his wife moved to Paris, where Kandinsky lived the rest of his life.

Considered "the pioneer of abstract art," Kandinsky's prodigious work would inspire countless artists.

John Oró

Also, learn about these artists:

ARTIST INTERVIEW: DENVER'S ALIKI MCCAIN

FLORA: AN ARTIST’S LIFE REVEALED

ARTIST INTERVIEW: DENVER'S ALIKI MCCAIN

With eight art districts in the city, and the upcoming Crush Walls 2020, Denver’s art scene is vibrant. It’s recognized hub - the Santa Fe art distric. On June 10, 2020, I had the opportunity to interview Aliki McCain in her studio on Santa Fe Drive. 

When did you find out you were interested in art?

I've been interested in art all my life. I sold my first piece of art when I was in fifth grade. My art teacher bought that piece from me. He approached me and wanted to buy it. I have had a keen interest in art, I have always been creative from a young age. I lived in Europe for quite a few years, and I think that also was an influence. I traveled to many museums; I saw the Three Graces when I was a young child, and other famous statues and paintings. I always had a real interest in art.

What is your background? Self-taught or course work?

I am an art history major and a fine-arts major. Initially, I wanted to teach art history. I put myself through school at UC Irvine and pretty much ran out of funding. It was going to be another seven years of school to get my Ph.D. in art history, so I took the role of applied arts.

It wasn't an easy decision. When I was young, my stepfather was always very negative about my interest in art; he always said, "Oh, you will amount to nothing; that's a foolish thing to do." I think that this is typical for some families; parents want their children to follow a more traditional role and want them to be financially stable. The purpose of artists in society has always been somewhat fickle, one where they can't always make ends meet. You always hear about the starving artist. So I wasn't encouraged to follow art. I paid for my education, and I decided that I was going to follow what I was passionate about.

How do you work? Paint, canvas? Another medium? 

I don't like to be boxed into any one thing. I am primarily a painter, but I do a lot of mixed media. I work with wood. I work with clay. I like to embed things in my paintings. As you can see here, there's rocks and stones, bark, and things that I find that appeal to me. I like texture in my paintings.

So there isn't any one particular medium for me, but I do primarily paint in acrylic paints, and I like to paint on board. I do paint on canvas as well, but I prefer board. I like how firm it is. I can get very aggressive with painting.

I use these types of brushes. As far as the process, for me it's getting in there, getting hands-on, that's really exciting for me. I like to think I bring the energy to the canvas or the board; the surface. I like to really get in there.

Do you work in a particular style or various styles?

I was trained as a photorealist. I did that for many years. It was a really enjoyable period of my art process, but at some point, I got to the place where I wasn't feeling the challenge anymore. It became easy and repetitive. That, for me, isn't what art is about. Art is a creative process, and it's problem-solving. Sometimes we create problems for ourselves in the art process, and sometimes the problems pose themselves. It's always about solving that problem on this surface with a particular painting.

I never wanted to get pin-holed into one style per se, but I did push myself to venture into abstract painting. It's been a lot of fun for me because I love color. It's been a great way for me to explore color and work with different palates and to also problem solve in a different way because you still have to bring the same principles of art to the process. You have to have an understanding of composition, and color, and line, and shape, and all the things that are present within any type of painting. It still has to be there, or else you won't have a successful painting. So it's the same thing, but just thinking abstractly. It's been exciting for me, and it's only been in the last 10 to 15 years that I have started abstract painting.

What is the latest work you completed?

These two (the paintings on the floor on either side of Aliki) were actually created during COVID. I'm excited about them because sometimes people think "Oh my gosh, it's a really dark time. We’re in COVID. Does your art reflect what's happening?" It does, but I chose to find a happier place to be and a more positive place to rest myself during the struggle of being inside, being really locked in. These two paintings, I really like them a great deal. I like the palates, I'm excited about the positive energy that comes out of them.

These three panels are three pieces that I worked on with Access Gallery. I teach over at Access Gallery, a non-profit for students with disabilities. We take people with disabilities that are artists, and we broaden their opportunity to get their art out to the community.

In this case, we were commissioned by a financial firm downtown. They wanted three pieces that were going to go into their conference rooms. We just need to get them framed. It's been difficult with COVID. 

It's really fun working with this organization and it brings a lot of happiness. It's a great thing for me to be able to have that outlet, to be able to put my skill set to a purpose. (Does this paragraph refer to Access Gallery or the financial firm?)

What is your next project? 

My next project is for a show in September. It revolves around the book Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. I've been asked to join a group that's going to bring visual imagery to the book. We are responding to the book as the prompt. That's going to be my next project.

Who are a couple or so artists you admire?

(Wassily) Kandinsky was always my first love in art. He wrote the book concerning the spiritual in art and also is probably the most renowned color theorist in the art world. He had a big influence on me and the way I approach art.

It's hard not to be influenced or think of Picasso as the great artist. Someone who had a style, but also someone who reinvented himself constantly. He didn't fall into the trap of having one voice. He used his work for beautifying things all the way to making political statements, and everything in between. I feel as somewhat of a kindred spirit with him in the way he approached art and the way it can be used. Some people think that art has to be used for beautification, or art should be used as a voice, as a platform, or is just self-serving. I think there much to think about when we think about art. Ultimately, I think it's a reflection of what's happening in society, or with the artist and where they are.

Right now, with what is happening socially, you will see many artists stepping up and making social commentary. It will be impossible not to. Music will have lyrics that represent something. 3D and 2D artists will start putting their voices out there. But it doesn't happen for all artists. It is individual. For me, the cherry on top is working with students with disabilities. It is a lovely thing for me. I learn so much from them, and hopefully, they learn a lot from me too.

(The interview was lightly edited for clarity.)

John Oró

Ten Most Influential Albums Challenge

In May, Chris Colwell and Rodrigo Pesantez created the “10 most influential albums challenge” on Facebook. I learned about the Challenge via colleague and friend Phil Stahel (link). To counter our Covid-19 Times, the focus on music was an excellent suggestion, and I decided to participate.

While considering selections for the Challenge, its inherent “constraints” became apparent. Fortunately, they likely contributed to the wide variety of picks shared by participants. The first, of course, is the albums present in one’s collection. Maybe an album that one would consider great was never purchased. Or, possibly, through sharing or loss, is no longer a part of the collection. 

The year each participant switched from vinyl to compact disc is also a factor with those born in different decades likely collecting different albums. 

The challenges’ final and trickiest choice was the participant’s interpretation of “influential.” Is the album selected because it is most influential to the participant, or for the music industry? For most, I suspect it was a combination of both.  

Whatever the brew of all these factors, the selections were strong, and I suspect the various choices enriched all participants and viewers. Again, thanks to those that led the charge. The Challenge was a welcomed respite in these unusual and challenging times. 

Easter Everywhere (1968) by the 13th Floor Elevators

The world’s first psychedelic rock band, the 13th Floor Elevators, created a unique acoustic space full of reverb and echo and introduced the musical saw and jug to rock. Their work influenced bands such as Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead.

Easter Everywhere is definitely “out there.” Its deepest labyrinth is "Slip Inside This House When You Pass By." While some lyrics won't resonate, others may - 

There is no season when you are grown
You are always risen from the seeds you've sown
There is no reason to rise alone 

Live where your heart can be given
And your life starts to unfold
In the forms you envision
In this dream that's ages old

Traffic (1968) by Traffic

Composed of Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi, Chris Wood, and Dave Mason, this English band began as a psychedelic group. They soon added pop melody, jazz, and “keyboards like the Mellotron and harpsichord, sitar, and various reed instruments." Favorite songs: "Feelin’ Alright,” “Forty Thousand Headmen,” and “Shanghai Noodle Factory."

Dark Side of the Moon (1973) by Pink Floyd.

Viewed as one of the best albums of all time, this choice is likely no surprise. Fluid, otherworldly music. Long day at school or work? Lie on the couch, close your eyes, put headphones on, and travel to another realm.  

(The faded cover of the album was enhanced it to reveal its initial impact.)

Rust Never Sleeps (1979) by Neil Young 

If anyone can blow the top off of Rock, it’s Neil Young. In a decade dominated by glam rock, Young - armed with a wall of speakers - embraced "the raw potency of punk.” Favorite songs: My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue), Hey, Hey, My, My (Into the Black), Pocahontas, and Powderfinger. As Thomas Erlewine writes, Young’s "chief weapons against rusting were his imagination and his daring.” So needed in our times.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967) by the Beatles 

While this album may not wear well in current times, its influence - as recalled from my teenage years - was undeniable. With the May 26, 1967 release of Sgt. Pepper's, the Fab Four overturned their music and opened a new era of experimentation.

Rock & Roll Animal (1974) by Lou Reed 

Maybe it's the current threat that leads me to select this in-your-face live album exploring the underbelly of life. The recording has deep roots in The Velvet Underground. For me, the album's jewel is "Rock' n' Roll." The song recalls the origin of Rock: raw, imperfect & straightforward.

Out of the Blue (1997) by Electric Light Orchestra 

Written by Jeff Lynne in four weeks, the power of this "global phenomenon" is credited to its great songwriting and "dazzling arrangements." For me, it's the albums sheer energy. Favorites: Mr. Blue Sky, Don't Bring Me Down, and Turn to Stone.

Rumors (1977) by Fleetwood Mac

Rumors became the highest-selling album of 1977. The band members' interpersonal tension during the recording sessions is said to have shaped the album's lyrics. Fortunately, the record was perfect for medical school volleyball. Just put the speakers outside the frat room window and play.

Blood on the Tracks (1975) by Bob Dylan 

It's been many years since I purchased my first Dylan album. I was 12-years-old. Nevertheless, I found picking the most influential Dylan album to be wrenching. With subtle encouragement from high-school friend Robert Hansen, I knew I had to try harder. Once I listened to Blood on the Tracks for the first time in years, the choice became clear. Favorites: A Simple Twist of Fate, You're Going to Make Me Lonesome When You Go, Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts, and Shelter from the Storm.

The War of the Worlds (1978) by Jeff Wayne 

This final challenge entry is a genius and under-recognized work; musical storytelling at its finest. The double-album is based on H.G. Wells's famous novel on the Martian invasion of Earth. Furthermore, asking Richard Burton to serve as the narrator was an inspired decision.

John Oró

FLORA: AN ARTIST’S LIFE REVEALED

This photo would begin a quest. Taken circa 1927, acclaimed Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti sits on the left, a plaster bust of him at the center. The bust's sculptor sits on the right. But who was she? What was her story? 

Teresa Hubbard and Alexander Birchler, faculty at the Department of Art and Art History at The University of Texas at Austin, were involved in planning the Women of Venice exhibit for the Swiss Pavilion at the 2017 Venice Biennale. Upon seeing the photo and learning the female sculptor's identity was unknown, the two art scholars decided to endeavor to lift her from shadows of history. Thus began a labyrinthine search that started in Denver and led to Switzerland, Paris, back to Denver, and eventually California. 

Hubbard and Birchler began by searching photographs and reviewing "Mayo's notes and letters; school and art academy records; travel, lodger and ship passenger logbook; census records, as well as references to Mayo written by her contemporaries." (1) Having never been aware of this phase of his mother's life, the discovery of Flora's life in Paris would profoundly impact her son.

Flora Luella Lewis was born in Denver, Colorado, in 1898. Her wealthy parents, Aaron Dennison Lewis and Luella E. Brand Lewis, owned the A.T. Lewis and Son Dry Goods Company and the A.T. Lewis and Son Department Store in Denver. Flora entered high-school at Denver's Wolcott School, where she was active in theater, running, and swimming. She completed her senior year at Sweet Briar College, a private women's college in Sweet Briar, Virginia.

At the age of 19, Flora married Dudley D. Mayo Jr., one of her father's employees. Gregory Volk writes: "She married the man her father favored (although she emphatically did not love him)." Three years later, Flora gave birth to her first child Joan. After six years, the marriage fractured, and Flora and Dudley divorced. The entry in Chronology included in Hubbard and Birchler's book Flora: Alberto Giacometti is blunt:

"Flora losses custody rights of her daughter, Joan. She will never see her daughter again. Flora's family agrees to pay Flora a monthly allowance."

Divorced and disconnected from her daughter, "the young free woman" moved to New York, and later Paris, to become an artist. Many young female aspiring artists were drawn to Paris' art academies:

"Paris' free academies were full of them – Giacometti described to his mother, as a joke, the Académie de la Grande Chaumière as 'the boarding school for young American girls.' Synonymous with freedom, teeming with artists from all over the world, Paris offered then a unique concentration of art schools and studios."

Flora arrived in Paris in April 1925 and soon enrolled in the Académie de la Grande Chaumière. The Académie met Flora's aspirations:

"The Grande Chaumière was one of those well-known free academies that accepted women, and where, for the price of a ticket, one could learn to draw from living models."

"Mayo was one the many courageous, adventurous female art students who studied alongside their male peers at art academies, resisting social expectations and persevering in an art world riddled with significant bias against a woman's artistic talent and professional ambitions."

Flora and Alberto Giacometti on the right.

Flora met Alberto Giacometti during her first year at the Académie, and soon the two classmates became lovers. However, within a year, they had moved from lovers to friends. Living in the same apartment building on Rue Hippolyte Maindron, Flora, on the floor above Giacometti's, each used their apartment as a studio. Despite the end of their romantic relationship, they continued to be friends and remained supportive of each other. Around the time Mayo was creating the bust of Giacometti, Giacometti created a modern sculpture of her. In 1928, Flora's mother Luella, visited her daughter in Paris and traveled in Brittany, France. However, the Great Depression would soon take an increasing toll on Flora and her family. From Hubbard and Birchler's Chronology:

1930 – "Flora's father, due to the stock market crash of 1929, significantly reduces the monthly payments to his daughter. Over the next year, his payments become increasingly smaller in sum and unpredictable in arrival."

1933 - "Flora's father cancels all payments to his daughter. Flora received charity assistance from the Traveler's Aid Society for a return passage home."

Flora met Alberto Giacometti during her first year at the Académie, and soon the two classmates became lovers. However, within a year, they had moved from lovers to friends. Living in the same apartment building on With Flora's aspirations for a career in art deflated, and without funds to preserve her works, she destroyed them all. (The Giacometti bust on display at Denver's Contemporary Art Museum is a reproduction.) In 1935, Flora returned to Denver, where she gave birth to a son named David. They moved to Los Angeles a couple of years later, where Flora was employed in "various manufacturing and retail jobs." World War II found her working in the radar and aircraft industry "making machine parts on a lathe." From 1940 to 1941, David lived with another family in Los Angeles. He would then live at St. John Bosco School for Boys in Bellflower for six years. 

Time passed, and the year 1961 found Flora returning to Paris. The trip was partly funded by David, who remained unaware of his mother's life in Paris over 30 years ago. Flora again enrolled at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière, and a couple of years later would invite Alberto Giacometti and his wife to dinner. It would be Flora and Giacometti's last visit. Alberto died in 1966, and Flora died six years later at the Westmoreland Sanitorium in Los Angeles.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

At the end of a series of galleries at the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver, I entered a dimly lit room and turned right to find a small darkened theater. Fifteen or so museum visitors, sitting or standing, were gazing at a large screen. An actress, who in appearance and sensibility resembled Flora, seemed to flow on the screen as she worked in her studio. Her son David navigated in and out of the clips. Now in his mid-'80s, his face revealed varied emotions as the veil on his mother's life was lifted, a touching and poignant closure.  

John Oró

Notes
Reference 1 - Flora: Alberto Giacometti 

Visit the Flora exhibit from September 20, 2019 to April 5, 2020 at the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver. 

ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE

French girl becomes blind due to clouding of her lenses -

Beauty in a world beyond light -

A young German soldier avoids life in a coal mine -

Since childhood, he is fascinated by sending & capturing of messages beyond visible light -

Radio -

Their paths cross - 

World War II, thus some harsh episodes -

An ultimately tense tale in a world hopefully gone by -

John Oró, MD

Is "deep reading" better on paper?

Has reading changed in the digital age? Are we as absorbed when reading on our screens as this young boy reading in the 1940's?  Brandon Keim opens his article in Wired magazine on "deep reading" with the following observation:

"Paper books were supposed to be dead by now. For years, information theorists, marketers, and early adopters have told us their demise was imminent. Ikea even redesigned a bookshelf to hold something other than books. Yet in a world of screen ubiquity, many people still prefer to do their serious reading on paper."

When searching for a good book, I find myself returning to physical books instead of digital ones.  While the evidence is not definitive, paper may provide something not delivered by a screen. Keim quotes literacy professor Anne Mangen of Norway’s University of Stavenger: 

“Reading is human-technology interaction. Perhaps the tactility and physical permanence of paper yields a different cognitive and emotional experience.”

Read more (on the screen!?) at Why the Smart Reading Device of the Future May Be … Paper

Christoph Gielen documents humankind's "huge footprint"

See more: These Are Some Mesmerizing Photos Of The Urban Sprawl That's Devouring The Planet

Related Posts

• Welcome to the Anthropocene: Humankind's layer on the Earth
•  When did the Anthropocene begin?
• Did the Roman Empire & the Han Dynasty begin the Anthropocene?

Is a wooden frame bike in your future?

"The problem with typical aluminum bike frames is that mining aluminum is a huge energy suck. (It’s way worse than glass, for instance, not that you want a glass bike.) And even though it’s almost 100 percent recyclable, only about half of pop cans get recycled."

Read more: Here’s a solution to most bikes’ dirty secret

"Chairs are a recent invention"

"Chairs are a recent invention. Folks as early as the ancient Egyptians had them, but they were a luxury item reserved for the upper classes. Your average Neolithic human sat on chests or benches until chairs became a mass-produced staple that everyone could afford. Earlier than that, for most of human history, formal-sitting furniture simply didn’t exist. Paleolithic posteriors surely rested upon rocks and logs and stumps when the opportunity arose, but those aren’t the same as having permanent fixtures that allow you to take a load off whenever you want. Human bodies were not designed with chairs in mind. We did do a lot of lounging around – I’m not arguing we never stopped moving or anything – but we did so on the ground, rather than on a bunch of folding chairs.”

Read more: Floor Living: Do You Spend Enough Time on the Ground?

Richard Riemerschmid: Chair; Oak solid wood with leather upholstery; Design for a Music Room at the German Art Exhibition in Dresden in 1899. Source: Wikimedia