Artwork Marks, Reflects, and Celebrates Life

A Romero Britto print of, “L.A. Cat,” was a gift from my wife Allison when I finished graduate school at age 56. My route to a graduate degree was interrupted by a 30-year gap after I dropped out the first time, and not finishing my studies haunted me all those years. When I finally got up the determination to go back, I spent three years doing almost nothing except reading and writing about gerontology and theatre. I had always been a big fan of Britto. On the way home from a vacation in the Berkshires, Allison took an unexpected detour to a Connecticut art gallery where she surprised me with the piece.

I took a great deal of pride in finally finishing graduate school. So much so, that I threw myself a party. My friends Barbara and Frank gave me one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received; a framed print of a still from “The Odd Couple” TV series. This item transcends the event it was given to celebrate. The three of us are big fans of the series, and I know every episode by heart. I also played Felix in a local production.

I made my first trip to the Berkshires in the mid-80s. Friends of mine purchased a weekend home on the New York side, but we often traveled to the nearby Massachusetts towns like Great Barrington and Stockbridge.

I grew enamored with the area. Besides visiting my friends, we’ve managed to spend time there every summer for the past 21 years (but, alas, not this past one). We always save at least one day to go to Stockbridge. I find the town interesting without being overly commercial, retaining a small-town feel. Generally, we go over to West Stockbridge and visit the Norman Rockwell Museum. Rockwell’s “Stockbridge Main Street at Christmas (Home for Christmas)” captures the small-town ambience overlaid by a snowfall. Allison gifted me with this, and it hangs on the wall above my desk. I look at it especially when I want to experience some serenity.

Early on in my relationship with Allison, we were looking through one of her art books and she pointed out the work of Georgia O’Keeffe, whom she admired. She seemed really taken by an image O’Keeffe painted for the Sante Fe Chamber Music Festival in 1981. I made a mental note and researched how to get the poster. I framed it as a gift for her birthday. 

I went to see the play, “Equus,” in the mid-70s. I loved the play and was especially taken by the program cover design. Walking past the Triton Gallery on West 45th Street, I spotted a poster of the program design in the window. It was way out of my price range, but the image stayed with me.

Later, as a way to celebrate accepting a new job after a tough period, I decided to treat myself. I returned to the gallery and purchased the poster. It measures 40”x 30,” and is dry-mounted on wood. When I look at it, I’m reminded of coming back from adversity. (That includes the day I bought it and lugged it across town and then on to the subway. I felt like Jill Clayburgh at the end of, “An Unmarried Woman.”)

I kept it in my apartment in the Bronx until the 90s, when I decided that my office at The Bronx Council on the Arts needed something of mine on the wall. Allison always tells me that when she came to visit me at work and saw the poster behind my desk, it clinched the relationship.

It was my time at the arts council that gave me an appreciation of the visual arts. I got to know many artists, hear their stories, and witness their processes. Over the years, I purchased a few pieces that now hang on my walls. It means something special to get a piece directly from an artist and to have that personal contact and understanding of what went into creating it. Now when I walk around the apartment, I have my own Bronx artist gallery. I see work from Enid Alvarez, Arturo Carranza, Stephanie Chisholm, Carmen Corrigan, Luis Pagan, and Moses Ros.

If someone were to ask me whether I’d like a portrait of myself, I would say unequivocally, no. For my 20th anniversary at the arts council, my boss commissioned (unbeknownst to me) a portrait, done in collage, by one of the artists on our staff, Lisa Curran. I must admit, I really like it. There was no attempt to erase my flaws, but instead it captured an aspect of my personality that apparently is visible to others and that I’m comfortable exposing. Beyond that, it was a lovely gesture.

I’m not a fan of most weddings. They all seem pretty much the same to me, but everyone will tell you that their wedding was special and unique. And everyone is right. 

Everyone I knew assumed I’d be a bachelor forever, which, given the evidence at the time, was reasonable. When you plan your own wedding in middle age, you have a much better idea of what you want, and have more control over the event than when you’re younger and parents are paying for everything.

We only invited who we really wanted to be there. Many of our friends are theatre performers. One plays piano in a cabaret. He brought his piano, and our friends brought their talent, so our reception looked less like a wedding and more like a musical revue. When I see these pictures, I think of how fortunate I am, and how much fun everyone had on that day.