| 1969
Slate, Ice, Plastic Concept
" Please come and visit me in Jamaica Plain, a neighborhood of Boston, where arts, community, diversity, nature and ice cream flourish." email 6/26/00
Abilities was a nationally known Spinal Cord Injury center and it was only six minutes away. It had the perfect pool! They also had transportation to and from the center; without that there was no going anywhere. The regimen was one hour of physical and one hour of occupational rehabilitation. PT consisted of a lot of time trying to get my body from the wheelchair to the mat, moving my legs and trunk and then back to the chair. I was able to pop over without the usual sliding board, having refused that apparatus early on scaring everyone with the inch or so between falling and sitting. Dad and my brother had made the NHP house accessible with a wooden ramp, new door saddles and bars in the shower. When I requested a standing box Dad went to the rehab center and looked at theirs. Within a week I had one of my very own. It looks like a closed up podium with a door that latches shut. There's no where to fall and padding at the back and knees gives added support. A tray on top in front allows one to do standing activities such as reading or writing. A boost emotionally also. He also made me a skate and powder board to exercise my legs while in a supine reclining position. That too he modified from the rehab's equipment! My bedroom had been my parent's favorite...a den with comfortable sofa, easy chair and TV. Now they went downstairs for all their shows and used the living room to read, knit and socialize. A backwards situation; parents in their 80's caring for their eldest daughter. Dad was in ill health, in pain and angry at "getting old." Returning to the home I left at 19 was an emotional lesson. That first year was full of tears for all that I had lost. A garage sale took place in the backyard of the Sea Cliff house. Buyers were anxious to move in. Many of my possessions were given or thrown away except for art and important pieces that went to storage with my sister, brother, son and daughter. They eventually gave antiques back to my ex - 25 years after he left them with me. Neighbors poured through treasured clothes left for pickup on the front porch. Too numb to cry I asked two male friends to help me sit on the grass in the park for one last time. Propped against the fence like a stiff plastic doll...I feigned serenity. When one is numb with sadness it is a state beyond crying. I was afraid to start because the depth of sorrow was such that I felt it would kill me. Better to block all thoughts, feelings and memories. My (ex-boy) friend drove me back to New Hyde Park in a borrowed jalopy. How much lower could I go? Our relationship at this point was barely existent; I didn't ask for much and he didn't offer. The last time I heard from him was the following birthday Sent me yellow roses; the color of friendship, neither love or passion. Note said he'd be in touch. Didn't happen. 1970 Mother and Daughter
photo by Edward Samuels |
There were many days and nights we'd hang out with
our neighborhood friends. It was easy to make pasta dishes, salad and bread (homemade) and
wine. Dylan ate pureed fresh vegetables and yogurt as a toddler until he too ate what ever
I put on the table. It seems if you love to cook, everyone will love to eat! Flower of Evil (1969) had the sensuality of marble and it hung flush to the wall. Green resin that reminded me of absinthe filled the center. Finally felt I was beginning to develop a liquid organic style unique to me. Unfortunately there were few sales despite the exhibits and artists' kudos. you I was writing a lot of poetry again. Looked into getting a grant and/or publishing. Never got to submitting anything. Worked on a plastic piece called "Plankton" and another utilizing water for a Yoko Ono show at the Everson Museum in Syracuse; Pat Passlof entered me in that. Yoko and John walked right by us at the opening. We weren't part of their party list. Don't think she even knew my name. As usual the immediate
surroundings were fodder for subject matter. Looking down at the tunnel the spatial
conditions were strong in format and strength. Highway (1970) took me close to 8 months to complete. It consisted of
interlocking pieces that sat on top of twin white plexi bases. An incredible fete
considering the use of full sheets. They had to be cut, heated, sanded and polished. Many times I'd go to a scrap plastics seller a
few blocks away. He'd sell me off colors and pieces by the pound. They were insane to
clean and de-scratch! I kept a frugal life style. Rain check for Bohack, Biz Detergent, June 1970. Hardly ever went shopping at department or boutique type stores. Wore the same clothes, shoes and outerwear for years. Only the handmade designer clothes for those openings and occasional elegant outings. David got me into a Collectors Show at the Art Institute in Chicago. Landscape watercolor. A one person show was
offered to me at the Graham Gallery; it was set for April 1971.
Small Highway,
detail (1970.) Somewhere in between we wedged in some political activities. We joined the Brooklyn Anti-Poverty Organization and Waterfront Development. The waterfront was the site of diverse factions; some desired it to be torn down, renovated or left alone. Container ports were an inevitability. Pratt was involved in a voluntary capacity with the neighborhood Hispanic organization. There were meetings and grass roots clean ups. I gathered the local children together for the first Earth Day. We painted symbolic images on the wooden boards covering the ground floor next door. We didn't have the money for Lamaze classes that I told Dr. Figuera we attended. The night of the 14th we were at a loft in Manhattan partying up a storm...dancing and...my time came. Jolie Kelter drove us back to the Brooklyn side. Dagna Fayre was born on November 15th just 2 hours later. Naturally. Looking at her red chubby face as Dr. Figuera held her; I thought gee they look alike! Both so beautiful. What a wonderful moment. Mom and Dad Samuels offered us their house in Hollywood, Florida during the Christmas season. I drove the whole way taking stops to breast feed and eat. I continued to work on a
piece utilizing the gara We returned to Brooklyn and prepared for the big show. A group of women artists began to meet regularly: Pat Passlof, Marty Edelheit, Cynthia Navaretta, Ce Roser, Joyce Kosloff were some that came over to Brooklyn for an evening of heated conversation. We became involved with meetings at AIR in Manhattan forming a very large loose-knit organization. Exciting to have women of that caliber and background to speak with. Their men and/or friends were among the most established artists in NYC. Elaine de Kooning, Lucy Lippard, Rose Slivka and Louise Bourgoise were included. Mom made an appliquéd dress according to my instructions for the opening...free forms parodying those in the art pieces all hand sewn on a full length magenta silk crepe sleeveless dress. The gallery was wall to wall
with people. I had created fold over sheets of plastic as frames for preliminary drawings.
They lined the hall. There were six free standing pieces including a pyramid base and a
plumb line that ended in a free form molded weight. No pictures exist of the two extreme
pieces. I felt depressed after it; in fact I fell apart totally after the opening. No NY
Times review due to the exhibit of the artist husband of Barbara Rose...he showed at
the Graham downstairs and garnered that all important coverage. Post partum and post artum! I sought solace with the women's movement and asked to end the marriage. The Tree and its Roots (1971) is the last plastic piece of any consequence. A symbolic salute to sea and land, yin and yang. Resin had poisoned my body; the doctors thought I was on drugs and sent me home. Couldn't work with plastics any more.
|
Another incredible event
to look forward to in November! The birth of our second child.
ge as studio. Our Charlie Brown tree was picked in the back yard.
We festooned it with shells and homemade ornaments. Dagna
(1971).