December 10 - Reverb10 Prompt - Wisdom

Gave my old laptop in excellent condition to the grandkids of the woman who cleaned my apartment in Atlanta.  Made her life better as she didn't have to sit around in the library after a day of hard work while the kids waited in line to use the computer.  In fact, I centered most of my giving on these four little girls.  Information about Women's History Month and a book from the website - anything to add some education on top of what they get in school.  Another joy, mentoring at Kipp Strive in Atlanta via the Wren's Nest former home, now a house museum, of the gentlemen who wrote the Uncle Remus books.  Met some super people, was happy to learn about a school that does what a school is supposed to do - enrich, educate and enliven.  Loved meeting my 5th grader mentee, Kwesi, and working with him to write the essay about his grandfather which was included in a book published in time for the Decatur Book Fair.  He is a cutie patootie and so bright.  Good decisions both - got me out of my box and out of the house among kids.  Ignited fire in my soul encouraging kids to write.  Loved getting the book reports I assigned.  Being with kids is wondrous, calming, inspiring and joyful.  Noisy, aggravating and exhausting too.  Spend more time with kids in 2011 was a wise decision and is on my to do list for 2011.

December 9 - Reverb10 Prompt - Party

My 30th High School reunion - had avoided previous reunions but the stars aligned on this one - best friend Hillary came in from Cap d'Antibes and we met up with dear Jimmy before heading off to the event.  Bonus time spent with Alessandra and Juliana her adorable daughters - we went to Big Apple Circus with Paulette (grand mere).  So we came into the house on the grounds of the Merchant Marine Academy three-strong.  DJ playing 80s dance music - didn't sound good to me then and hasn't improved with age.  So busy talking to people I barely remembered that I didn't make it to the buffet - heard I didn't miss anything.  In the middle of this a member of the class entered in full Scottish regalia playing the bagpipes in remembrance of our classmates who are no longer with us.  Odd choice as most of us are Jewish.  Didn't remember the piper nor most of those pictured on the screen without accompanying names.  Cut out as soon as we could and headed off to Scobee Diner - closed early - little did we know that in the following weeks Scobee would close permanently followed by an auction of the guts of our favorite hang-out.  Who would want an old booth, grease embossed counter top and those gnarly rotating cake display units.  It was a great evening, haven't stayed out until 4:30 am in I don't know how many years.  Good to connect with my history and those I don't have to explain where I come from to.

Beautifully Different - Day 8

What makes me "beautifully different," is that I care and people sense that along with my generosity of spirit, information, time and money.  I give whatever I have because I believe that tomorrow will bring me more of whatever I need.  I've been told that my smile is infrequent but worth waiting for.  Had a client once who said that I "give good leg" his vernacular way of complimenting me.  It is all what is in my head and heart and that's what I look for in others - physical beauty comes and goes, changes with the trends though classic beauty is always in style.  Nothing better than a crisp white button down shirt, jeans, a good belt and pair of sneakers, hair back in pony tail (wish there was an elegant way of describing this hair style) and some simple but "good" jewelry.  Think the Hepburn women - my style icons and their charitable way of living is my working model - Audrey with Unicef and Katherine with the cultural center in Connecticut.  Doing well by doing  good is my modus operandi.

750words

HIllary, Me and Jim at my 30th High School Reunion -
now that's something to write about.

Writing is what I do.  Always on the lookout for a way to jump start my day and have employed Julia Cameron's Artist Pages for at least a decade.  For those who don't enjoy a journal and pen here's a super new place to get your 3 pages written www.750words.com.  I like the mind dump so much that I am willing to try it online and do it twice a day.  Wondering what to send me for the holidays?  Mont Blanc Cartridge refills.  Not expensive and much appreciated. Another super application for writers of any stripe is www.ommwriter.com - locks out everything but the writing until you tell it otherwise.  Plays subtle music which helps me concentrate and you can silence this as well.  If you are stuck or too easily distracted put down the Ritalin and check out these two programs.  Back to writing...

Reverb10 - Day 7

Community - among my favorite words.  Found community upon my move to East Hampton by reaching out to publisher Marty Shepard at www.permanentpress.com a neighbor in Sag Harbor.  Received a warm welcome with open arms and a first invitation to visit him at the "office."  His German Shepherd, Monty, is my new bff.  Left with an armful of books including his current memoir, ON THE RECORD.  Read it in one clip.  Second invitation, dinner to meet his wife and business partner, Judy, and three wonderful writers who also make this super cold part of Long Island their home year-round.  Jenny, Joan and Mary.  What a treat.  Third invitation is for dinner tonight.  Can't wait to discover more about my new friends.

Reverb10 - Day 1

It is day 7 on Reverb10 but my day 1 so I'll kick this off by covering the prompts in the first six days together.  One word from someone who writes for a living - hah!  Breathe, that's it.  Breathe in life, family, friendship, love, writing, reading and the glorious winter weather in New York.  Writing - what can I eliminate that doesn't contribute to my writing?  Shopping - do it all online and only for those who truly deserve gifts.  One moment this year?  When I drove off route 27 and arrived in East Hampton - early morning, crisp air, sun that didn't burn, trees lots of trees but no palm trees.  I had arrived home and my body relaxed and my mind ramped up.  Cold weather is where I belong.  How did I cultivate a sense of wonder this year?  Facing my laptop out toward the woods, pausing to watch the deer and wild turkeys, the leaves blowing off the trees and the first snow fall.  I let go of people who just had an outstretched palm.  Done with the takers and on to the sharers.  Make.  Just finished knitting Wool & the Gang's Jane collar in a luscious bulky caramel color yarn.  Re-working the pattern on a thinner yarn in cream - almost finished.  Simultaneously I knitted an infinity scarf with Artyarns gorgeous green bulky yarn.  So yummy I haven't taken it off except to sleep.  That covers the first six days of #Reverb10.

The Passing of Purvis Young

ARTS & OPINION

Art   Culture   Analysis

Vol. 9, No. 4, 2010

into eterntiy
THE PASSING OF PURVIS YOUNG

by 
DINDY YOKEL
___________________

When I think about Purvis Young, a movie-trailer of moments runs through my mind -- from our first meeting until his death on April 20, 2010. Each snippet a story and education unto itself; run together these clips span three years in Miami.

The S & S Diner on NE Second Avenue located across the street from the cemetery is a favourite Miami breakfast spot. Despite twelve years of counter dining where I zipped in and out of this rundown and so-called dangerous part of town, I somehow I missed the secret art studio of Purvis Young across the alley. How many times were we at the diner simultaneously, me eating eggs or pancakes and Purvis his daily tuna fish sandwich? How privileged I was to eat with him at the diner many times after we met.

We first met in 2006 when Young was selected as Director’s Choice for the 17th annual Art Miami Contemporary Art fair. Walking into the studio was like walking into one of his paintings. Wildly colourful, everything is recycled or “found” including the red velvet fainting couch that was Young’s favourite perch. My eyes adjusted and I found the artist sitting quietly, petting his rescue dog Goodbread, named after his renowned Goodbread Alley art installation. Weighing in at close to 300 lbs at the time, Young’s girth did not overwhelm the petite couch nor overtake the studio. His serenity counteracted his size.

No matter the time of day a television droned on in a back room

 where Young napped; he rarely slept a full night. One evening after an interview with theMiami Herald, I was departing and bent down to give Purvis a hug and kiss on the cheek. He was surprised. “I am 60 years old and you are the first white woman that has touched me.” This shocked me as a true New Yorker, race did not preclude people from touching each other, and hadn’t since the 50s and here it is the first decade of the 21st century in southern Florida and race was still an issue.

There are at least two schools of artists: those who have said all they have to say through their work and those who love to wax erudite about their work. Talking with Purvis about his paintings satisfied my need to understand without hearing a ton of artist-speak. When I inquired about his work he had sharp, short and sane answers.

The figure of a nude pregnant woman with her arms stretched to the sky is one of Young’s significant icons appearing alone or in groups throughout he work. “My pregnant woman stands for hope which comes from birth and God,” said Young. Hope, as Young continued, “is a common wish without attention to our colour or religion.” Simple, eloquent and something that we can all relate to and desire. The viewer doesn’t have to “get” Young’s work or be given an interpretation by art world experts. The work appeals on a visceral level, the story is obvious, the colours glorious and the materials are those we encounter everywhere and not only in art supply stores.

Scores of people, either white or black, populate his paintings. The black groups represent Purvis’ “tribe” and those upon horseback are the leaders. Horses represent freedom. Succinct and easy to grasp, we all have our groups whether by race, religion or location. We yearn for community and belonging and Purvis understood this well. He often spoke about “finding” and rejoining his African tribe after death.

Many considered Young simple of mind and unstable as examples of his belonging to the genre of outsider artist. Having known Purvis, he was neither. He was very private and shared his thoughts with those in his very tight circle of family and a smattering of friends, many of whom have been in his life for decades.

Young also received these labels due to his unfortunate dealings with people who stole from him, misrepresented him and used him for their own good. What this came from was his willingness to trust people, regardless of warnings from others and foul treatment experienced first hand. He kept people in his world long after they proved themselves untrustworthy -- Purvis gave people unlimited opportunities to redeem themselves with him. Somebody must be crazy to allow others to take and take without putting an end to the problem, don’t they?

Purvis wasn’t crazy -- he was a people-pleaser. People wanted his art and so he painted prolifically. People wanted to lay claim to him and he acquiesced not because he didn’t know better but because he wanted to give everyone in his life whatever they wanted. He was generous and loving. He treated Eddie Mae’s children and grandchildren as if they were his own. Nothing illustrated his sanity better than observing Purvis talk with his grandchildren -- but this was private. As was his sadness when his dog “disappeared” after a stint in the hospital. He was convinced that those meant to care for Goodbread simply let him go in the streets. Until the last days of his life Purvis missed this sweet dog.

His trusting nature yielded financial problems and mishandling of his career by others. A simple Google search will bring these names to light but have no business here as they have benefited enough from Purvis. During the final years of his life misery was his frame of mind as his ability to run his own life was legally stripped from him.

All Purvis wanted was freedom and this was something he never had. He wanted to live life his way and paint what he wanted when he wanted and these options were taken from him. Others had their opinion of him shaped by the courts, doctors and the public. He preferred not to fight or rebel other than through the messages in his art. “I realized that standing up for what I believe and fighting for it would only land me in jail. I went once and that was enough. From then on, I expressed my thoughts through my paintings instead of through my fists.”

His legacy is already being mishandled and his work sold at bargain prices when it should be increasing in value because there is no more and yet there is so much. He was a treasure and but never regarded as such. Purvis was a kind and loving man, a family man who deserved a better life. He will be missed and those of us who were privy to his intuitive and insightful thinking will wish more had been written down so that others could know the man and not the portrait painted by others.

Goodbye my friend, I hope you have found your tribe in heaven and are resting easy.

Also by Dindy Yokel: 

Paradise Gardens of Howard Finster

The Art of Purvis Young

Quilts and Quips

Images are courtesy of Doug Hirsch.