Thursday, December 29, 2011

Glued To A Truck: new novel!




In his newest novel, appropriation novelist Todd Van Buskirk appropriates two different artist interviews from American Archives' Oral History Program, started in 1958 to document the history of the visual arts in the United States, primarily through interviews with artists, historians, dealers, critics and others.

The following describes the two artists featured in the novel.

Walkowitz, Abraham, b.1880 d.1965
Painter, Printmaker, Etcher
N.Y.

An interview of Abraham Walkowitz conducted by Abram Lerner and Mary Bartlett Cowdrey for the Archives of American Art.
Walkowitz discusses his childhood and schooling; travelling abroad; influence of Claude Monet exhibit; his book, Artists of Walkowitz: 100 Portraits; Paul Cezanne's death; meeting artists in Europe; his 1908 exhibition of modern art at the Julius Haas Gallery, New York; getting Max Weber a show at the Haas Gallery; Steiglitz and his 291 Gallery; the Armory Show, especially the roles of Arthur B. Davies, Walt Kuhn, and Walter Pach; reactions to Nude Descending a Staircase; the Society of Independent Artists; thoughts on criticism of his work; his relationship with the critic Peyton Boswell; the importance in his work of dancer Isadora Duncan; opinions on American art, modern art, art schools, students and patrons; good art versus bad art; and the role of critics. Among others he recalls are Lizzie Bliss, William Merritt Chase, Kenyon Cox, The Eight, Jacob Epstein, Childe Hassam, and Georgia O'Keeffe.

And…

Washington, James W. (James Winston), b. 1909 d. 2000
Painter, Sculptor
Seattle, Wash.

An interview of James W. Washington (1911-2000) conducted 1987 June 29, by Paul Karlstrom, for the Archives of American Art.

Washington discusses his early life in the South; effects of discrimination and the formation of a world view; art as the embodiment of spiritual truth; concept of the Absolute in art; role of the imagination; discovering form in material as basis of sculpture; training and contacts in Seattle; Mark Tobey and Morris Graves; role of Mexico in his shift to sculpture; and philosophy and its realization in sculpture.

Excerpt:


ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW WITH

ABRAHAM WALKOWITZ

December 8 & 22, 1958

Interviewers: Abram Lerner & Bartlett Cowdrey



AL: Abram Lerner

AW: Abraham Walkowitz

BC: Bartlett Cowdrey



AL: Well, you know what we have to do here, Walky, is to be as informal as possible because you understand how the tape operates you can do anything with tape it can be used or not used cleaned off. So that you don't have to get the feeling that whatever you say is there for good and you can't correct yourself or anything of the sort. But primarily what we are interested in is finding out all about you, it is simple as that. You have to go back to your childhood and tell us a little about yourself.



AW: Since I can't see, I don't remember too well, there's a reason. How can I talk if I don't see? AL You find the connection? People talk in their sleep, you know.



BC: Well, we are very much interested in your earliest memories even if they don't go back much beyond.



AW: I don't remember much of my youth, you know. I don't know why; I was sick once, measles or something. Maybe it's a good thing I don't remember.



AL: Where were you born?



AW: I was born in Siberia. The same place where Irving Berlin was (born) . . .



AL: How old were you when you came to this country?



AW: Eight or nine. I don't remember much of Russia. But the traveling was wonderful. It took us two and a half months to get here. I remember gypsies and all those things. It was fantastic. I remember my father. There was a certain legal thing, where you must take the children. And so they ordered him to come there and explain what Judaism is, to those who didn't know.



AL: And this was to the young Jewish soldiers.



AW: So he was in the government there, you see, and that's where I was born. And he explained to them what Israel, the Jewish religion is, and so on, they didn't know anything, they took them away as children. So they knew they were born Jewish. So he explained to them what it is, and he was the leader of them all. He was there for many years. Then he went to China, he sort of became a legal person, and he didn't want to become a Rabbi. He was a scholar. And he brought over Irving Berlin's father. And Irving Berlin was born in the same place I was, in Siberia. And he went to China when I was about four years old, not quite four, and I don't remember my father. He died there, you see.



AL: Did you have a large family?



AW: There were my two sisters, one died, and the other one died not long ago, and I was the only one of the three of us . . . And so Irving Berlin's father I knew him as Baline. Not Berlin. His name is not Berlin. But I haven't seen him in a long time. Once I had a chance to see him, Irving Berlin, during the Second World War. You know in those canteens? I met a man from the Journal (American) who was a music critic so I said, "Hello, what are you doing here?" "I'm here to contact Irving Berlin." So when I heard that name, you know, not meeting him since he was 12 years old, I said, "I'd just like to, I'm going with you." He said, "Sure, come on." So I came there to the Canteen and he wasn't there yet. Some of the people appeared, it was in a sort of basement. So I waited for Irving Berlin. People began to sing, I don't know their names. And then they wanted to announce Irving Berlin. But they said, "No, he's not here." They said, "He'll be here soon, in five minutes." I stood near the door, and he came in. And I tell him, "How can I make myself known?" So I said, "(spoken in Jewish)" And he said, "I'm busy, I gotta go down." So he went down. And he appeared on the stage there singing, and he sang like a dead cat. What he sings is good, but if he didn't sing it it would be much better. So then he sang a couple of songs, and I was so discouraged, I was much disappointed.



AL: Well, he was a song writer, not a singer.



AW: Yes, so I kept thinking, what can I do to make him know that I have known him since a child. So I saw him; "I'm going out," he says; "You know, I have to appear somewhere," and he is busy. So I says, "You're Irving Berlin, Moishe Balin's son," and he says, "I'm busy," So a couple of months later, there is a show on Broadway, where his music was. And he was in the musical himself. And I stood in the door, in the corridor where the photographs were hung, and I looked at them, and I didn't even know what it was, I stood there, and looked at the photographs it was the second night. So he comes out, I recognized him, he had to get a pack of cigarettes. So I said to him, "You know, I stopped you, and I come from Siberia, born the same place as you." Quickly, I said this. So he said, "Come to my place, I haven't got time, my publishing house." You know, he had a publishing house. So a month later I pass by and I see his office, and I said, "I'll make another attempt," and I walked in, I saw the secretary, and said, "I want to see Mr. Irving Berlin; will you please tell him I am Walkowitz, the artist from Siberia, so he should know." She said he was busy, in a conference. So I said, "All right, I'll wait." She gave him my card, you know, and I told her my name was Walkowitz from Siberia, an old friend of the family. And I waited about twenty minutes, and when he finished the conference, he walked out and forgot about me. So I followed him and I says, "You know, that's the third time. First and second, you probably didn't know. Now I tell myself, "Something's wrong," He says, "I'm very busy, I have to go to the Equity." It was just a few blocks from there. So he said, "Come along." In the street, we were walking, and I explained to him. And he was thinking of all the things he had to do and so on. Until I walked him up to the Club, and he said, "Here's my address. If you want to see me, write to me. Otherwise I don't want to see you at all." And that's all, that's the last I saw of him. A;: He was evidently not interested.



AW: I am going on 82; I was 81 last March. But in black and white I am only 78. My mother made me two years younger in order to get me out. They needed the boys there for the Army. And so she had to fool them, make me younger. Not the girls, but the boys.



BC: Mr. Walkowitz, we would like to test this tape to see how it is coming through.



AL: I guess I should ask you the most pertinent question.



AW: Why was I born?



AL: No, not why you were born, but what made you become an artist? How did you know?



AW: You know artists are born and not made.



AL: Well, what led you to become an artist?



AW: A spirit. When I was a kid, about five years old, I used to draw with chalk, all over the floors and everything, you see. I suppose it's in me. I remember myself as a little boy, of three or four, taking chalk and made drawings. I suppose I just had to become an artist.



AL: You always drew, in other words. Did you get any schooling in art while you were in Russia? You were very young, you said.



AW: No, I used to draw copies from pictures.



AL: Did you draw in school?



AW: Not very much. At home I used to draw.



AL: You got mostly a religious training, didn't you?



AW: No, not too much.



AL: Did you go to a Russian public school?



AW: Yes, a private school. We were rich people in Russia. My father was a wealthy person. We had a maid, and she was Russian, and I never spoke Jewish; I had to learn Jewish here.



AL: Well then, what happened when you came to the United States?



AW: Well, I came to the United States with my mother and two sisters. My sisters started to work, and my mother had to do something. And I went to school, I was young, and I wanted my education. And in school I was a very good draftsman, the teacher was proud of me.



BC: What school was this?



AW: The school is already long gone. It was Chrystie Street. They demolished it. In the beginning I lived on Essex Street, where the park is now. It has been destroyed.



AL: Oh yes, near where the Educational Alliance is, at the moment.



AW: That block and two other blocks have been destroyed, so there is no record of all this.



BC: How long did you attend the public school?



AW: I hardly even graduated, because I had to go sell newspapers.



AL: Here your family was not rich. Here they were poor.



AW: They took everything away from us, we couldn't save a thing.



AL: Did you go to Art School?



AW: When I was about fourteen, I started with the Cooper Union art school for a few months. Then I went to the Artists' Institute on 23rd Street. The teacher there was Walter Shirlaw, a very fine teacher, and he really has taken a great interest. In fact in that very same school [Henry] McBride was also a student.



AL: He was a student of painting?



AW: Yes. Then McBride was a teacher at the Educational Alliance. He started in there probably about 1898 or something like that. Before 1900 I was studying at the National Academy on 23rd Street. Then it moved up to 109th Street and Amsterdam Avenue.



AL: All this time you were still living on the lower East Side.



AW: And then I moved up on Third Street. And near Third Street, a few blocks away, on Second Street they had a cafeteria, G and G. And I used to walk to 23rd street to save carfare to the National Academy.



AL: With whom did you study at the National Academy?



AW: Numerous teachers. The fact is, I didn't want to study with them. Whenever they came around to correct my drawings, I'd go away. I knew there was something wrong.



AL: You mean you didn't trust the Academicians from the start? You had a prejudice.



AW: I had a prejudice. I don't know why. Francis Jones was there and Ward. Ward, he was not bad. I had many destructors, I call them. I call everyone, instead of an instructor, I call them a destructor.



AL: Were you teaching at that time already?



AW: No, later on. At the Educational Alliance. I started in 1900.



BC: But Shirlaw was your first teacher?



AW: Yes, because in Cooper Union, I don't remember who it was, I was there just a short time, about a month.



AL: What about your fellow artists?



AW: I already exhibited in 1900. And in 1902 I arranged an exhibition at the University Settlement, with many other artists. But I arranged it. The University Settlement was a Guild, you see. Down on Eldridge, or someplace around there. I still have the catalog. (Mr. Walkowitz presented a copy of the catalogue to the Archives)



AL: It would be very interesting for us to have.



AW: I'll bring it in.


- Todd Van Buskirk

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