Thursday, August 16, 2007

in memory of Elizabeth Murray


I heard of Elizabeth Murray's death on Monday. I felt sad. I knew she had cancer and so I was not surprised by the news, but I still remember back in my earliest days in NYC, when I spent much of my time in Tribeca, I would see her frequently on the street. You could not miss that head of white hair. At that time I did not much like her work; it seemed to me too flippant. I wanted everything to be Serious. But the respect that other artists had for her was so obvious and so consistent that I ascribed my feelings to a kind of aesthetic difference. But I knew she was the real thing, and she inspired me with how cool she was.

Now as I am getting older I have much more of a feeling for her work, and I admire it on so many levels. But the thing I know most is that back then she struck me as so human, on the street buying vegetables at the little market, or talking energetically on a corner. Paint-splattered artists are an infrequent sight these days.

1 comment:

she said...

thank you! you inspired me to read and learn about her; about her paintings, philosophies

and your comments have an inspired thoughts i'll want to organize and post in my own blog soon

about seriousness and humor; about stages of artistic wisdom

and oh! i love that too! -to see messy people. paint splattered on skin and clothes. ink along the arm, the hand, the fingernails