He was the young painter who sat in a Henry Street Settlement House dance studio every morning, listening to my mother, Florence commence her morning practice. The scales, the etudes, the repertoire of a young pianist becoming his private concert.
His painting, given or sold to Florence decades ago, is part of home, always has been.
At 92, he doesn't 'still' paint. He paints. Just like Florence played. Just like Jutta explores. Just like.... we all breathe until we don't. There is no 'still' about it.
He may not be under the Williamsburg Bridge, but somewhere where there are trees and solitude and quiet and a cat that acts as both muse and boss, he paints.
His work will be on display until July 27 at the Pomona Cultural Center, New York.
**
Related Posts:
William Chaiken Paintings
The Pomona Village Cultural Center
Sunday Memories: The Painting
Sunday Memories: All Together Again In Jutta's Kitchen
She's Leaving Home, Bye, Bye
