MY FATHER,   EL PINTOR

 BY STEPHANIE GORDON HOGAN

WHEREVER MY FATHER TRAVELED HE SEARCHED FOR HIS VERSION OF THE PERFECT STUDIO.

HE WAS ALWAYS PLANNING HIS FUTURE WORK, WRITING DOWN HUNDREDS OF IDEAS AND TITLES. EVEN AFTER HE BECAME ILL, HE WROTE DOWN EXACTLY THE SAME WORDS HE HAD WRITTEN 15 YEARS EARLIER:

“DO FIFTEEN MAJOR PAINTINGS AND TEN WOODCUTS FOR A NEW YORK CITY EXHIBITION. “

                                        

HIS NOTEBOOKS WERE FILLED WITH DESCRIPTIONS OF THE MATERIALS, TOOLS, PROCESSES AND THOUGHTS THAT WERE IMPORTANT TO HIS WORK.

“THE ART WE ARE MEANT TO DO.”

“INSIDE EVERYONE IS AN ARTIST. "

“THE WAY ART LIVES IN YOU. BE STILL AND LISTEN. LET THE SUBJECTS PICK YOU. "

THE PAINTING HAS TO DO THE TALKING. PAINTING IS MY LANGUAGE.”

“THE CANVAS IS PREPARED FOR ALL OF LIFE. THOUGHTFUL, RETROSPECTIVE.

"AS IT COULD BE. AS IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. AS IT CHANGES. AS IT BECOMES.”

HE LEFT NEW YORK IN 1961 FOR MEXICO JUST AS HE WAS EMERGING AS AN IMPORTANT PAINTER, EXHIBITING IN MANY GROUP SHOWS WITH JACKSON POLLACK, ROBERT MOTHERWELL, WILLIAM GROPPER, BEN SHAHN, HANS HOFFMAN, THOMAS BENTON, GEORGIA O’KEEFE AND MANY OTHERS.WHEN HE’D JOINED THE ACA GALLERY, HE SHOWED ALONGSIDE LOUISE NEVELSON, PHILLIP EVERGOOD, JACOB LAWRENCE, ROBERT GWATHMEY, ISAMU NOGUCHI, RAPHAEL AND MOSES SAWYER, CHARLES WHITE AND MANY OTHER PROMINENT ARTISTS. GOING THROUGH HIS SCRAPBOOKS READS LIKE WHO’S WHO IN AMERICAN ART. HIS FIVE ONE MAN SHOWS AT THE ACA, FROM 1948 TO 1958 WERE WELL RECEIVED BY THE ART CRITICS IN MAJOR NEW YORK NEWSPAPERS AND ART MAGAZINES:

“HE IS CALLED THE ‘POET LAUREATE’ OF NEW YORK’S POORER QUARTERS. THE GRIMNESS OF CITY LIFE CAN ONLY BE GIVEN RELIEF IN DREAMING. FANTASY IS LET LOOSE. HALLUCINATIONS CLOUD UP FROM THE STEAMING STREETS.” NY TIMES

“THE CONTENT OF MAXWELL GORDON’S PAINTINGS IS IMPLICITLY PSYCHOLOGICAL WITH ENGAGING POETIC AND WHIMSICAL OVERTONES. IT CONSTANTLY REFLECTS A PENETRATING INTELLECT-ONE FASCINATED BY INNUENDO AND SUBTLE UNDERSTATEMENT.” NY HERALD TRIBUNE

“REMARKABLE BYZANTINE QUALITY IN THE JEWELED SURFACE OF HIS CANVAS.” ART DIGEST

“HE IS FAITHFUL TO HIS FANTASIES. UNLIKE ROUSSEAU, HE WORKS AT A VISION RATHER THAN A STYLE. WHEN HE WORKS WITH THE FANTASTIC HE TRANSCENDS NOSTALGIA.” ART NEWS

“DARINGLY UNCONVENTIONAL, BLUNTLY INDIVIDUAL ALLEGORICAL FANTASY AND UPSET-TINGLY FORCEFUL, COMMENTING WITHOUT COMPROMISE ON THE WORLD WHICH HE SEES AND WHILE THERE IS BLUDGEONING STRENGTH IN THE PAINTINGS, THEY ARE NOT WITHOUT SENSITIVITY AND DREAMLIKE QUALITIES. HIS COLOR IS DELIBERATELY AND EFFECTIVELY RAUCOUS WHEN HE WANTS IT TO BE, AS IT CAN BE HALLUCINATORY AND GENTLE AT OTHER TIMES. THERE IS NOTHING PRETTY ABOUT THIS WORK BUT THERE IS SOMETHING WHICH REMAINS AFTER THE GALLERY AND THE PICTURES HAVE BEEN LEFT.” NEW YORK POST

DESPITE THESE REVIEWS AND HIS GROWING REPUTATION HE FELT THE NEED TO MOVE ON, TO “START A NEW LIFE, BE MYSELF AND AWAKE AGAIN. DO NOTHING WITHOUT PASSION. IF YOU DON’T HAVE THAT FEELING IN YOUR LIFE, CHANGE YOUR LIFE. TEND TO THAT PASSION. BE DISCIPLINED WITH YOUR GIFT. KEEP WORKING.”

ON SEPTEMBER 24, 1961, HE LEFT FOR MEXICO. HE KNEW PEOPLE THERE AND SOON WAS LECTURING, TEACHING PAINTING AND HAD A STUDIO AND GALLERIES TO SHOW HIS WORK. HE NEVER INTENDED TO STAY THERE PERMANENTLY. IN 1962, HE DID A “ZIGZAG ACROSS AMERICA” ; LOS ANGELES, SAN FRANCISCO, TAOS, N.M., TEXAS, NEW ORLEANS, GAINSVILLE, FLA AND CLEVELAND, HIS HOME TOWN, AND THEN, TO SATISFY HIS “TRAVEL TAPEWORM”, HE CONTINUED ON THROUGH ITALY, FRANCE, AND ENGLAND. AT THE END OF THE TRIP, HE INTENDED TO RETURN TO NEW YORK CITY AND OPEN HIS FIFTH ONE MAN SHOW AT THE ACA GALLERY.

THIS SHOW, IN MARCH, 1962, HIS LAST AT THE ACA, WAS NEVER REVIEWED BECAUSE MY MOTHER HAD THE PAINTINGS SEIZED. WHEN MY FATHER LEFT FOR MEXICO, HE STOPPED PAYING HER ALIMONY, ($40 A WEEK) SO SHE GOT A MARSHAL’S ORDER TO STOP THE SHOW ON OPENING NIGHT. THE PAINTINGS WERE TAKEN TO HER HOUSE AND STAYED THERE UNTIL SHE MOVED TO A NURSING HOME.

TRAVELER,  DISILLUSION, SEARCH, GYPSIES, LAUNCHING.

THESE ARE THE TITLES OF SOME OF THE PAINTINGS IN THE ’62 SHOW. THEY HAD BEEN DONE BEFORE HE LEFT FOR MEXICO. WAS HE IN CONFLICT ABOUT HIS DECISION TO LEAVE HIS FAMILIAR AND FAMILIAL LIFE EVEN THOUGH MY BROTHER AND I WERE NO LONGER CHILDREN? IN ANY CASE, MY FATHER WENT BACK TO MEXICO, DEVASTATED BUT NOT DEFEATED, RENTED A STUDIO ON RIO HUDSON ON THE NINTH FLOOR AND CONTINUED THE LIFE HE LIVED BEFORE HE LEFT. HE THREW HIMSELF INTO HIS WORK AS HE ALWAYS HAD.

IN THE FALL OF 1965, AT HIS ONE MAN SHOW AT THE PALACE OF FINE ARTS IN MEXICO, MY FATHER MET LUIS STEPHENS, A YOUNG BUSINESS MAN IN MEXICO AND A FERVENT ART APPRECIATOR, WHO WAS "THUNDERSTRUCK BY THE AESTHETIC QUALITY OF HIS PAINTINGS" AND PURCHASED FIVE FROM THE SHOW.  LUIS BECAME HIS CLOSE FRIEND ,THEN PATRON, AND LATER HIS STUDENT (WHEN HE EVENTUALLY ORGANIZED ART CLASSES).  HE RECORDED WEEKLY CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FATHER FOR OVER A YEAR AND A HALF, WHICH HE INTENDS ONE DAY TO PUBLISH..

I VISITED HIM IN MEXICO CITY ONCE WITH MY DAUGHTER, LAUREN, IN 1969, AND WENT TO HIS STUDIO ON RIO HUDSON. PAINTINGS IN PROGRESS WERE STACKED EVERYWHERE, MOST OF THE FINISHED WORK HAD BEEN SOLD, BUT THE LOOK AND THE ODORS WERE THE SAME THEN AS WHEN I WAS YOUNG AND WENT TO HIS STUDIOS IN NEW YORK: HIS SENSE OF ORDER, EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE, HIS HAND CARVED EASEL WITH AN UNFINISHED PAINTING ON IT, A STILL LIFE SETUP, THE TALL CLEAN BRUSHES SITTING IN JARS AND VASES, RAGS ON THE TABLE, NEWSPAPER ON THE FLOOR, THE SMELLS OF OIL PAINT, LINSEED OIL AND TURPENTINE, AND HIS PALETTE WITH ITS COLORS ARRANGED FOR HIS CURRENT PAINTING. THE ‘WINDSOR OF NEWTON’ TUBES OF PAINT WERE LYING ON THE TABLE NEXT TO HIS PALETTE KNIFE.I HAVE HIS LAST PALETTE, PALETTE KNIFE AND PAINT BOX.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, MY MOTHER SANG SONGS TO ME AT BEDTIME, BUT IT WAS MY FATHER WHO TOLD ME TALES HE HAD WRITTEN. HIS BEST ONE WAS ABOUT ‘THE ADVENTURES OF STERNO’ WHO TRAVELED TO OTHER UNIVERSES IN OTHER TIMES, AND NOW, YEARS LATER, I READ, IN HIS NOTEBOOKS, THE HUNDREDS OF STORIES HE WROTE ABOUT HIS PAINTINGS. THIS IS ONE:

'BIRTH OF A HERO’  ‘A SYMPHONY IN COLOR-OUT OF SMOKE AND HELL COMES A BIRTH; PARADE OF DEAD PEOPLE—THE MYSTERY OF A LITTLE BOY LOST AND ALL HIS NIGHTMARES AND HIS INNER LIFE. OTHER TITLES: THE ARTIST’S FUNERAL: THE ARTIST’S DREAM: THE ARTIST’S FUNERAL: THE END AND THE BEGINNING.’

HE THOUGHT OF HIMSELF “AS A STRONG AND SPIRITUAL FATHER” AND WROTE TO ME, “I SEE MYSELF IN YOU-YOUR COMMITMENT TO GO YOUR OWN WAY.” HIS ADVICE: “THE PROCESS OF BEING AN ARTIST-IS TO LEARN IT ALL TECHNICALLY THEN PUSH THE TECHNIQUE ASIDE AND LET THE TALENT AND SPONTANEITY DRIVE THE FORCE TO MAKE A CREATION.” IT WAS THE WAY I WAS TRAINED IN THE THEATER.

BUT MOSTLY, HE WROTE TO ME ABOUT HIMSELF AND THE CHALLENGES HE HAD LIVING AND WORKING IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY. MANY TIMES, HE WOULD TRY TO FIND A LIFE AND A COUNTRY TO BEGIN AGAIN IN A PERFECT STUDIO WITH HIGH CEILINGS AND GOOD LIGHT, ALWAYS TAKING THE SLIDES OF HIS WORK IN HIS ZIPPERED BROWN BAG.

IN AN INTERVIEW FOR A MEXICO CITY NEWSPAPER, WHEN ASKED WHAT CHANGES IN STYLE HIS PAINTINGS HAD GONE THROUGH SINCE HIS EARLY YEARS HE SAID: “THERE’S A CREATIVE PROCESS IN MAKING A PAINTING. EACH PAINTING IS A NEW PAINTING. PEOPLE WHO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT PAINTING DON’T THINK ABOUT STYLE. YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THE PAINTING. WHAT DOES IT SAY TO YOU?”

WHEN ASKED ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PAINTING IN NEW YORK AND PAINTING IN MEXICO HE SAID: “THERE, I HAD STUDIOS IN VARIOUS PLACES AND WAS INTERESTED IN THE PEOPLE AND MY SURROUNDINGS AND I PAINTED THEM. NOW I LIVE IN MEXICO. I LOVE THE MASKS, THE DECORATIONS, BUT I BASICALLY PAINT THE SAME HERE AS IN NEW YORK. IT’S ALWAYS THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN PEOPLE BUT NOW I PAINT IN THE MEDIUM OF MEXICO. I LIKE TO ADD DETAILS OF BIRDS AND MASKS IN MY PAINTINGS BECAUSE THEY SIGNIFY MYSTERY. THE PAINTER POSSESSES THE TALENT TO CREATE A SYMPHONY OF WHAT SURROUNDS HIM, UTILIZING COLORS AND NOT WORDS TO EXPRESS WHAT GIVES LIFE TO THE PAINTING.”

WHEN HE FIRST MOVED TO MEXICO CITY, HE WENT ALONE TO XOCHIMILCO, A PARK WITH A SERIES OF CANALS AND ISLANDS WHERE TOURISTS CAN RIDE ON BOATS AROUND THE PARK. HE WROTE HIS IMPRESSIONS IN HIS NOTEBOOK: "TOOK A STREETCAR FROM THE ZOCOLO ON SUNDAY. JAMMED WITH FAMILIES ALL DRESSED UP. THERE WERE VENDORS OF ICE POPS, CANDY, CHICLETS. THERE IS A MARKET WHEN YOU ARRIVE-MANY FOOD STALLS-I ATE BANANAS AND SLICED PINEAPPLE-CANS TOO SMALL FOR GARBAGE-MANY DIRTY DOGS-CLAY POTS WERE CHEAP. BOUGHT SMALL ONES ON WAY HOME. FAMILY ENTERTAINING IN PRE CORTEZ COSTUMES. A FATHER DANCING AND SWEATING-LITTLE DAUGHTER-SIX YEARS OLD DANCING ALONG WITH HER MOTHER WHO’S PLAYING TOM TOM DRUMS- THERE WAS A CAN FOR DONATIONS-I GAVE THEM A FEW COINS. I ATE IN A LARGE PLACE WITH MEXICANS- BARKING DOGS EATING WHAT’S ON THE GROUND AND UNDER THE TABLE, YELLING, HUNGRY BEGGARS MOVING AROUND, ONE TABLE FED THEM. THEN WALKED, LOOKED AND FOUND A DOCK AND FOR ONE PESO WENT ON A TRAJINER’S WITH FLOWERS AND GROUP. ONLY MEXICANS.”

WHEN I VISITED HIM IN MEXICO CITY IN 1968, HE TOOK LAUREN AND ME TO THIS PARK. WE WENT WITH HIS FRIENDS, CARRYING PICNIC BASKETS, ON A FLOWER FILLED BOAT WITH MUSICIANS PLAYING. IT WAS A HAPPY DAY. HE SHOWED ME THE GOOD SIDE OF LIVING THERE; THE MUSEUMS AND GALLERIES, THE DINNERS AT EXOTIC RESTAURANTS WITH MARIACHI BANDS SERENADING US, THE PARTIES WITH PAINTERS AND ‘EX-PATS’, THE LUXURIOUS HOMES OF HIS FRIENDS AND THE PYRAMIDS AT TEOTIHUACAN. WE ALWAYS TOOK A STREETCAR, SOMEWHAT DAUNTING WITH A SIX YEAR OLD, AND WHILE IT WAS CROWDED, PEOPLE WERE ALWAYS OFFERING US A SEAT. BUT IT WAS THE POVERTY AROUND THIS CAPITAL CITY THAT AFFECTED ME THE MOST. I WAS OFFERED CHILDREN, MOSTLY BABIES, ‘TO PLEASE TAKE AND GIVE THEM A BETTER LIFE’. MY FATHER TOLD ME THAT WAS THE WAY IT WAS HERE. IT WAS A ‘THIRD WORLD’ COUNTRY AND ONLY THE WEALTHY HAD A BETTER QUALITY OF LIFE.

HE EXHIBITED MANY TIMES IN MEXICO AND WAS ALWAYS WELL RECEIVED.

“HIGHLY IMAGINATIVE AND FULL OF PERSONAL IMAGERY, THESE PAINTINGS REMAIN COMMUNICABLE AND RELATED TO THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE. “

“INCREDIBLE COMBINATION OF ALLEGORY, FANTASY AND SURREALISM.”

“POSSESSES THE FACULTY OF ABSTRACTING BEAUTY FROM CHAOS.”

“ROMPS OF VIVID COLOR-THEIR VERY GARISHNESS A COUNTERPART TO THE SADNESS OF THEIR THEME.”

“HIS SUBJECTS EXPLODE FROM HIS CREATIVE IMAGINATION AND THE PAINTINGS REFLECT THE CULTURE HE’S LIVING IN.”

“GORDON IS REALLY A GREAT PAINTER. THERE IS AN ENORMOUS AMOUNT OF HONESTY IN HIS PAINTINGS, FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE.”

“MAXWELL GORDON, AN INDIVIDUAL PAINTER HAS ACHIEVED A NEW LEVEL IN HIS OWN METHOD OF PERSONAL EXPRESSION. HIS ‘MIXED TECHNIQUES ON PAPER’ DEMONSTRATE A MASTERY OF FORM, CONTENT AND ABILITY. HIS USE OF COLOR IS FASCINATING AND IMMEDIATELY ATTRACTS THE EYE BECAUSE OF THE PHOSPHORESCENT QUALITY WHICH ADDS TO ITS BRILLIANCE. HIS PAINTINGS GLOW."

“THERE IS AN ELEMENT OF DARK FANTASY THAT SUGGESTS A TIME PAST IN REMARKABLY VITAL SHADES."

I ONLY KNEW THE WORK HE DID IN MEXICO WHEN I FINALLY LOOKED AT HIS SLIDES AFTER HE DIED, AND WHEN I VISITED XENIA AND CHARLES STEPHENS’ HOME IN SOMERS, NEW YORK, I SAW THE ACTUAL WORK FOR THE FIRST TIME. I WALKED AROUND, NOT SAYING ANYTHING, JUST LOOKING. I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR MY VISCERAL REACTION TO THESE PAINTINGS. THE ROOMS IN THEIR HOME WERE SPACIOUS AND LARGE BUT THE ART WAS ENORMOUS: MASKS, VISIONS, LIFE AND DEATH, ANGER, LOVE… BUT MOST OF ALL, THEY WERE UNIQUE. I COULDN'T POSSIBLY ABSORB THEM IN ONE VIEWING. THESE ARE THE PAINTINGS I SAW AND EACH ONE A TOLD A DIFFERENT STORY.

THE CONCERT, THE PAINTED WEDDING, DEATH OF A WARRIOR, LEDA AND THE SWAN, DISCOVERY, YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW, CELEBRATION DOWNTOWN, RING AROUND THE ROSY, (from a Mexican jingle: "To the serpent, serpent of the sea, through here they are able to pass, those in front of  run very fast, those behind remain") , THE MIRAGE OR DEATH AT A PARTY, ACT 4 THE WARRIOR AWAKENS, ANOTHER VOYAGE, THE ABDUCTION, THE BEDROOM, THE COCKTAIL PARTY, AND ADAM AND EVE OR FAREWELL THE TRANQUIL MIND.

IN MANY OF THE PAINTINGS, THE FACES OF THE CENTRAL FIGURES ARE COVERED WITH BRIGHT, COLORFUL MEXICAN MASKS, HIDING THEIR TRUE FEELINGS OR IDENTITIES, BIRDS ARE SWOOPING DOWN ON THEM, AND SWIRLING MISTS CONCEAL SECRETS AND CITIES. IN SOME, ‘DEATH’ IS LURKING IN THE SHADOWS. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WAS THINKING ABOUT OR WHAT HE ‘INTENDED’ BUT I KNOW HE WOULD HAVE ASKED ME WHAT I SAW, WHAT THE PAINTINGS SAID TO ME. ADAM AND EVE, OR FAREWELL THE TRANQUIL MIND, HAD ME THINKING ABOUT MY FATHER’S DIFFICULT RELATIONSHIPS WITH WOMEN. I THINK HE PAINTED DESDEMONA AS OTHELLO SEES HER IN ACT 1V SCENE 1, WITH HER ‘LYING’ HAND EMERGING FROM HER ‘SEX’. HE THOUGHT SHE HAD BETRAYED AND DECEIVED HIM. FROM MY FATHER’S LETTERS, I GATHERED THAT HE FELT LIKE THAT, JUSTIFIABLY OR NOT, MANY TIMES AFTER A LIAISON HAD ENDED. “I WANDER COMPANION-LESS”, HE WROTE, ‘’AND I AM TOO MANY TIMES ALONE”. I KNOW HE WAS UNHAPPY ABOUT THAT AND WANTED TO FIND SOMEONE TO SHARE HIS LIFE. “WHILE I’M SEARCHING FOR A PLACE OR PLACES TO LIVE AND PAINT”, HE WROTE TRAVELING AROUND EUROPE IN 1979, “I MAY COME ACROSS MY ‘LADY FAIR’.” HE NEVER DID. HIS LIFE, AS BOLD AND COMMITTED AS IT WAS, WAS OFTEN EMOTIONALLY CHAOTIC AND HIS MIND WAS FAR FROM ‘TRANQUIL.’ “FAREWELL THE TRANQUIL MIND”, IS THE TITLE OF A BEAUTIFUL BOOK PUBLISHED BY XENIA AND CHARLES STEPHENS IN 2009 THAT HAS REPRODUCTIONS OF MANY OF HIS PAINTINGS AS WELL AS A WONDERFUL INTRODUCTION BY THEIR SON, BRET STEPHENS. WHEN WE WERE CHOOSING THE PAINTINGS TO BE USED IN THIS BOOK, WE WATCHED WITH ASTONISHMENT AND AWE AS LUIS STEPHENS UNWRAPPED BOX AFTER BOX OF THE EXTRAORDINARY ART HE HAD BOUGHT OVER THE YEARS AND I THOUGHT OF EVERYTHING MY FATHER HAD GONE THROUGH IN HIS LIFE, ALL THE TURMOIL, THE DISAPPOINTMENTS, HIS ODYSSEYS THAT ALWAYS LED HIM BACK TO MEXICO AND NOT TO NEW YORK--HERE WERE HIS TRIUMPHS.

NOT TOO LONG AGO I ASKED XENIA WHY SHE LOVED HIS ART. “IT WAS AN ENCHANTMENT. CHARLIE AND I WERE ALWAYS DISCOVERING SOMETHING ELSE. SOME VISUAL THRILL. THERE WAS AN ETERNAL AND CONSTANT WONDERMENT IN LOOKING AT HIS WORK. AS MAX WOULD SAY, 'STRAIGHT FROM THE HEAD TO THE FINGERTIPS.'”

BUT AS POPULAR AS HE WAS IN MEXICO, HE SAW HIMSELF AS A “SOCIABLE CREATURE” BUT ALSO “A LONE WOLF”, HE FELT THE URGE TO MOVE ON AGAIN. IN 1975, HE WROTE TO TELL ME THAT “HE SHALL ONCE MORE START A NEW LIFE AND INTENDS TO FIND A PLACE TO LIVE IN EUROPE, THAT HE HAD TO DO A LOT OF TRAVELING BEFORE THE GODS LET HIM TO COME HOME TO PEACE. THAT EVEN THOUGH HIS BIRTHDAY SAYS HE’S 65 YEARS OLD, HE WILL ONCE MORE START A NEW LIFE.”

HE BEGAN A DIARY AND WROTE ABOUT HIS PLANS, CONTACTS, FINANCES, AND HIS FEARS ABOUT WHAT HE WAS MISSING IN THE ART WORLD.

“LIVE TO WIN. LIFE CAN BEGIN AGAIN.” “…TO ENRICH THE REMAINING YEARS OF MY LIFE.”

HE WANTED TO MEET NEW PEOPLE, SEE NEW PLACES, INVESTIGATE THE ART COMMUNITIES IN EUROPE THAT HE HADN'T GONE TO ON THE FIRST TRIP AND MOST IMPORTANT, FIND A PLACE TO PAINT AND LIVE. THE CORRESPONDENCE WAS ERRATIC, MOSTLY POSTCARDS FROM GREECE, ITALY AND ENGLAND. HE SAID HE WAS ENJOYING HIMSELF BUT WASN'T FINDING “HIS ART BASE”. I SENT HIM ONE LETTER TELLING HIM THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT MY BROTHER MARK’S MARRIAGE.

MY FATHER RETURNED TO MEXICO IN 1976. THE EUROPEAN TRIP HAD NOT WORKED OUT. WANTING TO REESTABLISH A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY BROTHER, AND KNOWING HE HAD JUST DIVORCED, HE URGED ME TO ASK MARK TO WRITE. HE WOULD TELL HIM THAT THE WAY TO DEAL WITH THE PAIN WAS TO START A NEW LIFE THE WAY HE HAD DONE. EVENTUALLY, MY BROTHER DID VISIT HIM IN MEXICO IN 1977 AND STAYED WITH HIM IN HIS RIO HUDSON APARTMENT. MARK WROTE TO MY MOTHER THAT IT HAD NOT BEEN A SUCCESSFUL REUNION. THEY HAD ARGUED A GREAT DEAL. AFTER MY BROTHER LEFT, MY FATHER WROTE TO ME: “LIFE IS COMPLICATED AND DIFFICULT FOR EVERYONE-THAT’S THE WAY IT IS. SO, THE MEASURE IS NOT TO HOPE OR TO STUMBLE ON OR TO BE GIVEN AN EASY LIFE, BUT TO LEARN ENOUGH ABOUT ONESELF SO WE CAN FACE LIFE AND HANDLE THE PROBLEMS THAT ARE DIFFERENT, BUT ARE SURE TO COME TO EVERYONE.“

AGAIN, HIS WORK SAVED HIM. AGAIN, HE WAS IN A STUDIO AND IN A CITY THAT WAS NOT PERFECT BUT HE KEPT PAINTING AND EXHIBITING. INTERVIEWED BY MEXICAN NEWSPAPERS:

‘IN A SMALL APARTMENT IN THE CUAUHTEMOC DISTRICT, PLAINLY FURNISHED, BUT ADORNED WITH AN INFINITY OF PAINTINGS HANGING FROM THE WALLS, THE LIFE OF MAXWELL GORDON TAKES PLACE. THE WALLS ARE HIS REFUGE, HIS WORKPLACE AND THE WORLD IN WHICH HIS SUBJECTS EXPLODE FROM HIS CREATIVE IMAGINATION.’

‘THIS PAINTER HAS THE TALENT TO CREATE A SYMPHONY OF WHAT SURROUNDS HIM, UTILIZING COLORS, NOT WORDS TO EXPRESS WHAT GIVES LIFE TO THE PAINTING.’

‘THE TECHNIQUE HE USES IS OIL ON CANVAS AND HE CREATES A MIXTURE BETWEEN THE DRAMATIC AND THE COMIC.’

THEN, ON JUNE 14, 1977, MARK CALLED HIM TO SAY HE THAT HE HAD CONVINCED OUR MOTHER TO SETTLE WITH HIM FOR $4000. HE AGREED IMMEDIATELY AND AGAIN MADE PLANS TO LEAVE MEXICO AND COME ‘HOME.’ AGAIN, THE PRIMARY GOAL WAS TO FIND A PLACE TO LIVE AND PAINT. HE HEADED FIRST, TO SAN FRANCISCO THEN LOS ANGELES, HE HAD FRIENDS AND CONTACTS THERE, AND HE WANTED TO “EXPLORE ALL POSSIBILITIES”. HE TRAVELED WITH A SUITCASE THAT HELD THE WORK THAT HE COULD PACK FLAT AND HIS SLIDES. NOT FINDING WHAT HE WANTED, HE FLEW TO NEW YORK ON FEBRUARY 1, 1977 AND CHECKED INTO THE CHELSEA HOTEL IN MANHATTAN. HE IMMEDIATELY STARTED CALLING THE PEOPLE HE ONCE KNEW. I LIVED NEARBY AND HE WAS OFTEN AT OUR NEW APARTMENT ON 9^TH AVENUE. HE WAS FULL OF PLANS FOR THE FUTURE AND SOMETIMES I THOUGHT HE WAS BEING UNREALISTIC. HE TOLD ME I DIDN'T  KNOW THE ART WORLD AS HE DID. IT WAS A DIFFICULT TIME FOR BOTH OF US. OFTEN, I COULDN'T  DEAL WITH HIS EGO AND HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND I HAD MY OWN LIFE. I THINK HE WANTED ME TO KNOW HIM MORE THAN HE WANTED TO KNOW ME. HE EXPECTED TO BE EMBRACED AS “THE FATHER WHO HAD RETURNED FROM DISTANT LANDS AFTER HAVING FOUGHT IN THE WARS ARTISTS ALWAYS HAVE TO WAGE AND WAS RETURNING BATTLE SCARRED BUT READY FOR REDISCOVERY.” HE ROMANTICIZED HIS LIFE, OFTEN SPEAKING AND WRITING IN THE THIRD PERSON AND HE WAS ALWAYS THE HERO IN HIS STORIES. AS ANGRY AS THAT MADE ME FEEL SOMETIMES, HE WAS A HERO AND THOUGH I NEVER TOLD HIM, I WAS PROUD OF MOST HIS CHOICES. HE DID GIVE UP EVERYTHING TO PAINT. MAYBE HE DIDN'T  HAVE TO, MAYBE HE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL, BUT IT WAS HIS CHOICE AND I ENVIED HIM HIS PASSION. NEVER WAS HE DISTRACTED OR SIDETRACKED FROM THAT PASSION. HE WAS DRIVEN. HIS LIFE WAS A GREAT STORY AND ART WAS HIS LANGUAGE.

HE WROTE IN HIS DIARY “YOU HAVE ONLY ONE LIFE TO LIVE. GO BACK TO NEW YORK AS IF IT WAS A CITY I’D NEVER BEEN TO. THE ACTION THAT ONLY THIS PLACE CAN GIVE ME IS THE REASON TO GO THERE. HERE IS THE WORLD OF ART.” HE WOULD HOLD ON TO HIS RIO HUDSON STUDIO IN MEXICO, BUT HIS GOAL WAS ONLY TO RETURN THERE TO GET EVERYTHING ORGANIZED AND READY TO SHIP. HOWEVER, MY FATHER FELT LIKE A OUTSIDER HERE, A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND. THE STUDIO HE HAD AT THE CHELSEA HOTEL WAS EXTREMELY SMALL AND THE WORK HE HAD TAKEN WITH HIM WAS STACKED IN ROWS OF SHELVES AND TOOK UP MOST OF THE SPACE. THERE WAS MINIMAL FURNITURE, AND HE HAD FEW PERSONAL BELONGINGS TO BRIGHTEN UP THE ROOM. IN 1978, THE CHELSEA HOTEL WAS INTERESTING BUT DANGEROUS AT TIMES. HE TOLD ME HE NEVER KNEW WHO WOULD BE KNOCKING ON HIS DOOR.

.HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THIS IF HE HAD BEEN ABLE TO ARRANGE FOR AN EXHIBITION BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. “DO 15 MAJOR PAINTINGS AND 10 WOODCUTS FOR A NEW YORK CITY EXHIBITION” WAS NOW A DREAM GONE.

MY FATHER LEFT FOR HOME, WHICH NOW WAS INDEED MEXICO, TO WORK AND PLAN HIS NEXT TRIP. HE NEVER GAVE UP. NEVER. “THE ART HE WAS MEANT TO DO”, HE WOULD DO WHERE EVER HE HAD TO GO. THIS TIME IS WAS TO BE ISRAEL.

IN JULY, 1981, MY FATHER WROTE TO LAUREN, MY HUSBAND JOHN AND ME. “SO MY SMALL FAMILY, GOOD BYE AGAIN. MY EMOTIONS ARE STRONG AS I PREPARE EVERYDAY UNTIL I LEAVE FOR ISRAEL. YOUR FATHER AND YOUR GRANDFATHER KISSES YOU GOOD BYE ONCE MORE.”

IN AUGUST, HE FLEW FIRST TO LONDON AND THE NEXT DAY TO TEL AVIV. HE WROTE HE DIDN'T’T PLAN TO STAY THERE, “IT WAS TOO HOT AND HUMID”, SO HE JOURNEYED TO HAIFA, VISITING EIN HERON, A LARGE KIBBUTZ WHOSE MUSEUM OWNED A PAINTING OF HIS AND OFFERED HIM A ONE MAN SHOW, BUT HE FELT IT WOULD BE TOO COMPLICATED TO ARRANGE; THEN TO SAFED, AN ARTIST’S COLONY AND CENTER OF KABBALAH, HIGH IN THE NORTHERN DISTRICT, AND LAST, JERUSALEM. HE SAID HE VISITED THESE PLACES TO GET A SENSE OF THEM BEFORE HE WOULD DECIDE WHERE TO LOOK FOR A PERMANENT STUDIO.

IN OCTOBER, AFTER A THIRD VISIT, HE CHOSE JERUSALEM. AT FIRST, HE STAYED AT THE YMCA AND STUDIED HEBREW, 3 TIMES A WEEK, 4 ½ HOURS A DAY. HE’D STUDIED SPANISH WHEN HE HAD ARRIVED IN MEXICO AND WHILE I THOUGHT HIS ACCENT LACKED FLAIR, HIS COMMAND OF THE LANGUAGE WAS IMPRESSIVE. HE KEPT “TRAVELING AROUND TO FIND A STUDIO. I’M WELL, BUT TIRED.”  FINALLY, HE CHOSE MAHANE YEHUDA, THE OUTDOOR MARKET WITH MORE THAN 250 VENDORS, FREQUENTED BY JEWS AND ARABS. HE FOUND THE AREA VERY DIFFERENT FROM MEXICO, ALWAYS FEELING LIKE A FOREIGNER.

IN AN OCTOBER 1981 LETTER HE WROTE: “I LIVE IN A TENEMENT FLAT-SIGNED A LEASE FOR YEAR. I HAVE A FEW PIECES OF DIRTY FURNITURE. THE STREETS ARE MARKETS. IT’S LIKE THE LOWER EAST SIDE FORTY YEARS AGO. EVERYTHING CLOSES DOWN HERE AFTER SUNDOWN, ON FRIDAY, FOR SHABBAT, UNTIL SATURDAY NIGHT. I WALK AS MUCH AS I CAN, EXPLORING DIFFERENT NEIGHBORHOODS, EATING IN SMALL CAFES, LISTENING TO CONVERSATIONS IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES, BUT WHILE I DON’T FEEL I’M IN DANGER, I AM UNCOMFORTABLE. THE NEIGHBORHOOD I LIVE IN IS VERY BUSY DURING THE DAY BUT MOSTLY SILENT AT NIGHT. THE MAN THAT WALKS THE STREET EVERYDAY AT 4:30 AM YELLING PRAYERS IN HEBREW IS NOT THE TOWN CRIER. HE IS A LUNATIC.”

ANOTHER LETTER IN OCTOBER: “THE FUTURE IS UNSETTLED SO IN GENERAL I LIVE DAY TO DAY. IT IS A STRANGE LAND TO A MAN LIKE ME. I AM NOT RELIGIOUS.”

A LETTER NOVEMBER 22, ‘81:

“IT’S COLD HERE, THERE’S NO STEAM HEAT. I’M WELL, BUT IT’S TIRING AND SOMETIMES LONESOME-THIS SEARCH THAT I’M ON. LET ME KNOW HOW YOU ALL ARE AND TELL ME NEWS AND SEND ME LOVE. I AM A WANDERER AND VERY OFTEN ALONE. (THOUGH PERSONABLE—(SMILE) )”

AGAIN IN NOVEMBER:

“IT’S THE RAINY SEASON. IT’S SO COLD I USE A KEROSENE AND AN ELECTRIC HEATER. I HAVEN’T DONE ANY PAINTING SO FAR BUT HAVE BEEN PREPARING WORK FOR ABOUT 20 CANVASES, WHICH IF IT GOES AS I PLAN, WILL PROBABLY GO NO FURTHER THAN PRIMING STAGES ON THE UNSTRETCHED CANVASES WHICH I CAN ROLL UP FOR CARRYING. MY LEASE EXPIRES IN OCTOBER 1982. THERE IS NO ‘ART SCENE’ HERE-DON’T KNOW IF I’LL STAY.”

TO LAUREN:

“BEGINNING TO PLAN SOME PRIMARY STAGES HERE AND FINISH THEM ELSEWHERE. AT THIS POINT, I DON’T THINK I’LL STAY IN ISRAEL. I SIGNED A LEASE FOR A YEAR AND PAID 6 MONTHS RENT IN ADVANCE SO I’LL WANT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR A NEW HOME BASE THE LAST FEW YEARS AND THIS IS NOT IT. I DON’T KNOW WHERE. MAYBE EUROPE, MAYBE BACK TO MEXICO. MY LOVE AND KISSES AND ALL THAT I YEARN FOR. YOUR GRANDFATHER.”

A LETTER FROM XENIA AND CHARLES STEPHENS, JANUARY 17, ‘82

“WE ARE ALL FINE HERE AND THINK OF YOU OFTEN OUT THERE ‘BEATING YOUR MIDDLE EAST DRUM OF LIFE.”

JANUARY 31, 1982 TO LAUREN:

“YOUR GRANDFATHER IS ROUGHING IT BUT HE’S HANDLING IT. WORKING ON A SERIES OF ULTIMATELY 25 DRAWINGS, 19X25, ‘THERE ARE MANY LOVES #2. IN 1964, I DID THE SAME SERIES WITH THE SAME TITLE (#1). I WORK EVERYDAY.“

MARCH 18, 1982 TO LAUREN, MARCH 18, 1982. SHE WAS MAJORING IN ANIMATION AT NYU IN NEW YORK AND ASKED ABOUT HIS EARLY CAREER IN THAT FIELD IN NEW YORK.

“I WORKED IN AN ANIMATION STUDIO IN 1934, MET EDITH AND WE MARRIED AFTER KNOWING EACH OTHER FOR 3 WEEKS. YEARS LATER, WE WENT TO LA, YOUR MOTHER WAS SIX MONTHS OLD, AND I FIRST WORKED FOR PATHE NEWS BUT THEY WENT OUT OF BUSINESS. WE DECIDED TO HEAD BACK TO NY WHEN ‘LOONEY TUNES’ ANIMATION STUDIO OFFERED ME A JOB BUT WE HAD SOLD EVERYTHING AND BOUGHT TICKETS SO WE HAD TO GO.”

JUNE 21, 1982

“I’M LEAVING ISRAEL SEPTEMBER 15^TH. I MAY GO TO CORNWALL, ENGLAND, IT’S CALM THIS TIME OF THE YEAR-NOT MANY TOURISTS. I HAVE TO BE IN MEXICO EARLY IN ’83 TO FIX MY PAPERS. IMMIGRADO. THERE MAY BE DOLLAR CONTROL, SO YOU CAN’T TAKE DOLLARS OUT OF MEXICO. I’LL TAKE A FURNISHED APARTMENT FIRST AND LOOK FOR A STUDIO WITH GOOD LIGHT AND HIGH CEILINGS. ADIOS. I HOPE SOME DAY WE WILL SEE EACH WITH ABRAZOS (HUGS) TO YOU ALL, DAUGHTER, GRANDDAUGHTER AND JOHN.”

IN JUNE AND JULY, MY FATHER SENT JOHN AND ME BIRTHDAY POEMS WRITTEN IN A CARD MADE IN TEL AVIV. THIS IS MINE:

A POEM BY DAD IN JERUSALEM

TO STEPHANIE IN A PURPLE DRESS WITH PATTERNS AND TRIMMINGS, LOTS OF GOLD JEWELRY, LIKE ON THE COVER OF THIS CARD.

DEAR STEPHANIE

WHOM I’VE LOVED SINCE SHE WAS BORN;

BLACK HAIR AND GRACEFULNESS

THAT COMES FROM WHERE?

  MORE THAN SHE REALIZES

  SHE IS THEIR HEIR.

TALENTED, INTELLIGENT AND LOVELY

I’M PROUD SOME OF HER CHIPS

CAME OFF MY BLOCK.

I SAY HELLO TO HER NOW

FROM OVER MANY SEAS,

“I KISS YOU STEPHANIE,

GEN-TL-ELY.”

YOUR BIRTHDAY IS HERE

YOUR HAPPINESS, I PRAY-

IS YOUR COMRADE TODAY-

AND REMAINS, MOST OF YOUR STAY.

“BLESSINGS MY DEAR”,

SAYS YOUR FATHER HERE

I END ON PAPER,

BUT IT’S FOR ALL THE YEAR.”

LOVE, DAD-JULY 3, 1982

A LETTER CAME SOON AFTER:

“I KNOW THE THEATER IS A TOUGH PLACE TO EARN A REGULAR LIVING AS IN ALL THE ARTS. IT’S LIKE A ‘MIRACLE’ IF YOU WORK, BUT I LIVE ALONE AND SO I’M LIVING LIKE AN ARTIST AND I CAN NEVER BET WHEN I’LL SELL MY NEXT PAINTING. I WONDER IF AND WHEN WE’LL EVER SEE EACH OTHER. I’M MOVING ON AGAIN THOUGH I’M TIRED OF TRYING OUT SO MANY PLACES, BUT I FEEL I MAY GO BACK TO MEXICO AND START ALL OVER AGAIN. I HAVE NO STUDIO AND THERE’S HIGH INFLATION BUT WHEN I HAVE A WELL LIGHTED STUDIO, I’LL BE HAPPY. THE TRIP IS PLANNED. I’M TRAVELING THROUGH EUROPE FIRST. MY ITINERARY: NICE, ST PAUL DE VENCE, THEN BARCELONA, PALMA MALLORCA, IBIZA, VALENCIA, MALAGA, MADRID, AMSTERDAM, LONDON AND THEN CORNWALL. I MAY STAY A WHILE THERE, I HEAR THERE’S AN ARTIST’S COMMUNITY. I’LL BE 72 ON SEPTEMBER 4^TH.. . STAY WELL, KEEP BUSY IN THE WORK YOU LOVE. I’LL DO THE SAME AS I WANDER.  LOVE TO MY IMMEDIATE FAMILY, DAD AND GRANDPA.”

I RECEIVED POSTCARDS FROM THE PLACES HE VISITED, MOSTLY FROM MUSEUMS. THE MESSAGES WERE SHORT AND HE DIDN'T SOUND LIKE HE HAD FOUND WHAT HE WAS LOOKING FOR. I KNOW HE STAYED AWHILE IN CORNWALL AND MET A WOMAN HE KEPT IN CONTACT WITH. SHE CAME TO SEE ME IN NEW YORK AFTER HE DIED AND HAD HAPPY MEMORIES OF HIS WIT, WISDOM AND FIGHTING SPIRIT. SHE HOPED ALL HIS DREAMS HAD COME TRUE.

I SENSED FROM THE FEW LINES HE HAD WRITTEN FROM THERE THAT HE WAS TIRED AND WANTED TO GET BACK TO MEXICO. MAYBE HE WAS FEELING ILL AND KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG. HE ALWAYS ADDED AT THE END OF HIS CARDS HIS NEED TO SEE HIS SMALL FAMILY.

HIS LAST CARD TO ME-WINTER 1983-MEXICO.

“I HAVE MORE GUTS THAN I NEED, ALTHOUGH ONE DAY I WILL LIVE PEACEFULLY FOR A LONG TIME (I HOPE).”

ONE DAY IN MAY, 1983, I RECEIVED TWO MESSAGES ON MY ANSWERING MACHINE. THE FIRST WAS FROM CHARLES STEPHENS. HE TOLD ME MY FATHER WAS ILL, HE HAD BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH LUNG CANCER AND WAS CHECKING INTO SLOANE KETTERING IN NYC. THE SECOND WAS FROM MY FATHER, WHO SOUNDED WEAK AND FRIGHTENED. “I’M COMING IN TOMORROW WITH ALL MY X-RAYS. PLEASE MEET ME.” HE TOLD ME THE FLIGHT # AND THE TIME OF ARRIVAL. I WAS IN REHEARSAL FOR A BROADWAY PLAY SO MARK AND LAUREN MET HIM AND GOT HIM SETTLED INTO THE APARTMENT THE HOSPITAL PROVIDES UNTIL THEY CAN ADMIT HIM. I SAW HIM THE NEXT EVENING. HE LOOKED FRAIL. WHEN I SPOKE TO THE DOCTORS THEY TOLD ME THE PROGNOSIS WAS NOT GOOD.

LATER, XENIA STEPHENS TOLD ME THAT WHEN HE FIRST CAME BACK TO MEXICO HE WAS FULL OF PLANS FOR FINDING A NEW STUDIO. “HE WAS FILLED WITH THE JOY OF LIFE-THE EXUBERANCE -THE MILE A MINUTE STORY TELLING.” BUT JUST A SHORT TIME LATER EVERYONE COULD SEE HE WAS SERIOUSLY ILL AND KAREN STEPHENS, LUIS'S WIFE, WAS INSTRUMENTAL IN HAVING HIM ADMITTED TO MEMORIAL SLOAN KETTERING CANCER CENTER IN NEW YORK..

HE DIDN'T STAY THERE LONG, THE TREATMENTS HAD FAILED AND HE WAS TRANSFERRED TO A HOSPICE, CALVARY, IN THE BRONX. XENIA AND CHARLES CAME FROM MEXICO TO VISIT AND BROUGHT THE SLIDES OF HIS PAINTINGS IN THE BROWN ZIPPERED BAG. SHE SAID LATER SHE KNEW THINGS WERE BAD WHEN HE TOLD HER WHEN ASKED WHAT HE WANTED FOR DINNER AT THE HOSPITAL, HE RECEIVED IT. CHAMPAGNE AND LOBSTER.

HE HAD VISITORS AT CALVARY, FAMILY AND FRIENDS THAT CAME QUITE A DISTANCE AND HE RECEIVED MANY LETTERS. ONE WAS FROM SOMEONE HE KNEW FROM CALIFORNIA WHO LATER WROTE TO ME. OFTEN.

“THERE ARE FEW PAINTERS WHO HAVE THE COURAGE THROUGHOUT LIFE TO SO CLEARLY PORTRAY THEIR JOYS AND THEIR DEMONS, NEVER RUNNING AND HIDING BEHIND CLICHES.”

MY FATHER KEPT CHARTS OF PEOPLE WHO CAME OR CALLED ON CARDBOARD FROM LAUNDERED SHIRTS, WRITING DOWN THE DATES THEY CAME AND THEIR PHONE NUMBERS SO HE COULD CALL THEM. HE RECORDED HIS WEIGHT DAILY AND WAS HAPPY WHEN IT WENT UP A POUND. HE HAD WRITTEN IN ONE OF HIS NOTEBOOKS “TO FACE DEATH WITH SADNESS NOT DESPAIR”, BUT HE HAD NO INTENTION OF DYING. HE CONSTANTLY TOLD ME THIS WAS THE HAPPIEST HE HAD EVER BEEN IN HIS LIFE, SURROUNDED BY THE PEOPLE WHO LOVED HIM.

THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM WAS ON FATHERS DAY, JUNE, 19^TH. I HAD A MATINEE THAT SUNDAY SO WE DROVE UP EARLY. MARK DIDN'T COME UP BECAUSE HE HAD A COLD. MY FATHER WAS SITTING IN AN AREA OUTSIDE HIS ROOM IN A WHEELCHAIR STARING STRAIGHT AHEAD AT NOTHING AND DIDN'T ACKNOWLEDGE MY PRESENCE. I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT I SAID TO HIM, BUT I DID HOLD HIS HANDS AND KISS HIS HOT ‘TUMOR FEVERED’ CHEEK WHEN I FINALLY SAID GOODBYE. THE ELEVATOR WAS DOWN THE HALL, FAR FROM HIS ROOM, AND AS I STOOD THERE WAITING FOR IT TO COME, I HEARD AN EXTREMELY LOUD VOICE CALLING MY NAME AGAIN AND AGAIN. I RAN BACK DOWN THE CORRIDOR AND WHEN MY FATHER SAW ME, HE POINTED AT HIS CLOSET AND SAID, “STEPHIE, THE SLIDES. TAKE MY SLIDES.” “THE ART WE ARE MEANT TO DO.”

IN A LETTER SENT TO ME FROM A FRIEND WHO TOLD ME HOW MUCH OUR FAMILY HAD MEANT TO HIM WROTE:

“HE WAS A VERY PERSONAL PAINTER AND THE SYMBOLS IN HIS PAINTINGS REPRESENTED SOMETHING OR SOMEONE OF GREAT MEANING IN HIS LIFE. THE ARTIST WAS A TOWER OF STRENGTH. MAXWELL, EL PINTOR.”

CHARLES STEPHENS, TO WHOM THIS WEBSITE IS DEDICATED, WROTE TO ME A DAY AFTER MY FATHER DIED:

“I WILL MISS HIM TERRIBLY, HIS VITALITY, EXPLOSIVENESS, IRREVERENCE, ENTHUSIASM, STORY TELLING, PHILOSOPHIZING, COMRADESHIP; HIS TENDERNESS, FEARS, WORRIES; HIS IMPASSIONED FEELINGS ABOUT ART, THE POETRY IN HIS THOUGHTS AND IN HIS SOUL."