Drawing Papers 156 Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul

Frank Walter To Capture a Soul

156

Frank Walter To Capture a Soul

Drawing Papers 156

The Drawing Center

Frank Walter To Capture a Soul

Claire Gilman with contributions by

Isabella Kapur Vladimir Lucien Mia Matthias Barbara Paca Josh Smith Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

Contents

12

Director’s Foreword Laura Hoptman 14

Acknowledgments Claire Gilman 16

Welcome Barbara Paca 23

Creating Frank Walter Mia Matthias 40

Death and the Universe Frank Walter 65

To Capture a Soul Claire Gilman 93

A Buzzard, a Hawk, and a Shrike Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

119

Frank Walter’s Constellation Barbara Paca 133

Josh Smith: Life Drawing 158

LOOMINOUS on the light (and its birds) in Frank Walter’s paintings.

Vladimir Lucien 189

The Kindness of the Sea Frank Walter 220

A Chronology of the Life and Work of Francis Archibald Wentworth Walter Isabella Kapur 254

Works in the Exhibition

PL. 1 Green Sponge Flowering Trees, n.d.

PL. 2 Untitled (View of sea through trees), n.d.

PL. 3 Untitled (Pink sky, green field), n.d.

Director’s Foreword

14

When I became the Executive Director of The Drawing Center in late 2018, I came to the post with a short list of exhibitions that I hoped I could make happen here. One of my first and most pleasurable tasks was to sit down with Claire Gilman, our Chief Curator and a nine year veteran of the institution, to compare notes on our curatorial hopes and dreams. We were delighted to realize that both of us had listed the work on paper of Frank Walter (1926–2009), a lesserknown, self-taught artist from the island of Antigua, as a prime subject for an exhibition at The Drawing Center.

Six years later, Claire has achieved our shared desideratum with Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul. Working with Walter expert and fierce protector of his legacy, Barbara Paca, as well as with the Walter family and our matchless curatorial colleague, Isabella Kapur, Claire has brought together a wide array of Walter’s works on paper, ranging from drawings and gouaches to diagrams, charts, notebooks, and literary endeavors. With Barbara’s participation, she has created a wall of ephemera on the subject of Walter’s autobiography, a mixture of fact and fantasy that details the major themes in the artist’s life. This dreamscape sits at the center of an exhibition that features a dizzying array of subjects, mostly inspired by the natural world. Walter was an autodidact with deep expertise in subjects as varied as botany and genealogy; he also possessed sign-painting and carpentry skills, which he used in his artmaking.

When he died in 2009, he left close to 10,000 objects and 50,000 pages of writing in his estate, including paintings, sculptures, drawings, recordings, notebooks, scripts, scores, manifestos, and even an opera. In other words, a world of which Walter was the creator and the king.

The small size of many of the objects in this exhibition belie the power that they contain, especially when seen in critical mass.

Although this exhibition does not attempt to recreate the world that Walter built in several compounds on the islands of Domenica and subsequently Antigua, where he lived and worked for half a century (as did the display at the 57th Venice Biennale in 2017), it offers our audience a comprehensive look at the breadth of his interests, his talent as an image maker, and his lyricism as a poet and a singer of songs.

It comes as no surprise to anyone who has experienced Walter’s visions and observations realized on paper that his work is enormously popular with fellow artists, whether they share with him a Caribbean connection, an all-encompassing world view, or a taste for waterfowl and palm trees. Josh Smith, an American painter, drawer, print and book maker, and lover of wonderful things ranging from guitars to paintings of the Florida Highwaymen, is more than a fan of Walter’s work. Smith has studied Walter’s work and visted his home and studio, but more importantly perhaps, he has been recognized by the older artist’s family as a soul in kinship with him.

Asked by Claire to present a group of his own drawings in dialogue with Walter’s, Smith has provided nearly forty works on paper that sometimes share subject matter but always share a sense of wonder and fascination with nature with Walter, an artist he deeply relates to but never had the chance to meet.

On behalf of The Drawing Center, I thank everyone who has made this extraordinary double exhibition possible. Claire Gilman, our Chief Curator; Barbara Paca; the Walter family and foundation; Josh Smith and his partner Megan Lang; Marlene Zwirner and David Zwirner gallery. The Drawing Center extends its thanks as well to The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Sandra Wijnberg and Hugh Freund, Elena Bowes, Noel E.D. Kirnon, Frank Williams, and an anonymous donor for their crucial support of this project.

This book, which documents and illuminates the exhibition project, was made possible by David Zwirner. We are honored and grateful for this contribution. I would like to conclude by thanking the staff and the board of The Drawing Center who so passionately and reliably create the conditions for curators to realize remarkable exhibitions like Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul.

—Laura Hoptman, Executive Director

15

Acknowledgments

16

I would like to extend my gratitude to all the people who made the exhibition Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul possible. First and foremost, I must express my appreciation to and for Barbara Paca.

Barbara is a force—of intelligence, generosity, and compassion— whose knowledge of Frank Walter’s life and work is unparalleled.

Barbara was invaluable in helping me understand Walter’s complexity and genius. Sorting through Walter’s vast oeuvre would have been impossible without Barbara’s help as well as that of conservator Kenneth Milton, who took great care in ensuring each work was safe and ready to be appreciated to the best of its potential.

Thomas Freund’s documentation of Walter’s environment was also essential in forming a complete picture of the artist. Thank you to the Walter family, and particularly Jule Walter, who lent from his personal collection, for allowing us the opportunity to share Walter’s artwork with our audience.

For their help in locating and bringing together the essential artworks by Walter out in the wider world my thanks go to Veronique Ansorge, James Green, and Burcu Ozler from David Zwirner; Florence Ingleby and Richard Ingleby of Ingleby Gallery; and Tom Parker from Hirschl & Adler. This exhibition would, of course, not have been realized without the contributions of our generous lenders: Elena Bowes, Alfred Giuffrida and Pamela Joyner, Brian Donnelly, Charles Struse, Jamila Willis and Courtney Willis Blair, Glenn Ligon, Glenstone, Robert Levy, M.D., James Kloppenburg, John Friedman, Joshua Rechnitz, Jule Walter, Pamela Thomas-Graham, Sarah Hogate Bacon, Suzanne McFayden, and those lenders who chose to remain anonymous. Each one of these individuals has contributed work that provides singular insight into Walter’s world.

My fellow contributors to this publication—Glenstone curator Mia Matthias, poet Vladimir Lucien, and painter and writer Lynette Yiadom-Boakye—have each crafted deeply thoughtful, illuminating entry points into Walter’s multifaceted creative universe.

Concurrently with To Capture a Soul, The Drawing Center presented the exhibition Josh Smith: Life Drawing, the artist’s homage to Frank Walter and evidence of a shared commitment to approaching subjects with curiosity and honest dedication. Life Drawing comprises nearly forty drawings (twenty are pictured in this volume) that span Smith’s career. Known for his vibrant paintings and prints ranging from abstractions to subjects such as leaves, fish, birds, grim reapers, and palm trees, Smith has also been making simple pen and pencil sketches of these subjects for more than two decades. Whereas Smith’s large-scale paintings and prints strike the viewer with their coloristic intensity and bold execution, the artist’s drawings are highly focused renderings that reflect his sensitivity to his media and his skill as a draftsman. In these modestly-scaled sketches of fish and fowl, fragments from life and evocations of death, Smith echoes Walter in creating a meditative world in which reality and the imagination are inextricably connected.

It was a pleasure to work with Josh on this show and to share our mutual admiration for Walter. Thanks to Josh and to studio assistant Katie Hickman for their openness and enthusiasm in creating an exhibition that so wonderfully complements Walter’s. Josh’s drawings in this publication and in our galleries provide a vibrant contemporary counterpoint, keenly observed and made with a humble immediacy. Thanks also to Katie Priest and Marlene Zwirner at David Zwirner for their support and willingness to answer any and all questions.

Finally, I would like to thank my colleagues at The Drawing Center for approaching both exhibitions with their customary blend of professionalism, curiosity, and adaptability. Special thanks to Registrar Sarah Fogel for expertly navigating the numerous loan requests and conditions required for this show, as well as the complex installation demands. And, as always, a huge thank you to Curatorial Associate Isabella Kapur for keeping everything in order with her usual rigor, dedication, and persistence. Last but not least, I would like to thank our incredible Executive Director Laura Hoptman for her sustained support of these exhibitions, and all my curatorial endeavors, throughout our time together at The Drawing Center.

—Claire Gilman, Chief Curator

17

Welcome

18

If a drawing is an essay, then no one has been better suited for the task than polymath Frank Walter. And if there are curators in the contemporary art world with a gift for processing the immense breadth and intellectual impact of Walter’s achievements, few are better qualified than The Drawing Center’s Claire Gilman. It has been a pleasure collaborating with her in gaining an even deeper appreciation of Frank Walter. Following on the success of her Kahlil Gibran exhibition, Claire understands the relevance of spirituality as an artistic tool. She grasps the religious foundations of Walter’s art and how his drawings link together. Through her interpretation and dialogue with other art historians, artists, poets, and an artistic in-house conversation with Josh Smith, To Capture a Soul reveals Walter at his core—an exhibition as intentional as an altarpiece.

Artist Lynette Yiadom-Boakye shares Walter’s gift for embracing atmosphere. In her art, arresting color combinations are simultaneously muted with somber tones in a minor key, thereby anchoring a calm acceptance of the things we cannot see. As with Walter, there is always more to her world than meets the eye. Her contribution to this volume is as insightful as her own painting.

In 2022, after a long day of working on a Frank Walter exhibition at David Zwirner, Hilton Als looked up and with a long sigh stated that while Walter’s art is boundless, he is, at the end of the day, a poet. The St. Lucian poet Vladimir Lucien knows the Caribbean in this same way, and he pays homage to the miracle of Frank Walter.

Glenstone’s curator and art historian Mia Matthias has been aware of Frank Walter from the beginning and adds dimension to this endeavor through her penetrating analysis of Walter’s life and work.

This exhibition and publication project allow you to travel as close to Frank Walter’s world as is achievable by creatives and scholars collaborating in an urban museum setting. In this context, one hopes that through the art, analysis, and archival materials, you will gain a unique understanding of Walter’s creative process.

—Barbara Paca, Consulting Curator, Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul

19

PL. 4 Untitled (Blue sky, blue sea), n.d.

PL. 5 Untitled (Blue sea, pale blue-gray sky), n.d.

PL. 6 Untitled (Red and blue over pale blue), n.d.

PL. 7 Untitled (Blue sky, gray sea, white horizon), n.d.

Creating Frank Walter Mia Matthias

At the end of this sentence, rain will begin.

At the rain’s edge, a sail.

Slowly the sail will lose sight of islands; into a mist will go the belief in harbours of an entire race.

—Derek Walcott1 A self-described poet, author, actor, composer, vocalist, and painter, Frank Walter worked tirelessly to perfect his crafts across mediums, proving himself to be a modern day renaissance man.2 At the time of his passing in 2009, Walter had produced over 50,000 pages of writing, 5,000 paintings, 1,000 drawings, 468 hours of recordings, and hundreds of sculptures—a testament to his unflagging dedication. The vast quantity of material is often diaristic, offering a glimpse into his shifting understanding of his environment, his sense of self, and his craft. Without ascribing meaning to the maker, it is important to consider Walter’s work within the context of the events of his life and the circumstances in which his works were created. Walter brought his own biography to the fore by dedicating a significant amount of time and effort to exploring—and in some cases, creating—his lineage and documenting the events of his life.

Through his manuscripts, paintings, sculptures, and recordings, Walter wrote, drew, and painted his image of himself into existence.

1

2

Derek Walcott, “A Map of the World,” from Collected Poems 1948–1984 (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986), https://www.poetryfoundation.org/ poems/47662/map-of-the-new-world.

Francis A.W. Walter, “The Artists Exposition,” n.d., Frank Walter: A Retrospective (Frankfurt: Museum MMK für Moderne Kunst, 2020), 346.

25

26

Born in Horsford Hill, Antigua, in 1926, Walter grew up in a Caribbean society shaped by the ongoing violence of colonialism and the afterlife of slavery. In the early twentieth century, agriculture and the production of sugar made up a significant part of the island’s economy. Although slavery was abolished in 1833, the plantation system established by the British persisted. The island hierarchies echoed the colonial structures of the previous 200 years; white landowners held an unequal amount of wealth, power, and access to resources relative to the black population. In the context of this fraught history, hierarchies were established, with light complexions and proximity to Europe valued as markers of power.

It was against this backdrop that Walter came of age. Walter’s early life was marked by trials and tragedy. As a child, he lost his grandfather and his mother in quick succession. Following their deaths, his father abandoned the family, throwing them into economic turmoil. Walter and his siblings were taken in by their grandmother, Eliza Walter, and aunts, who would become important matriarchal figures in his life. Walter’s grandmother would enthrall the young artist with stories of their family lineage, including his ancestors who had traveled to Antigua from Germany and become prosperous landowners.3 Walter internalized this family history and was specifically drawn to his European ancestors, whom he saw as the landed gentry of the island. Eventually, he would disavow any African ancestry, and would invent a racial classification, Europoid, that he felt accurately described himself. Per his definition, Europoids were Europeans who had adapted to tropical environments with darker skin, though they were “sun kissed” as opposed to black.

His proximity to whiteness, particularly European aristocracy, would become an ongoing focus for Walter and a recurring theme in his life and work.

Walter was assured throughout his childhood that he was different from the other Antiguan children. He was sent to Antigua Grammar School, an exclusive preparatory school where he excelled academically and was lauded for his aptitude for language, mathematics, and science. Walter’s academic and artistic abilities afforded him many opportunities to hone his craft. At twelve years

3

Barbara Paca, “The Last Universal Man,” from Frank Walter: The Last Universal Man 1926–2009 (Santa Fe: Radius Books, 2017). Paca’s biography serves as the foundation of this text, and I am grateful for her invaluable account of Walter’s life.

PL. 8 Better be UGLY than BAD BEAUTIFUL, n.d.

28

old, he began apprenticing for his relatives in a woodshop where he made checkerboards, abacuses, and noisemakers, among other toys.

The even grids of the painted checkerboards would eventually make their way into his paintings. Walter also learned to build furniture and coffins, working with numerous wood species, including mahogany, acacia, and lignum vitae. Later in life, Walter also created text-based drawings and paintings. His alphabet paintings were sold to tourists and offer a window into his unconventional essential references. For the letter “M,” Walter drew a lit match, depicting fire and heat through a rainbow, while for the letter “U,” Walter chose an urn, a decidedly somber reference considering the intended audience. Walter also produced signs for a variety of practical purposes, his hand-lettering ranging from careful looping scripts to blocks of geometric texts detailing business hours and job titles. On some of his signs, he took the liberty of using text to relay messages for his own purposes. One such sign reads “INTRODUCING THE NEW BREED” in stenciled black letters on a whimsical bubblegum pink background. Another features red hand-painted letters on white painted wood, declaring: “better be UGLY than BAD BEAUTIFUL” [PL. 8].4 Despite the direct nature of the lettering and format, Walter left room for interpretation. The signs offer a glimpse into what Walter considered important aphorisms—in both cases they allude to an awareness of how one might be perceived or understood.

Through these apprenticeships and commissions, Walter learned to be methodical and systematic, carefully crafting objects and visuals that could be utilized by his community to structure and order their daily lives, from toys and furniture to the coffins in which they would be laid to rest. Walter proved himself to be a meticulous and rigorous maker, able to learn, create, and maintain structures. However, when he applied these learned logics to the world around him, he was met with skepticism and rejection.

As a child, Walter looked to the tiny island on which he and his family lived, and to the small population of Antigua, and asked his grandmother the ever-present question: “Where are the rest of us?”5 Walter turned to the past to find the answer. Walter’s ancestor, John Jacob Walter was born in 1767 in Markgroeningen, Germany.

He would eventually move to Antigua where he owned several plantations. He had twelve children with Ann Bean, an Antiguan 4 5

Unless otherwise noted, all works are undated.

Frank Walter, autobiographical transcript (p. 29), quoted in Paca, The Last Universal Man, 247.

FIG. 1 Unknown artist, Portrait of Jacob Daniel Walter, c. 1825 FIG. 2 Unknown artist, Portrait of Peter Philip Walter, c. 1825

woman born to John Daniel Bean, a white man from Scotland, and Barbara, an enslaved black woman. John Jacob Walter and Ann Bean had twelve children. Two of their sons, Jacob Daniel Walter and Peter Philip Walter, would eventually assume positions as plantation owners, amassing wealth and power through the money and connections afforded to them by their father. Another son, George Christian Walter, had a son with Sarah Joseph, an enslaved woman. He raised the child, George, with his white wife. George would become Frank Walter’s great-grandfather. Between the lines of these bonds and histories passed down to Walter by his matriarchs are the brutal realities of slavery, sexual violence, and the implicit understanding that Barbara, Ann, and Sarah Joseph were constrained by captivity, and were not afforded choice or agency in the roles they played in this family history.6 In an ivory miniature made circa 1796, Ann Bean is depicted as a white woman. In portraits painted circa 1825, Jacob Daniel Walter and Peter Philip Walter are depicted as white men [FIGS. 1, 2]. These depictions not only allow the Walter family to become white with the passage of time, but it’s possible they also reflect the self-identification of the white-passing family that had to hold the contradiction of being both slave owners and the immediate descendants of the enslaved.

Walter internalized these histories and understood himself to be European, particularly identifying with the German origins of his 6

See Joy James, “The Captive Maternal Is a Function, Not an Identity Marker,” Scalawag, April 28, 2023, https://scalawagmagazine.org/2023/04/captivematernal-joy-james/.

29

30

forefathers. At only twenty-two, Walter became the first non-white manager of a sugar plantation. Walter had an affinity for agriculture and demonstrated a deep and wide-ranging knowledge of flora, fauna, and plant systems. Though the plantation yielded its highest results in the five years after Walter joined, the position of overseer isolated the young artist. Walter endured virulent racism from the white plantation workers and understandable distrust from the black population. When offered a promotion, Walter rejected the opportunity, instead choosing to embark on a European Grand Tour in the tradition of his ancestors. In 1953, Walter traveled to England with his cousin, Eileen Gallwey. Upon their arrival in London, Walter and Gallwey were met by their cosmopolitan uncle, Carl Walter, who assessed the two before taking the light-complexioned Gallwey away to meet their family and leaving dark-skinned Walter alone in the middle of central London’s Tottenham Court Road. Walter proceeded to face extreme racism and poverty for almost eight years in Europe. He traveled England, Scotland, and Germany, cycling through menial jobs while also taking evening classes on chemistry, metallurgy, and physics. Walter dealt with a devastating loss when another cousin was murdered for dating a white woman in London.

His mental health deteriorated as he grappled with the brutal reality of racism, and following bouts of delusions, paranoia, and hallucinations, Walter was briefly committed to a mental asylum.

Walter’s self-portraits are an attempt to depict himself as he saw himself and reconcile the discrepancy between his expectations and experience. In a somber black-and-white self-portrait he paints himself in profile with a downcast gaze [FIG. 3]. He depicts his skin in a stark white, forgoing the subtleties of flesh tones in favor of a monochromatic portrait. Only in the outline of his eyes does he allow for a glimpse of black skin, suggesting a mask. Walter follows the logic established by his forefathers by painting himself as white, perhaps in the hopes that history would eventually acquiesce to his chosen vision of himself even if the present refused.

Walter also established his place in the world through careful and meticulous genealogical charts in which he traced his ancestors back several centuries [PLS. 109–111]. These family trees feature an incredible amount of detail and care. Working in a fine script, Walter crosses time and continents as he creates the case for his existence.

The overlap between enslavers and the enslaved often resulted in entire generations shrouded in secrecy. Following the deaths of the matriarchs who taught him these precarious histories, it is possible Walter felt obligated to preserve this knowledge, which

FIG. 3 Frank Walter, Self-Portrait, n.d.

may have been considered illicit and therefore unspoken for the prior generations. Walter applied his exhaustive knowledge of classification systems and his methodical nature to documenting his family. Where he found gaps, he extrapolated, making leaps from his known family connections to European aristocracy ranging from King Charles II to Diana, Princess of Wales. The charts are Walter’s attempt to account for the silences and omissions in how he came to be, and to establish the inheritance of stature, titles, and power that he and his family were entitled to. Upon learning of young Walter’s prestigious position at the plantation, Walter’s grandmother told him: “Your great grandfather practically owned those estates…You are now only going to be a hired servant on what is really your own estate.”7 To account for his place in the world as he understood it, Walter used elaborate family trees, intricate drawings of crests, and portraits. Walter tirelessly applied the systems and logics that had been proven to work for those before him, but he was unprepared for the world’s contradictions.

Over the course of his life, Walter became well acquainted with isolation and solitude. In 1961, Walter was sent to live on the island of Dominica. His eccentricities were deemed a potential threat to the political aspirations of his cousin, George Walter. In Dominica, Walter named his mountaintop estate the Mount Olympus Industrial and Agricultural Estate. Walter described himself as having an almost prophetic connection to nature. In the thick, uncultivated

7

Frank Walter, autobiographical transcript (p. 430–431), quoted in Paca, 261.

31

PL. 9 Untitled (Whale with round eyes), n.d.

PL. 10 Untitled (Woman in dress with big shoes), n.d.

PL. 11 Untitled (Woman in a short dress), n.d.

PL. 12 Untitled (Two men boxing), n.d.

36

rain forest of Mount Olympus, Walter would read the sounds of leaves to predict the approach of storms. To the artist, each species of tree, with their varying densities of wood and canopies, communicated in a different way. He not only survived but thrived in this untamed landscape, clearing much of the dense terrain by hand in a nearly impossible feat. Walter built a miniature train system that connected his remote mountaintop home to the nearest town, allowing for resources and supplies to be sent to him and his few neighbors.

With significant time and effort, Walter transformed the estate into a desirable plot of land. He then began having repeated visions of people and snakes confiscating his oasis. Upon completing the clearing of the land, Walter was informed that the title to his estate had been transferred to a nearby plantation; his oasis had been lost.

The sculptures that Walter created in this period hearken back to his early days of woodworking. Unlike the thousands of paintings, writings, and materials Walter produced for public display and sale, he created his sculptures entirely for himself and never sold a sculpture. He considered them powerful spiritual talismans that accompanied him in his isolation. Untitled (Whale with round eyes) speaks to one of the few constants in his life: the ocean that surrounded him, threw storms at him, and brought him to new lands before bringing him home again [PL. 9]. In Untitled (Two men boxing) Walter used cutouts to articulate a looping mass of limbs and fists, demonstrating his ability to capture movement and dynamism in dense materials [PL. 12]. The sculptures are made of acacia and mahogany, hardy tropical species that Walter likely knew would outlast his own life.

In 1992, Walter moved to a rural area on Bailey’s Hill in Antigua, once again becoming his own primary companion in what would be his final home. In his autobiography, he wrote: “I had begun to lay tremendous stress on my reclusion. I wanted to be by myself for a while. I wanted a place far away from people.”8 Surrounded by thick brush, animals, and expansive views of the ocean and sky, Walter turned to his surroundings for inspiration, as he had done throughout his life. Walter’s landscape paintings depict the shifting modes of the craggy coast, the various phases of the sun, and the impenetrable horizon. These paintings vary in style; at times, Walter inserts himself staring out into the horizon, calling on the combination of melancholy and optimism characteristic of German

8

Frank Walter, autobiographical transcript (p. 3029), quoted in Paca.

37

PL. 13 Untitled (Yellow land, hot orange pink sky), n.d.

PL. 14 Starfish on Beach, n.d.

Romanticism. In others, Walter employs the practical simplicity of his early sign works, flattening the landscape into geometric forms, as in the vivid bands of color in Untitled (Yellow land, hot orange pink sky) [PL. 13] and the soft, layered washes of color in Starfish on Beach [PL. 14].

In addition to landscape paintings depicting the natural environment, Walter turned to the cosmos and his ongoing love of science to produce abstractions. In Untitled (Heraldic dots), evenly measured circles climb the canvas creating a visual exploration of form and color [PL. 15]. MWG Milky Way Galaxy [PL. 16] is one in a series of six paintings that are “the only known paintings to survive from Walter’s Galactic category [of works], which is inspired by astrophysical mathematical concepts.”9 Walter depicted the galaxy and planetary systems using bands of color, letters, and radiating circles. These exemplary late abstractions are his least self-conscious works. The cosmological meditations are reminiscent of the work of the Swedish abstractionist Hilma af Klint. Like Walter, Klint used a scientific background—hers in cartography and anatomical drawings—and a deep reverence for the natural and spiritual world to produce drawings, paintings, and copious journals and texts. Both artists translated their visions and the unseen world into abstract artworks, sure of a future audience that would one day appreciate their work after lifetimes of rejection.

In his later years, Walter built on the knowledge amassed throughout his lifetime. He incorporated scientific concepts reminiscent of the diagrams he would have encountered in his studies and agricultural work. He returned to the skills learned in apprenticeships as a toymaker and sign maker. His paintings of the cosmos and scientific abstractions are unfettered; his focus is on his vision and his rich interior dialogue. His works made in isolation are less concerned with perception or translating his ideas for an unwilling audience. Through applying his learned logics and systems to the world, Walter had encountered compounded rejections. He learned that the world is full of contradictions, that race and power are neither logical nor scientific, and that the tools given to him were never intended to free or empower him.

Eventually, Walter found relief from these contradictions in that which can never be fully known or harnessed: the cosmos, the natural world, the passage of time, and his own mind.

9

Paca, “The Last Universal Man,” 311.

39

PL. 15 Untitled (Heraldic dots), n.d.

PL. 16 MWG Milky Way Galaxy, n.d.

Death and the Universe Francis A.W. Walter ANTIGUA. wi. 23:3:1994

42

I should like to know What our universe would be like When one shall die the inevitable death.

Should death be the eternal oblivion.

Yet, what relieving sleep doth show, Is somewhat like a lowland dike, That keeps away the consciousness of faith: There we care not whether battles are lost or won!

Now I am awake and conscious, And my inner eyes are fully tuned to optics, I am moved to awesome wander, Whether in dreaming, life being there remote, That life, which doth continue, is more efficacious, Producing finer images pleasant, or for ghoulish tricks: Yet in the ether, capable of comedy, or life’s tragic plunder.

As in temporal sleep, within there life does float.

War and peace, comedy and tragedy, Following the living human soul, Whether in the sleep of death, or temporal sleep: We are too, inescapable from life, and sleep and death, from universe.

Whether the soul is bodily bound or free, Like our planet’s polarise from pole to pole, Yet still a binding force our lives, does keep, Whether like hurricanes, we strike, or do disperse

A storm we think is dead, Oftener does rest in a pacific mood, Still bounded, yet by a greater volume So are we bounded by our body, or dispersed, Compressed in body, the tangent makes us hear, And to realize so many another sentiment of evil or of good, Yet in life’s temporal sleep we bloom, Whether by images, life we enjoy, or are coerced.

By dream or meditation, Both of a body’s temporal moments, I am obliged by what I may perceive, That life is so continuous, That is somehow sees by body, or by spirit done, The single life in body or spirit gives consents, The body giving consent to spirit to be free, to enjoy or grieve, Even as the bodied spirit magnifies its seeing such to discuss.

The dead knows not that it is dead.

For still the spirit live in meditation or in dreaming Else lives the spirit in temporal oblivion, Only to resort alternatively, to temporal awares, We know from surgery, practised or well read, What the human bodied spirit, the soul doth bring Taking itself from the unconscious to the conscious station.

So from the subconscious to its blatant consciousness, a mortal cares. [P.1] Often a patient may observe a surgeon, Extracting organs from one’s self, Fully conscious of what could be a painful act, Except that the organ’s tissues are put to sleep, or death Yet lives that organ and the rest of organs, the act being done While the extraction of the damaged organ makes another shelf As the conscious section of the body knows the fact.

The entire body with life and spirit had not lost faith.

43

Should a surgered organ be not extracted, But sleeps unconsciously to be repaired, There it is temporal death oblivious, While still the conscious members could have narrated, All that were seen and felt and yet not feared.

Yet could in horror or relief the surgery discuss Whether the feeling was relief’s delight or by the operation aggravated.

Who knows what arguments A life could raise, After a surgeon doth clinically state, The possibility of rigor mortis, so issued a certificate of death?

With all the sciences on life, giving such consents?

So epitaphs are written upon which posterity may gaze, There a spirit for its body makes there no claim, however great, Yet the world still mourns the greats whose spirits with body had lost faith.

So often in dreams and meditation, I myself, have seen astounding beauty, That to record by art, such aesthetic seeings, Impertinence should soon die, Leaving me clear channel, to have done.

To perform my artistry, trying to capture such infinity.

Yet I return to fully conscious life a bodied human being.

Realising the uncapturable however hard I bodily could try.

A window into everlasting life, May be quite carefully cut, So peeping through with clean spiritual eyes The heart is told the more said overture, That the bodied spirit hears of in banal strife, The errors we bodily are conscious of are blinders of our free spirits immortal because of mortal’s rut.

Dream on and meditate, and when achieving life’s perfection, Pray that we do not reciprocate humanity: life’s everlasting joys in spirits we could assure.

45

PL. 17 “Death and the Universe,” 1994

PL. 18 Istiophorus platypterus, Indian Swordfish, n.d.

PL. 19 Untitled (Bird standing on one leg), n.d.

PL. 20 White Bird, c. 1975

PL. 21 Untitled (Sea bird catching fish), n.d.

PL. 22 Untitled (Birds in flight), n.d.

PL. 23 Untitled (Bird in profile), n.d.

PL. 24 Untitled (Striped fish), n.d.

PL. 25 Untitled (Flying fish), n.d.

PL. 26 Untitled (Bird in flight), n.d.

PL. 27 Caranx stellatus, Blue Corevalley, n.d.

PL. 28 Fish, n.d.

PL. 29 Untitled (Grid of eighteen goats, dogs, and cats), n.d.

PL. 30 Nag, n.d.

PL. 31 Match, n.d.

PL. 32 Fish, n.d.

PL. 33 Vat, n.d.

PL. 34 Untitled (Bird in flight), n.d.

To Capture a Soul Claire Gilman

Upon his death, Frank Walter (1926–2009) left behind an enormous body of work including 5,000 paintings, 1,000 drawings, 600 sculptures, 2,000 photographs, 468 hours of recordings, and a 50,000-page archive. The exhibition that is documented in this volume, Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul, includes examples of all these media, the sheer diversity testament to Walter’s relentless urge to discover, record, and recreate the world around him. In this sense, Walter was shaped by a drawing impulse—what scholar David Rosand describes as an open-ended, exploratory drive rooted in “ambivalence,” “a tentative probing,” and “a skepticism in search of assurance.”1 If, simply put, painting aims to establish an allover, holistic compositional space, drawing is always incomplete; it looks outwards, gesturing away from and beyond itself. Quoting Michelangelo scholar Charles de Tolnay, Rosand observes: “Not yet completely liberated from its creator, nor from matter…[drawing] reveals an embryonic world…Half matter, half spirit, the drawing is for us a symbol of the world in formation.”2 This need to articulate the world and his place in it motivated Walter throughout his life, as Mia Matthias outlines so cogently in the preceding essay. A child of the colonial system descended from both white plantation owners of Germanic ancestry and enslaved individuals of African descent, Walter went to Europe in search of his origins in the late 1950s and returned newly cognizant of racial prejudice and economic injustice. Although Walter had always been artistically inclined, having taken drawing classes in Antigua

1 2

David Rosand, Drawing Acts: Studies in Graphic Expression and Representation (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge UP, 2002), 1–2.

Rosand, 20.

67

68

as a child and having apprenticed in his relatives’ woodshop as a teenager, it was after returning from his European tour in the early ’60s and setting up a home first in Dominica and later in Antigua that he began to draw and paint in earnest. He found solace by exercising his imagination through creating elaborate genealogical charts tracing credible and fictitious ancestors over centuries and by studying his environment.

In the latter pursuit, it is instructive to consider the words of fellow Caribbean poet Derek Walcott who has described his generation’s task after “the withdrawal of empire” as the founding of their identity from ground zero: “For imagination and body to move with original instinct, we must begin again from the bush,” he observed in his 1970 essay “What the Twilight Says.” The excolonized had been deprived of any history to call their own and were thus in the paradoxically advantageous position of being “reduced once more to learning, to a rendering of things through groping mnemonic fingers.” In this way, Walcott explains, “a new theatre could be made, with a delight that comes in roundly naming its object.”3 This is the reward that comes from “our own painful, strenuous looking.” Only “the learning of looking, could find meaning in the life around us, only our own strenuous hearing, the hearing of our hearing, could make sense of the sounds we made.”4 The goal according to Walcott was to create a new world out of the natural canvas before them. “There is a force of exultation, a celebration of luck, when a writer finds himself a witness to the early morning of a culture that is defining itself, branch by branch, leaf by leaf, in that self-defining dawn.”5 Walter’s work is also about looking: looking as a way of understanding and looking as a way of founding, with observation and imagination inextricably linked. Walter’s compositions echo Walcott’s as, leaf by leaf and branch by branch, he explores the downy softness of the cottonwood tree [PL. 119] and the pink-andgreen clusters of the Dombeya [PL. 120]; or, among his many views of birds, the elegant bearing of the white egret [PL. 35] and the proud, open stance of the Antiguan cormorant [PL. 36]. With Walter, we

3 4 5

Derek Walcott, “What the Twilight Says” (1970), in What the Twilight Says: Essays (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1998), 23.

Walcott, “What the Twilight Says,” 9.

Derek Walcott, “The Antilles: Fragments of Epic Memory” (Nobel lecture, 1992), in What the Twilight Says: Essays, 79.

PL. 35 Untitled (White bird on top of building), n.d.

PL. 36 Coastal Scene with Boat, Cliffs, and Shorebird, n.d.

observe now close-up as though standing on a neighboring rooftop to the aforementioned egret perched majestically on his black spindly leg; now from a distance, witness to a flock of birds swooping through the pink night sky from behind a rocky outgrowth [PL. 82].

Horizon lines are everywhere in Walter’s compositions as he shows us how the world bends, curves, and changes before our watchful eye. In Coastal Scene with Boat, Cliffs, and Shorebird, striped, purpleand-blue sea becomes striped, purple-and-blue sky [PL. 36]. Our perspective mingles with that of the cormorant who, his back to us, surveys the sea, and we wonder, who is the protagonist here?

This emphasis on frame and perspective is nowhere so evident as in the spool series, compositions executed on the back of circular disks composed of a composite material such as might have been used to insulate car doors or provide support for the bottom of straw baskets. As image supports, these disks resemble portholes or viewing lenses yielding both distant, abstract vistas and close-up views. Often, Walter guides us. In Untitled (Crescent moon) [PL. 37], for example, we peer across the surface of the moon into a black expanse, while, having come down to earth in Untitled (View of trees through open window) [PL. 38], we look over and through a gridded fence at a tree silhouetted against the night sky.

According to scholar and Walter biographer Barbara Paca, when Walter was out sketching, he was received with both awe and fear by his fellow islanders. It was like he could capture your soul, they said. His sketches of birds and animals and people are at once utterly unassuming and at the same time achingly precise. Isolated studies or fragments come together across his diverse body of work to build a universe. With pencil or pen, he expresses the fishiness of a fish through its pursed lips and puffed belly [PL. 27] or the craneniness of a crane with its angular limbs and crooked step [PL. 19]. Here, a fish is shown from multiple angles rising up and dipping down as fish do [PL. 25]; there, barking dogs chase sheep in a chaotic, tumbling herd [PL. 46]. White Bird is so paired down that it is less an image of a specific creature than a portrait of the essence of flight, beak and wings and tail extending across its gray ground in perfect harmony [PL. 20]. For a time, in St. John’s, Antigua, Walter operated a photo booth where he took photographs, made hand-painted signs, and sold small drawings and paintings. A staple of the booth were his alphabet cards, which he drew, photocopied, and hand-colored in multiple variations. “F” for fish and “D” for dog, naturally, but also, “N” for nag, “V” for villa, and “J” for justice. This is the world according to Walter, broken down, classified, and made digestible.

71

PL.37 Untitled (Crescent moon), n.d.

And yet, part and parcel of Walter’s world is the way in which things escape our grasp. There is something achingly elusive about Walter’s drawings and paintings, a sense of longing that also runs throughout his written meditations on art and nature. On the sunset: I try to write, but would a sketch complete, To find that I have ventured in conceit, To catch the sunset splendid in display; Ah soon! To find that eve’ must pass away….

To catch a thought to match that errant thing, That passes faster than a bird on wing.6 On life’s beauty: 73

So often in dreams and meditation I myself, have seen astounding beauty, That to record by art, such aesthetic seeings, Impertinence should soon die, Leaving me clear channel, to have done.

To perform my artistry, trying to capture such infinity.7 What is art’s role in this? Somewhat cryptically, Walter observes: Just what one sees is what one sees, And seeing art is also having it and hearing it.

Someone by nothing is not prone to find an ease, Nothing is seeing something yet not having a bit.

Seeing a work of art is already having.8 It seems that for Walter, seeing is the closest thing to having that is available to us if we understand “having” to mean a non-possessive form of appreciation. Put differently, for Walter, seeing is the most profound way we can connect with the world since it is the mode wherein things are acknowledged but left untouched, like the white bird framed in solitary flight or Walter’s myriad trees which, seen

6 7 8

Frank Walter, “My Abode,” unpublished manuscript, February 19, 1963.

Frank Walter, “Death and the Universe,” unpublished manuscript, March 23, 1994.

Frank Walter, “The Solace of Solitude,” unpublished manuscript, March 29, 1994.

PL. 38 Untitled (View of trees through open window), n.d.

flowering in unique shades of pink and blue and yellow, are infinite and unrepeatable.

Hilton Als has written that Walter was “awkward with the human form…as if he couldn’t get his hands to see what he saw.”9 This is true. Indeed, this awkwardness is an essential part of Walter’s worldview—this inability to grasp, this melding of reality and the imagination. Take for instance Untitled (Man in profile), a delicate pencil contour drawing of a youth in profile [PL. 39]. The boy looks out with upturned face and open mouth, his faintly-drawn hand resting gently against his chin; he looks as though he is reaching for the beyond. Defined against the cream-colored cardboard by heavy pencil outline, he resembles a kind of Byzantine saint, his frozen, hieratic posture and sightless gaze evidence of a world that is defined as much by spirit as by flesh. The pencil portrait Untitled (African woman with bare breasts) achieves a related affect by different means [PL. 40]. Here, the figure is a maelstrom of movement, her breasts and cheeks swept up in a play of fluid, uncontainable lines.

Walter was a deeply spiritual person and it is impossible to separate his veneration for nature and the world around him from his veneration for God. Walter had many names for God or rather, for the characteristics that he saw as defining God—expansiveness, sublimity, mysticism, and intangibility—characteristics he also associated with his own dreams, the subconscious, his selfdiagnosed schizophrenia, and what he termed the “fourth dimension.” These spaces/phenomena were connected for him in the way they introduced realms beyond the everyday even as he aligned notions of intangibility and sublimity with the beauty he saw in nature. “I began to see balls of light project themselves from my eyes, in pulses, as beautiful as the Rainbow,” he intones in his autobiography.10 Elsewhere, he likens the fourth dimension to the expansiveness of a sea “wherein swims the fish,” concluding that there is no “doubt / That we are vaster than we feel or hear or shout.”11 “I had stretched my imagination beyond reality in my scientific and artistic dreamings,” Walter observed, an expansion that takes Hilton Als, “Water Music: Discovering Frank Walter,” June 2, 2022, David Zwirner website, https://assets.davidzwirner.com/v7/_assets_/davidzwirner/ exhibitions/2022/by-land-air-home-and-sea-the-world-of-frank-walter/watermusic_discovering-frank-walter-by-hilton-als.pdf?func=proxy.

10 Frank Walter, autobiographical transcript (p. 2835), in Frank Walter: Music of the Spheres (Edinburgh: Ingleby / London: Anomie Publishing, 2021), 162.

11 Frank Walter, “The Fourth Dimension,” unpublished manuscript, July 16, 1990.

9

75

PL. 39 Untitled (Man in profile), n.d.

PL. 40 Untitled (African woman with bare breasts), n.d.

78

visual form in Walter’s dialogue with abstraction, both across his body of work and in individual images.12 For example, in the Antiguan landscape Untitled (View of sea through trees) [PL. 2], the trees part to reveal a sea whose waves are nothing but thick strokes of paint barely distinguishable from the light blue sky above while, in Green Sponge Flowering Trees [PL. 1], the texture of sea and sky are reversed with the trees offering a peek-a-boo view into a pinkand-blue colorscape beyond. Similarly, we witness an abstracting across images. The “errant” sun was a favorite subject of Walter’s and, although not intended as a series, together these works tell a story. From an oil-on-photograph in which a red sun sits high atop a mountain [PL. 41], to a painted Polaroid depicting the sun descending behind the trees [PL. 42], to one in which its red crest is barely visible above a landscape of striated blue, yellow, and green [PL. 132], Walter reveals the sun’s dissolution both figuratively and literally. These compositions resonate with Untitled (Yellow land, hot orange pink sky) [PL. 13] an entirely abstract composition that could just as well be titled “Study in Yellow and Orange.” Here, sun and sky create a Rothkoesque landscape, while a small black circle dances along the horizon—the last vestige perhaps of physical presence. In Walter’s studies we know we are looking at sun and sea and land, and yet we also feel, with poet Vladimir Lucien, that, “None of this is real, neither the evening or anything I can say about it. All of it is still just a suggestion of something / other.”13 Walter gave expression to what this other might look like in his galactic series, abstract compositions consisting of geometric shapes like circles, crescents, and stars in bold, opaque colors against flat grounds. MWG Milky Way Galaxy [PL. 16] is one of six paintings in Walter’s Milky Way series in which he envisions the orbit of the planets in golden yellows and deep blacks, while Untitled [PL. 136] is one of three images illustrating Walter’s ideas about nuclear fusion and psycho-geometries that he had researched during the hours he spent in libraries in the UK and Germany. While a visual departure from his studies of the world around him, these images constitute an extension of Walter’s investment in close observation; seeing is for him as much an act of mind as of body. Indeed, this is something he references in his autobiography when he describes processing

12 Frank Walter, autobiographical manuscript (p. 2530), in Barbara Paca, Frank Walter: The Last Universal Man, 1926–2009 (Santa Fe: Radius Books, 2017), 280.

13 Vladimir Lucien, see page 158 in this volume.

PL. 41 Untitled (Red sun, black mountain, gray sea), n.d.

PL. 42 Red Sun, n.d.

the world through his mind’s eye. In his writing and his art, Walter understands true sight along with Derek Walcott as a way of seeing anew, as if for the first time. In the words of Kerry-Jane Wallart, for Walcott, poetry is “a means to restitute the shock and wonder of the self in front of the world, and of itself.”14 This is true of Walter’s painting and drawing as well.

81

14 Kerry-Jane Wallart, “Derek Walcott’s Another Life, or Writing the Self into a Distance,” Commonwealth Essays and Studies 29, vol. 1 (Autumn 2006): https:// doi.org/10.4000/ces.9593.

PL. 43 Goat, n.d.

PL. 44 Untitled (Work horse), n.d

PL. 45 Untitled, n.d.

PL. 46 Untitled (Dogs), n.d.

PL. 47 Untitled (Dog and bird), n.d.

PL. 48 Untitled (Dog and pup), n.d.

PL. 49 Untitled (Longhorn cattle), n.d.

PL. 50 Untitled, n.d.

PL. 51 Untitled (Seated dog), n.d.

PL. 52 Untitled (Cat and mouse), n.d.

PL. 53 Untitled (Cat with long whiskers), n.d.

A Buzzard, a Hawk, and a Shrike Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

The Black Buzzard knew better than to ask awkward questions of sinister strangers, On unfamiliar heathland, On a dark early evening, In late January.

His companion, the Harris Hawk was, in contrast, a hapless creature, overly sociable and given to Pointless banter, blunt inquiry, and Overfamiliarity.

All of the time.

Regardless of whom and Immaterial of where.

The Shrike, a foreign visitor on winter migration, whom neither of the birds knew at all well, Perched on a branch nearby.

He was polite but measured.

Content to sit quietly in their company.

A mild-mannered bird, the Shrike managed a few pleasantries, short observations, and one word responses.

He would laugh or smile softly as and when necessary.

But never more than that.

The Black Buzzard, always adept at reading the proverbial room and knowing that this was not the time for controversial musings (the foreign guest being a stranger to them) struck up a suitably banal conversation about the weather.

95

“It’s too cold. I should have gone away,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Hmm, yes, it is quite cold,” agreed the Shrike in his unusual and clipped East European accent.

The Harris Hawk, who was known to lack tact and social grace, said to the Shrike, almost accusingly, “So tell us about yourself. We don’t know you, but your reputation precedes you!”

He nudged the Black Buzzard and winked at the Shrike conspiratorially.

The Black Buzzard cringed.

96

The Shrike bristled slightly, a little taken aback. Shrikes do not care for directness in conversation.

“Not much to tell,” he shrugged and smiled. And then fell silent, shrinking into himself a little.

The Black Buzzard tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

“I wonder if we’ll have snow, but perhaps it’s too cold,” he said, a little louder than necessary.

“Mmmm, yes. Maybe,” said the Shrike.

And fell silent.

The Harris Hawk ignored them and pressed on with his agenda.

“Come on now, don’t be shy! I’ve heard ALL about you…bit of a dark horse, eh?”

He leaned in to the Shrike, who was a small and diminutive creature in comparison to the tall, muscular Black Buzzard and the fit and imposing Harris Hawk.

The Shrike looked down with unease.

“Err…not really. Just, you know, surviving like everyone else.”

And once again, he fell silent.

PL. 54 Untitled (Scotland with white river and trees and two birds in flight), n.d.

PL. 55 Goats Crossing a Forest Road, n.d.

PL. 56 Untitled (Black and white cow), n.d.

The Black Buzzard cut in.

“What’s the weather like for you at home?” he asked the Shrike softly.

The Shrike brightened. “Much colder than here. That’s the reason I came here. Not much to eat over there at this time of year.” He looked like he had more to say, but he caught himself. And fell silent.

“Ah yes! Speaking of which,” started the Harris Hawk, sensing an opening in the conversation, “Don’t they call you the Butcherbird of the Balkans?”

100

The Black Buzzard shot the Harris Hawk a look of sharp dismay, shaking his head.

The Shrike smiled coldly at the Harris Hawk and steadied his breath before answering emptily, “I couldn’t possibly comment on what they call me, whoever ‘they’ may be.”

The Black Buzzard piped up once more, “Exactly! And why would you? We can’t control public perception…”

The Harris Hawk scoffed at the Black Buzzard. “Pah! It’s a bit more than that though isn’t it? I mean, you and I, as Buzzard and Hawk, are recognized as birds of prey. People expect a degree of menace, of predatory behavior, the whiff of death follows us everywhere.

Swooping in and taking a small field mammal. Killing it quickly and eating it. Minimal violence. All in the name of survival. We keep it swift and painless because we need to eat.”

The Shrike looked at both birds with a deadpan incredulity and said, “Yes. So do I.” There was a frost to his tone that took the Black Buzzard aback. How could a creature so small and sweet-looking exude such effortless malice?

The Harris Hawk hadn’t finished. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re vicious, you pick up your prey, impale it on the nearest thorn or wire fence, and then sit and watch it die in agony. That, my friend, is not at all like us. That counts as cruel and unusual, not survival!”

The Shrike shuffled uneasily and looked to the Black Buzzard for support before retraining his eyes on the Harris Hawk. They were hard, cold, blue-black eyes.

“It’s my feet you see,” began the Shrike in his soft but deep and monotonous tone. “They’re not very strong. You see, I can’t hold my prey down long enough to incapacitate it. So, you see, I need to erm…find other means to hold it, you see?” The apologetic note was through inflection rather than warmth.

The Black Buzzard spoke before the Harris Hawk could respond.

“Yes, of course friend. That makes perfect sense. Of course, you kill in the way that you do as a matter of necessity. So you don’t take pleasure in it, do you?”

The Shrike shook his head very slowly, almost imperceptibly, and smiled. “Not at all,” he said.

The Black Buzzard felt a chill once again. He knew that he didn’t entirely believe the Shrike.

The Harris Hawk, unmoved by the Shrike’s explanation, went on, “No, I saw you. Earlier, over there.” He motioned to a barbed-wire fence in the distance.

The Shrike looked over at the fence and then fixed his eyes back on the Harris Hawk. His earlier, more nervous demeanor had been replaced by a stillness, as though keen to conserve his energy.

“Where?” he asked the Harris Hawk without any urgency.

“You know where, that fence over there. You had a small bird, a Robin!” The Harris Hawk was agitated.

“When?” asked the Shrike, still unconcerned.

“You know when! Lunchtime! You had a Robin, and you impaled him on that sharp piece of wire, I saw you!”

The Shrike continued to stare blankly at the Harris Hawk.

101

PL. 57 Untitled (Scotland with white river and trees), n.d.

The Harris Hawk turned to the Black Buzzard, hoping for corroboration. “He impaled that little bird and watched him die. He sang as he watched him. What type of bird sings to his dying prey?”

The Black Buzzard tried to conceal his distaste at the Harris Hawk’s recollection of what he had witnessed. Looking back at the Shrike, he tried to reconcile the appearance of the diminutive bird with the homicidal maniac of the Harris Hawk’s account. The Shrike shrugged lightly. He said nothing.

“Go on, admit it!” urged the Harris Hawk.

The Shrike shuffled sideways on the branch, looking down at his weak little feet as a reminder and then back up at the Black Buzzard.

He fixed his hard black eyes back on the Harris Hawk.

Silent for a time.

And then he began to sing.

The Shrike sang a song so transcendent the Black Buzzard felt sure that his heart might burst.

The Shrike sang a song so beautiful that all the birds on the heath fell silent to listen in wonder.

The Shrike sang a song so sweet it sliced the twilight shade asunder.

The Shrike sang a song so heartbreaking that the Harris Hawk stared, beak wide open, mesmerized.

When the Shrike finished his song, allowing the last few notes to melt and drift heavenwards, the Harris Hawk coughed, cleared his throat, and shook the melody from his intoxicated head.

“That was…” said the Black Buzzard, “that was divine.”

The Shrike, bashful, smiled down at his weak little feet and said nothing.

103

“Yes, well,” said the Harris Hawk, “That’s how you trap them, isn’t it?! Lure them in with sweet song, impale them on a spike, and watch them die!”

“Now steady on,” said the Black Buzzard in stern rebuke, “I think you’ve made your point. That’s quite enough of that.”

The Shrike smiled and shook his head regretfully. “It’s ok,” he said to the Black Buzzard. “He’s entitled to his opinion. Can’t convince everyone. Enjoy your evening, it’s been nice talking to you. Good night.” The Shrike flew away in the direction of some brambles near an old barn below.

104

“Good riddance!” the Harris Hawk called after him.

The Black Buzzard turned to him. “Did you need to be so rude to him? He was embarrassed.”

“What about the Robin?” shrieked the Harris Hawk. “Dying a slow and undignified death? What about his embarrassment?”

“We all kill to eat,” said the Black Buzzard. “Are we really that much better? Can we really take the moral high ground on this?”

The Harris Hawk sighed impatiently. “For the umpteenth time, my dear brother Buzzard, we are not psychopaths, whereas our sweet little friend the Shrike is a psychopath. Killing is the main objective for him, food is a mere byproduct.”

The Black Buzzard was too tired to argue further. He was too wise of a bird not to know when he couldn’t win.

He was tired, and it was late, so he excused himself, bade the Harris Hawk goodnight, and flew off to bed.

The Harris Hawk, quietly triumphant and utterly unrepentant, settled down for the night.

The Black Buzzard woke with a start the next morning. It was late, around 7:30. An audible commotion from the heath below had roused him. He flew down to see what was happening. Perching on the low bough of a tree at the edge of the heath, he could see a party of birds gathered around a circular clearing in the grass. Looking

PL. 58 Untitled (Lavender sunset meadow), n.d.

PL. 59 Fence with Fish and Birds, n.d.

more closely, he could see a metal rod coming out of the ground.

At the base of it was the skewered body of the Harris Hawk, a long trickle of blood leading away and pooling nearby. Stiff with rigor, he was long dead.

All of the birds were perplexed.

So many aspects of the scene were strange.

The apparent staging.

The fact that it was unlikely a suicide.

And even less likely an accident.

The birds agreed that the method of killing matched that of the Shrike, but that it could not have been him because he was far too small and his little feet were far too feeble. Furthermore, he was a bird of prey who only killed to eat, and the body of the Harris Hawk was intact.

The Black Buzzard watched and listened and said nothing.

The Black Buzzard knew better than to share his hypotheses, so he kept them to himself.

The Black Buzzard was smart enough to know that there was no such thing as a coincidence.

Not like this.

As the birds stood around, deep in speculation, only the Black Buzzard noticed the familiar, sweet, and mesmeric song of the Shrike trickling softly from a treetop above.

107

PL. 60 Green Water Hurricane Sky, n.d.

PL. 61 Untitled (After seeding), n.d.

PL. 62 Untitled (Shark), n.d.

PL. 63 Untitled (Dog and wolf-like animals), n.d.

PL. 64 Untitled (Man milking a cow), n.d.

PL. 65 Untitled (Man on beach with bats), n.d.

PL. 66 Untitled (Three buzzards), n.d.

PL.67 Untitled (Black bird in tree), n.d.

PL. 68 Untitled (Coconut tree), n.d.

PL. 69 Untitled (Blue and pink sky, green land), n.d.

PL. 70 Untitled (All of god for me), n.d.

Frank Walter’s Constellation Barbara Paca

I

The Power of Frank Walter’s Drawings as Essays Frank Walter was prolific because he had to be.

He was an artist.

He was spontaneous.

He understood the sophistication of simplicity.

Artists are drawn to him because they too crave immediacy.

—Jules Walter, Sr.

Frank Walter’s closest kin and childhood friend, ninety-fiveyear-old actor and raconteur Jules Walter, Sr., translates his cousin’s artistic masterpieces as layers of awareness that expand and contract the viewer’s mind with an unimaginable breadth of subject matter—breaking all rules of geography and smashing sound and time barriers.

There is a direct connection between seventeenth-century herbariums and Frank Walter’s palm studies, drawings, and paintings. As one of the most promising students ever to attend the Antiguan Grammar School, Walter flourished under the guidance of Headmaster Gilbert Auchinleck, particularly in horticulture and Latin. Jules recounts Auchinleck’s romantic stories of how earlynineteenth-century planter Dr. Willis Freeman sought a better world by importing the stately Phoenix reclinata (date palm) to Antigua.

At the same time, Freeman was also dreaming about bringing camels to the island to assist in the sugar industry. Imbued with a nostalgic idea of Freeman, Walter added truth by documenting the sophisticated growth patterns of the palms, thereby revealing a serious level of study and bringing you to the climate where they flourish. In their tall silhouetted form, Walter’s palms elevate

121

PL. 71 Untitled (Man swimming in red trunks), n.d.

the viewer, his visual essays on these monocots making you gaze upwards toward the sky.

As with many artists, drawing was a form of relaxation and at the same time stimulating for Walter. He had a gift for extracting unspoken elements of his portrait sitters to the point of discomfort— some felt he was getting too close to their soul. Dominica is a place where people harbor strong spiritual beliefs, and many who knew Frank Walter from his time there from 1961 to 1968 regarded him as a “supernatural,” stating that when studiously making a sketch of a person he had an uncanny ability to express every detail and gain control over their spiritual being. Among the elders, there is a belief that he carried “magic” in his sketchbooks. They cited how he would climb up into the forest, felling trees on his property using not an axe, but incantations from his red notebooks.

Always sketching, it was as though Walter’s hand had to keep moving in order to fulfill a continuous and spontaneous artistic desire. He had to maintain this coordinated effort through simultaneously composing, writing, recording, carving, sculpting, and painting.

Walter’s art is concurrently featured in Paris at the Bourse de Commerce’s Le monde comme il va (The World as It Goes), a group exhibition of works from the Pinault Collection curated by Jean-Marie Gallais. This famous quote by Voltaire is used here to express “the acute awareness of the present.” Gallais provokes the visitor into thinking through this paradox, placing Walter among Martin Kippenberger, Marlene Dumas, and Peter Doig in a long chamber with Walter’s three portraits in direct dialogue with Doig’s monumental Pelican (Stag). In an earlier exhibition, Gallais first established a dynamic tension between Doig and Walter by engaging Doig’s epic Orange Canoe with a set of nineteen of Walter’s miniature Polaroid paintings (each 8 x 10 cm). Gallais organized five sets of triptychs—and at roughly the center, one tiny image of a ruckenfigur of Walter cradled in the spreading branches of a tree. In this assemblage, Walter challenges the vast scale of Orange Canoe, and a shared profound silence and power connects the work of these two artists.

Peter Doig and Frank Walter’s lines also intersect through a painterly awareness of their shared origins. Rendezvous Bay remains a Walter property to this day, but it comprised the Doig plantation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Set just inland from the long expanse of pure white sandy beach at Rendezvous Bay are the Doig ruins, with eighteenth-century stone structures scattered close

123

PL. 72 Untitled (Young Castro), n.d.

PL. 73 Untitled (Enslaved woman), c. 1982

to the beach. The foundations of an old sugar mill and a domestic dwelling structure survive in this unlikely spot. Centuries overlap in this surreal landscape, as uphill from the sugar mill lies buried in the slopes the last unexcavated Arawak site in Antigua, which dates to circa 250 AD. The set of four Frank Walter landscapes in Peter Doig’s personal collection tell us all we need to know about Rendezvous Bay and Walter’s natural world—during the day but more at night— and speak of a shared history made more compelling through their connection on an unconscious level [PLS. 74–77].

II

126

Josh Smith and Frank Walter’s Ghost Frank Walter was able to capture the sound in his paintings.

The way things move in Antiguan nature.

The sound is very distinctive—the way that vegetation rubs together.

He got that into his paintings, which is a miracle.

—Josh Smith, Antigua, January 2024

When Josh Smith entered Frank Walter’s world, he got it immediately. According to Smith, a studio doesn’t need walls–it needs to be a safe place. And during Walter’s lifetime, this was almost always his privileged environment. For Smith, the experience of Walter’s studio actually begins when you enter his property: “The moment you step off the dirt road and onto the stone at the entrance to the hill.” The site is only accessible via foot, which according to Josh makes it all the more spiritual, as one must climb upward, crossing onto a narrow path edged with plumes of grass that leads up to Walter’s house and studio platform. Beyond that, the circuitry of paths leading up to his relation’s house and the long path leading down to Rendezvous Bay were also integral pieces of Walter’s daily meditation and studio experience.

Smith recognized that Frank Walter’s world was carefully designed, calibrated by the genius of an engineer and designer who understood the spatial requirements of one person. As a solitary being Walter was obsessed with refining the dimensions of the rooms and the spring of the floor for himself and no one else. And as for his art studio, why should he build a roof over the space? Indeed, who needs walls? The world that Smith found himself colliding with was in a state of decay—it had already begun to fade with the passing of Frank Walter fifteen years ago. However, for Smith, Walter’s spirit remains—evident via the smell of wood, the small scale of the chambers, the interlinking of interior worlds set in sharp contrast to

127

PL. 74 Landscape Series, Scotland (Sea, Cliffs, and White Birds), n.d.

PL. 75 Landscape Series, Scotland (Black Bird with Cliffs and Obelisk), c. 1968–76

PL. 76 Landscape Series, Scotland (Bay and Bird), n.d.

PL. 77 Landscape Series, Scotland (Beach with Birds), n.d.

expansive landscapes that span the width of the sea, illuminated at night by distant stars and galaxies.

Living amidst a profusion of found objects (some regarded as trash by others) is artistic lifeblood to both Smith and Walter, and we see this in all aspects of their work. In Frank Walter’s 1993 poem included in this volume, “The Kindness of the Sea,” he writes about his delight as a beachcomber gathering driftwood and seashells for his own artistic creations. As with Smith, everything within Walter’s reach had potential as a work of art, even if it appeared like chaos to others. As with Walter, Smith needs to surround himself with materials, admittedly to the point of what might be perceived as insurmountable clutter. For Smith, everything is in perfect order, and the worst thing would be for someone to try to “clean” his space.

Smith understands that for Walter, as a polymath, this spiderweb of apparent disorganization must have been extreme and always in critical balance, micro-managed in his absolute solitude.

As preparation for his artistic conversation with Walter at The Drawing Center, Josh Smith spent time in Antigua with his partner, artist Megan Lang. Lang, too, possesses incredible insight into Walter and was immediately aware of the way in which the natural world and its acoustics strike one from all angles when on his property. She noted how Walter’s work plays with the intensely intimate scale of his interior spaces contrasted with the vast landscapes just beyond his doorstep and also how it showcases the rustic charm unique to Antigua—desiccated window frames and eighteenth-century stone arches—brilliantly repurposed as framing devices for many of his landscape paintings.

Beyond a shared sensitivity and thoughtful approach to art, sketches and paintings of palms are seen throughout the work of Smith and Walter; they both explore the unlikely shape and quick growth pattern of these lanky monocots. Similarly, their haunting visions of otherworldly ghouls has an arresting immediacy, and we are made urgently aware of the need to reconcile these visions in our own head. Hovering somewhere above the stylistic similarities is a sense of humility and preoccupation with finding the truth at all costs. Smith and Walter seem connected through their relentless search for the essentials. The elements of what it means to be a true artist is revealed as their work meets on this higher level.

131

PL. 78 Untitled (Purple nocturne with chartreuse foliage), n.d.

III Postscript Artists gravitate to the mystery and the naked creativity of Frank Walter.

He wasn’t a landscape artist. He wasn’t an abstract artist.

He was uncategorizable.

He was probably fighting with himself about that.

—Josh Smith, Antigua, January 2024 In the 2017 Venice Biennale catalog, neurosurgeon Caitlin Hoffman wrote about Walter as an artist who suffered not from madness, but from genius. She commended his vigilance in staying close to his work; as well as his family who made it possible for him to live in solitude in a pristine environment. Walter was a polymath and experienced the kind of background noise that geniuses have to let out when they live in their heads at all times. The connection to Princeton’s John Nash, legendary for his breakthrough work in mathematics and game theory, is made clear in the installation of Walter’s manuscripts in the To Capture a Soul exhibition, a tapestry that reveals how Walter’s mind toggled through multiple thought processes.

On a superficial level, Walter’s environment always struck me as a welcome relief from tourist shops and tiki bars. On a deeper plane, Walter’s austere world was one where chatter was eliminated, and centuries collided in an unforgettable way. There is no way to recreate Walter’s environment because it was that pure and all-encompassing and true to the old Antigua. With its almost clandestine inward-looking chambers and profound connection to place, Frank Walter’s studio and home read as a roadside shrine.

Walking into his home and studio always felt like entering a stage set from another time, and during the years I visited him on the hill there was always a sense of slowing down and never wanting to leave. Memories of his world are reminiscent of photographs from the nineteenth century, when hospitality was imbued with civility, intimacy, long bouts of silence, and a quiet pride.

133

Josh Smith: Life Drawing

I’m a painter and an admirer of the work of Frank Walter. I’ve assembled here a selection of drawings and three prints. Most of the drawings I make are small. A lot of the work was drawn on torn paper leftover from printmaking. I keep stacks of this paper around and draw sometimes when I have to sit somewhere for a while. The drawings in this group range from the late 1990s to now. There are not very many because I did not want to overwhelm the situation.

With Frank Walter’s work all around, this scale makes more sense.

Pared down, the selection represents some favorite subjects: palm trees, horses, grim reapers, animals, cityscapes, fish, and boats—all of which have worked their way into my paintings.

Drawing anything repeatedly is how rhythm is found, nurtured, and expelled. Working like this is either building up towards a painting or coming back down after working. Drawing is a therapeutic luxury.

Yes, the drawings are sketchy, but this is how it is. Everything I make references the next thing I’m going to make. Therefore everything is both a sketch and a completed work. That’s what I discovered assembling this show.

—JOSH SMITH

135

1 Untitled, n.d.

2 Untitled, 1999

3 Untitled, 2013–23

4 Untitled, 2022

5 Untitled, 1996

6 Untitled, 1996

7 Untitled, 2016

8 Untitled, 2007

9 Untitled, 2016

10 / 11 Both: Untitled, 2018–19

12 Untitled, 2018

13 Untitled, 2019

14 Untitled, 2020

15 Untitled, 2013–23

16 Untitled, 2019

17 Untitled, 2017–19

18 Untitled, 2019

19 Untitled, 2011

20 Untitled, 2019

Works in the Exhibition

158

1 Untitled, c. 1999 Marker and graphite on paper 7 3/4 x 12 inches (19.7 x 30.5 cm)

10 Untitled, 2018–19 Marker on paper 6 1/4 x 12 inches (15.9 x 30.5 cm)

2 Untitled, 1999 Charcoal on paper 5 3/4 x 7 1/2 inches (14.6 x 19.1 cm)

11 Untitled, 2018–19 Marker on paper 5 1/4 x 11 7/8 inches (13.3 x 30.2 cm)

3 Untitled, 2013–23 Graphite on paper 5 1/4 x 4 1/2 inches (13.3 x 11.4 cm)

12 Untitled, 2018 Marker, acrylic, and graphite on receipt paper 4 x 6 inches (15.2 x 10.2 cm)

4 Untitled, 2022 Monotype on Rives BFK 40 1/4 x 57 1/2 inches (102.2 x 146.1 cm) 5 Untitled, 1996 Ink on paper 5 1/4 x 5 1/2 inches (13.3 x 14 cm) 6 Untitled, 1996 Graphite and driveway sealer on paper 4 1/2 x 7 inches (11.4 x 17.8 cm) 7 Untitled, 2016 Marker and watercolor on paper 6 1/2 x 5 1/2 inches (16.5 x 14 cm) 8 Untitled, 2007 Color pencil and watercolor on paper 9 3/4 x 13 1/2 inches (24.8 x 34.3 cm) 9 Untitled, 2016 Graphite on paper 5 1/8 x 5 3/4 inches (13 x 14.6 cm)

13 Untitled, 2019 Monotype on Plike paper 34 3/4 x 25 inches (88.3 x 63.5 cm) 14 Untitled, 2020 Graphite and color pencil on paper 10 1/4 x 7 3/4 inches (26 x 19.7 cm) 15 Untitled, 2013–23 Color pencil on paper 5 3/4 x 4 inches (14.6 x 10.2 cm) 16 Untitled, 2019 Marker on paper 5 1/4 x 3 1/4 inches (13.3 x 8.3 cm) 17 Untitled, 2017–19 Ink on paper 2 1/4 x 2 inches (5.7 x 5.1 cm) 18 Untitled, 2019 Marker and acrylic on paper 11 3/4 x 8 1/4 inches (29.8 x 21 cm)

19 Untitled, 2011 Mixed media on paper 8 1/2 x 5 1/2 inches (21.6 x 14 cm) 20 Untitled, 2019 Monotype on Somerset paper 36 1/8 x 27 inches (91.8 x 68.6 cm)

Not Pictured Untitled, c. 2010–19 Marker on paper 6 x 12 inches (15.2 x 30.5 cm) Untitled, 2002 Lithograph on paper 3 1/4 x 22 1/4 inches (8.3 x 56.5 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Watercolor on paper 4 3/4 x 6 1/2 inches (12.1 x 16.5 cm) Untitled, 2016 Acrylic print on paper 11 x 6 1/4 inches (27.9 x 15.9 cm) Untitled, 2018 Marker on paper 12 x 1 1/2 inches (30.5 x 3.8 cm) Untitled, 2019 Marker and graphite on paper 4 1/4 x 3 1/4 inches (11.4 x 8.3 cm) Untitled, c. 2010–19 Graphite on paper 5 1/2 x 4 1/4 inches (14 x 10.8 cm) Untitled, 2015 Linocut on paper 12 1/2 x 4 7/8 inches (31.8 x 12.4 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Ink on paper 6 1/4 x 4 1/4 inches (16.5 x 10.8 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Graphite on paper 7 9/16 x 5 5/16 inches (19.2 x 13.5 cm)

Untitled, n.d.

Color pencil on paper 5 3/4 x 4 inches (14.6 x 10.2 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Color pencil on paper 7 x 4 1/2 inches (17.8 x 11.4 cm) Untitled, n.d.

Color pencil on paper 5 3/4 x 4 inches (14.6 x 10.2 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Graphite on paper 4 1/8 x 5 3/4 inches (10.5 x 14.6 cm) Untitled, 2023 or 1993 Graphite and paint on paper 6 1/4 x 4 7/8 inches (15.9 x 12.4 cm) Untitled, 2020 Graphite on paper 6 1/2 x 4 7/8 inches (16.5 x 12.4 cm) Untitled, c. 2000–23 Graphite on paper 12 x 7 3/4 inches (30.5 x 19.7 cm)

All works are courtesy of the artist.

Images: © Josh Smith; Courtesy of the artist and David Zwirner

159

LOOMINOUS on the light (and its birds) in Frank Walter’s paintings.

Vladimir Lucien

160

stained curtain of twilight shadow. excruciating sunset the color of pain we have accepted pain we have resigned ourselves to & yet none of this is real. neither the evening nor anything i can say about it. all of it still just a suggestion of something other. a reference to a reference to an infinity of references a metaphor for an infinity of metaphors. that’s the cosmos. you know this, Frank. yet, there, in front of you the mirage insisting upon itself— the stale light pressing itself convincing-orange against the curtain. go outside. forget what you know about the cosmos. join the evening for the evening.

PL. 79 Untitled (Scotland castle ramparts w/dark blue sea, red night sky w/blue and gray), n.d.

162

PL. 80 Untitled (Red sky, birds in flight), n.d.

deepening dusk terrifying above a terrible ocean of deep blue a smothered sun — there is darkness here & in it lies depth & in it lies the night that eventually always comes. settles. and stays. & it is a long time before you return to you separated like yesterday’s and today’s twilight deep & terrifying is the person who can gaze upon this unflinching. dark deep whole is he.

163

PL. 81 Untitled (Purple sky black headlands black sea), n.d.

PL. 82 Untitled (Lavender sky, black bird formation), n.d.

we should be made to meet our consciences in such light in open overgrown field or cramped city alley —

166

our sins, our errors our long held & stale grudges & ways flying overhead like thousands of birds flailing madly like bats a craze of birds or bats. birds or bats that should be screeching shrilly but are silent clearing the moment of all sound in such sombre light & such frantic movement of some deep change.

a white egret that comes not in the bright early afternoon light not into the cool scent of fresh-cut grass to eat then to perch on the backs of cows nor to the pale outstretched arm of late afternoon where the sky fruit tree perches above the turbid lagoon but in some small West Indian village street, standing gawky, lanky awkwardly large atop its low buildings. & someone says “this not no egret, this not no bird!” perch, stare inward outwardly say nothing. be present.

167

PL. 83 Untitled (Bird landing in blue-green sea), n.d.

PL. 84 Untitled (Multi-colored sky with white birds), n.d.

if you look for me anywhere, let it be among the birds

170

preferably, at twilight but at other times too — black or white (negroid/europoid neuropoid) you decide — but let me have great wingspan. let me be a little larger than the life i was offered. aren’t we all larger when alone? lonely? otherwise i could be just about any one of these birds, here. my soul small and scattered into each one of them like soggy breadcrumbs in their small sharp warm-wet mouths made whole only when the flock gets in v formation: to the very front is me at my sharpest, to the back: me separated from myself. but still, i know i am at my best when alone my mood larger than my body, looming over me like a lampshade in the lamplight color of the fading day

to paint the perfect creature is simply to paint to do it. to scratch the pencil onto paper, book cover, receipt, cardboard or slide the brush across some surface and watch the world begin. there. in brief, it is to live. but in the painting it is always the beginning: things appearing taking slow shape — and then they stay with you like a dog, a pet. they meet you where you are & then take you with them into themselves. in the world it is otherwise — like the birds at evening those we love they go they go they go they paint and unpaint themselves beautifully from our assurances.

But not the painting. no. its untiring light. its immortal fauna. The birds, the light of yesterday stay with me still.

171

PL. 85 Untitled (Colonial judge), n.d.

PL. 86 Untitled (Rastafarian man), n.d.

PL. 87 Untitled (Man and woman on the street), n.d.

PL. 88 Untitled (Palm tree) / Dream of the Vampires (recto), n.d.

PL. 89 Untitled (Boy eating a banana), n.d.

PL. 90 Untitled (Study for a cupboard), n.d.

PL. 91 Untitled (Barrel), n.d.

PL. 92 Untitled (Hitler in a car), n.d.

PL. 93 Untitled (Family portrait), n.d.

PL. 94 Untitled (Women with parasol and car), n.d.

PL. 95 Untitled (Woman in a minidress), n.d.

PL. 96 Untitled (Woman in profile), n.d.

PL. 97 Untitled (Palm tree in the wind), n.d.

PL. 98 Untitled (Yellow roses), n.d.

PL. 99 Untitled (Vase of flowers and lotus pods), n.d.

Excerpts from

The Kindness of the Sea Francis A.W. Walter ANTIGUA 9/3/1993

Once I was a planter of the floral seed, And in good agronomy, I did succeed, In making more profusive a shrub or weed, But came into my life a most pernicious deed.

I planted the Lykpersonae esquelentum, The Tomato plant which former name did from Latin come I took a variety, which per pound needed eight fruits to sum In soil which I cultivated from rocklike soil to loam That change of a variety which gave eight per pound I changed, to effect a single for the said or there around, It was the worst drought in any rainfall record to be found, But with good calculations, I prove my agronomy to be sound.

I ate the first fruits of my planting, As well as much to the market I could bring And made manifest a boast to those who deemed it trifling, When I avered that even in such a drought I could plant anything.

I selected seeds for sowing that gloriosa, And sowed and got a germination count thus far Of ninety-five percent, so proved the law, That the improvement did not a hybrid draw.

I soon transplanted five thousand precious seedlings, And found that they too, to the Gloriosa variety did swing, And this feat, the populace soon were seeing, If not a scientist’s, then it was a miraculous thing.

191

PL. 100 “The Kindness of the Sea,” 1993

All who enjoyed my Glorious fruit As thieves permitted them to grow before their loot, Acclaimed me as the most reassured off shoot Of an ancient planting family of great repute.

Long before my gardening enterprise, I had enjoyed a legendary name, it was no surprise, To be praised for my tomato planting and that many realise.

And many a peasant of farmer came to me to seek advise. [1]

194

Before I entertained the thought again to farm, I had an enterprise in Dominica which came to harm As I had acquired lands there, and developed in peace and calm The said, for eight years in an atmosphere friendly and warm.

The crown in Dominica allocated twenty-five acres, To an Industrial Estate and Farm, my tender there refers, But suddenly, there came to light debauching stirs., By persons jealous, who soon proved to be perverse.

The crown claimed responsibility for my case, And sought soon my problems in Dominica then to trace, Hindered, in all my efforts, I wished not then to face The imminent handicaps, threatened by persons of little grace.

Leaving the matter with my solicitor, Hopeful that he would for me my Certificate of Title Draw, Angry, but careful not to violate the law, I returned to Antigua where being born, I was not seen straw.

I planted in Antigua the said tomatoes, As an observation at Golden Grove, to St. John’s city close, An ancient estate of my ancestors, as record shows, Acquired by my grandfather and his son, thus my right to plant arose.

With imminent success at Golden Grove Suddenly in the drought stock keepers drove Their stock into my garden, to reach a pond they strove Which as the only waters source in miles, such I could hardly reprove.

Eager to fence my precious observation plot From a banking house of many sought, I was to have got A loan to purchase post and wire, after I had hard fought There being a long drought, in Antigua, no banker forgot. *** Truly to reorganise myself, I realised that life would be quite hard No entertainment, no romance, no luxury, only work and sleep, So came the sea more importantly into my life to creep.

I became a Beach Comber, so Drift Wood I went to reap.

With the wood, I made picture Frames until I had a heap.

195

For handicraft, I roamed the beaches, in search of shells, Then I searched around the rocks, daring mighty swells, Whelks, Conches, Oysters, I picked in most delightful spells, I ate the little animals, and used their shells, even as need compels I came to know our island coastally, beaches and rocks, Hunting the sea, for foods, and a shell collectors stocks, Climbing steep rock faces, to avoid fierce tidal soaks, To reach inaccessible coves, where cliff rich finds in locks.

Where massive whelks, possibly centuries old, To refuge from previous intruders, who dared not bold The wading of deep shark infested water, with sprays shivering cold I dared, as shark and barracuda gleefully glanced, and surf there scowled.

Yet still, a friendlier sea oft smiled with sky blue eyes And in some inaccessible cove, reserved form me some new prize, Gifts of cans of cheese, or Butter, fresh, edible to realise, Ropes, boards, and catalogued valuable primeval shells of Art’s demise From a tall cliff, I watched the sea at sunrise, Distant on the horizon, season by season some new surprise Of colours, as if the sun and sea and ocean, takes on disguise Now bright, and shimmering, from May until July nor in dull seasons should we the sea despise. [P.10]

Westward to see the sunset at evening orange red or blue Staining the sea with such colours as the setting sun threw, As for the night the ball of fire bids our hemisphere adieu, All in all sunrise, mid day, sunset and the sea, taught me most of the fine art that I knew, Lonesome, and the sea keeps company from a safe seat Even at its most raving mood, foaming as it the rocks does beat Pacific, daylight or night, when phosphorescent creatures set the treat, Poor and forlorn, and you ask the seat, its charity is complete.

196

Treacherous to the careless, friendly to the cautious, Free to approach, when down hearted, overwhelmed by life’s fuss The sea is beyond any doubt God’s most treasured gift to us To me as an artist of words, and forms in any of its many moods it is always amorous.

Many are my experiences of sea and ocean As early in life a keen study I began, As I watched from St. John’s Harbour, how the sea ran, From a pacific mood, before its fury I could scan.

Beauteous and azure, beneath a cloudless sky, I observed the shadow of thin clouds floating by, Growing thicker and darker, taking a swifter fly, Until a swift wind threw billows on the breaker high The wind soon howled, as billows fiercely bashed To touch my hanging feet, where white foam smashed Hatching bubbly sprays, as my feet the billows lashed.

It was my pleasant game although often I was for daring thrashed.

My first comprehensive voyage as teenager came, When for my summer vacation I was quite game, To travel with a school mate Marvin by name, To his home Barbuda, with Captain Griffin, who hails the same.

It was the wind jama less than thirty feet, Norma G. trading in Charcoals, and Brooms, and beans and pea, and meat.

And many other products of Barbuda, her list of cargo to complete, To say nothing of fish, and Coco plum, and seaside grape sweet.

The captain lifted anchour at sunset, dusky, And taking a course north by north west when out to sea As the vessel cleared Rat Island, gliding quite freely, To the drama of phosphorescent ere[p.11] To the drama of phosphorescent creatures bouncing jocundly.

For an hour’s joyride, upon a pancake surface, The sea seemed such a delightful haven, as not a trace, Of storm clouds could be seen, on moved the vessel with such grace, That Captain Griffin gave me his tiller to my embrace, “You must learn to steer!” The captain said relaxing.

My first experience with the helm, seemed not the least taxing, Until out at sea, an hour, sails flapped and boom began to swing.

Captain exclaimed, “Wind change! The vessel need tacking!”

The course which Captain Griffin set anew, As stronger and stronger a north east wind blew Seemed off Barbuda, westward, we sailed as the wind strong grew, Until upon the bow, St Christopher its illumination threw.

The captain took the helm from me, and roped it tightly, Trying to steer the vessel from its free flight westerly.

The vessel dipped on the lee, until its deck touched on the sea.

As to make course to the lagoon in Barbuda, the captain held fiercely.

A squarl broke out, taking the vessel hard west, The captain could no longer take the hard set test, As he fought to hold the tiller hard to his chest.

“Ready bout!” The captain shouted. “Back to Antigua is the best!”

Using the easterly fringe of the North East Breeze, As to get the vessel about, the wind did tease, The western landmass of Antigua, ricocheted the wind to ease Our cruise back into St John’s harbour, that try to cease.

I learnt how fickle the open sea can change, Even when within an hour of pleasant ride to rearrange To an inexperienced sailor such as I was, the sea seemed strange.

One does not then see the sea a boat, to bold and arboured grange.

197

When the friendly peaceful sea, by night or day Changes its countinance, to storm or sqwarl, do not there play, For to provoke the angry sea, with life one often has to pay.

Whether aboard a vessel or on a surf beaten rock you stay.

I sailed aboard another vessel like the Norma G. Many years later, The Eden taken to north and east of the Caribbean Sea, Captained by Niccholson , renowned for able captaincy, [P.12] I whistled in the Dominica Guadeloupe channel. The captain stopped me.

198

“When you have a calm and friendly sea, don’t provoke it.”

When you whistle, you raise the wind, the sea doesn’t like it a bit You blow a storm, and the sea gets angry, and will cause a fright The billows will raise so high it will sink the vessel in a watery pit Once I travelled by the Princess Marina from St Lucia Captain Douglas had taken his vessel there from Dominica To be repaired on Dry Dock, we were returning from the Castries Pier Hopeful to arrive at Roseau, before daylight would appear.

We left Castries before sunset under an eastern wind in April There was a slight sqwarl, before we departed, it was reining still, Hopeful to arrive at Roseau to attend a meeting, time we should not kill Captain Odney Douglas was obliging me that appointment to fill.

We had re-caulked and painted the vessel, fitted with sail, And an eighty horse power engine, equipped enough to out run a gale, We held hard to the wind, with engine on, so that we should not fail To reach Dominica in good time early enough the dawn to hail.

With St Lucia full a stern, through tall billows we ploughed As above our mast accompanying the vessel, was a thick dark cloud, I had challenged a yachts captain, to race us to Dominica, feeling proud Of the repaired Princess Marina. “We should be hard to beat,” I said aloud The yacht was over sixty feet tall, our vessel under forty.

The yacht was one of the racer class, and ocean worthy, Aboard the Yacht was a News Reporter who worked for the BBC,

I invited him to attend the meeting in Dominica, so he did agree.

Midway in the St Lucia Martinique Channel, high rough sea running, I was searching the dusky channel leeward hopeful to be seeing The yacht, ahead or behind us pacing, or below in the furrow hiding As the said billow would twenty feet above the vessel ours bring.

Nothing in sight as the night grew darker closer to Martinique, As I was still hoping to see the yacht, by its light thus to seek, When all of a sudden at the helm, I could feel the vessel spring a leak It dragged, and stopped its rooling, it seemed over weighted so to speak.

Its timbers shuddered and the vessel appeared to creak.

First mate Elu, relieved me from the helm, and stayed the course I went forward to the bow, to check the waves, which with a force Threw the vessel low upon the leeward deck, aided by the high wind’s source. [P.13] The leeward deck was fully then submerged covering two planks, I walked the dry planks to hold the Jib’s guy to the spanks Of winward billows, as the guy and jib then fiercely wanks, Suddenly a breaker on the bow, played on my body the coldest pranks.

Bashed rom head to toe, with icy cold water from the deep, Anasthetically numb, with little sense left my path’s presence to keep Until I reached the stern, bodiless and cold as frozen ice, to sleep.

All that I could remember was tossing myself into the cabin deep.

For hours I was lost from our human world, nor could I dream.

Then I was awoken. A hot cup of Coffee, black without cream.

“We did everything to wake you up, you were dead it would seem!”

The cook averred, when suddenly I heard the Captain’s scream.

“Pump ship!” We’re sinking fast! Engine taking water! Engine stalled!

Cursing and fuming pacing the half submerged vessel, Captain bawled. “we are all going to drown tonight, none will be saved at all he sqwarled As bucket after bucket full a chain gang from hold to deck hauled, Man to the hand pump, others in a chain gang ridding the bilge water I went midship to do my piece, repaired then enough to stir, I had observed after I awoke, a three horse engine pump in a corner Of the cabin, then I shouted out. “Which do you prefer?”

199

To drown using the hand pump, and bailing the bilge by hand, When we have an engine pump in the cabin, at our command?

I then looked winward, across the sea, lights flickered on land There then miles away did Martinique illuminated majestically stand.

The sea became more friendly at that point, Even as still strong billows did the vessel’s hull annoint, “I can swim it out to shore, if you do not get my point. Or wont.”

I told the Captain. “We are sinking fast! I won’t hang around this Joint.”

200

I will not use the engine! “Let them break their backs!”

Anyhow, if we ever survive, when we reach Dominica I’ll give them all the sacks!”

Yet I insisted, “Don’t be fool hardy Captain Odney, I stand by their backs.”

“Suck ship!” shouted the captain, break your backs! Pump ship!”

Then he sent to get the engine pump, telling me softly. “Only lip!”

The engine cleared the hold, below the engine, enough to continue our trip.

Then we turned on the vessel’s engine, and of rum and coffee we had a sip. [P.14] At last we came to safety, coasting Martinique Now no longer challenged by blows high and bleak, Princess Marina glided the coastal water, its wake a silver streak, In high spirits, sailing westward, we could no longer about drowning speak.

Many were the possibilities of a watery grave, Ten miles out into the channel the high choppy sea to brave, When only an ocean worthy liner its light to our vessel gave Five nauts to leeward now down invisibly now up as it the billows shave, Some time in dangerous westward flight, Long before end of our battle with the waves, at about midnight, We ran closer to St Vincent and the Grenadines, their illumination bright,

But as I fell asleep, after the douse, back south of Martinique, north from south we won the fight.

Only to sit on anchor bilge full as the sea cork went loose Bashed by the raging billows, to the anger of Captain and Crew’s Swearing and challenging almost to mutiny as they threw abuse.

To be awoken still facing danger but being close to land good news.

Two hours later than was scheduled, in a friendly sea and channel Crossing safely from Martinique to Dominica close to Dominica’s forested coast we fell, And after sunrise, the scenic beauty of the palm, and farm and forestry the coast did tell And still a much more thrilling final leg, the Caribbean Sea gave not a swell.

As courteous friendly sea smiled up at us slate grey and blue, As we glid into Roseau Harbour, and there the ship’s anchour threw Then to the stir of business, opening, I accompanied Captain and Crew Just in time ashore, to meet my appointment, so I bid my companions adieu.

201

PL. 101 Untitled (Writing fragment “coloured race”), n.d.

PL. 102 Page from Untitled (Heraldic folio), n.d.

PL. 103 Page from Untitled (Heraldic folio), n.d.

PL. 104 Untitled (Heraldic beast [dragon]), n.d.

PL. 105 Untitled (Heraldic red beast), n.d.

PL. 106 Untitled (Heraldic beast), n.d.

PL. 107 Bob Marley, n.d.

PL. 108 Big Sale, n.d.

PL. 109 Genealogy, n.d.

PL. 110 Genealogy, n.d.

PL. 111 Untitled (Genealogical chart 3), n.d.

PL. 112 “To Our Country” composition, n.d

PL. 113 “The Universe is Composed of 14 Galaxies,” n.d.

PL. 114 The Royal Bank of Canada Deposit Book Blue, n.d.

PL. 115 Winners Achiever Series Blue Book, n.d.

A Chronology of the Life and Work of Francis Archibald Wentworth Walter Isabella Kapur

222

1632 The British Royal Navy under Englishman Edward Warner colonizes Antigua and Barbuda, enslaving, murdering, and displacing the Carib people as well as descendents of the Indigenous Arawak population.

1674 Sir Christopher Codrington starts the first sugar plantation on Antigua, and sugar production becomes the main business of the island for the next three centuries, resulting in over 150 sugar mills on the island at the industry’s height. Enslaved Africans are brought to Antigua and forced to farm sugar and other crops like tobacco and indigo. The majority of the country’s present day population is descended from these people.

1790 John Jacob Walter (1767–1828) emigrates from Germany, settling in Antigua, where he amasses enough money selling white bread to the Navy to begin a plantation. John Jacob Walter has children with Ann Bean, an enslaved biracial woman whom he never marries. He frees Bean and provides a large amount of money to both her and their children, who also become wealthy plantation owners.

1812 George Christian Walter (Frank Walter’s great great grandfather) is born the ninth child to Ann Bean and John Jacob Walter.

1834 Slavery is abolished in Antigua, though in practice many Antiguans continue to work as laborers on plantations, their opportunities limited by racial prejudice and economic stratification. Sugar remains at the core of the island’s economy. By this time, the Walter family owns a number of plantations, among which are Folly Estate, Montgomery, Bath Lodge, and Coconut Hall.

1848 George Christian Walter’s only male heir, Francis George Walter (Frank Walters’s great grandfather), is born to Sarah Joseph, an enslaved woman, but raised by George Christian Walter and his second wife. Francis George Walter follows in his father’s footsteps and manages the family’s sugar plantations.

1864 Frank Walter’s grandfather, Theophilius Stanley Reginald Montgomery Walter, is born to parents Francis George Walter and Elizabeth Lewis. Lewis comes from the Montpelier/Harman Estates and is another of John Jacob Walter’s descendants of mixed ancestry.

1894 Frank Walter’s father, Arthur Davidson Walter, is born.

1926 Francis Archibald Wentworth Walter is born on September 11 on Green Hill in Liberta, Antigua, to father Arthur Davidson Walter and mother Ann Alberta Maude Brown-Southwell.

1930 Walter begins to attend Miss Latouche’s preschool. At a very young age, he learns how to plant sugar cane.

1935 Frank Walter’s grandfather Theophilius dies, possibly murdered.

His mother and father become estranged, and his father eventually abandons Walter and his four siblings.

223

PL. 116 Profile of a Man in Striped Shirt, n.d.

1937 On January 1 Frank Walter’s mother dies of tuberculosis, leaving him in the care of his paternal grandmother Elizabeth Lewis and his aunts Aenid and Lynn Walter. His grandmother shares the family’s history, sparking Walter’s curiosity about his German ancestors.

Walter’s grandmother, though Methodist herself, chooses to raise him Catholic, as his mother had been.

1938 Walter apprentices with woodworker Coxy Coates in St. John’s, where he learns to construct furniture and toys out of mahogany and lignum vitae, among other high quality materials, and to engineer toys with moving parts. Coates also teaches Walter about their shared ancestors in the Coates family, in particular the bombastic London-based actor Robert “Romeo” Coates. Following his apprenticeship with Coates, Walter participates in another toy making and furniture production apprenticeship under his uncle Norris Walter.

1939–44 Walter attends Antigua Grammar School, where he stands out for his skill with language—in particular Latin—and with history. He also studies drawing at the Antiguan Royal Drawing Society.

1944–48 Walter graduates from Antigua Grammar School and, rather than pursuing a law degree as instructors had suggested, begins working in administration and production roles in the sugar industry. As training for his new career path, Walter completes a program at the Friar’s Hill Experiment Station.

1948 Working at the Antiguan Sugar Syndicate, Walter becomes a manager. As such, he is in charge of plantations at Cassada Gardens, Tudway, Betty’s Hope, Morris Looby, Bodkins, North Sound, and Vernons, where he introduces new technologies and approaches that repeatedly break yearly production records.

1950 From late August to early September Hurricane Dog hits Antigua, becoming the most severe hurricane in the island’s recorded history.

225

226

1953 In April, Elizabeth Lewis Walter, Frank Walter’s grandmother, dies.

Five months later Walter begins what is meant to be a ten year tour of Europe alongside his cousin Eileen Gallwey, during which he seeks ideas for how to further modernize the Antiguan sugar industry and investigates his own family’s roots in Europe. Though she ultimately rejects him, Walter considers Gallwey to be the love of his life, drawn to her intellect. When they reach England, Walter and Gallwey’s experiences diverge: Gallwey, who is white-passing, is welcomed and taken in by their Uncle Carl Walter, an actor and manager of the Caribbean Club in Piccadilly. She is able to study to become a barrister at Grays Inn, beginning a career path that ultimately leads to her becoming Chief Justice in the High Court of Jamaica, while Walter is left on his own by Carl, and struggles to secure a job in line with his years of experience as a manager in the agricultural field. Walter largely stays in England and Scotland for the next four years, working in mining and industry while conducting scientific studies, writing a history of Antigua, and continuing to research his family. He also creates poems, drawings, and paintings alongside his research pursuits. During his travels in Europe Walter regularly experiences racism. These experiences make their way into his art and writing.

1954 Walter meets BBC radio director Henry Swanzy and shares his work with him. In May, as part of the poetry and short stories segment Caribbean Voices in BBC’s Calling the West Indies series, Walter reads two of his poems, “My Dog Warwick” and “Song of the Night Peasant.” Both poems reference his life as a plantation manager in Antigua. He is also hired to read the work of other poets and writers on the program. Later in the year, Walter seeks new job opportunities further north, spending time in Leeds and Stoke-onTrent. He continues to work as a laborer and in his free time visits libraries and takes university courses. His housing status remains unstable. One of Walter’s cousins, back in London, is murdered for dating a white nurse, increasing Walter’s anxieties about the pervasive racism against West Indians in the United Kingdom, and fueling his practice of creating family trees that solidify his ties to European nobility. During this time, Walter also begins to experience hallucinations.

PL. 117 Untitled (Sunrise in blue, yellow, and orange), n.d.

1956–58 In 1956, Walter trains with the Royal Air Force (RAF), a period that ends when he is dismissed and briefly incarcerated. Walter travels around West Germany, visiting Düsseldorf, Bonn, and Cologne, and working another mining job in Gelsenkirchen for Mannesman’s Coal and Steel Works, motivated by his deep respect for miners and his belief that mining practices could provide insight into new tactics for revitalizing the agricultural industry in Antigua.

228

1958 Walter moves back to Leeds, initially looking for his brothers, and writes his history of Antigua. He continues to research his family’s roots in Germany and England, furthering his theory of the Walter family’s possible connection to European royalty. On October 17 and 18 Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip visit Leeds. Researching in the Leeds library while the Queen’s procession passes, Walter wears a crown fashioned from the plastic inner band of his German mining cap. In response to the Queen’s visit, Walter redoubles his investigation into his own potential ancestral ties to royalty.

During this time, Walter also witnesses what he calls a “space man apparition,” a vision of fluorescing aliens outside his window that wakes him one morning. This encounter becomes a source of artistic inspiration.

1959 On December 25, while visiting Cologne and Düsseldorf and attending Holy Mass, Walter has hallucinations. After a few additional days in Germany, he returns to the United Kingdom.

Walter is assaulted and robbed by a new acquaintance in Stoke-onTrent, and he is subsequently admitted to a psychiatric hospital.

Motivated to externalize his inner world, Walter begins to experiment with abstract painting.

1960 Living in the UK, Walter finds himself in and out of mental health facilities. He resides above a family home in Stoke-on-Trent and continues his artistic pursuits, especially painting and writing, while working as a coal miner. He also takes night classes at Stoke Technical College. While studying metallurgy, physics, and chemistry, Walter creates paintings outlining his theories on the scientific and psychological aspects of color. On May 4, Walter has

PL. 118 Self-Portrait Series: Yellow Shirt (Man in tree), n.d.

a vision of Charles II that instructs him to immediately travel to Scotland, where he visits locations connected to some of the nobles and royals to whom he believes he is related. The heather-covered landscape of the Grampian Mountains later appears in his art, painted from memory.

230

1961 Having spent his time in Europe working in over forty different factories and mines while investigating his heritage, in spring of 1961 Walter chooses to return to Antigua, motivated by financial need. On his way back to Antigua, he travels to France, Switzerland, Italy, and Venezuela, casting himself in the role of notable historical and mythological figures, including Christopher Columbus and Neptune. Finding that the tourism industry has overtaken the agricultural industry in Antigua, Walter moves to Dominica where he cultivates twenty-five acres of government land, The Mount Olympus Industrial and Agricultural Estate. Clearing parts of the land by hand and leaving others partially covered with vegetation to mitigate erosion and encourage crop growth, Walter establishes a charcoal production facility there, inventing new mechanisms to increase the factory’s efficiency and reach. While living on this land, Walter has abundant access to wood, and he begins to experiment with wood carving. He also continues to paint, draw, write poetry, and create music, sometimes drawing on his experiments with agriculture and his immersion in the natural world.

1965 Walter is accused of causing a disruption and detained aboard a ship while on his way to the United Kingdom, and, lacking a completed visa application, never takes his planned vacation. He recounts being detained with a Jamaican man named “Walters,” whom he may have hallucinated. He returns to Dominica.

1966 Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip go on a royal tour of the Caribbean from February to March, visiting Dominica on February 18. Walter hopes to provide the royals with a tour of his estate but is unable to do so. By 1966, Walter also begins to have visions of people and creatures attempting to take over his estate. Among these are visions of vibrant, oversized snakes and Martians, though the occasional real person also trespasses on Mount Olympus.

1967 Walter’s land in Dominica is confiscated by the government. Walter, who never received a deed with which to prove his claim to the land, seeks legal action before resigning himself to the loss and, in April, moving back to Antigua. Back in Antigua, without his former agricultural activities to occupy his time, Walter dedicates himself to artistic production, building a collection of several thousand paintings and developing ideas for the exhibition of his work. He lives in and around the capital, St. John’s, for the next few years, initially on the property of his childhood home on Nevis Street.

Among a number of entrepreneurial ventures, he plans to run a tomato canning factory. During this time, Walter also makes handtinted photocopies of his art to sell to tourists while he produces signs and wooden frames for his fellow Antiguans. Antigua becomes an Associated State within the British Empire, having internal self governance via constitutional monarchy but is still under British control on the international level.

1968 On the heels of Antigua gaining self governance, Walter joins fellow active Antiguans in introducing new political parties to the previously single party Antiguan government. Walter writes a “Draft Constitution” and “Draft Manifesto” as founder of the Antigua and Barbuda National Democratic Party. In the same year, he establishes an artist’s estate at Golden Grove, which he calls Walando. He continues to seek to support innovation in the agricultural industry of Antigua through politics and through money earned from his art.

1970 Walter starts managing his uncle Stanley Walter’s hardware store in St. John’s on Antigua while simultaneously working on his creative pursuits: writing, drawing, painting, and sculpting. He also works as a photographer and frame maker, continues to sell hand-tinted photocopies, and displays his sculptures, operating out of the hardware store. Beginning a practice he continues for the next twenty-six years, Walter records himself speaking on various subjects of interest: science, history, agriculture, and art among them. Walter applies for a British passport and is denied, leading to four years of appeals during which he suspects that his rejection by the British High Commission is motivated by racism.

231

1971 In the first election since the introduction of a multi-party system to Antigua, Frank Walter runs for Prime Minister of Antigua as a member of the National Democratic Party. Alongside incumbent Vere Bird, Frank Walter loses to his cousin George Herbet Walter of the Progressive Labour Movement.

1973 Walter develops proposals for exhibitions of his work, sending them to various organizations in Antigua and abroad, particularly in the United Kingdom and Germany. Walter also joins the Press Photo Services, which provided photography for government documents like passports.

232

1974 Walter registers Walando-Angol-PanEuro Arts and Crafts Productions with the plan to open a gallery in England from which he can sell his own work. Walter also opens a bank account in England.

1975–1984 Walter looks after his uncle while continuing to work for Press Photo Studio and with the family business.

1981 Antigua and Barbuda achieve full independence from the United Kingdom.

1984 Walter’s uncle dies, and he must give up his uncle’s shop.

1987 Walter’s only published book, Sons of Vernon Hill, is published by Vantage Press, New York, under the name Franz Walthe. The same year, he outlines his goals as an artist in the written piece “Art Markets.”

1992 Walter loses his family home due to a legal dispute, moving to a property on southern Antigua offered to him by relative Frank Brown.

1993 Following his eviction from his family home, Walter settles on a piece of land called Bailey’s Hill outside Liberta that formerly belonged to his mother.

1994–1996 Walter builds a one-story home on Bailey’s Hill by hand and begins but never completes a two-story studio space. His home on Bailey’s Hill has no electricity or running water, and he lives and works there in solitude.

2009 On February 11, 2009, Frank Walter dies at age 82 following a short illness. His artistic production during his life was prolific, resulting in over 5,000 paintings, 1,000 drawings, 600 sculptures, 2,000 photographs, and a mass of recorded and written work.

— This chronology is compiled from Barbara Paca’s biographical essay in the following publication: Paca, Barbara. Frank Walter: The Last Universal Man 1926–2009. Sante Fe, NM: Radius Books, 2017.

Additional References “Queen and Duke in Leeds for the Centenary Music Festival (1958).” YouTube, April 13, 2014. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=P19rny_0gxE. Henry, Edward T. “A History Of Antigua And Barbuda.” Antigua and Barbuda’s Government Information and Services. https://ab.gov.ag/ detail_page.php?page=25.

Pfeffer, Susanne, ed. Frank Walter: A Retrospective. Frankfurt am Main: Museum MMK für Moderne Kunst; Koenig Books, 2020.

233

PL. 119 Yellow Sky and Tree Blossoming, n.d.

PL. 120 Dombeya Tree #1, n.d.

PL. 121 Untitled (Red and green trees), n.d.

PL. 122 Untitled (God), n.d.

PL. 123 Blue Inlet, n.d.

PL. 124 Red Sunset Over Black Mountain, n.d.

PL. 125 Red Sky Yellow Sunrise #2, n.d.

PL. 126 Yellow Sunrise, n.d.

PL. 127 Dark Sunset, n.d.

PL. 128 Red Sky Yellow Sunrise, n.d.

PL. 129 Poem to Frank Walter’s Mother, Your Love is True, n.d.

PL. 130 Pink Sky Over Mountains, n.d.

PL. 131 Yellow Sun, n.d.

PL. 132 Untitled (Terra-cotta sunrise), n.d.

PL. 133 Sunset with Black Forms, n.d.

PL. 134 Sun Beams, n.d.

PL. 135 Untitled (Tambourine and harp), n.d.

PL. 136 Untitled, n.d.

Works in the Exhibition

256

PL. 1 Green Sponge Flowering Trees, n.d.

Oil on reverse of photo paper 8 x 10 inches (20.3 x 25.4 cm) Collection of Joshua Rechnitz, New York

PL.9 Untitled (Whale with round eyes), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 2 x 6 7/8 x 2 inches (5.2 x 17.6 x 5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 2 Untitled (View of sea through trees), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 7 7/8 x 9 7/8 inches (20 x 25 cm) Glenstone Museum, Potomac, Maryland

PL. 10 Untitled (Woman in dress with big shoes), n.d.

Mahogany 8 x 2 3/8 x 3 1/4 inches (20.5 x 5.9 x 8.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 3 Untitled (Pink sky, green field), n.d.

Oil on cardstock 5 1/4 x 7 1/4 inches (13.4 x 18.5 cm) Collection of Pamela Thomas-Graham PL. 4 Untitled (Blue sky, blue sea), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 8 x 9 7/8 inches (20.2 x 25 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL.5 Untitled (Blue sea, pale blue-gray sky), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 9 7/8 x 8 inches (25 x 20.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 6 Untitled (Red and blue over pale blue), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 8 x 9 7/8 inches (20.2 x 25 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 11 Untitled (Woman in a short dress), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 9 7/8 x 3 1/2 x 2 inches (25.1 x 8.9 x 5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 12 Untitled (Two men boxing), n.d.

Mahogany 6 5/8 x 4 3/8 x 2 inches (16.7 x 11.2 x 5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 13 Untitled (Yellow land, hot orange pink sky), n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover) 4 x 3 1/3 inches (10 x 8.5 cm) Collection of Jamila Willis and Courtney Willis Blair, New York

PL. 14 Starfish on Beach, n.d.

PL. 7 Oil on paper Untitled (Blue sky, gray sea, white horizon), 11 1/4 x 17 1/4 inches n.d.

Courtesy of the Walter Family Oil on black-and-white photograph verso 8 x 9 7/8 inches (20.2 x 25 cm) PL. 15 Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Heraldic dots), n.d.

Oil on Masonite PL. 8 10 x 8 5/8 inches (25.5 x 22 cm) Better be UGLY than BAD BEAUTIFUL, n.d. The Joyner/Giuffrida Collection Oil on back of photograph 8 x 9 7/8 inches (20.4 x 25 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 16 MWG Milky Way Galaxy, n.d.

Oil on fiberboard 12 1/2 x 8 1/2 inches (31.8 x 21.6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 25 Untitled (Flying fish), n.d.

Ink on card 4 x 3 inches (10 x 8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 17 “Death and the Universe,” 1994 Ink on paper, two sheets Private collection

PL. 26 Untitled (Bird in flight), n.d.

Pencil on card 1 3/4 x 3 1/3 inches (4.4 x 8.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 18 Istiophorus platypterus, Indian Swordfish, n.d.

Photocopy on white cardstock 4 x 8 inches (10.4 x 20.5 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

PL. 27 Caranx stellatus, Blue Corevalley, n.d.

Hand-painted watercolor on a photocopy 5 5/8 x 5 7/8 inches (14.4 x 14.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

PL. 19 Untitled (Bird standing on one leg), n.d.

Pencil on card 8 1/4 x 6 3/4 inches (20.8 x 17.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 28 Fish, n.d.

Graphite on paper 5 1/2 x 8 3/8 inches (13.9 x 21.4 cm) Collection of Jule Walter

PL. 20 White Bird, c. 1975 Oil on photographic paper 10 x 7 7/8 inches (25.2 x 20 cm) Private collection, New York

PL. 29 Untitled (Grid of eighteen goats, dogs, and cats), n.d.

Pencil on heavy card 7 1/4 x 10 1/8 inches (18.5 x 25.8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 21 Untitled (Sea bird catching fish), n.d.

Color pencil on paper 6 1/8 x 8 1/4 inches (15.7 x 21 cm) Collection of Jule Walter PL. 22 Untitled (Birds in flight), n.d.

Pencil on card 4 x 6 inches (10.2 x 15.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 23 Untitled (Bird in profile), n.d.

Pencil on yellow card 6 1/3 x 5 1/2 inches (16.2 x 14.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 24 Untitled (Striped fish), n.d.

Pencil on card 4 x 3 3/4 x inches (10 x 9.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 30 Nag, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 2 1/2 x 3 3/8 inches (6.4 x 8.6 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 31 Match, n.d.

Hand-painted photocopy 6.6 x 5 cm (2.59 x 2 inches) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 32 Fish, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy glued to card 2 7/8 x 2 1/8 inches (7.4 x 5.4 cm) on 5 x 4 inches (12.8 x 10.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 33 Vat, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 3 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches (8.8 x 6.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

257

PL. 34 Untitled (Bird in flight), n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 5 1/4 x 4 1/8 inches (13.2 x 10.5 x .3 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 35 Untitled (White bird on top of building), n.d.

Oil on painter’s pressboard 12 3/8 x 8 1/8 inches (31.3 x 20.6 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

258

PL. 36 Coastal scene with boat, cliffs, and shorebird, n.d.

Mixed media on paper 9 3/8 x 6 1/4 inches (23.8 x 15.9 cm) Private collection, New York PL. 37 Untitled (Crescent moon), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 8 1/2 inches (21.5 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 38 Untitled (View of trees through open window), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material backed with Masonite board 6 7/8 inches (17.5 cm) diameter, 20.5 x 20.3 x .9 cm (Masonite) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 39 Untitled (Man in profile), n.d.

Pencil on pressboard 6 1/2 x 5 1/4 x inches (16.5 x 13.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 40 Untitled (African woman with bare breasts), n.d.

Pencil on paper 12 3/4 x 8 7/8 inches (32.5 x 22.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 41 Untitled (Red sun, black mountain, gray sea), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 7 7/8 x 9 7/8 inches (20 x 25.2 cm) Collection of KAWS

PL. 42 Red Sun, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover) with metal cartridge 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) Private collection, New York PL. 43 Goat, n.d.

Graphite on paper 11.2 cm x 9.3 cm Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 44 Untitled (Work horse), n.d Pencil on card 5 x 7 inches (12.7 x 17.8 cm) Collection of Jule Walter PL. 45 Untitled, n.d.

Pencil on a brown paper bag 12 1/2 x 9 7/8 inches (32 x 25 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 46 Untitled (Dogs), n.d.

Pencil on card 5 2/3 x 8 inches (14.2 x 20 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 47 Untitled (Dog and bird), n.d.

Pencil on sketch pad paper 11 x 12 3/4 inches (28 x 32.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 48 Untitled (Dog and pup), n.d.

Pencil on sketch pad paper 11 x 12 3/4 inches (28 x 32.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 49 Untitled (Longhorn cattle), n.d.

Pencil on tan paper 8 1/4 x 11 3/4 inches (20.8 x 29.8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 50 Untitled, n.d.

Pencil on card Approx. 4 3/8 x 3 5/8 inches (11.2 x 9.3 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 51 Untitled (Seated dog), n.d.

Pencil on card 6 3/4 x 9 inches (17.2 x 23 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 52 Untitled (Cat and mouse), n.d.

Pencil on pink card 2 7/8 x 1 1/2 inches (7.2 x 3.8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 53 Untitled (Cat with long whiskers), n.d.

Pencil and pen on yellow card 4 3/4 x 4 inches (12 x 10.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 54 Untitled (Scotland with white river and trees and two birds in flight), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 4 x 3 1/4 inches (10.2 x 8.3 cm) Courtesy of Elena Bowes PL. 55 Goats Crossing a Forest Road, n.d.

Oil and pencil on cardstock 14 x 11 inches (35.7 x 28 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 56 Untitled (Black and white cow), n.d.

Oil on paper 9 3/8 x 12 3/4 inches (23.8 x 32.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 57 Untitled (Scotland with white river and trees), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 4 x 3 1/4 inches (10.2 x 8.3 cm) Collection of James Kloppenburg PL. 58 Untitled (Lavender sunset meadow), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Elena Bowes

PL. 59 Fence with Fish and Birds, n.d.

Oil on photographic paper 5 x 8 1/8 inches (12.7 x 20.5 cm) Private collection, courtesy of Ingleby Gallery PL. 60 Green Water Hurricane Sky, n.d.

Oil on vinyl 7 3/4 x 7 3/4 inches (19.7 x 19.7 cm) Private collection, New York PL. 61 Untitled (After seeding), n.d.

Oil on Linoleum backed with Masonite and framed 22.2 cm diameter Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 62 Untitled (Shark), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material backed with Masonite 7 3/4 x 7 3/4 inches (19.8 x 19.8 cm) spool diameter, 24 x 24 cm (Masonite) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 63 Untitled (Dog and wolf-like animals), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 8 1/2 inches (21.5 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 64 Untitled (Man milking a cow), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 7 5/8 dia. x 1/8 inches (19.4 (dia.) x .5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 65 Untitled (Man on beach with bats), n.d.

Oil on pressed fiber with Masonite backing 8 1/2 inches (21.5 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family

259

PL. 66 Untitled (Three buzzards), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 6 7/8 inches (17.4 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Estate of Frank Walter and Ingleby Gallery

260

PL. 74 Landscape Series, Scotland (Sea, Cliffs, and White Birds), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid card 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (9.8 x 8 cm) Private collection

PL. 67 Untitled (Black bird in tree), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material 7 5/8 inches (19.4 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 75 Landscape Series, Scotland (Black Bird with Cliffs and Obelisk), c. 1968–76 Oil on Polaroid card 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (9.8 x 8 cm) Private collection

PL. 68 Untitled (Coconut tree), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 8 7/8 inches (22.5 cm) diameter Private collection, London

PL. 76 Landscape Series, Scotland (Bay and Bird), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid card 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (9.8 x 8 cm) Private collection

PL. 69 Untitled (Blue and pink sky, green land), n.d.

Oil on biocomposite material with Masonite backing 8 1/2 inches (21.5 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 77 Landscape Series, Scotland (Beach with Birds), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid card 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (9.8 x 8 cm) Private collection

PL. 70 Untitled (All of god for me), n.d.

Oil on pressed fiber with Masonite backing 7 inches (17.7 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 71 Untitled (Man swimming in red trunks), n.d.

Oil on back of photograph 8 x 10 1/4 inches (20.3 x 26 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 72 Untitled (Young Castro), n.d.

Pencil on paper 10 x 8 inches (25.5 x 20.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 73 Untitled (Enslaved Woman), c. 1982 Pencil on back of Polaroid 5 3/4 x 4 1/4 inches (14.6 x 10.7 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

PL. 78 Untitled (Purple nocturne with chartreuse foliage), n.d.

Oil on back of Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (9.8 x 8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 79 Untitled (Scotland castle ramparts with dark blue sea, red night sky with blue and gray), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 4 x 3 1/4 inches (10.2 x 8.3 cm) Collection of Glenn Ligon PL. 80 Untitled (Red sky, birds in flight), n.d.

Oil on asphalt roofing material with Masonite backing 8 5/8 inches (21.9 cm) diameter Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 81 Untitled (Purple sky, black headlands, black sea), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 4 x 3 1/4 inches (10.2 x 8.3 cm) Collection of John Friedman/Easton Capital PL. 82 Untitled (Lavender sky, black bird formation), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (10 x 7.9 cm) Private collection PL.83 Untitled (Bird landing in blue-green sea), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.3 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 84 Untitled (Multi-colored sky with white birds), n.d.

Oil on cardstock 5 1/8 x 7 1/8 inches (13 x 18 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 85 Untitled (Colonial judge), n.d. pencil on Polaroid film box 7 7/8 x 8 1/4 inches (20 x 21 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 86 Untitled (Rastafarian man), n.d.

Pencil on paper 12 3/4 x 9 1/2 inches (32.5 x 24 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 87 Untitled (Man and woman on the street), n.d.

Pencil on sketch pad paper 13 x 9 1/2 inches (32.8 x 24 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 88 Untitled (Palm tree in the wind), n.d.

Pencil on yellow card 8 5/8 x 5 inches (22 x 12.8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 89 Untitled (Boy eating a banana), n.d.

Pencil on paper 8 2/3 x 9 1/2 inches (22 x 24 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 90 Untitled (Study for a cupboard), n.d.

Pencil on grid paper 10 1/4 x 8 1/8 inches (26.2 x 20.5 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 91 Untitled (Barrel), n.d.

Pencil and paint on back of photograph 9 7/8 x 8 inches (25.2 x 20.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 92 Untitled (Hitler in a car), n.d.

Pencil on paper 8 7/8 x 11 3/4 inches (22.5 x 30 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 93 Untitled (Family portrait), n.d.

Pencil on white card 5 1/2 x 3 1/2 x inches (14 x 9 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 94 Untitled (Women with parasol and car), n.d.

Pencil on white card 8 1/3 x 8 inches (21.2 x 20.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 95 Untitled (Woman in a minidress), n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 9 1/4 x 5 1/2 inches (23.5 x 14 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 96 Untitled (Palm tree) / Dream of the Vampires (recto), n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 9 7/8 x 5 1/2 inches (25.2 x 14 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE PL. 97 Untitled (Woman in profile), n.d.

Pencil on card 6 7/8 x 5 1/8 inches (17.5 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

261

PL. 98 Untitled (Yellow roses), n.d.

Oil and pencil on card 8 1/2 x 7 1/2 inches (21.8 x 19 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 108 Big Sale, n.d.

Oil on thick card stock 12 1/4 x 12 1/4 x 1/4 inches (31 x 31 x .6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 99 Untitled (Vase of flowers and lotus pods), n.d.

Pencil on sketch pad paper 8 1/4 x 13 2/3 inches (21 x 34.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 109 Genealogy, n.d.

Graphite and ink on grid paper Private collection

PL. 100 “The Kindness of the Sea,” 1993 Ink on paper, 9 sheets Private collection 262

PL. 101 Untitled (Writing fragment “coloured race”), n.d.

Pencil and ink on paper 8 5/8 x 7 7/8 inches (22 x 20 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PLS. 102, 103 Untitled (Heraldic folio), n.d.

Graphite on gridded paper Fifteen pages, each 12 5/8 x 7 7/8 inches (32 x 20 cm) Collection of Jule Walter PL. 104 Untitled (Heraldic beast [dragon]), n.d.

Oil on cardboard 9 7/8 x 7 7/8 inches (25 x 20 cm) Collection of KAWS PL. 105 Untitled (Heraldic red beast), n.d.

Oil on cardboard 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) Collection of Charles Struse PL. 106 Untitled (Heraldic beast), n.d.

Oil on single-ply cardboard 10 x 7 7/8 inches (25.5 x 20 cm) Collection of Jule Walter PL. 107 Bob Marley, n.d.

Paint and pencil on paper 16 1/2 x 22 1/2 inches (42 x 57 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 110 Genealogy, n.d.

Ink on paper Private collection PL. 111 Untitled (Genealogical chart 3), n.d.

Ink on paper Private collection PL. 112 “To Our Country” composition, n.d Ink on notebook paper Private collection PL. 113 “The Universe is Composed of 14 Galaxies,” n.d.

Ink and graphite on composition book pages Private collection PL. 114 The Royal Bank of Canada Deposit Book Blue, n.d.

Notebook Private collection PL. 115 Winners Achiever Series Blue Book, n.d.

Notebook Private collection PL. 116 Profile of a Man in Striped Shirt, n.d.

Oil on card 6 1/4 x 4 3/4 inches (16 x 12.1 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

PL. 117 Untitled (Sunrise in blue, yellow, and orange), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Collection of Suzanne McFayden

PL. 125 Red Sky Yellow Sunrise #2, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), with metal cartridge 3 13/16 x 3 1/4 inches (9.7 x 8.3 cm) Collection of Joshua Rechnitz

PL. 118 Self Portrait Series: Yellow Shirt (Man in tree), n.d.

Oil on photographic paper 10 x 8 inches (25.2 x 20.2 cm) Private collection, courtesy of Ingleby Gallery

PL. 126 Yellow Sunrise, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), with metal cartridge 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) Private collection, New York

PL. 119 Yellow Sky and Tree Blossoming, n.d.

Oil on card 8 x 5 inches (20.3 x 12.8 cm) Private collection, courtesy of Ingleby Gallery PL. 120 Dombeya Tree #1, n.d.

Oil on corrugated cardboard 10 7/8 x 8 1/2 inches (27.6 x 21.6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 121 Untitled (Red-and-green trees), n.d.

Oil on triple ply cardboard 9 7/8 x 7 1/8 inches (25.2 x 18 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family PL. 122 Untitled (God), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film in Polaroid film cartridge case 3 3/8 x 5 1/8 inches (8.6 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 127 Dark Sunset, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), with metal cartridge 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) Private collection, courtesy of Hirschl & Adler Galleries, New York PL. 128 Red Sky Yellow Sunrise, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), with metal cartridge 3 3/4 x 3 3/16 (9.5 x 8 cm) Private collection, New York PL. 129 Poem to Frank Walter’s Mother, Your Love is True, n.d.

Type on paper in Polaroid cartridge 3 1/2 x 2 3/4 inches (9 x 7 cm) Cartridge: 5 1/2 x 3 1/2 inches (14 cm x 9 cm) Collection of Jule Walter

PL. 130 Pink Sky Over Mountains, n.d.

Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), PL. 123 with metal cartridge Blue Inlet, n.d.

3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) Watercolor on paper (Polaroid box cover) Collection of Sarah Hogate Bacon 3 3/4 x 3 1/16 inches (9.5 x 7.8 cm) Private collection, New York PL. 131 Yellow Sun, n.d.

PL. 124 Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), Red Sunset Over Black Mountain, n.d. with metal cartridge Oil on paper (Polaroid box cover), with Image: 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.5 cm) metal cartridge Case frame: 5 1/8 x 3 3/8 x 5/8 inches 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (9.8 x 8.3 cm) (13 x 8.6 x 1.6 cm) Private collection Collection of Robert Levy, M.D.

263

264

PL. 132 Untitled (Terra-cotta sunrise), n.d.

Watercolor on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Untitled (Pink sunset, blue sky), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 133 Sunset with Black Forms, n.d.

Oil on paper 11 x 17 1/4 inches (27.9 x 43.8 cm) Collection of KAWS

Untitled (Bless forever god), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film in Polaroid film cartridge case 3 3/8 x 5 1/8 inches (8.6 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

PL. 134 Sun Beams, n.d.

Oil on photographic paper 5 x 7 7/8 inches (12.6 x 20.1 cm) Collection of Jamila Justine Willis, New York

Untitled (Lavender sunset, black hills), n.d.

Watercolor on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

PL. 135 Untitled (Tambourine and harp), n.d.

Oil on cardboard 10 7/8 x 21 3/8 inches (27.6 x 54.3 cm) Glenstone Museum, Potomac, Maryland PL. 136 Untitled, n.d.

Oil on wood panel 9 x 17 5/8 inches (22.9 x 44.8 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

NOT PICTURED

Untitled (White goat in field), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE Untitled (Green grass, blue sky), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/8 inches (10 x 8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE Untitled (God bless mom), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film in Polaroid film cartridge case 3 3/8 x 5 1/8 inches (8.6 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (God forever), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film in Polaroid film cartridge case 3 3/8 x 5 1/8 inches (8.6 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Two black birds on a white river), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE Untitled (God bless), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film in Polaroid film cartridge case 3 3/8 x 5 1/8 inches (8.6 x 13 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Untitled (Forest trees), n.d.

Oil on Polaroid film cartridge box 3 7/8 x 3 1/4 inches (10 x 8.2 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Orange, n.d.

Photocopy 3 3/8 x 2 1/2 inches (8.5 x 6.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Cat, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 4 1/4 x 2 5/8 inches (10.9 x 6.6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Ring, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 inches (6.4 x 8.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Dog, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 4 3/8 x 3 inches (11 x 7.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Rat, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 3 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches (9 x 6.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Egg, n.d.

Photocopy 4 3/4 x 4 inches (12.2 x 10.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Stall, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 inches (6.4 x 8.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Fish, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 3 7/8 x 2 3/8 inches (9.8 x 6.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Snail, n.d.

Photocopy 3 3/8 x 2 1/2 inches (8.5 x 6.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Fish, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 4 3/4 x 2 1/2 inches (12 x 6.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Untitled (Grid of sixteen bird scenes), n.d.

Black-and-white photocopy 11 x 8 1/2 inches (27.8 x 21.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Untitled (Study of five goats), n.d.

Pencil on paper 10 3/4 x 8 1/2 inches (27.5 x 21.5 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Tub, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 3 5/8 x 2 1/2 inches (9.2 x 6.3 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Hog, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 inches (6.3 x 8.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Villa, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock (cricket ticket) 2 1/2 x 3 3/8 inches (6.4 x 8.6 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Justice, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock 4 x 2 5/8 inches (10.1 x 6.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Vat, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 5 x 4 1/8 inches (12.9 x 10.5 x .3 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Mule, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 4 1/4 x 2 7/8 inches (10.9 x 7.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Xenon, n.d.

Pencil on cardstock (cricket ticket) 3 1/2 x 3 inches (8.8 x 7.8 cm) Courtesy of Barbara Paca, OBE

Untitled (Grid of sixteen fruits), n.d.

Pencil and ballpoint pen on watercolor paper 11 7/8 x 9 inches (30.1 x 22.8 x .1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

X, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy on paper 3 5/8 x 2 1/2 inches (9.1 x 6.5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

265

X, n.d.

Hand-tinted photocopy glued to card 3 1/2 x 2 1/4 inches (8.8 x 5.8 cm), pasted on card measuring 5 1/8 x 4 inches (13 x 10.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Zero, n.d.

Photocopy on white cardstock and cardboard 5 x 4 1/8 inches (12.8 x 10.6 x .2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

266

Untitled (Half-figure with v-neck sweater and big chin), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 9 7/8 x 2 7/8 x 3 5/8 inches (25 x 7.4 x 9.2 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Tall leaning man with medieval hair), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 8 3/8 x 3 3/4 x 2 5/8 inches (21.3 x 9.5 x 6.6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Woman in a short dress), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 9 7/8 x 3 1/2 x 2 inches (25.1 x 8.9 x 5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Leaning man), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 10 3/8 x 3 1/8 x 2 5/8 inches (26.4 x 8 x 6.7 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Medieval man with square face), n.d.

Acacia 16 1/8 x 3 x 2 3/4 inches (40.7 x 7.5 x 7.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Wild dog), n.d.

Acacia 2 5/8 x 9 1/4 x 2 1/2 inches (6.8 x 23.6 x 6.4 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family

Untitled (Elongated whale), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 2 3/8 x 7 1/8 x 4 inches (6 x 18 x 10.1 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Half-figure of a man with hair parted down the middle), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 7 3/4 x 3 3/8 x 2 3/8 inches (19.6 x 8.5 x 6 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Woman in a short dress), n.d.

Acacia and mahogany 9 7/8 x 3 1/2 x 2 inches (25.1 x 8.9 x 5 cm) Courtesy of the Walter Family Untitled (Helmet), n.d.

Pen and pencil on back of legal pad 8 1/2 x 7 inches (21.5 x 17.8 cm) Collection of Jule Walter Thomas Barzilay Freund Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul, 2023 Composite of 35mm negative film, 16mm motion picture film, 35mm color positive film, and Digital 4K footage 9:01 min.

Courtesy of Thomas Barzilay Freund and the Walter Family Thomas Barzilay Freund Panoramic photograph Reproduction Courtesy of Thomas Barzilay Freund and the Walter Family

MANUSCRIPTS (PRIVATE COLLECTION)

Pink Waldorf Cash Book, n.d.

Notebook

Genealogy, n.d.

Ballpoint pen on paper

Ancient history, n.d.

Notebook

Genealogy, n.d.

Ink on paper in notebook

Red memo booklet, n.d.

Notebook

Genealogy, n.d.

Ink on paper

Spanish literature, n.d.

Notebook

Notes and diagrams about weather, n.d.

Ink on paper

Memo book, n.d.

Notebook

Music book, E.J. Arnold & Son Limited Leeds. Name Francis A.W. Walter Class or Rorm Carnival 76, c. 1976 Notebook

Burgundy covered science book, c. 1971 Notebook

“A Sonnet with Supper” in exercise book with regular ruling, n.d.

Notebook Canpad Exercise Book, Queen Elizabeth II, n.d.

Notebook “Love and Emotion” in book without a cover, n.d.

Notebook

The Kingsway Jotter for Pen and Pencil, n.d.

Notebook The Charter House Spiral Bound reporters s & f, n.d.

Notebook Scottish history, n.d.

Notebook Waldorf Cash Book, n.d.

Notebook

“Occasions” in The Standard Minor Manuscript Music Book, n.d.

Notebook

Black composition, receipt, and expense book from January 1–2, 1995 only, n.d.

Notebook

Letter and musical composition, n.d.

Ink and graphite on composition paper

Canpad Exercise Book, n.d.

Notebook

“I’ll Steal You Away” musical composition, n.d.

Graphite on composition paper, two sheets

Exercise book n.d.

Notebook

Hilroy Quadruled Work Book Quadrille 28 Pages, Poetic Thoughts for 1992, n.d.

Notebook The Vicious Cycle and Erwechen Sie Gegen Die Fiende, n.d.

Notebook Cameo notebook, n.d.

Notebook

Waldorf Cash Book, Walter genealogy and history, n.d.

Notebook The Catholic Diary of 1962, n.d.

Notebook The Catholic Diary of 1964, n.d.

Notebook Ruled genealogy notebook, n.d.

Notebook

267

Agriculture The Greatest, 1985 Ink on paper “On My Approach to Writing,” 1994 Ink on paper “A Royal Visit,” 1985 Ink on paper

268

IMAGE CREDITS PLS. 9, 10, 11, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 40, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 61, 71, 72, 73, 78, 83, 86, 87, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 97, 98, 99, 101, 110, 111, 116, 129, 132, 136 Photography: Kenneth Milton

“Third Anthology of Modern Verse,” 1963 Ink on paper PLS. 1, 36, 123, 124, 125, 126, 128, 131 © Eric W. Baumgartner; courtesy of “Jupiter and the Milky Way,” 1994 Hirschl & Adler Modern, New York Ink on paper PLS. 74–77 “Refugees,” 1994 Photography: Eva Herzog Ink on paper PLS. 66, 68 “The Earthquake,” 1985 Photography: John McKenzie Ink on paper Courtesy of the Estate of Frank Walter and Ingleby Gallery “Man on the Moon,” n.d.

Ink on paper “The Solace of Solitude,” n.d.

Ink on paper “The Fourth Dimension,” 1990 Ink on paper Autobiographical transcript, c. 1974–1985 Typescript, 6284 sheets 8 1/4 x 11 5/8 x 30 inches (21 x 29.7 x 76.2 cm)

Contributors

Claire Gilman is Chief Curator at The Drawing Center.

Isabella Kapur is Curatorial Associate at The Drawing Center.

Vladimir Lucien is a writer from Saint Lucia, living in New York City. His debut collection of poems Sounding Ground won the OCM Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature in 2015. His work has been published internationally, and has been translated into Italian, Dutch, Mandarin and French. He is also the editor of the book Sent Lisi: Poems and Art of Saint Lucia and screenwriter of the documentary The Merikins, which premiered at the Trinidad and Tobago film festival in 2012.

Mia Matthias is a curator and writer based in Washington, D.C. Matthias is Assistant Curator at Glenstone Museum, where recent presentations include Alex Da Corte (2024), Kara Walker (2023), and Iconoclasts: Selections from Glenstone’s Collection (2023). Previously, Matthias held curatorial roles at the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Museum of Modern Art, and the Studio Museum in Harlem.

Barbara Paca was a close friend of Frank Walter and now represents the Walter Family Trust with the artist’s family members. Paca is a full research professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Maryland, College Park, and also teaches in the School of Architecture and Planning at Morgan State University in Baltimore. She has a PhD in art history from Princeton University and is the author of five books. She has been awarded numerous postdoctoral fellowships, including a Fulbright Scholarship and a post at Princeton’s

Institute for Advanced Study, where she is now President of the Institute for Advanced Study Members Board. In 2018 she was recognized by Her Majesty the Queen with an Order of the British Empire and currently serves as Cultural Envoy to Antigua and Barbuda.

Josh Smith (b. 1976, Okinawa, Japan) is a New York-based artist known for his versatile exploration of painting, drawing, collage, sculpture, printmaking, and artist’s books. Smith’s work has been presented in numerous solo exhibitions in the United States and abroad, including those at the Bonner Kunstverein, Bonn, Germany (2016); Museo d’Arte Contemporanea Roma, Rome (2015); Zabludowicz Collection, London (2013); The Brant Foundation Art Study Center, Greenwich, Connecticut (2011); Centre d’Art Contemporain Genève (2009); De Hallen Haarlem, The Netherlands (2009-2010); Museum Moderner Kunst Stiftung Ludwig Wien (mumok), Vienna (2008); and SculptureCenter, Long Island City, New York (2004).

Lynette Yiadom-Boakye (b. 1977, London) is a London-based artist and writer of Ghanaian descent. She attended Falmouth School of Art and the Royal Academy Schools. Her most recent solo exhibitions have been No Twilight Too Mighty at the Guggenheim Bilbao (2023) and Fly in League with the Night, which toured Europe and was organized by the Tate Britain in 2021. Other notable solo shows include those at the New Museum (2017), Serpentine Gallery (2015) and Studio Museum in Harlem (2010). She was included in the inaugural Ghanaian pavilion at the 2019 Venice Biennale.

Her artwork is included in numerous institutional collections.

Board of Directors

Staff

Co-Chairs Andrea Crane Amy Gold

Laura Hoptman Executive Director

Treasurer Stacey Goergen Secretary Dita Amory Frances Beatty Adler David R. Baum Valentina Castellani Brad Cloepfil Hilary Hatch Harry Tappan Heher Priscila Hudgins Rhiannon Kubicka Iris Z. Marden Adam Pendleton David M. Pohl Nancy Poses Almine Ruiz-Picasso Jane Dresner Sadaka David Salle Curtis Talwst Santiago Joyce Siegel Amy Sillman Galia Meiri Stawski Rirkrit Tiravanija Barbara Toll Jean-Edouard van Praet d’Amerloo Waqas Wajahat Linda Yablonsky Emeritus Eric Rudin

Olga Valle Tetkowski Deputy Director Rebecca Brickman Director of Development Rebecca DiGiovanna Administrative Manager Sarah Fogel Registrar Claire Gilman Chief Curator Aimee Good Director of Education and Community Programs Isabella Kapur Curatorial Associate Ryan Moore Visitor Services Associate Valerie Newton Senior Manager of Retail and Visitor Experience Anna Oliver Bookstore Manager Isa Riquezes Communications and Marketing Associate Olivia Shao Burger Collection & TOY Meets Art Curator Tiffany Shi Development Manager Allison Underwood Director of Communications Aaron Zimmerman Operations Manager & Head Preparator

Published on the occasion of the exhibitions Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul and Josh Smith: Life Drawing Organized by Claire Gilman, Chief Curator, with Isabella Kapur, Curatorial Associate. Barbara Paca is Consulting Curator for Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul.

This is number 156 of the Drawing Papers, a series of publications documenting The Drawing Center’s exhibitions and programs and providing a forum for the study of drawing.

Editor Joanna Ahlberg

The Drawing Center June 21–September 15, 2024

Design Dandelion / Peter Ahlberg

Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul and Josh Smith: Life Drawing are made possible

by The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts.

Printing & Binding Shapco Printing, Minneapolis, MN

Generous funding for Frank Walter: To Capture a Soul is provided by Sandra Wijnberg and Hugh Freund, Elena Bowes, Noel E.D. Kirnon, Frank Williams, and an anonymous donor.

This publication is made possible by David Zwirner.

About the Type This book is set in Publico Text (Roman, Italic, and Bold). It is part of the Publico Collection, designed

by Ross Milne, Christian Schwartz, Paul Barnes, Kai Bernau, and Greg Gazdowicz, and released incrementally

by Commercial Type in 2009, 2013, and 2014. This book also uses Plain (Regular and Italic), which was designed by François Rappo and released by Optimo Type Foundry in 2014.

ISBN 979-8-9876009-5-5 © 2024 The Drawing Center All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without written permission from The Drawing Center.

Frank Walter To Capture a Soul Enter the captivating world of Antiguan artist and polymath Frank Walter (1926–2009), whose relentless urge to explore, document, and reimagine the world around him resulted in the creation of a wide-ranging body of work that comprises nearly 10,000 objects and a massive written archive. This volume showcases well over a hundred of Walter’s diverse works, ranging from vibrant landscapes to abstract cosmological compositions, from portraits of the natural world to genealogical charts and musical scores. New scholarship provides insights not only into Walter’s artistic process but also his relationship to issues of race and identity as well as the colonial and postcolonial experience. Contributions by contemporary artists and writers are evidence of the enduring legacy of Walter’s profound vision and creative spirit.

Contributions by Claire Gilman Isabella Kapur Vladimir Lucien Mia Matthias Barbara Paca Josh Smith Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

ISBN 979-8987600955

9

798987

600955