Eight Paintings (1951-1962) by Francis A. Ruzicka in the C.L. Morehead Jr. Collection

Published by the Ceorgia Museum of Art in conjunction with the exhibition The

Cift of Sight: Eight Earty Paintings by Frank Ruzicka JanuarY

1

0-FebruarY

1

5, 2004

With the gracious suPPort of C' L' Morehead Jr'

C.

L.

EICHT PAINTINCS 1951 - 1962

BY FRANCIS A. RUZICKA IN THE MOREH EAD JR. COLLECTTON

ATH ENS, C EO RC IA

FRANCIS A. RUZICI<A 1

924-2003

Frank Ruzicka writes elsewhere in this small book about the passingofhis respected friend and mentor ProfessorJohn Fabion: "The loss ofa trusted, reliable mentorwas extremely diffrcultto accept, but t knew that I could always keep his spirit and vision alive as I taught my figure drawing classes. I could think of no better way to express my thanks for his unwaveringfaith in me, and I feel my commitment to continue respecting his peddgogl would have been a great satisfaction to him." Those of us who were fortunate enough to have known Professor Ruzicka through his art, his teaching and his life will continue n keep his own spirit and vision alive, and the cycle continues.

A. Ruzicka, Professor Emeritus of Art, University of Ceorgia, was born in Chicago, May 21,1924, and grew up in Racine, Wisconsin. He served in the United States Marine Corps in World War ll. Ruzicka received his B.S degree (mechanical engineering) from the University of Michigan, B.F.A. degree (drawing and painting) from the School of the Art lnstitute of Chicago, M.F.A. degree (drawing, painting, and princmaking), and M.S. degree (art education) from Pratt lnstitute. He served as president of Parsons School of Design in New York, chairman ofthe department of art and associace dean of the College of the Arts at Ohio State University, and head of the department of art at the University of Ceorgia. Consultant and Francis

accreditation evaluator for colleges, universities, and professional schools throughout the United States, he also served as juror for numerous exhibitions and competitions and as a member of boards of directors/advisors for museums and art organizations. He was elected a Fellow and Life Member of the National Association of Schools of Art and Design in 1978 for distinguished service to the association.

After his retirement in 1993, Mr. Ruzicka continued to live in Athens, Ceorgia, until his death in 2003. The Eight Paintings was his first venture as an author.

a

PREFACE I feel obliged at the outset to inform the reader that no lofty purpose morivated the preparation and publication of this booklet. The limiced breadth of its content will make that rather obvious. lt is not incended to be an "art bool<" celebrating the work ofan artist nor a coffee table accessory adding a touch ofcultural awareness in a home. (lt isn't nearly enough or sufficiently comprehensive ro qualiI for those categories.) Above all, it is not a project engendered by hubris. None of these influences played any part in the decision co bring together the images and narration in this work.

The genesis of this essay is simply my wish co record for my family and a few old and very dear friends who inquire about my work from time to time the stories behind the eight paincings depicted herein and some ofthe related activities that became such memorable moments in my travels abroad. lt also is intended as an expression of gratitude to all those who were so highly supportive during my student years in art and made the European experience possible.

The paincings are the works remaining in my possession, and in retrospect, having had many years to reflect on cheir symbolism and of their influence on my thoughts abouc art in the broadest sense, I consider chem to be adequately representative ofmy insight into the nature ofthe visual arts. Clearly, they are notthe stacements ofan accomplished painter. To the contrary, as works I produced as a student, they are imbued with the typical signs ofthe learning process and devoid of any hint of an emerging style or direction that would link them as steps along a path roward a mature, cohesive imagery. lndeed, if any philosophical basis for these worl<s can be extracted, it is that each attempt was approached with the carefree, experimental fascination of a beginner who was discovering the vexatious problem of putting pigment on canvas and trying to mal<e it behave, with no concerns whatever about developing a

or attaining the celestial scacus of being invited to membership in a recognized peer group. As my earliest paintings, they were efforts from which I sought to learn abouc the building-blocks of arc. During the same period, there were many helpful facultywho opened my eyes, and I began to see.

Each work contributed to my cumulative understanding of art and my appreciation of the unrelencing struggles artists face day after day-necessarily working alone in the solitude of the studio, coping wirh che fruscrarions of repeaced failures in search of che elusive solution to a compositional quandary or the precise color needed to infuse an area with compatible harmony and vitality. A completely satisfactory outcome is rarely, if ever, achieved, but any change for the better, consistent methodology

whether it occurs through the control of the artist or is an intuitive, virtually accidental episode, is gratefully ucilized. lhave encountered such moments repeatedly in these works despite their limiced number and che eclectic nature of my subject matter.

Thus, these eight paintings, individually and collectively, constitute an important core memory in my life and, as such, an omnipresent reminder of how deeply I am indebted to my teachers for their endless patience and understanding, as well as the steady encouragement chey expressed through their escalating expectations of mywork. Regrettably, all of them are deceased. lwish lcould thank each of them again for the assistance they always provided so willingly and for the indelible imprints they made on my life. I was a very fortunate student.

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THE SCHOOL OF THE ART INSTITUTE OF CHICACO AND THE JAMES NELSON RAYMOND FELLOWSHIP to The oil paintings reproduced in this b'ooklet, which are dated from 195'1 on 1962,were don. ttih" School ofthe Art lnstitute ofChicago, where I enrolled Those the C.l. Bill as a full-time student at the age of twenty-seven inJanuary 1951' dated 1955 and 1956 were completed from notes and a few photographic recipient of the references during or immediately afrer my travel and study abroad as JamesNelsonRa'ymondForeignTravelFellowshipfromtheschoolinJunel954'The

paintingdatedlg62*ase,ec-utedduringmygraduatestudyatthePrattlnstitutein New York.

To begin, I had no intention of applying for the annual fellowship competition were for graduaiing students, feeling that my ideas and understanding about art My figure qricl" rpurt frim prevailing school politics and trends in student worl<' jru*ing instructor, ho*"u"e., tool< matters inco his own hands and unilaterally ou"rrrlfd my decision the moment he learned of it' ProfessorJohn Fabion' a World

WarlldecoratedMarine,obtainedanapplicationformslightlymorethananhour

I sign the before the deadline, secured the necessary faculty endorsements, insisted

form, and hastened to submit it to the school office' I was In the preliminary round, my portfolio was selected by faculty vote' and then placed in the group of finalists numbering about twelve students We were The procedures' competition about Ropp Hubert Dean assembled unibri"f.d by and selfgeneral mood of the gioup struck me as one of inrense seriousness

akin to an al*-ost sec.etive "do whatever it takes" atmosphere to win one I quietly resolved to remain relaxed and make the experience as fellowships. of the become less than enjoyable as possible, even though I sensed that the climate would situation standard the to be said was That iorward' moved the amicable as Process

irot..tion,

in previous comPetitions.

studios, The flnalists were excused from reguIar classes, given access to reserved for about a month assigned a range of drawing and painting problems, and worked of rhe with"out any int-erferenc" oifu.rlry involvement of any l<ind. At the conclusion

comparisons. as session, marl<ed by a flurry of touch-up activiry and side-glance were taken pieces completed rhe competitors, studenrs looked ar the woris of their

,o . ,..r..d

museum gallery and juried by an outside panel of highly qualified

individuals assembled by the school and museum administrations' review After the jurors finished rating the worl<s, faculty members were able to Wieghardt' the entire collection. My painting in,,"t'o' at the time, Professor Paul me and asked me was so upset when he saw my p.intings that he quicl<ly located of color' why I hadn't been more.onrira.n, with my compositional decisions' use looked paintings my of each felt that He imagery' painting technique, and general

liketheworl<ofadifferentp..,on,"ndhewasshakinghisheadindismay,thinking thatlhadlosttheopportunitytomakeaPersuasiveStatementinthecompetition.

Ropp l Several days laier, the list of fellowship awards was posted by Dean top-rated two of the one of looked at it in iisbelief when I saw my name as recipient sat awards. I walked into Blackstone Hall, adjacent to the school entrance, and his down to collect my thoughts; I then called Professor Fabion, thinking that

extraordinaryeffortsonmybeh.lfentit|edhimtobenotifiedfirst.Hewaselatedat the news, struggling for something to say' Many years earlier, as an Art lnstitute

student, he had received the top fellowship and felt that I now joined him in this special circle.

After Professor Wieghardr saw rhe awards list, he greeted me warmly with words of congratulation and suggested chat my arrirude about competirion was very commendable. I felt thac despite his earlier apprehensions, he was genuinely pleased that I was one ofthe winners, and he smiled during our firm handshake.

Although ic seems rather improbable, at times I still wonder if my determination

to

remain unconstrained during the competition was related to the fact that worked with several nationally-recognized painters with vasrly differing teaching styles during my studies. Was I perhaps reflecting my affiliation with rhem and my esteem for them in my paintings? lt could have happened easily because I admired and respected all ofrhem.

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THE PAINTINC FACULTY My first full-time painting instructor was Professor Laura Van Pappelendam, a

delightful, diminutive, gentle Quaker nearing retirement, whose boundless enthusiasm) helpfulness, patience, and soft-spoken encouragement were crademarks of her inspirational teaching. Among her ceachers were Ceorge Bellows and Diego Rivera, and her long career as a painter was marl<ed by a number of major awards and medals. Her influence on my initial understanding of art was truly profound.

More than anyone else, she helped me to "see" and showed me how to mal<e any aspect of a composition "work" in whatever way the artist needed. My debr to her remains so hear,y that repayment would be impossible, and my admiration for her quiet, endearing humility is without limit to this day.

Professor Louis Ritman, with whom I studied in evening classes, taught me how to construct a portrait beginning with the features of the sl<ull as a framework and

it rather than resorting to the surface features that become so beguiling in a face. During class breal<s, we sometimes chatted about Amedeo Modigliani, an artist whose work I greatly admired and whom Ritman knew quite well during Amedeo's years in Paris in the early 1900s. His accounts of interactions with Modigliani made the artist very much alive in my mind, and he recalled how he once painted oVer two Modigliani canvases the artist had stored wich him when he (Ritman) needed a canvas for his own work. Having lost all track of the paintings decades earlier, he could only speculate, with a pensive smile and a shrug of his shoulders, about che tragic loss influenced on the art world when he oblirerated Amedeo's work. Both of us wondered who might now own the Ritman paintings without the slightest notion they covered Modigliani originals.

Studies at academies in Cologne and Dresden and with Paul Klee in Weimar provided Professor Paul Wieghardt with a keen insight into emerging conremporary direction in painting. He was very helpful in showing me how simple planar, single color areas in a painting could maintain their structural strengch, even when the lighter values were ucilized. His acceptance of freedom of choice and flexibility in compositional issues gave students wide latitude in organizing a canvas, but he building upon

always

em

phasized consistency.

Of all the painting instructors, Professor Boris Anisfeld was the most demanding and forceful. A product of classical Russian art academies, he was -5-

l<nown for theatrical stage and costume design and once collaborated with Serger Prol<ofiev on stage sets for his opera, The Love forThree Oranges. A small, somewhat stocl<y, stooped figure wich long gray hair and a scraggly beard, speal<ing broken English with a heavy Russian accent, he appeared gruff and intimidating, but he was a kindly person dedicated to worl<ing with his students. His figure painting class, legendary at the Art lnstitute, was limited to advanced students, and when it was

discovered in the third week of the semescer that I had somehow managed to foil the system, escape detection, and enroll as a beginner, it was decided that I should remain in the class and struggle-and struggle ldid!

Anisfeld was a master colorist and draftsman who might allow students to stumble along with a lifeless figure paincing for several days and then rescue them in a minute with a quick series of corrective brush strokes that would bring the entire image bacl<to life. He made brushfuls of pigment do wonders under his fluid, almosc magical, touch. The biting criticisms I received from him as he watched me muddle chrough a painting were invaluable lessons, and I still smile over those cherished memories. He once told me that lcouldn't draw, couldn't paint, and advised me to become a plumber! T6e highest compliment I ever received from him after toiling for two years in his class came when he Iool<ed with mild approval at a small portrait was completing and quietly said, "Vell, dot's bedder."

I cannot conclude the commentary about Anisfeld without recounting the following item. Professor Anisfeld had been a widower for many years, and according toJohn Fabion, his trusted confidant, he was a rather Ionely f,igure. At the completion ofeach school year,he retreated to a cabin in Colorado and spent the summer months painting and relaxing. To assist him with daily chores, such as driving the car, shopping for groceries, and preparing meals, he invited one of his senior students to accompany him and share the cabin studio as a private student, without any expense, getting the personal attention of Anisfeld as they painted rogether. To be selected forthis unique privilege was considered the ultimate honor I

among Anisfeld students.

The reader can well imagine my absolute astonishment when Professor Anisfeld invited me in June 1954, when I graduated, to spend the summer in Colorado with him. It was heartbreal<ing when I had to explain to him that only a few days earlier had agreed to tal<e a job in Racine co earn money for current exPenses and prepare for my European trip. I felt obligated to honor my worl< to the emPloyer, alchough it was a devastating decision, and I have experienced pangs of regrec over it many times. I could hardly bear the thoughc that I had disappointed that kind, caring old genrleman and wonderful reacher. There will never be anorher lil<e Boris Anisfeld, and it was my good fortune to study with him as he encered the twilight years of his I

renowned teaching career.

There were many other f,aculty at the Art lnsticute who were helpful throughout my scudies; the school had outstanding artist-teachers in every discipline, and I was privileged to work with a number of them. Faculty in drawing, design, anatomy,

color, printmal<ing, and other scudio courses too numerous to be identified individually, contributed significantly to my undergraduate experience and will always have my gratitude.

One instructor, however, must be singled out for the exceptional impact he had on my worl< throughout the many years of our warm friendship. I metJohn Fabion when I enrolled in his saturday figure drawing class ar the Art lnstitute in 1948, knowing virtually norhing about the figure or drawing, but anxious ro try and willing

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co learn. Professor Fabion proved to be the ideal teacher for my situation; casehardened and demanding, he expecred his srudents to feel exhausted at the end of class if they did their best. After three years of Saturday classes, commuting from Racine, Wisconsin, to Chicago, and filling the studio wastebasket wich hundreds of inept cont6 crayon and charcoal actempts) I finally began to grasp the ideas Fabion espoused in drawing the human figure, utilizing them in the development of my own concepts of figure imagery. My drawings had improved ro rhe poinr that Fabion suggested enrollment as a full-time student, and I decided to give up my regular job (l worl<ed as an engineer for a firm in Racine) and apply for admission. Many of my friends voiced surprise and doubts about my decision. My facher, however, was very understanding, and I prepared to pursue the fine arts, following in the footsteps of my uncle, Antonin, who studied at the Art lnstitute just prior to World War I and died in the service in 1918. Crowing up amid many of his paincings in our home in Racine, I had long recognized him as my role model.

Following admission as a full-cime student, I continued to study with Fabion and we became fast friends. He was very generous with his assistance and guidance, not only in matters relating to drawing, but in other aspects of my program ofstudy and the resources ofthe school. His advice, based on many years ofexperience as both artist and teacher, was always offered in the spirit of helpfulness and I always respected it, even when we disagreed about some issue, as happened occasionally.

Fabion thought of himself as first a sculptor, then a painter and figure draftsman, but most of his colleagues admired his drawings more than his orher worl<s. When I lived in his apartmenc and studio on Chesnut Street while he and his

wife, Patricia, traveled in Europe in 1953, I became familiar with many of

his

sculptures, paintings, and drawings, and I realized how broadly accomplished he was in all these disciplines.

After graduation in 1954, when I was preparing to go abroad, Fabion urged me to plan for a stay in Florence, knowing from his own study there how important an extended exposure to Florentine art treasures can be for a student. I heeded his suggestion and never regretted it.

TH E EU ROPEAN EXPERIENCE The fellowship provided a stiPend of $2,500 and on December 6, 1954,1 departed for Europe on the ltalian liner, Christofor Colombo. On arrival in Florence ten days later, I took a room ar the Pensione Barrolini, located on the south bank ofthe Arno River at Lungarno cuicciardini. Within a few days, I was enrolled in a figure drawing class at rhe Accademia di Belle Arti conducred by Professor ottone Rosai, who made a brief appearance in class once or twice a weel<, leaving the instructional duties in the hands of a young, rather casual assiscant.

A very good hometown friend, James Hoffman, a Prix de Rome recipient in painting, was in residence at the American Academy in Rome. Jim and I became acquainted at the Wustum Museum of Fine Arts in Racine during its formative years ani shared studio space in rhe museum barn. lt was the ongoing generosity and assistance of the director, Sylvester Jerry, and his wife, Cherry, both widelyrecognized artists, that made our early experience in art so instrumental to our future deueiop-"nt. The Jerrys came ro Racine in 1941 , when Mr. Jerry was offered the

position of director of the newly-created wusrum Museum, and he and Cherry,

always working as a ream and coping with the meager resources available by the city,

steadily brought the museum to fruition as a viable community enterprise. Many Racine artisrs, including.Jim and myself, would always acl<nowledge their deep indebtedness to that warm, benevolent, remarl<able couple who ignited a creative arts spirir in their adopted city, an achievement that stands firmly as their enduring legacy.

ln spring 1955,.Jim and his friend, Alan Cussow of NewYork, another Prix de Rome painter, came to Florence and visited me ar the Bartolini. They informed me of a srudio vacancy ar rhe academy and urged me ro apply. My fellowship made me eligible for temporary vacancies, and I wrote ro the director, Laurance Roberts, that I could be in Rome quickly if I was selected for the studio. After "*pluining hearing fiom Roberts rhat rhe space would be held for me, lwithdrew from the Accademia and, carrying my one suitcase, took a train co Rome' At the academy, an outbuilding known as Casa Rusrica was made available to me, and I assembled the basic components of a studio. Although I complered a few paintings on Masonite during myoccupancy, the problems and the exPense ofhavingworks shipped to the United States persuaded me to resort to drawings. I chose to destroy most of the paintings, which were of modest size and not very successful, leaving the unused materials for others.

On May 21 ,1955, my thirty-first birthday, my bookkeeping records indicated that I had expended $500 of my stipend, covering all expenses for the almosc sixmonrh period since leaving rhe United states, including the cost ofocean Passage.

To think of it now, that sum seems impossible, bur extreme frugality was standard practice. I celebraced the occasion quietly in my academy room by enjoying the last piece of Christmas fruitcal<e that had been given me prior to sailing' Many friendships emerged during my stay ac the academy' Among them were painters Alan cussow and Al Blaustein, painter/sculptor )ackZqac, architect Robert Venturi, composer Yehudi wyner, and classicists Dr. Virginia Callahan and Dr. Charles Babcocl<, who later became a colleague at ohio state University, where he was dean of the College of Arts and sciences. lwas also privileged to meet many other leading figures in rhe arrs, including poets W.H. Auden and Richard wilbur,

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and poet/critic Allen Tace, whose nagging sore throat during his stop at the academy was relieved by an antibiotic lozenge from a first aid packet.

Having spent major portions of my time in Florence, Rome, and Paris, I devoted many hours to their most important galleries, cathedrals, and other cultural sites, especially the Uffizi and Pitti Calleries, the Bargello, the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican collections, and the Louvre and l'Orangerie museums. Although lcould recount numerous ocher episodes that typified my sightseeing ventures throughout Europe, they would be only incidental events. A more informacive summary is the following lisc of key art centers in Western Europe and the basic ob.jectives of my visits.

Amsterdam: The Rijksmuseum

to contemplate and enjoy the works of

Rembrandt van Rijn and Jan Vermeer.

London: The National Callery and the Tate Callery.

Madrid: The Prado to see the paintings and prints of Francisco de Coya.

Colmar: The Isenheim Altarpiece, particularly che Crucifixion panel.

Chent: The Chent Altarpiece by Hubert and Jan van Eyck; closed when our group was admitted, the panels were fully opened for our viewing.

Chartres: The magnificent windows of Chartres Cathedral and the exterior figure sculptures adorning its portals.

Barcelona: The architecture of Antonio Caudi, especially the unfinished Sagrada Familia (Cathedral of the Holy Family); upon payment of a small fee, I was permitted to climb to the top inside of one ofthe spires as the wind whistled through numerous openings.

Venice: St. Mark's Square and also to locate the bronze equestrian monument

of

Bartolommeo Colleoni by Andrea del Verrocchio, about which I first

heard in my eighth grade art class and which proved to be as impressive and powerful as the teacher, Katherine Hilt, suggested.

Ravenna: A short trip on a rented bicycle to S. Apollinare in Classe to see the Byzantine mosaics and the mosaics of Emperor Justinian and Empress Theodora in S. Vitale.

Otterlo: The Kroller-MLiller Museum to see the Vincent van Cogh colleccion.

Vienna: The Kunsthistorisches Museum.

Milan: The Milan Cathedral with its overwhelming Cothic decoration.

Another memorable visit was che short trip to the fourteenth-century Carthusian Monastery at.Calluzzo near Florence, suggested by Anne Hopkins, an American writertraveling in ltaly and a recent arrival at che Bartolini. Learning of the monastery in her guidebook, she decided to see it and invited me to join her. lt housed numerous sixteenth- and sevenceenth-century paintings of the Florencine school, as well as terra cotta medallions byAndrea and Ciovanni della Robbia and frescoes by Pontormo. The following morning, we took atram, which we quickly dubbed "The Toonerville Trolley," from Ponte alla Carraia, near the pensione, to the base of the mouncain on which the monastery was located. The tiring hike up a winding, rocky pathway proved worth the effort; the view from the top, overlooking a lovely valley and the tiny village of Calluzzo, was breathtaking.

Later in the day, we made our way down co a grassy plain along a stream, Fiume

d'Ema, and had a picn ic lunch of vino bianco, a wedge of pecorino, and a small sack of biscotti while we watched the women of the village doing laundry on the rocl<s along the opposite side of the stream. An elderly shepherd with his flock of sheep strolled along the opposite bank, and we watched him in silence until he disappeared from view. The entire day had been so idyllic that the noisy, bouncy trolley ride back to che

city was a distressing intrusion, and we looked forward to a quiet dinner at the pensione.

Recognizing that every experience in life must one day come to an end and well aware that my financial resources were dwindling, reluctantly I left the pensione in the late fall of 1955 afcer an emotional farewell evening with members of the warmhearted, generous Bartolini family, who had virtually adopted me for the length of mystay. lalways feltthatthe room and board charges I paid were hardly more than a break-even price, and I contributed only che slimmest margin of profit to the operation ofthe pensione, such was the extent ofthe family benefaction. After final briefstopovers in Paris and London, I took a train to Southampton, where I boarded the Queen Mary in )anuary 1956, and endured an icy, fog-shrouded, stormy North Atlantic crossing to NewYork, at which point my fellowship adventures came to a conclusion.

ln 1957,1

accepted a teaching and administracive position at the Parsons

School of Design in New York. Professor Fabion and I continued to exchange letters periodically, and we always managed to get together for lunch or dinner whenever was in Chicago. Those occasions inevitably included a visit to his studio (then located at 920 Castlewood Terrace) to see his latest sculptures and spend some time reminiscing. Our friendship had grown very special and very deep over the years, and our sessions in Chicago were always thoroughly enioyable reunions. When I was informed by the dean ofthe School ofthe Art lnstitute ofChicago that Professor EmeritusJohn Fabion died on February 21,1982, at the age of seventy-six, I was utterly depressed. The loss of a trusted, reliable mentor was extremely difficult to accept, but I knew that I could always l<eep his spirit and vision alive as I taughc my figure drawing classes. I could chinl< of no better way to express my thanks for his unwavering faith in me, and I feel my commitment to continue resPecting his pedagogy would have been a great satisfaction to him.

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THE EICHT PAINTINCS

Still Life with Wax

Fruit,1951 (cover)

Oil on canvas 24 X 30 inches Signed: lower right

Despite a few typical classroom exercises intended as introduction to the handling

of oil paint, this canvas was my first effort at a complete painting from a still life.

I

remember it well, especially the repeated attempts to place the objects as they actually existed, to mix the colors carefully and to get everything "right." As a painting done in my first Saturday still life class, the seven-day intervals between sessions disrupted the feeling ofcontinuity and each time I returned to the canvas, I felt uncertain about my efforts. I did, however, begin to interpret composition and color more freely, if always somewhat tentatively, and also tried to refrain from fussing with various aspects ofthe worl< that always seemed to need "correction."

The instructor, David Landis, offered several suggestions as the worl< progressed, but it was in the flnal stages.ofthe painting, after three or four Saturdays, that I received the critique that was most helpful. lc came from Professor Fabion, who had arrived to teach his drawing class and stopped at the painting studio to see how I was doing. His comments, a slightly softer version of the Boris Anisfeld approach, were decisive in getting me to flnish the canvas by "painting instead ofputtering," and my final hour or so at the easel was an important learning experience. Although I once came close to destroying the painting as a bumbling effort that would probably haunt me for life, it has served as a constant reminder of my early struggles.

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Christine,1954 Oil on canvas 48 X 24 inches Signed: lower right

This painting was one of the assigned problems that constituted the required component of the James Nelson Raymond Fellowship competition. Christine was a favorite model at the Art lnstitute, always very natural and relaxed in her poses and always aware of the students' needs even if it meant tal<ing fewer breaks during modeling sessions. As were all the fellowship competitors, I was very familiar with Christine's worl< from figure drawing classes and I was delighted with the opportunity to do a final, fulllengLh painting of her as a comperirion piece.

The pose established by the faculty was a simple standing, tranquil figure, ideally suited to Christine's dignified manner in modeling. A number of very light fabrics were hung loosely behind her, adding to the casual, informal atmosphere of the pose. When first saw the scene, I immediately thought of Christine deeply involved in a very private moment of reflection, with the gauze-like fabrics serving to provide her with a modicum ofsolitude. Quite instinccively, I began to sketch her lighcly in charcoal on the canvas, mal<ing almost no changes as the drawing proceeded, and after a light spray of fixative, started to apply thin oil washes to establish form and color. I became aware quicl<ly that this approach was not my usual practice, which utilized denser washes even in the earliest stages of a painting, but the lighter, more fluid touch was an almost intuitive response to the serenity ofthe subject.

Many of the initial washes remained untouched; it was my judgment that the acmosphere of che painting would be steadily diminished if the washes were over painred, and I believe my perception was correct. One troublesome item did arise. The model's left foot did not satisfl/ me as originally depicted, and I persuaded a friend to place her foot in the same pose while I made several pencil studies. After three or four variations were tried on the canvas, a final version was put in place, perhaps more in ultimate frustration than satisfaction, trut other artist friends who saw the result assured me that it was consistent with the rest of the figure and worl<ed well. I chose to tal<e their word.

I felt that Christine was the most successful nude I painted during my student years, largely because I approached it with a sense of elation, quietly dismissing any concerns at the outset for the finished product. Being overly concerned was my usual failing and my frequent undoing. Thus, this canvas was another prime learning experience.

I

Night Fisherman, 1954

Oil on canvas 48 X 32 inches Signed: lower right

This composition, in which three figures had to be included, was another of the required worl<s in theJames Nelson Raymond Fellowship competition. The subject matter and format were the choice ofthe student. After considering a few ideas, I recalled a

painting of a fisherman done by a friend in Racine and it triggered some boyhood memories I had of Lal<e Michigan fishermen. Some pencil sl<ecches led nowhere and decided I was being too realistic with the images. I began thinking of the painting as a design, employing geometric shapes and using a palette l<nife to apply areas of heavy pigment. ln the early stages, the composition contained too much scattered geometry and lacked a dominant theme or a focal point. The three figures appeared to be arbitrary I

items placed in an unrelated setting and attempted remedial efforts repeatedly resulted in pigment being scraped from the canvas almost as soon as ic was applied. I was not very optimistic about my chances to resurrect the worl<.

Once again, I decided that perhaps I was being too cautious and meciculous in trying to control every aspect ofthe composition to the point ofvisual exhaustion. I l<new I had to begin again, start afresh, and allow the painting to develop in a less restrictive climate. With my confidence waning, I tacl<led the problem again and began developing new images, hoping to extract the key to a cohesive work. Switching to a night scene and introducing blacl< areas added drama to the painting and served to emphasize the other colors. The canvas became revitalized and I continued worl<ing with increased enthusiasm and a sense ofreestablished control. Despite worl<ing intently, I was not able to flnish the painting in the allotted time and a few minor issues that I hoped to address remain unsolved. Fortunately, they did not impact the work adversely. ln the final analysis, I felt I had worl<ed my way through another group of painting problems and tal<en a few more positive sreps as a studenr painter.

Tyrrhenian Harbor No.

1

, 1955

Oil on Masonite 30 1/4X27 1/4inches Signed: lower right

Completed at the American Academy in Rome, this was the result of a visit to a small Italian seaport on the Tyrrhenian Sea. Walking along the harbor, I was intrigued with the sailing vessels and their reflections in the water. lt was dusl<, and as the sun began to set, a light rain began falling, and an eerie, misty violet light softly covered the area. My immediate reaction was to take a photograph, hoping to capture the moment as a reference for a painting. I knew the film in my camera, a trusty old Nikon, had one exposure left and I quickly took the photo. The light was changing rapidly, and the rain was becoming heavier, and I doubted that I would get a usable image, but the photo turned out surprisinglywell and I did referto it as I worked on the painting.

The painting was done quite rapidly with almost no changes taking place as worked. My intention was to approach the subject as spontaneously as possible, in keeping with the sudden rainfall and swiftly changing light at the actual site. I hoped to capture the showery atmosphere, the soft, transitory pinl<-violet light, the reflections in the shimmering water, and the cluster ofboat shapes that served as design elements. I was pleased with the result and many years later when the \Mustum Museum indicated it would like the painting for its permanent collection, I felt highly gratified. lt was my preference, however, to retain the work as one of the eight earliest efforts still in my possession, consequently, it was available for this publication.

I

Tyrrhenian Harbor No.

2,1956

Oil on canvas 28 X 38 inches Signed: lower right This canvas is both related ro the experience ofits predecessor,Tyrrhenian Harbor No. 1, as a freely expressed image offishing boats tethered to a pier and, more importantly, to one ofthe most intriguing ofProfessorVan Pappelendam's teaching devices. She called it,,Wrecl<ingthe Rectangle.;An idea utilized bygenerations of artists astheyworl<ed their com position s onto a rectangu lar canvas or oth er su PPort. Painters have always dealt with

this issue through their natural awareness ofthe need to mal<e the eye ofthe viewer move throughout a cJmposition according ro various pointers, usually very subtle, contrived by the artists. ln many cases, these indicators are simply a by-product of the painter's imagery, done without specific intent and frequently so subdued in the iconography ofa painting that they are all but invisible. ' Mlss Van (aterm ofendearment bestowed by all her students) challenged her classes to wrecl< a rectangle intentionally and, thus, discover the many means an artist had at his disposal to mal<e a.composition come alive and sustain its pictorial pulse. Tythen.ian Harbor No. 2 was an attempr to explore the issue in a deliberate manner and it proved to be very satisflring. None ofthe individuals who saw the canvas and were informed ofthe specific mission were able to find the "solution" I had devised' to conflrm I thoughr it was rather obvious, hardly an ingenious answer, but it tended Miss Miss Van,s [osition that such devices were often seen but not recognized. I wrote to thegalleriesthatsupported in I found examples reporringon in 1955, Florence van from No' her teachings and she was delighted. I regret that she never got to see Tyrrhenian Harbor 2;l'm certiin we would have had a lively discussion about it and she would have been pieased with my student level attempt to explore two or three ofthe issues she introduced in her classes. She was the quiescent inspiration for the painting and it was silently dedicated

to her upon comPletion.

-

lo -

Night Fagades, Paris, 1956 Oi I

on canvas

28 X 38 inches Signed: lower right

Completed at the Wustum Museum immediately after my return from Europe, the painting is a playful fantasy of Parisian fagades, which I photographed in the older quarters of the city. Unlike many painters who utilized the same subject matter

to depict the warmth, charm, and architectural identification of various locations in Paris, I combined freely a number of images in a single statement that represented a multitude of memories of nighttime strolls along narrow, time-worn streets.

The painting began to come together quite well after an indecisive beginning during which I became overly concerned, once again, with the depiction of reality.

During the process, the canvas was wiped clean several times until I realized that should allow the images to assemble themselves with more spontaneity, after which the imaginary fagade evolved with surprising ease, almost as if my input was incidental. lt was also one of the earliest of my paintings in which a grayed palette was clearly dominant, creating the quiet mood often symbolized by old, revered

I

bu ild ings.

The canvas was out of my possession for manyyears, and when I saw it again, still pleased with it, reassuring me thac the decisions I made as I painted it were well taken. lt was another example of a work that became more successful as approached it with less rigid control and more free expression.

I was

I

The Black Mug,

1956

Oil on canvas 24 X 30 inches Signed: uPPer left

BlackMugisa simple still life completed in one session of aPProximatelytwo violated; components were hours. The object"s were fanciful; PersPective was happily with little regard for determined was ..pr.r"na"d in sketchy fashion; and proportion tend.to create an painting the in elements disparate The actual relationships. be considered it might extent aberrant compositional unity, which, to the limited canvas as a this uPon looked always l have accidental successful, is essentially quite completely sPontaneous painting that'Just happened," as close as I had come to a The

experi

e

nce.

catch time I saw che painting and studied it for a few minutes' I would interest the in modified be could that myself thinking about some cons;tuent Part noc to attemPt any olcompatibilriy and overall harmony, but I repeatedly decided by so doing' ln strengthened be not .l,.ng"r, persuading myselfthat the workwould this productivity' studio my of balanc-e the during I completed contrast to paincing3 start to finish' that I would one continued to be the almost totally latisf ing effort' it would always be ranked.by ever experience. That is not to suggest, ofcourse, that myveryb.rt*orkrlE,tratheroneofthoseinfrequent'unexplainable of measone makes the right painting sessions during which ih. ul.ti't almost subconsciously one.might one after unJth.,, as the canvas is brought to completion Each

t..iriois,

summarizethisbafflingsequencebyapplyingtheclich6"'quitwhileyou'reahead"' and my instincts told me to act accordingly'

Wall,1962 Oil on canvas

Sea

36 X 30 inches Signed: lower left

This canvas, which was done during my graduate studies at the Pratt lnstitute

and is the only work that remains of the many paintings I completed during that period, was influenced, albeit somewhat marginally, as the result of a class discussion of the work of Franz Kline, who once taught at Pratt. His dynamic, geometric swaths of paint, usually limited to black and white configurations, propelled him to a leading role during the Abstract Expressionist movement and provided intriguing prototypes for student experiments. Sea Wall is hardly a work that reflects the unmistakable imprint of a Kline-the use of color (which seemed to diminish the impact of Kline's paintings when he employed it) separates my inept example from his black and white canvases-but it served its limited purpose for me as an exercise in brushwork, a gesture so to speak. After it was compleced and put aside, lwould glance at it from time to time and finally decided that lcould do nothing furcher that would add to the satisfaction ofthe experiment.

Kline's paintings had provided some insights that I chought would be helpful in the studio, but regretcably, since I never mec him, I never had the opportunity to ask him abouc his work. At the very least, lwould have enjoyed telling him that his technique prompted me to cry my hand with a bucket of house paint and a four-inch brush, a combination that quickly proved unworkable for me; I suspect he would have chuckled at that.

When Kline died in New Yorkin 1962,1 joined Robert Richenburg and Ceorge McNeill, well-known painters and distinguished members of the Pratt faculcy with whom I scudied during my graduate work, and the three ofus attended the funeral service at a crowded Manhattan church.

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EPILOCU

E

I hope this booklet has served its intended purpose, which was to provide a brief summary of the events leading to the making of the paintings shown in these pages and a few events that followed. ln its brevity, it resembles a random colleccion of notes, a few recolleccions taken from one's diary, or the reminiscences of someone grown old, who dreams wistfully of his scudent days. lf it provides a bit of information that a friend might find interesting or a touch of nostalgia for a family member or relative, preparing the material was time well spent. lt was a project that I was determined to complete as a legacy in spice of its scanc content and very limited relevance to the broader aspects ofart. I leave it at that and, thus, to the reader for individual reactions.

A final note about the paintings, which were in need of various kinds of restorative procedures afcer almost fifty years of benign neglect. Since I seldom thought about their significance except as occasional reminders ofmy experiences as an art student, most were stored and out ofsight for decades. The negligence factor was intensified in two instances when I used questionable judgment and agreed to loan two paintings to two individuals who persuaded me that it would be more sensible to have them where they could be seen instead of hidden in a storage bin.

One of the works was hung above a fireplace, subjected periodically co the smoke and grime of wood fires over a span of forty years; the ocher was in a warm, humid climate where mildew was a constant threat. When theywere returned to me, I could see at first glance the damage called for the services ofa reliable conservator ifthese original members of the "family of eight" were to be restored to a stable and protected condition. ln 1998, all the paintings were once again in my possession, and I decided co install them as a group in my bedroom, convinced that would be their final destination. They were still in their original, homemade frames, most of them fashioned by me at the Wustum Museum in the late 1950s using redwood, an inexpensive macerial at the time. lt was Mr. C. L. Morehead,Jr., one of Ceorgia's best known and most generous art patrons, who had a totally different idea in mind about the fuLure of rhe paintings.

Morehead was widely acclaimed for his extensive collection of the worl<s and memorabilia of Lamar Dodd, whose national reputation placed him as the foremost painter of his time in the Southeast. lt was this recognicion that spurred Morehead to establish a permanent home for the Dodd collection in Athens. I had long admired Dodd as an artist, and as my predecessor as head ofthe department ofart at the University of Ceorgia, he occupied a special plateau as an esteemed colleague and close friend. When Morehead told me he would like to purchase my paintings and place them in his collection, I was literally speechless. Attempts to persuade him that my earliest student efforts simply didn't belong in juxtaposition to che Dodd works were futile, and after almost three years of repeated reminders, Morehead's offer became more plausible when my terminal illness was diagnosed in November 2002. lt was then that I began giving the matter serious chought, considering the proposal with increasing favor. Although I had no interest in negotiating a sale, it remained a possibilicy due to Morehead's repeated offers. My primary concern was locating a secure facility for the paintings and the Morehead home/gallery would be the unquestionable optimal choice. tn one of his typically spontaneous acts of generosity, Morehead insisted that the paintings be reframed professionally, even if they might not be destined for his

-20-

collection. Within the hour, they were loaded inco his van and delivered to his framer, Ranel Parks, who agreed to put aside his current work and start on them

immediately. As Ibegan selecting frame moldings, Ranel began suggesting modifications in the flnishes to ensure compatibilirywith each painting. The pieces most in need of conservation were than examined by Elizabeth Hatmaker, a highlyskilled, experienced conservator constantly in demand by museums, galleries, and individual collectors, and after discussing herfindings with me, the items were taken to her studio for the remedial work. She, too, was giving my paintings priority consideration. Every,thing was happening with such rapidity that I sensed C. L., a liiend truly without peer, was working behind the scenes, busily expediting the action rvhile trying co remain invisible. lnduscrious, knowledgeable, and enterprising, C. L. Morehead is a singularly successful entrepreneur in the flower business, and until recently, when he sold his interests, was equally astute in the closely-linl<ed mylar balloon business. Although officially retired, he still tends to business affairs every day in his modest offices, and he travels around the country, to Europe, and to the Orient to develop business prospects.

His beautiful, spacious home in Athens (four floors; 14,000 square feet) was remodeled and enlarged on two occasions to accommodate his collections and is a veritable treasure-trove of elegant antique furniture, the finest Oriental rugs, rare ceramics, magnificent silver service pieces, finely-crafted glassware, ancient gold jewelry, and many other exquisite works of art. ln addition to the Dodd collection, it houses a comprehensive collection of African art assembled by Ceorge and Alma Henderson during their many years as missionaries in che Cameroon.

Morehead has repeatedly purchased individual worl<s of art, as well as entire collections, to ensure that they remain in Athens. He is the epitome of choughtfulness, l<indness, generosity, and genuine concern for the welfare ofothers, and his support of a community and constant encouragement were paramount in bringing this booklet to fruition and to him I am indebted far beyond my ability co express it.

POSTSCRIPT Friends who are aware of my half-century of involvement in the flne arts have asked me many times about the corpus of my creative work, assuming, quite reasonably, that I must have completed a body of work well beyond the very limited number of pieces that were usually identified. I did, of course, produce many paintings, drawings, and prints over the years, but only a handful survive, including the eighc paintings discussed in this booklet.

Upon graduation from the School ofthe Art lnstitute ofChicago, I returned to Racine, taking all my paintings to the Wustum Museum barn, where I hoped to continue painting during the summer of 1954. As I prepared to leave for Europe at the end ofthe year, cheJerrys suggested that I store my work in che barn, and I was

gratefulfortheoffer.Aftermyrecurnearlyin1956,lresumedteachingandpainting, and the barn became a repository for my work and scudio equipment, serving as

a

"second home." ln the summer of 1957, having accepted a position at the Parsons School of Design in New York, I wanted to clear my materials from the barn, realizing that might never return to Racine and wanting to be cercain that I didn't leave a prolonged storage problem for the museum in my wake. I then collected all my canvases, secting aside only one, removed them from the stretchers, and cook them I

21

to a steel drum behind the museum

where the maintenance supervisor and

I

proceeded to incinerate them. I do not know the exact number ofworks we burned, but I recall it took about cwo hours co complete the job. ln retrospect, I can visualize two additional paintings lwish t had retained, but lwas intent on cleaning house and virtually nothing was to be spared.

Paintings that I did during my graduate study at Pratt and the years that followed were kept in a storage facility at Parsons. During a weekend, the school was thoroughly burglarized and vandalized, every office, classroom, and storeroom subjected to the rampage. Among the works of art that were missing were three of my most successful paintings; other pieces were damaged in various ways; and I

decided they should be discarded. The incident so infuriated me that I ceased working in che studio and gave my full attention to administration, losing the sparl< and the momentum so essential to the creative Process.

Upon arriving in Ceorgia in 1976 and having a small faculty studio, I completed a few paintings and drawings, but once again, increasingly heavy administrative worl< made it difficult to sustain a viable studio schedule. I felt as though lwas slipping into the role of a dilettante, and it was a dismal state of affairs. Nevertheless, my creative production was insignificant for the next twenty years, and most of the pieces I managed to do were done as examples for my drawing classes. Thus, the remnants of mywork covering five decades could be fitted easily into a small closet.

The works of other artists in my collection, however, would require much more storage and exhibition space. During my years in Wisconsin, New York, Ohio, and Ceorgia, I purchased many items, most often from colleagues who were serious studio artists producing works that could be marketed to augment their modest teaching salaries. I also bought a number ofdrawings and princs from advanced students whose skills were evidenc in their works; they were always excited and encouraged by such attention. ln stark contrast, throughout many years in art, never sold a single piece ofmywork. I gave a few paintings and a number ofdrawings and prints as gifts to friends (they always seemed pleased co get them), but those occasions were infrequent. Whenever lwas asked about selling a piece, lalways declined with thanks, feeling that my role as an administrator so limited my studio activity that my work remained unresolved.

It was decermined very early in my career that I was not destined to make my living by selling my art. When my son,.Jan, was three or four years old, he produced some of those delightful drawings that only youngsters can make. His great-aunt happened to see one and asked him ifshe could buy it. A purchase price offifteen cents was quicl<ly accepted, and at that moment, he had made more money through the sale of his work rhan I did in my liferime! But, his flnancial success was wellearned; I felt thac he was the better artist. From that time forward, I knew and accepted my limitations.

I

Francis A. Ruzicka

Spring 2003

FICURE STUDIES

The artist, Franl< Ruzicka

Boris Anisfeld, Russian painting instructor at the Art lnstitute of Chicago, was instrumental in the artistic development of Franl< Ruzicka.

On the outskirts

of

At the door of his studio, Casa Rustica,

Rome, hitchhil<ing to Florence, September

American Academy in Rome,.lune 1955.

'1955.

ln the barn studio, Wustum Museum of Fine Arts, Racine, Wisconsin, Spring

1

957.

Partial support for the exhibitions and programs at the Ceorgia Museum of Art is provided by the W. Newton Morris Charitable Foundation and the Ceorgia Council for the Arts through the appropriations of the Ceorgia Ceneral Assembly. The Council is a partner agency of the National Endowment

for the Arts. lndividuals, foundations, and corporations provide additional support through their gifts to the University of Ceorgia Foundation.

Ceorgia Museum of Art University of Ceorgia Performing and Visual Arts Complex

706.542.CMOA www.uga.ed u/gam useu m

The Ceorgia Museum of Art's hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.,Tuesday,Thursday, Friday, and Saturday; 10 a.m.

to 9 p.m., Wednesday; and 1 p.m. to 5 p.m., Sunday.