Special Video: Richard A. Long talks about Beauford - Part 2
In Part 2 of the video, Richard shares the story of how he came to be curator of Beauford's one-man show at the Studio Museum in Harlem in 1979.
Special Video: Richard A. Long Talks about Beauford - Part 1
I was delighted to learn that Beauford's friend Richard A. Long, curator of the first retrospective of Beauford’s works that was mounted at the Studio Museum in Harlem in 1978, would be visiting Paris this week. Tom and I met him at his hotel, where he was gracious enough to allow us to video him talking about Beauford:
Note: The High Museum obtained Beauford's portrait of Richard Long in 2001.
Note: The High Museum obtained Beauford's portrait of Richard Long in 2001.
Beauford in Color
I found this beautiful COLOR photo of Beauford, taken by Carl Van Vechten on March 18, 1953, while surfing the Web last week:
Portrait of Beauford Delaney
© 1953 Carl Van Vechten
Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University
I then found a second portrait on another Web site (with no attributions mentioned) a few days later:
Van Vechten undoubtedly took these photos on the same day that he took the black and white photo that has graced the side bar of this blog since its inception in November 2009. He took them only five months before Beauford set sail for Paris on the S. S. Liberté.
Beauford looks quite handsome, doesn't he?
© 1953 Carl Van Vechten
Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University
I then found a second portrait on another Web site (with no attributions mentioned) a few days later:
Van Vechten undoubtedly took these photos on the same day that he took the black and white photo that has graced the side bar of this blog since its inception in November 2009. He took them only five months before Beauford set sail for Paris on the S. S. Liberté.
Beauford looks quite handsome, doesn't he?
If you like this posting, share it with your friends on Facebook, Twitter, and elsewhere using one or more of the buttons below!
Happy Birthday, Beauford!
Portrait of Beauford Delaney
© 1953 Carl Van Vechten
Beauford was born 109 years ago today!
I am both pleased and a little saddened as I write this posting, because I am honoring Beauford’s beginning as well as announcing an ending of sorts. I am celebrating Beauford today by presenting several of my favorite images of him and his work. But I am also placing the blog on hiatus as of today, and will no longer be bringing you information about this wonderful artist on a regular basis.
You may remember that I broached the subject of retiring the blog last month, in the posting about Les Amis’s first anniversary. In that posting, I said:
I have done my best to find information on Beauford from as many reliable sources as possible, and to present that information with clarity, integrity, and love. But I am running out of sources, and will not diminish the quality of this Web publication just for the sake of continuing on. My goal is to publish through the end of this year, targeting Beauford’s birthday (December 30) as the date of the final posting.
Be assured that I will post noteworthy information as I discover it. And I am certainly willing to publish personal anecdotes about Beauford and other information from credible sources. However, I can no longer actively and efficiently pursue the discovery process.
I will post on milestone dates such as the anniversary of Beauford’s death. I will also begin publishing regularly again if Les Amis decides to pursue one of the projects that I mentioned in the November posting (example: creating a scholarship fund in Beauford’s name). There is some activity underway to create a short film about Beauford, and I hope to have good news about the progression of this project within the next few months. So do check back periodically! Follow the blog or pull its content through RSS so that you do not miss anything.
I encourage you all to purchase a copy of Beauford’s biography – Amazing Grace
. It is the only book that chronicles Beauford’s life. It is a quick read that captures Beauford’s spirit admirably. Note that Les Amis earns a few cents on each book purchased through the links found in this and other postings, as well as through the link in the sidebar.Before going on to the images, I would like to thank all the people who contributed to the blog once again – you know who you are – and to say that we will remain in touch through e-mail and Facebook.
Happy Birthday, Beauford! Long live your art and your memory!
A young Beauford Delaney
Photo: African-American Registry
Still Life with Pears
(1946) Oil on canvas
Private collection
(1946) Oil on canvas
Private collection
Composition 16
(1954-56) Oil on canvas
© Estate of Beauford Delaney; Private Collection
© Estate of Beauford Delaney; Private Collection
Courtesy of Michael Rosenfeld Gallery, LLC, New York , NY
Detail of Self-Portrait
(1944) Oil on canvas
Art Institute of Chicago
Art Institute of Chicago
Photo courtesy of Tim Paulson
Portrait of Beauford Delaney
(ca. 1950)
Possibly by Gjon Mili
Possibly by Gjon Mili
Self-Portrait
(1962) Oil on canvas
© Estate of Beauford Delaney; Private Collection
© Estate of Beauford Delaney; Private Collection
Courtesy of Michael Rosenfeld Gallery, LLC, New York , NY
Greenwich Village
(1945) Oil on canvas
Private collection
(1945) Oil on canvas
Private collection
Beauford's Paint Box
© Discover Paris!
Untitled
(1964-65) Oil on canvas
Bill Hodges Gallery, New York
(1964-65) Oil on canvas
Bill Hodges Gallery, New York
Nativity Scene
(1961) Oil on canvas
Private collection
Private collection
Portrait of Beauford Delaney
Georgia O'Keeffe
(1943) Pastel on paper
Curtis Galleries, Minneapolis, MN
(1943) Pastel on paper
Curtis Galleries, Minneapolis, MN
Colin Gravois Remembers Beauford
Colin Gravois has lived in Paris / Ile de France since 1968. He met Beauford when Beauford lived on rue Vercingétorix, and has very fond memories of him. Colin spoke at the gravesite ceremony that Les Amis held at Thiais Cemetery on October 14th. He recently recounted his memories of Beauford in an interview at his office in Antony (a suburb located south of Paris).
Upon arriving in Paris, Colin lived for five years at the Hôtel de Blois at 50, rue Vavin, which was located very near the café Select on boulevard du Montparnasse. (The hotel was a functioning brothel when Colin lived there, with the first three floors being used for "business" and the three upper floors being reserved for long-term residents.) He recalls that the rent was only 10 francs a day – roughly $2 in those times – and that the one franc per day increase that the hotel proprietor charged in 1974 was considered a big deal!
Colin would often have breakfast at the Dôme, which was only a stone’s throw from his hotel. (The café still stands on the corner of boulevard du Montparnasse and rue Delambre.) The Dôme is where he met Beauford in 1968 or 1969. Beauford would come in at around 9 AM every day – alone – to have breakfast, and Colin became accustomed to seeing him there. He remembers being impressed by Beauford’s “beatific smile.” Colin said that Beauford seemed wary that people might try to take advantage of him, so at first he did not attempt to engage Beauford in conversation about personal things.
At that time, the Dôme had a sidewalk terrace (it is enclosed today). Colin recalls that Beauford always wanted to sit on the terrace in the front row, facing the street. In this way, he could watch people as they passed by. Beauford knew lots of people, so he was often quite busy greeting friends and acquaintances when he was at the Dôme.
Eventually, Colin offered to take Beauford back to his studio on rue Vercingétorix in the large black sedan (of the type used for London cabs) that he drove around town. He did this a few times before Beauford invited him up to the studio. Colin recalls that the entrance was au fond de la cour (at the back of the courtyard), and that it was up a flight of stairs. His most vivid memory of the studio is that everything was covered with white sheets.
Colin remembers that Beauford would occasionally take meals at the Coupole, and that he also liked to eat at a restaurant called Les Mille Colonnes on rue de la Gaité. This was not very far from his studio, and it also happened to be a place where Colin and his friends invariably had dinner. Beauford would always join them if he was there. At Les Mille Colonnes, starters and desserts cost only 90 centimes, and main courses cost 3.50 francs. Though these prices were “Beauford's style” (affordable), Colin and his friends would chip in most of the time to take care of Beauford’s bill.
By the early 1970s, Colin began to note early signs of Beauford’s mental deterioration, mostly in the form of forgetfulness. Around 1973, he gave Beauford four large canvases that he has previously used for a promotional event. Beauford was grateful to receive them, and this strengthened the bond between him and Colin.
Colin’s favorite memory of Beauford is of taking him for rides in his big black cab. He named the car “Bill” because the license plate began with the letters “BLL.” Because the space next to the driver was reserved for luggage, Beauford always sat in the back, as a taxi passenger would do. He had an excellent vantage point for viewing the city because the seat was high, and Colin remembers that Beauford would look out the window at the buildings, cars, and pedestrians with a big smile on his face.
Colin was unequivocal when he said that the most important aspects that he remembers of Beauford’s persona were his kindness and gentleness – the same attributes that numerous others have cited in this blog and elsewhere.
Beauford painted a portrait of Colin at the Vercingétorix studio in 1975. Colin sat for Beauford several times as the painting took shape. He remembers being seated in an armchair wearing a green army jacket for the sittings. When it was almost done, Colin had his friend Kathleen photograph him with the painting, with Colin posing in the chair where he sat for the painting and the painting perched behind and above him. Kathleen also took several photographs of Beauford’s studio at that time. Colin said that Beauford’s signature appeared on the painting as though it had been done in pencil.
Colin then went on a trip to the U.S., thinking that he would retrieve the painting upon his return. But by the time he came back to Paris, Beauford had been taken to Saint Anne’s Hospital and his studio had been vacated. Colin never saw the portrait again. He is hoping that his friend Kathleen will be able to find the photos that she took so that he will have some visual record of himself with the painting, as well as the studio.
Upon Beauford’s commitment to Saint Anne’s, James Baldwin most likely moved the painting to an apartment on rue des Anglais in the 5th arrondissement where he stored Beauford’s works and other belongings on a temporary basis. Several of these would later be shown at the Studio Museum in Harlem retrospective organized by Richard A. Long.
In looking at the catalog of that exhibition, I came across an image of a painting called Portrait of a Man in Green. Intrigued by the parallels that I noted in Colin’s description of Beauford’s painting of him and what I saw in the image, I contacted Colin to see if he could identify the portrait.
Both he and his daughter immediately identified Colin as the person represented there! In addition to the physical likeness (curly hair, moustache and goatee) and the armchair and green jacket, Colin said that he always wore his wristwatch on the right arm. The man in Beauford’s portrait also has a wristwatch on the right wrist.
What a fortuitous outcome to my interview!
Colin Gravois at Beauford’s Graveside Commemoration Ceremony
© Franz Fox Kennedy
Upon arriving in Paris, Colin lived for five years at the Hôtel de Blois at 50, rue Vavin, which was located very near the café Select on boulevard du Montparnasse. (The hotel was a functioning brothel when Colin lived there, with the first three floors being used for "business" and the three upper floors being reserved for long-term residents.) He recalls that the rent was only 10 francs a day – roughly $2 in those times – and that the one franc per day increase that the hotel proprietor charged in 1974 was considered a big deal!
Colin would often have breakfast at the Dôme, which was only a stone’s throw from his hotel. (The café still stands on the corner of boulevard du Montparnasse and rue Delambre.) The Dôme is where he met Beauford in 1968 or 1969. Beauford would come in at around 9 AM every day – alone – to have breakfast, and Colin became accustomed to seeing him there. He remembers being impressed by Beauford’s “beatific smile.” Colin said that Beauford seemed wary that people might try to take advantage of him, so at first he did not attempt to engage Beauford in conversation about personal things.
At that time, the Dôme had a sidewalk terrace (it is enclosed today). Colin recalls that Beauford always wanted to sit on the terrace in the front row, facing the street. In this way, he could watch people as they passed by. Beauford knew lots of people, so he was often quite busy greeting friends and acquaintances when he was at the Dôme.
Terrace of the Dôme Café, 1959
Photo from Cafés d’Artistes à Paris (photo credit-Archives)
Le Dôme, today
© Discover Paris!
Eventually, Colin offered to take Beauford back to his studio on rue Vercingétorix in the large black sedan (of the type used for London cabs) that he drove around town. He did this a few times before Beauford invited him up to the studio. Colin recalls that the entrance was au fond de la cour (at the back of the courtyard), and that it was up a flight of stairs. His most vivid memory of the studio is that everything was covered with white sheets.
Colin remembers that Beauford would occasionally take meals at the Coupole, and that he also liked to eat at a restaurant called Les Mille Colonnes on rue de la Gaité. This was not very far from his studio, and it also happened to be a place where Colin and his friends invariably had dinner. Beauford would always join them if he was there. At Les Mille Colonnes, starters and desserts cost only 90 centimes, and main courses cost 3.50 francs. Though these prices were “Beauford's style” (affordable), Colin and his friends would chip in most of the time to take care of Beauford’s bill.
By the early 1970s, Colin began to note early signs of Beauford’s mental deterioration, mostly in the form of forgetfulness. Around 1973, he gave Beauford four large canvases that he has previously used for a promotional event. Beauford was grateful to receive them, and this strengthened the bond between him and Colin.
Colin’s favorite memory of Beauford is of taking him for rides in his big black cab. He named the car “Bill” because the license plate began with the letters “BLL.” Because the space next to the driver was reserved for luggage, Beauford always sat in the back, as a taxi passenger would do. He had an excellent vantage point for viewing the city because the seat was high, and Colin remembers that Beauford would look out the window at the buildings, cars, and pedestrians with a big smile on his face.
A London Taxicab
Photo: Wikipedia
Colin was unequivocal when he said that the most important aspects that he remembers of Beauford’s persona were his kindness and gentleness – the same attributes that numerous others have cited in this blog and elsewhere.
Beauford painted a portrait of Colin at the Vercingétorix studio in 1975. Colin sat for Beauford several times as the painting took shape. He remembers being seated in an armchair wearing a green army jacket for the sittings. When it was almost done, Colin had his friend Kathleen photograph him with the painting, with Colin posing in the chair where he sat for the painting and the painting perched behind and above him. Kathleen also took several photographs of Beauford’s studio at that time. Colin said that Beauford’s signature appeared on the painting as though it had been done in pencil.
Colin then went on a trip to the U.S., thinking that he would retrieve the painting upon his return. But by the time he came back to Paris, Beauford had been taken to Saint Anne’s Hospital and his studio had been vacated. Colin never saw the portrait again. He is hoping that his friend Kathleen will be able to find the photos that she took so that he will have some visual record of himself with the painting, as well as the studio.
Upon Beauford’s commitment to Saint Anne’s, James Baldwin most likely moved the painting to an apartment on rue des Anglais in the 5th arrondissement where he stored Beauford’s works and other belongings on a temporary basis. Several of these would later be shown at the Studio Museum in Harlem retrospective organized by Richard A. Long.
In looking at the catalog of that exhibition, I came across an image of a painting called Portrait of a Man in Green. Intrigued by the parallels that I noted in Colin’s description of Beauford’s painting of him and what I saw in the image, I contacted Colin to see if he could identify the portrait.
Portrait of a Man in Green
Beauford Delaney
Beauford Delaney
Oil (undated)
Photo from catalog of Beauford Delaney: A Retrospective
Studio Museum in Harlem
Studio Museum in Harlem
Both he and his daughter immediately identified Colin as the person represented there! In addition to the physical likeness (curly hair, moustache and goatee) and the armchair and green jacket, Colin said that he always wore his wristwatch on the right arm. The man in Beauford’s portrait also has a wristwatch on the right wrist.
What a fortuitous outcome to my interview!
Ed Clark Remembers Beauford
Ed Clark is one of the few living artists who expatriated to Paris in the years after World War II. He was a great friend of Beauford, and was pleased to accord me an interview about him.
Clark arrived in Paris in 1952, the year before Beauford settled there. He sailed on the SS Liberté (as Beauford did in 1953), and described the treatment that he received as a passenger traveling third class as being better than he could have ever imagined—great food and wine, waiters dressed in coat and tie, shoe-shine service, movies...
Upon arrival in Paris, Clark settled in the Hôtel des Ecoles on rue Delambre. By the time Beauford arrived and moved into this hotel, Clark had moved across the street to number 22. They first met at the Ecole de la Grande Chaumière, an art school in the neighborhood. Many Americans on the GI Bill studied at this school, and Clark was one of them.
Now, with the passage of time and the advantage of hindsight, Clark considers that Beauford was a genius. He particularly admires Beauford’s self-portrait at the Art Institute of Chicago, stating that the painting “lights up the room.” He recalls a sketch that Beauford did of him during the 50s that he dismissed at the time, but now describes as “powerful.”
Clark recalled minute details about Beauford’s personal habits, such as the fact that he loved spirituals, liked cognac, and did not eat pork. He described Beauford as someone who sketched and painted all the time, noting that he worked quickly. He also described Beauford as a great conversationalist, and said that he shared sage advice with friends and acquaintances.
Though Clark moved from Paris to New York in 1956, he would visit Beauford on subsequent trips to the French capital. He recounted a story about the concierge of the building at 53, rue Vercingétorix, where Beauford has his last studio. At that time, concierges were truly gatekeepers of apartment buildings. Anyone wanting access into the building had to pass by them. Clark mentioned that Beauford’s concierge once asked him whether Beauford was the President of the U.S. or some other important person, given the number of famous people who visited him there.
On that particular occasion, Beauford was entertaining four “important people.” Clark sat with them while they chatted with Beauford. When they left to go to dinner, Beauford beckoned to Clark and began to pull humble provisions from his cabinets—sardines, bread, wine… As they sat down to break bread together, Beauford said, “That’s how one helps another.”
Clark arrived in Paris in 1952, the year before Beauford settled there. He sailed on the SS Liberté (as Beauford did in 1953), and described the treatment that he received as a passenger traveling third class as being better than he could have ever imagined—great food and wine, waiters dressed in coat and tie, shoe-shine service, movies...
Upon arrival in Paris, Clark settled in the Hôtel des Ecoles on rue Delambre. By the time Beauford arrived and moved into this hotel, Clark had moved across the street to number 22. They first met at the Ecole de la Grande Chaumière, an art school in the neighborhood. Many Americans on the GI Bill studied at this school, and Clark was one of them.
Académie de la Grande Chaumière
© Discover Paris!
Plaque from the Académie de la Grande Chaumière
© Discover Paris!
Though twenty-five years younger than Beauford, Clark considered himself a mentor of sorts for Beauford during the first years of their friendship. He did not think much of Beauford’s art at the time because he was focused on classic, faithful reproductions of persons and objects. He considered Beauford’s work to be that of an “outsider”—someone whose style was avant-garde, and therefore undesirable. (He apparently did not know that Beauford had drawn beautiful, “classic” portraits during his Boston and New York years.) He also felt that he was qualified to advise Beauford because he had a one man show at a “blue chip” gallery in Paris (1955) at a time when Beauford had not yet enjoyed having his work shown in Paris.
Now, with the passage of time and the advantage of hindsight, Clark considers that Beauford was a genius. He particularly admires Beauford’s self-portrait at the Art Institute of Chicago, stating that the painting “lights up the room.” He recalls a sketch that Beauford did of him during the 50s that he dismissed at the time, but now describes as “powerful.”
Ed Clark and Beauford Delaney at the Noir 3 USA exhibition
American Center of Paris 1969
Photo courtesy of Ed Clark
Clark recalled minute details about Beauford’s personal habits, such as the fact that he loved spirituals, liked cognac, and did not eat pork. He described Beauford as someone who sketched and painted all the time, noting that he worked quickly. He also described Beauford as a great conversationalist, and said that he shared sage advice with friends and acquaintances.
Though Clark moved from Paris to New York in 1956, he would visit Beauford on subsequent trips to the French capital. He recounted a story about the concierge of the building at 53, rue Vercingétorix, where Beauford has his last studio. At that time, concierges were truly gatekeepers of apartment buildings. Anyone wanting access into the building had to pass by them. Clark mentioned that Beauford’s concierge once asked him whether Beauford was the President of the U.S. or some other important person, given the number of famous people who visited him there.
On that particular occasion, Beauford was entertaining four “important people.” Clark sat with them while they chatted with Beauford. When they left to go to dinner, Beauford beckoned to Clark and began to pull humble provisions from his cabinets—sardines, bread, wine… As they sat down to break bread together, Beauford said, “That’s how one helps another.”
Henry Miller's 1972 Tribute to Beauford
I am pleased to announce that the Henry Miller lithograph that was donated to Les Amis de Beauford Delaney in support of our fundraising efforts has been sold by Dorothy's Gallery! Proceeds will offset the cost of the commemorative ceremony at Beauford's gravesite and the reception to be held afterward at the George C. Marshall Center in Paris. Many thanks to Dorothy Polley, who agreed to sell the work on our behalf!
For the first retrospective exposition that Darthea Speyer mounted for Beauford, she invited several of his friends to write a tribute to him. Following are excerpts from the tribute that Henry Miller wrote about his good friend. It is dated September 26, 1972. The original document is now held at the Smithsonian in the Archives of American Art.
******
For the first retrospective exposition that Darthea Speyer mounted for Beauford, she invited several of his friends to write a tribute to him. Following are excerpts from the tribute that Henry Miller wrote about his good friend. It is dated September 26, 1972. The original document is now held at the Smithsonian in the Archives of American Art.
First Paragraph of Henry Miller's Letter of Tribute to Beauford
September 26, 1972
Courtesy of the Smithsonian Archives of American Art
“I think of Beauford Delaney first as a wonderful, amazing and unique human being, a near saint or better than saint, an indidvidual [sic] who has known nothing but adversity, met it squarely, and rendered it null, not through success but by sheer pluck and indomitable fortitude. If he had never painted a picture worth looking at twice he would still be an artist of the first water. He has lived his whole life with but one thought in mind—to paint. Unlike more well-known painters, he has given an ungodly number of his paintings as gifts. He has made many, many friends throughout his career, and he never ceases to make new ones. He is not just a friend, he is the friend, the one who gives his all. Poor though he has been, he has never given the impression of being miserable. He has always given more than he received—that is to say, himself…
“How he has survived these fifteen or twenty years in Paris no one really knows. His hovel in the rue Vercingetorix has become something of a shrine. One opens the door to his tiny quarters and is immediately bathed in light. His paintings glow with bright, vivid colors, rainbow colors. Many of them are portraits, portraits of friends and celebrities, portraits of nobodies. Should you happen to admire one of them he is almost certain to offer it to you as a gift. He never worries about losing a masterpiece. He doesn’t think in terms of masterpieces. For every one that comes off his wall he has a dozen others to replace them…
“I sincerely hope this retrospective exhibition will be not only a comprehensive one but an inspiring one. If it is not a success (financially) Beauford will be none the worse. He lives not on dollars or francs but on faith, and it is a faith that abides. God bless him now and forever!”
Beauford: The Georgia O'Keeffe Portraits
Portrait of Beauford Delaney
Georgia O'Keeffe
(1943) Pastel on paper
Curtis Galleries, Minneapolis, MN
The Georgia O'Keeffe portraits of Beauford are the most beautiful portrayals of him that I have ever seen. The one shown above is part of the private collection of Curtis Galleries in Minneapolis, Minnesota. There is a second portrait at the National Portrait Gallery at the Smithsonian, and a third at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
The Smithsonian work, a portrait in profile, is rendered with colors and textures similar to the portrait shown above. The Smithsonian describes the portrait as "reverent", indicating that it "honors Beauford Delaney's magnanimity, perseverance, and courage in the face of difficulty." The Web site image is accompanied by a brief audio commentary that I found to be compelling.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) owns a charcoal on paper portrait of Beauford by O'Keeffe.
Untitled (Beauford Delaney)
Georgia O'Keeffe
(c 1940) Charcoal on paper
Philadelphia Museum of Art
This portrait also dates from the 1940s.
PMA's curatorial department of Prints, Drawings, and Photographs generously provide me with the information in their file on the O'Keeffe charcoal portrait, as follows:
The portrait hung in the PMA exposition called Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz (Feb 7 - May 23, 1999), and in its Beauford Delaney in Context: Selections from the Permanent Collection exposition (Oct 21, 2005 - Jan 3, 2006). Prior to its acquisition by the PMA, the drawing was included in an exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art (Oct 8 – Nov 29, 1970) which also travelled to the Art Institute of Chicago (Jan 6-Feb 7, 1971) and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art ( Mar 15-Apr 30, 1971).
PMA cited the publication Georgia O'Keeffe, Some Memories of Drawings (1988), edited by Doris Bry, in which O'Keeffe wrote:
I first met Beauford Delaney when he was posing for Mary Callery. I found that he was a painter and posed for others because he had no heat in his studio and needed to keep warm. He seemed a very special sort of person so I began drawing him too.
I don’t remember where I worked on him- maybe at Mary’s – maybe in my own place. But I made several drawings and a couple of pastels of him.
The gallery label for the 1999 Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz exhibit stated the following:
Beauford Delaney was one of only two individuals Georgia O'Keeffe depicted in her career (the other was Alfred Stieglitz's niece, Dorothy Schubart) and that she drew five portraits of him in the early 1940s. A regular at Stieglitz's New York gallery, An American Place, Delaney was particularly impressed by O'Keeffe's work, which he described as "alive and quite amazing." O'Keeffe, in turn, deeply respected Delaney's painting and wrote a tribute to him in the catalogue for his 1973 solo exhibition at Darthea Speyer's gallery in Paris.
For the exposition that Darthea Speyer organized for Beauford in Paris in 1973, Speyer published O'Keeffe's statement along with others from James Jones, James Baldwin, and Henry Miller. O'Keeffe had the following to say:
I knew Beauford Delaney some twenty-six or twenty-eight years ago. He was a very special person—impossible to define. I think of him often as a special experience and always with a feeling that it is fine to know he is living—somewhere—still being his special self—what I do not exactly know, but he is a special kind of thought.
I find that O'Keeffe's exquisite portraits of Beauford are the ultimate expression of this "special kind of thought."
Roy Freeman Remembers Beauford
Roy Freeman is an artist, writer, and caregiver for autistic adults. The son of artists Don and Lydia Cooley Freeman, he left home at the age of sixteen to "seek his fortune" in the world—he dabbled in painting, music, and dance in San Francisco, lived with the Mazatec Indians in Mexico, and had many additional life experiences prior to settling down in Switzerland to study nature at the age of nineteen. He became a geophysicist, and worked in academia for many years before leaving this field to pursue his current activities.
Both of Roy's parents knew Beauford well, and Roy remembers how frequently they spoke of him. In quickly perusing some of Don Freeman's correspondence, Roy found several mentions of Beauford. He told me that Don and Lydia visited Beauford in Paris in 1970-1971, but that he has found no written anecdotes about the trip.
Roy had his own encounter with Beauford in Paris at the age of 19, which he describes as follows:
Roy graciously shared with me his knowledge of his father's relationship with Beauford in a recent interview. Below are a number of excerpts from this wonderful exchange.
Les Amis: Your father, Don Freeman, knew Beauford Delaney. Was this because they were both artists and met in conjunction with the WPA (Works Progress Administration) project? Or did they meet under other circumstances?
Roy Freeman: I am not sure how Don and Beauford met. The lived very close to one another in New York and knew each other as artists with the WPA project in the late 1920s and 30s. Don and Lydia befriended people who were real individuals - particularly those perhaps less well understood by others.
Les Amis: Did your mother, Lydia Cooley Freeman, know Beauford as well?
Roy Freeman: Lydia knew Beauford as well as Don, they were all together in New York art scene in the 1930s and 40s.
Les Amis: Did they socialize with Beauford, or only meet in the context of work?
Roy Freeman: They definitely socialized with Beauford, knew him personally, and visited him often—especially when they lived near each other (see Don's NEWSSTAND articles!)
Les Amis: Why did your parents consider Beauford to be so special?
Roy Freeman: Most of all because of Beauford's gentleness and vulnerability. He lived genuinely and was true to who he was. This was certainly excruciating for him at times; he had a very difficult life as you know.
Les Amis: Why do you consider him to be so?
Roy Freeman: For me it was Beauford's authenticity. He remained true to himself, and maintained his kindness of heart, despite all he had been through. His gentleness and his openness were immense and real. Unfortunately, this is a rarity in the world...almost a miracle.
Les Amis: Do you know Beauford’s art?
Roy Freeman: I do not know his earlier work too well. I knew the abstract work he was painting when we saw him in Paris.
Les Amis: Is there a particular style of his that you prefer (figurative versus abstract works, portraits)?
Roy Freeman: I do not know his whole opus well enough. I also have no preference—his figurative work is as amazing as his abstract work. I myself am quite at home in the abstract work. At the time I saw him in Paris, it was really strong. When he offered us a painting of his, I took a purely abstract, yellow-green-orange painting which had no figuration at all. It was radically full of springtime and life!
Les Amis: Did your family own any of Beauford’s work? If so, please describe the pieces.
Roy Freeman: In the artwork from my parents that I have, I do not know of anything from Beauford.
Les Amis: Any final thoughts?
Roy Freeman: It was a gift to have known Beauford, even if it was just in these short contacts. Along with the artist spirits of my father and mother, the meeting with Beauford has given me a tolerance and openness to accepting life and people as how they are. I try to give back what these people, with all their problems, have given me: a spirit to live who you are in this world that does not always accept you. And somehow, miraculously, perhaps with the help of an even greater spirit, remaining true to having an open heart to yourself and others. Thank you, Beauford!
Both of Roy's parents knew Beauford well, and Roy remembers how frequently they spoke of him. In quickly perusing some of Don Freeman's correspondence, Roy found several mentions of Beauford. He told me that Don and Lydia visited Beauford in Paris in 1970-1971, but that he has found no written anecdotes about the trip.
Roy had his own encounter with Beauford in Paris at the age of 19, which he describes as follows:
Of course the real meeting with Beauford was when I was in Paris in 1969 with my wife at the time. We called him up at the suggestion of Don and Lydia, and Beauford immediately invited us over. He was living in a small apartment, which functioned also as his artist studio. At the time I had very long hair and we were really surfing hippies. I was nervous at how Beauford would take us in. To my deep relief, Beauford accepted us just as we were. He was an incredibly gentle, open human being. I realized at once that I was in the world of a real artist. I could hardly believe the welcome and being with this wonderful man. He showed us around his apartment and showed the paintings he was doing at the time—very abstract. Before we left, I gave him a copy of a small book I had published privately—Mountains Converse—and he offered us one of his paintings. I could hardly believe his openness and generosity, but it was indeed genuine and real. I will never forget this meeting!
Solliès Toucas
(Beauford's gift to Roy Freeman)
Oil on canvas
Image courtesy of Roy Freeman
Roy graciously shared with me his knowledge of his father's relationship with Beauford in a recent interview. Below are a number of excerpts from this wonderful exchange.
Les Amis: Your father, Don Freeman, knew Beauford Delaney. Was this because they were both artists and met in conjunction with the WPA (Works Progress Administration) project? Or did they meet under other circumstances?
Roy Freeman: I am not sure how Don and Beauford met. The lived very close to one another in New York and knew each other as artists with the WPA project in the late 1920s and 30s. Don and Lydia befriended people who were real individuals - particularly those perhaps less well understood by others.
Opening image of Beauford in Don Freeman's Newsstand #1
Image courtesy of Roy Freeman
Les Amis: Did your mother, Lydia Cooley Freeman, know Beauford as well?
Roy Freeman: Lydia knew Beauford as well as Don, they were all together in New York art scene in the 1930s and 40s.
Les Amis: Did they socialize with Beauford, or only meet in the context of work?
Roy Freeman: They definitely socialized with Beauford, knew him personally, and visited him often—especially when they lived near each other (see Don's NEWSSTAND articles!)
Les Amis: Why did your parents consider Beauford to be so special?
Roy Freeman: Most of all because of Beauford's gentleness and vulnerability. He lived genuinely and was true to who he was. This was certainly excruciating for him at times; he had a very difficult life as you know.
First page of Don’s article on Beauford in Newsstand #5
Image courtesy of Roy Freeman
Les Amis: Why do you consider him to be so?
Roy Freeman: For me it was Beauford's authenticity. He remained true to himself, and maintained his kindness of heart, despite all he had been through. His gentleness and his openness were immense and real. Unfortunately, this is a rarity in the world...almost a miracle.
Les Amis: Do you know Beauford’s art?
Roy Freeman: I do not know his earlier work too well. I knew the abstract work he was painting when we saw him in Paris.
Les Amis: Is there a particular style of his that you prefer (figurative versus abstract works, portraits)?
Roy Freeman: I do not know his whole opus well enough. I also have no preference—his figurative work is as amazing as his abstract work. I myself am quite at home in the abstract work. At the time I saw him in Paris, it was really strong. When he offered us a painting of his, I took a purely abstract, yellow-green-orange painting which had no figuration at all. It was radically full of springtime and life!
Second page of Don’s article on Beauford in Newsstand #5
Image courtesy of Roy Freeman
Les Amis: Did your family own any of Beauford’s work? If so, please describe the pieces.
Roy Freeman: In the artwork from my parents that I have, I do not know of anything from Beauford.
Les Amis: Any final thoughts?
Roy Freeman: It was a gift to have known Beauford, even if it was just in these short contacts. Along with the artist spirits of my father and mother, the meeting with Beauford has given me a tolerance and openness to accepting life and people as how they are. I try to give back what these people, with all their problems, have given me: a spirit to live who you are in this world that does not always accept you. And somehow, miraculously, perhaps with the help of an even greater spirit, remaining true to having an open heart to yourself and others. Thank you, Beauford!
Richard Hadlock Remembers Beauford
Richard Hadlock is the host of San Mateo's KCSM FM radio show Annals of Jazz. He has been broadcasting jazz for more than 50 years, and is the author of Jazz Masters of the Twenties (Da Capo, 1988 [first published in 1965]). In addition, he is a professional jazz saxophonist who has appeared on dozens of albums. Hadlock studied with Sidney Bechet, Garvin Bushell, Lee Konitz, and, in Rio de Janeiro, the popular bandleader/saxophonist Zaccarias. He remembers Beauford in the text below:
Beauford Delaney was our landlord. In 1951, Tony Hagert and I moved into a vacant second-floor loft above a Greenwich Village trucking firm. Beauford, who lived on the third floor of the old Greene Street warehouse, had been paying, I believe, 30 dollars a month for both floors. Each loft offered a toilet and a cold-water tap, nothing more. Ours had not been occupied for more than a decade and it required days of cutting through the soot, grime and crud. Tony and I paid 30 dollars to Beauford and he could now live rent-free.
Most of what Beauford owned was given to him. He was especially fond of his record player and his collection of 78 rpm records by artists such as Bessie Smith, Sidney Bechet and Duke Ellington. Often his yells of ecstasy over jazz came drifting down to us on the second floor. Visiting upstairs was not unlike entering a temple. Beauford usually sat, Buddha-like, on his large bed under an elaborate canopy of white sheets, surrounded by colorful paintings. He seemed, to me, to love everyone and every thing.
When our building was scheduled for demolition by its new owner, New York University, we had to move. Tony had just been called up for military duty. Beauford and I walked the streets of the lower Village and as far East as Second Avenue, hoping for another cheap loft to fit both our ways of life. At that time --1952?-- Beauford told me he didn't want to follow, sheep-like, the many artists who had moved to Paris. He loved New York and often found inspiration in humble scenes such as Greene Street homeless men trying to warm themselves with fires set in trash cans.
Somehow we ended up going on separate paths. I rented a rickety flat on Second Avenue. Beauford, who, child-like, could not survive without the generous support of friends and admirers, finally gave in to the call of Paris.
Beauford Delaney was our landlord. In 1951, Tony Hagert and I moved into a vacant second-floor loft above a Greenwich Village trucking firm. Beauford, who lived on the third floor of the old Greene Street warehouse, had been paying, I believe, 30 dollars a month for both floors. Each loft offered a toilet and a cold-water tap, nothing more. Ours had not been occupied for more than a decade and it required days of cutting through the soot, grime and crud. Tony and I paid 30 dollars to Beauford and he could now live rent-free.
Greene Street (as it appears in Amazing Grace)
Beauford Delaney
Beauford Delaney
Oil on Canvas (1946)
© Discover Paris!
Most of what Beauford owned was given to him. He was especially fond of his record player and his collection of 78 rpm records by artists such as Bessie Smith, Sidney Bechet and Duke Ellington. Often his yells of ecstasy over jazz came drifting down to us on the second floor. Visiting upstairs was not unlike entering a temple. Beauford usually sat, Buddha-like, on his large bed under an elaborate canopy of white sheets, surrounded by colorful paintings. He seemed, to me, to love everyone and every thing.
When our building was scheduled for demolition by its new owner, New York University, we had to move. Tony had just been called up for military duty. Beauford and I walked the streets of the lower Village and as far East as Second Avenue, hoping for another cheap loft to fit both our ways of life. At that time --1952?-- Beauford told me he didn't want to follow, sheep-like, the many artists who had moved to Paris. He loved New York and often found inspiration in humble scenes such as Greene Street homeless men trying to warm themselves with fires set in trash cans.
Somehow we ended up going on separate paths. I rented a rickety flat on Second Avenue. Beauford, who, child-like, could not survive without the generous support of friends and admirers, finally gave in to the call of Paris.
Herbert Gentry on Beauford
Herb Gentry (1919-2003) was one of several African-American artists who moved to Paris after World War II. He was a friend of Beauford and speaks extensively of Beauford in the interview below.
The entire text of this posting is taken from the following source, which is in the public domain:
Oral history interview with Herbert Gentry, 1991 May 23, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution. It has not been modified. The interview was conducted by Lisa Kirwin.
MR. GENTRY: ...And then when I finally decided to go it was 1953. Beauford, I didn’t know him well. And then when I got on the boat I looked around to see who’s on the boat and -- did I tell you this? [Liza confirms] He was on the same boat and I spent all the time with him and it was a beautiful experience. This man was so philosophical. And then I guess he talked about things that we both never, you look at the sky – look at the blue and the clouds and we would talk about this and we would talk about feelings and thoughts and it was a beautiful time I spent those five or six days with him. And he had never been outside the States, but I had been to Paris.
And then we arrived at Le Havre and some people came to pick him up. I don’t know what happened, I went directly to -- I’ve forgot where I went but I was in Paris, I knew Paris. But I did ask him, I said, “Anything I can do for you?” He said, “No, I have friends who’re going to pick me up.” And then they picked him up and I went elsewhere.
And then eventually I saw him in Montparnasse. He became an artist in Montparnasse and everybody knew him in Montparnasse because he was a person that, he was a great artist. But the greatest philosopher I’ve ever met. He was older than most of the students, so he had all these wise sayings, and anybody had any psychological problem they would go and see him. Like for example, one time something was happening, I didn’t know, I went to see him. He said, “What’s the matter?” “Well,” I said, “the money’s low, I’m very unhappy and I don’t want to write home for money and I’ve money coming in.” And he would open a little purse he’d carried, he opened it and he said, “Look, I have enough for a little coffee and a croissant for -- oh yes, now tell me: what’s the matter?”
And then later I met a painter named Larry Potter, an African-American painter, Larry Potter, a great friend of mine, who “passed” in Paris, who would eventually exhibit in New York, I’d have to write the forward to his exhibition. Both the Delaneys liked him very much and he was a very sensitive person. I remember we would walk to visit Beauford in his studio and in his studio everything was spick and span. And he’d have these big American white sheets all over everything. [Speaking in high falsetto] “-- with Beauford.” Everything was covered, this was part of his little illness become, I think. I mean hit a certain niveau [level] and after that you know you go right to the top in thinking and philosophy, philosophical statements. And then I think the mind can’t go any further. He was so great, in everything -- in painting, knowledge, warmth.
Larry was very sensitive too. We would knock on his studio door and Larry would say, “Pardon me, open”. He said, “All right, if you’re not busy, can we come see you now?” That was very important to respect his privacy. He said, “Oh yes, you and Herbert Gentry, always.” Invariably we’d sit down and he’d fix us a little tea and he’d do his hands like this. [Liza laughs] We had a wonderful time. When he was in Montparnasse, the center, one of the cafes, Select Cafe, or the Dom, all the waiters, all the French people, Monsieur Beauford and he didn’t speak hardly any French but they all respected him. He was so kind. And it was the duty of all the artists in Montparnasse if they saw Beauford out there pretty late at night, they would take him home. He was a concern. He was very important to the American art life in Paris. And he was a great friend of James Baldwin [author], too, I guess you know that.
MS. KIRWIN: Yes, I was going to ask then you watched him progressively go – his mind?
MR. GENTRY: This is what happened. See, I was invited to exhibit in Denmark in 1959 when the Danish painters were invited to exhibit at the Riverside Museum. It was an honor, and they were the most famous Danish painters. But this museum does not exist any more, the Riverside Museum in New York; and I was invited to go to Denmark. So I went to Denmark and I had this exhibition and I stayed in Denmark for awhile, I worked there.
But I kept the studio in Paris, and I would go back from time to time; out of the year I was back to Paris every three or four months. What were we talking about?
MS. KIRWIN: I was asking about his health.
MR. GENTRY: Oh yes. So as soon as I’d go to Paris he would be one of the few that I’d know I had to see right away -- Larry Potter, my friend who had died, and Beauford Delaney and a number of friends but those two were the first two or three or four that I would go and see. So I would go and see him. Then I noticed that he started to get really away from me, he wasn’t very clear in what he was saying, he was going way up in the sky about what was happening, but it was [laughing] beautifully poetic. And I loved him. He would make statements like, “The sun is a sunny red.” He was right. [Laughter.] And you go with him and then you say, hey, you know, but maybe he’s a little off, but he was so great.
So he was very happy when I would come and give him a hug and we would talk and I’d find out if he had any money. I always would have a little money and I’d take him to dinner. And one time Romare Bearden came and spent about two weeks in Paris and he and Annette, his wife, widow. First he would ask for Beauford and then we took him down to an American restaurant, [belonging to] a fellow named Haynes [Leroy “Roughhouse” Haynes]. You never heard of him?
An American restaurant in Montmartre and we went there. Soon as he finished – “Beauford was hungry, he ate so well,” but all of a sudden right after he finished wanted to go right back to Montparnasse, that was his home area, see he knew that. Then I knew that he was getting old, because he got nervous, but while he was eating he was hungry -- maybe hadn’t eaten that day. Not because he didn’t have money but this sickness was starting.
And then I heard someone say that he gave some of his paintings away. I went and found that person, I got those paintings back. But then he started giving some paintings away. Some people might have taken advantage of him, took his paintings.
The entire text of this posting is taken from the following source, which is in the public domain:
Oral history interview with Herbert Gentry, 1991 May 23, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution. It has not been modified. The interview was conducted by Lisa Kirwin.
Herbert Gentry
© 1992 Walter Backen
Lomma, Sweden
Courtesy of Mary Anne Rose
Courtesy of Mary Anne Rose
MR. GENTRY: ...And then when I finally decided to go it was 1953. Beauford, I didn’t know him well. And then when I got on the boat I looked around to see who’s on the boat and -- did I tell you this? [Liza confirms] He was on the same boat and I spent all the time with him and it was a beautiful experience. This man was so philosophical. And then I guess he talked about things that we both never, you look at the sky – look at the blue and the clouds and we would talk about this and we would talk about feelings and thoughts and it was a beautiful time I spent those five or six days with him. And he had never been outside the States, but I had been to Paris.
Photo of a photo of Beauford on the deck of the ship Liberté
© Discover Paris!
And then we arrived at Le Havre and some people came to pick him up. I don’t know what happened, I went directly to -- I’ve forgot where I went but I was in Paris, I knew Paris. But I did ask him, I said, “Anything I can do for you?” He said, “No, I have friends who’re going to pick me up.” And then they picked him up and I went elsewhere.
And then eventually I saw him in Montparnasse. He became an artist in Montparnasse and everybody knew him in Montparnasse because he was a person that, he was a great artist. But the greatest philosopher I’ve ever met. He was older than most of the students, so he had all these wise sayings, and anybody had any psychological problem they would go and see him. Like for example, one time something was happening, I didn’t know, I went to see him. He said, “What’s the matter?” “Well,” I said, “the money’s low, I’m very unhappy and I don’t want to write home for money and I’ve money coming in.” And he would open a little purse he’d carried, he opened it and he said, “Look, I have enough for a little coffee and a croissant for -- oh yes, now tell me: what’s the matter?”
Sketch of Herb Gentry by Beauford Delaney
"Trying to make a wonder genius. With Glory!"
Courtesy of Mary Anne Rose and the Gentry Estate
And you know, I never really tell people all my problems. All of a sudden I caught myself: wow, great psychiatrist here, psychologist. And I’m talking to him and opening up and feeling better, I mean really. I realized -- well, I knew that later -- how important it is to have someone to talk to, have a dialogue, or have someone you can talk to and they would listen, maybe advise. And he would say these things. I felt good, you know! And that’s what he did to many people -- the French and everything, yes. He was a great artist, I would visit him from time to time.And then later I met a painter named Larry Potter, an African-American painter, Larry Potter, a great friend of mine, who “passed” in Paris, who would eventually exhibit in New York, I’d have to write the forward to his exhibition. Both the Delaneys liked him very much and he was a very sensitive person. I remember we would walk to visit Beauford in his studio and in his studio everything was spick and span. And he’d have these big American white sheets all over everything. [Speaking in high falsetto] “-- with Beauford.” Everything was covered, this was part of his little illness become, I think. I mean hit a certain niveau [level] and after that you know you go right to the top in thinking and philosophy, philosophical statements. And then I think the mind can’t go any further. He was so great, in everything -- in painting, knowledge, warmth.
Larry Potter in Explorations of the City of Light Catalog
© Discover Paris!
MS. KIRWIN: Yes, I was going to ask then you watched him progressively go – his mind?
MR. GENTRY: This is what happened. See, I was invited to exhibit in Denmark in 1959 when the Danish painters were invited to exhibit at the Riverside Museum. It was an honor, and they were the most famous Danish painters. But this museum does not exist any more, the Riverside Museum in New York; and I was invited to go to Denmark. So I went to Denmark and I had this exhibition and I stayed in Denmark for awhile, I worked there.
But I kept the studio in Paris, and I would go back from time to time; out of the year I was back to Paris every three or four months. What were we talking about?
MS. KIRWIN: I was asking about his health.
MR. GENTRY: Oh yes. So as soon as I’d go to Paris he would be one of the few that I’d know I had to see right away -- Larry Potter, my friend who had died, and Beauford Delaney and a number of friends but those two were the first two or three or four that I would go and see. So I would go and see him. Then I noticed that he started to get really away from me, he wasn’t very clear in what he was saying, he was going way up in the sky about what was happening, but it was [laughing] beautifully poetic. And I loved him. He would make statements like, “The sun is a sunny red.” He was right. [Laughter.] And you go with him and then you say, hey, you know, but maybe he’s a little off, but he was so great.
So he was very happy when I would come and give him a hug and we would talk and I’d find out if he had any money. I always would have a little money and I’d take him to dinner. And one time Romare Bearden came and spent about two weeks in Paris and he and Annette, his wife, widow. First he would ask for Beauford and then we took him down to an American restaurant, [belonging to] a fellow named Haynes [Leroy “Roughhouse” Haynes]. You never heard of him?
Portrait of Leroy Haynes
Photo © 2005 Discover Paris!
An American restaurant in Montmartre and we went there. Soon as he finished – “Beauford was hungry, he ate so well,” but all of a sudden right after he finished wanted to go right back to Montparnasse, that was his home area, see he knew that. Then I knew that he was getting old, because he got nervous, but while he was eating he was hungry -- maybe hadn’t eaten that day. Not because he didn’t have money but this sickness was starting.
Haynes Restaurant
(Closed in 2009)
© 2005 Discover Paris!
And then I heard someone say that he gave some of his paintings away. I went and found that person, I got those paintings back. But then he started giving some paintings away. Some people might have taken advantage of him, took his paintings.
End of excerpt
Remembrances of Beauford Delaney
An Anecdote by Burton Reinfrank
When I visited Beauford, we usually discussed art: the latest gallery shows, the State-sponsored shows at the national museums, etc. One comment Beauford often made to me during these discussions was "You've got the eye." I sometimes still hear Beauford's low, resonant voice saying it today.
We were discussing gallery shows and Beauford said "Have you been by the Facchetti Gallery lately?" I said I had not. (By this time - 1965 - Beauford had severed all contact with the Facchettis.) He said that two days before, he had walked by their gallery and saw through the window several large paintings on the wall, ostensibly by him. Beauford wasn't sure that Facchetti wasn't having someone do paintings in his style. He said, "Burt, you know my work well. Would you mind going by the gallery and have a look at my paintings and tell me what you think?" I said that I would.
I went to the gallery and had a good look, and reported back that the paintings were certainly by him. Beauford accepted this and never mentioned the subject again.
In 2005, I told this story to Paul Facchetti, who was then 92 years old. His response was, "Why would I have had paintings made in his style when I couldn't sell the ones I had?"
Burton Reinfrank was a long-time friend of Beauford from the Paris years. See the posting "Burt and Pat Reinfrank Remember Beauford" to learn more about their special relationship.
When I visited Beauford, we usually discussed art: the latest gallery shows, the State-sponsored shows at the national museums, etc. One comment Beauford often made to me during these discussions was "You've got the eye." I sometimes still hear Beauford's low, resonant voice saying it today.
We were discussing gallery shows and Beauford said "Have you been by the Facchetti Gallery lately?" I said I had not. (By this time - 1965 - Beauford had severed all contact with the Facchettis.) He said that two days before, he had walked by their gallery and saw through the window several large paintings on the wall, ostensibly by him. Beauford wasn't sure that Facchetti wasn't having someone do paintings in his style. He said, "Burt, you know my work well. Would you mind going by the gallery and have a look at my paintings and tell me what you think?" I said that I would.
Beauford at one of his expositions at the
Paul Facchetti Gallery
c.1961
© Paul Facchetti
I went to the gallery and had a good look, and reported back that the paintings were certainly by him. Beauford accepted this and never mentioned the subject again.
In 2005, I told this story to Paul Facchetti, who was then 92 years old. His response was, "Why would I have had paintings made in his style when I couldn't sell the ones I had?"
Burton Reinfrank was a long-time friend of Beauford from the Paris years. See the posting "Burt and Pat Reinfrank Remember Beauford" to learn more about their special relationship.
Richard A. Long and Beauford Delaney
Richard A. Long is Atticus Haygood Professor of Interdisciplinary Studies, Emeritus, at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia. He was a personal friend of Beauford, and contributed to the birthday tribute that was posted on this blog on 30 December 2009. Here, in his words, is the story of his relationship with Beauford:
I first became acquainted with the name and work of Beauford around 1947. He had been the featured artist in the annual Pyramid Club Show, an event organized by the artists Dox Thrash and Humbert Howard. I did not attend the show, but of the few paintings sold, two were bought by Philadelphian Dorothy Warrick. I saw them and heard about Beauford upon visiting the Warrick family home in Germantown that Dorothy shared with her sister Marie. The Warrick sisters were the nieces of the sculptor Meta Warrick Fuller, whom I later met at their home. Their collection included work by a number of Philadelphia artists—Allan Freelon, John Abele, Henry Jones, and particularly, Laura Wheeler Waring. The almost brutal expressionism of the Delaney paintings posed quite a contrast to the calm visual language of the Philadelphians and was the subject of much discussion. There were those who thought that Dorothy had gone too far, inflicting on the sober décor of Warrick antiques and porcelain a New York state of mind. Dorothy, who had always been an independent spirit, had felt vindicated by a visit from Alain Locke who approved her selection. Subsequent to her purchase, Dorothy had visited Beauford’s studio in Greenwich Village, a trip that she described to me on several occasions.
I heard about Beauford over the years and saw several of his paintings, but I did not meet him until I began a year’s residence in Paris in 1957. I had encountered the composer Howard Swanson, who told me that Beauford was living in the Paris suburb of Clamart and offered to take me there for a visit. On a typically dreamy Sunday afternoon we went to see Beauford for a visit that stretched into several hours. This enabled me to view the transformation that Beauford’s paintings had undergone since his arrival in Paris some years before.
During the subsequent year I saw Beauford often, usually in St. Germain-des-Pres. I spent another year in France beginning in the fall of 1964, during which I saw Beauford frequently at his studio in Rue Vercingétorix. I sat for portraits--one in pastel and one in oil-- off and on in 1964 and 1965 during my visits to Paris from Poitiers, where I was working on my dissertation. It was in 1965 that Beauford did the oil portrait of me, which is now on view at the High Museum.
This was realized in a large exhibition that I curated for the Studio Museum in Harlem in 1978, which was unfortunately too late for Beauford to have an awareness of what was happening.
I first became acquainted with the name and work of Beauford around 1947. He had been the featured artist in the annual Pyramid Club Show, an event organized by the artists Dox Thrash and Humbert Howard. I did not attend the show, but of the few paintings sold, two were bought by Philadelphian Dorothy Warrick. I saw them and heard about Beauford upon visiting the Warrick family home in Germantown that Dorothy shared with her sister Marie. The Warrick sisters were the nieces of the sculptor Meta Warrick Fuller, whom I later met at their home. Their collection included work by a number of Philadelphia artists—Allan Freelon, John Abele, Henry Jones, and particularly, Laura Wheeler Waring. The almost brutal expressionism of the Delaney paintings posed quite a contrast to the calm visual language of the Philadelphians and was the subject of much discussion. There were those who thought that Dorothy had gone too far, inflicting on the sober décor of Warrick antiques and porcelain a New York state of mind. Dorothy, who had always been an independent spirit, had felt vindicated by a visit from Alain Locke who approved her selection. Subsequent to her purchase, Dorothy had visited Beauford’s studio in Greenwich Village, a trip that she described to me on several occasions.
I heard about Beauford over the years and saw several of his paintings, but I did not meet him until I began a year’s residence in Paris in 1957. I had encountered the composer Howard Swanson, who told me that Beauford was living in the Paris suburb of Clamart and offered to take me there for a visit. On a typically dreamy Sunday afternoon we went to see Beauford for a visit that stretched into several hours. This enabled me to view the transformation that Beauford’s paintings had undergone since his arrival in Paris some years before.
During the subsequent year I saw Beauford often, usually in St. Germain-des-Pres. I spent another year in France beginning in the fall of 1964, during which I saw Beauford frequently at his studio in Rue Vercingétorix. I sat for portraits--one in pastel and one in oil-- off and on in 1964 and 1965 during my visits to Paris from Poitiers, where I was working on my dissertation. It was in 1965 that Beauford did the oil portrait of me, which is now on view at the High Museum.
Portrait of Richard A. Long
Oil on canvas (1965)
High Museum of Art
Beginning in 1966, I spent most of my summers in Paris for several years. Most of my visits to Beauford were at his studio, though from time to time we sat in various cafes, including the Flore. On one or two occasions we visited museums together, notably the fairly new Monet installation at the Marmottan. We often discussed many aspects of American life and culture, as well as my idea for the organization of a major exhibition of his work.
Cafe de Flore
© Discover Paris!
I made a gift of the Beauford portrait to the High Museum in 2001. The director decided to organize a Beauford Delaney show featuring the painting, and he called upon a former student of mine, Richard J. Powell of Duke University, to curate it. Hence, “Beauford Delaney: The Color Yellow” came into being. The catalog included a poem I had dedicated to Beauford and which was the title poem of my volume, Ascending and Other Poems.
The Color Yellow - Catalog Cover
© Roberta Boyea "Basement Book Store"
Burt and Pat Reinfrank Remember Beauford
Burt Reinfrank was one of Beauford’s friends from the Paris years. Burt was a member of the panel of the trustees that was accorded responsibility for Beauford’s affairs when he was institutionalized at Sainte-Anne’s Hospital during the final years of his life. I was privileged to interview Burt and Pat recently, and thrilled to learn much about Beauford and his work that has never found its way into print. I share some of their anecdotes below.
Burt and Pat Reinfrank next to an original Beauford Delaney
© 2010 Discover Paris!
Because the building in which Beauford lived on rue Vercingétorix no longer exists, and because there are very few descriptions of the exterior of the building, I was pleased when Burt described how he approached Beauford’s studio – through a courtyard and up stairs to a landing with two doors. Beauford’s home was behind the door on the left. Everything inside was covered with white sheets, except the walls, which were covered with paintings. Most of these works were portraits, while the abstract paintings were stored away. Burt said that Beauford invited him to sit in the chair and offered him coffee or tea. That chair was the one where Beauford had subjects sit for portraits (and Burt would eventually pose for a portrait there). Burt said that the apartment windows looked out over a schoolyard, and that voices of young children would fill the apartment at recess times.
Burt is a collector of Beauford’s art, and he had several stories to tell about various pieces that he has obtained, or tried to obtain. One such story pertains to a painting that he saw at Beauford’s studio during a visit there. Burt and Beauford became friends because of Burt’s interest in abstract art. Yet during a visit to Beauford’s studio one day, he saw one of Beauford’s figurative paintings from the New York years. He was quite impressed with it, and over the course of a few days, made up his mind that he wanted to purchase it. When he returned to the studio the following week, he did not see the painting anywhere, and asked Beauford where it was. Beauford told him that he had painted over it, and that the new painting was an abstract work.
Another story relates to a painting that Beauford gave to one of his best friends in Paris, Charlie Boggs – an American painter from Kentucky, who lived very near Beauford with his wife Gita and son Gordon. Burt invited Beauford to celebrate Christmas with him, and offered to pick him up in Montparnasse and take him to the Reinfrank home in Boulogne. Beauford asked Burt to pick him up at the Boggses instead. When Burt entered the apartment, he saw an abstract Delaney painting hanging over the sofa. Charlie helped Beauford to reproduce it as a seriograph, and a few years later, Burt received one of these seriographs as a gift from Beauford. Burt immediately remembered that he had seen the original painting at the Boggses and asked Charlie what became of it. Charlie could not remember, and the whereabouts of the painting have never been discovered.
Some of the Reinfrank collection comes from the paintings that were owned by Ahmed Bioud (link to Rosenfeld Gallery portrait), who Burt considers to have been one of Beauford’s closest friends in Paris. (He does not count James Baldwin and Bernard Hassell as Beauford’s friends, but rather as his family.) Bioud was a professor who worked at the Bibliothèque Nationale, and who would become a great supporter of Beauford by collecting his works and looking after him during Beauford’s bouts of mental and physical illness. The Bioud family would often invite Beauford to stay at their country home and to travel with them. Burt believes that Beauford painted one of the gouache works that he owns today (shown below) at the Bioud summer home.
Untitled, Beauford Delaney
Gouache on paper (1969)
Courtesy of Burt and Pat Reinfrank
Photo © 2010 Discover Paris!
Another painting owned by the Reinfranks (shown below) was originally a gift from Beauford to Charlie Boggs. Boggs sold the painting to Ahmed Bioud for the sum of 3000 FF ($600 at the exchange rate of the day). When Bioud died, his collection was divided among his daughters. Burt and Pat purchased it from a member of the Bioud family.
Untitled, Undated, Signed Beauford Delaney
Oil on canvas
Courtesy of Burt and Pat Reinfrank
Photo © 2010 Discover Paris!
Burt had other stories about Beauford’s paintings, such as a work that Beauford created in the style of the slash series of Italian painter Lucio Fontana, and another called Soul Brother that hung in Haynes’ Restaurant in Paris’ 9th arrondissement, for which an illegal copy was placed on the market for a time. But more importantly, he had a lot to say about Beauford’s persona – that shimmering, transcendental quality that made Beauford irresistible to anyone who knew him. He said that whenever he talked with Beauford, he regretted not having a recorder with him because he feared that he would forget the ideas and the philosophy behind what Beauford said. He thought deeply before putting into words what he considers to be the essence of Beauford:
Burt believes that art is an expression of an “inner something” that is present in us all. He says that the question is, are we interested in connecting with that “something,” or are we content to let it lie dormant within us. He says that Beauford was connected with that “something,” which Beauford often spoke of as “the cosmos.” Further, he believes that Beauford had a grasp of the human condition that he (Burt) has never found in any other soul. Words such as “saintly” and “beatific” (used by Pat) only begin to describe Beauford; to think of him in any context other than that of the far-reaching historic, artistic, and civilizing aspects of our culture from ancient times to today is to miss the point.
To sum things up, Burt indicates that Beauford was “something else.”
Cid Corman’s Poetic Tribute to Beauford
Cid Corman (1924-2004) was a prolific poet, and founder of the journal Origin and Origin Press. He began improvising poetry in 1954 on his first trip to France as a Fulbright scholar, and is now considered by many to be the father of oral poetry. In a 2003 interview, he stated that “oral poetry is so completely different from written work that you can't write it down on the page. And it's not a performance - it's speaking to somebody from heart to heart, from the deepest part of my being to the deepest part of someone else's. So what I write now is very close to that work. This is always my orientation, poetry that comes out of speaking language, not writing language.”
Corman met Beauford in Paris in October 1954. They became friends, and Corman wrote a number of poems about Beauford at this time. The two continued to correspond when Corman moved to Japan in 1958.
Corman would meet French gallery owner and publisher Philippe Briet in Japan. In 1995, these men, along with American curator and publisher Richard Milazzo, created a book of poetry dedicated to Beauford. Entitled Tributary (Edgewise Press, 1999); it contains fifty poems and five color reproductions* of Beauford’s paintings. Many of these poems are untitled – all of them are powerful. Corman wrote most of them in 1995.
*The paintings that are reproduced in Tributary are The Burning Bush (1941), Self-Portrait (1944), Chartres (1954), Untitled (c. 1961), and Yellow Cypress (c. 1972).
Corman’s dedication of Tributary to Beauford reads as follows:
What appeals to me most in the book are the poems that mention “the eye,” the organ that allows us to view the world, and that allowed Beauford to create such extraordinary works. In one untitled poem, Corman writes “So much in the eye – color weaving sky and river – bird and butterfly…the brush drawing every thing into the paint.” The poem “All” invokes “The sculpture of yellow investing a space engaging an eye”.
In looking at his numerous self-portraits, one can see that Beauford frequently painted his eyes asymmetrically and with different colors. His friend Burt Reinfrank told me that he wondered if this was Beauford’s way of portraying one eye looking outward toward the world and the other looking inward toward himself.
Corman met Beauford in Paris in October 1954. They became friends, and Corman wrote a number of poems about Beauford at this time. The two continued to correspond when Corman moved to Japan in 1958.
Corman would meet French gallery owner and publisher Philippe Briet in Japan. In 1995, these men, along with American curator and publisher Richard Milazzo, created a book of poetry dedicated to Beauford. Entitled Tributary (Edgewise Press, 1999); it contains fifty poems and five color reproductions* of Beauford’s paintings. Many of these poems are untitled – all of them are powerful. Corman wrote most of them in 1995.
Photo of cover of Tributary
Courtesy of Sylvain Briet
*The paintings that are reproduced in Tributary are The Burning Bush (1941), Self-Portrait (1944), Chartres (1954), Untitled (c. 1961), and Yellow Cypress (c. 1972).
Corman’s dedication of Tributary to Beauford reads as follows:
ForMany of the Tributary poems refer to color – in “Pastel”, Corman writes of “the vibrant soft reds through the blues to let Jimmy see to through”; and in “Abstract Exact,” he talks of “working the yellow, yellow, yellow out of the green green and red.” Others are poetic references to specific Delaney paintings, such as Beauford’s Greene Street, Chartres, and Still Life with Pears. (“Pastel” may be a reference to Beauford’s portrait of James Baldwin entitled The Sage Black, though this painting was done using oils.) Still others refer to Paris, or more specifically, to Montparnasse.
Beauford
these poems respond to the life of a
friend whose art was that of a life
given to life instinctively with all
the resources given him
they are meant to feed back some of the spiritual
and spirited heartbeat of his color
What appeals to me most in the book are the poems that mention “the eye,” the organ that allows us to view the world, and that allowed Beauford to create such extraordinary works. In one untitled poem, Corman writes “So much in the eye – color weaving sky and river – bird and butterfly…the brush drawing every thing into the paint.” The poem “All” invokes “The sculpture of yellow investing a space engaging an eye”.
In looking at his numerous self-portraits, one can see that Beauford frequently painted his eyes asymmetrically and with different colors. His friend Burt Reinfrank told me that he wondered if this was Beauford’s way of portraying one eye looking outward toward the world and the other looking inward toward himself.
Beauford Delaney
Self-portrait
Oil on canvas (1944)
Art Institute of Chicago
Corman seemed to have had a similar sense of Beauford’s unique vision. He expressed it in this Tributary poem:
The archetypal
immediate and
eternal black man
shaman artist all
eye and holding light
to its presence en-
cushioned and enthroned.
A Tribute to Beauford...in Gratitude
Richard Gibson was sixteen years old when he first met Beauford Delaney in Philadelphia. Their friendship continued until Delaney’s death in 1979. In the early 1950s, Gibson was stationed in the Army in Germany and would visit Beauford in Paris during his furloughs. When he was discharged, he moved to Paris and stayed for a time in the same hotel that Beauford occupied. At that time, Beauford introduced Gibson to Ed Clark, the then-struggling and now renowned artist whom Gibson still considers a friend. Beauford attended Gibson’s wedding at the town hall of Paris’ 6th arrondissement. To this day, Gibson speaks of Beauford with a mixture of affection and pride.
Gibson was one of many whose portrait Beauford painted. He vividly recalls Beauford's hotel room on the top floor of what was then called the Hotel des Ecoles on rue Delambre in the Montparnasse district in Paris. Beauford had transformed the room into a studio by draping old white sheets over the dark furniture to provide the light he loved.
Gibson was one of many whose portrait Beauford painted. He vividly recalls Beauford's hotel room on the top floor of what was then called the Hotel des Ecoles on rue Delambre in the Montparnasse district in Paris. Beauford had transformed the room into a studio by draping old white sheets over the dark furniture to provide the light he loved.
Portrait of Richard Gibson
Beauford Delaney
Oil on canvas (1955)
Dolan/Maxwell Gallery
The following is Richard Gibson’s tribute to Beauford:
Beauford Delaney was a master and friend who taught me how to see, hear, and understand a lot about the arts, from jazz to Marian Anderson and Paul Robeson and the spirituals to the European and American classics, from the glories of African sculpture to Mondrian (who also loved jazz). Walking through any museum with Beauford, whether in New York or Paris, was a guided tour in art history and a revelation of the profound meaning of what we saw. He taught about art just as he could teach you to hear and enjoy musicians as diverse as Schoenberg and Fats Waller.
I came to know Beauford after reading Henry Miller’s “The Amazing and Invariable Beauford Delaney” in 1947. I had indeed been amazed and dashed off a hasty letter of admiration to Beauford at 131 Greene Street—the address Miller repeated several times in that essay—in hope that it might guide curious dealers and potential patrons to his ramshackle loft studio on the edge of Greenwich Village.
Beauford replied and an exchange of letters followed, until one day not long after, Beauford rang the door of the West Philadelphia home where my grandmother and I lived. My grandmother was quite surprised and warily let him in. Beauford seemed even more surprised to discover that I was a 16-year boy studying at Central High School. Beauford had come to Philadelphia because he had been named “Artist of the Year” at the Pyramid Club, an association of black, primarily middle class, people. They gathered together not because they were snobs, but because many local restaurants would not serve African Americans in what was mistakenly taken to be a “liberal” Northern Quaker city.
Beauford was not shocked, and certainly did not inform my grandmother, when I in turn arrived one day a few months later at his door on Greene Street with my first serious girlfriend who happened to be a Quaker English teacher 20 years older than I. “Now you really are a man,” he quietly commented, smiling.
Proud of his African origins and well aware of the inhumanity of slavery in the transatlantic world, Beauford could quote with approval both W. E. B. Du Bois and Marcus Garvey. Yet he was not a racist or a black nationalist, and included white and black men and women among his close friends all his life.
Just as he was pleased for me and my girlfriend that day on Greene Street, he was also pleased (though fearful of dire consequences) when another slightly older friend, James Baldwin, revealed without apology his sexual orientation. Beauford did many portraits of Jimmy, including his great nude portrait of 1941 of Baldwin entitled Dark Rapture. Some might now call this painting “afromodernist,” but Beauford’s style evolved over the years to his final abstractions based on the admixture of Paris’ greyish light and spots of color.
Beauford's favourite author was Proust, whom he read and reread in the old Scott Moncrief translation of Remembrance of Things Past, followed by Andre Gide, whose journals he loved for their frankness.
The mystery of Beauford’s slow decline in Paris, which had become his home (though he never denied his origins in the American South), remains for me a sad and tragic mystery that has not been explained to my satisfaction. At least he was always treated as a human being in Paris, even in the hospital where he died, and where he rejected the gift of pastels the nurses offered him in hope they might restore the great creativity they had heard of from his visiting friends. “No,” he said firmly, pushing them away, “I am still owed money for my work.”
Indeed, I remain in Beauford’s debt for the paintings he gave to me, and all that I learned from him about art and life.
– Richard Gibson
Beauford's Birthday Tribute
Beauford Delaney
© Carl van Vechten 1953
I did not know Beauford Delaney personally. But in reading about him and talking with people who knew him – in particular, Richard Gibson and Ed Clark – I have been repeatedly impressed by the glowing statements and vivid exclamations made about him. In Leeming’s biography, Beauford is described by friends as a “big Buddha” and “a veritable angel of a man.” James Baldwin described him as a “cross between Brer Rabbit and Saint Francis of Assisi,” and a “spiritual father.” In honor of the 108th anniversary of Beauford’s birth, and as a tribute to his warm and gentle spirit, here are several quotes written by people who knew and loved him. Happy Birthday, Beauford!
As for Beauford Delaney, it escapes the general notice that he has comprehended, more totally perhaps than anyone…the tremendous reality of the light which comes out of darkness. If we stand before a Delaney canvas, we are standing, my friends, in the light: and, if in this light, which is both loving and merciless, we are able to confront ourselves, we are liberated into the perception that darkness is not the absence of light, but the negation of it.
– James Baldwin
Portrait of James Baldwin
Beauford Delaney
Oil on canvas (1945)
Philadelphia Museum of Art
I think of Beauford Delaney first as a wonderful, amazing and unique human being, a near saint or better than saint, an individual who has known nothing but adversity, met it squarely, and rendered it null, not through success but by sheer pluck and indomitable fortitude…He has lived his whole life with but one thought in mind – to paint…Poor though he has been, he has never given the impression of being miserable. He has always given more than he received – that is to say, himself.– Henry Miller
Perhaps the most outstanding characteristic of Beauford Delaney as a man is his generosity of spirit. It is practically impossible for someone to do something so mean that Beauford is not ready to forgive it and understand.
– James Jones
For many years, the sparkle of his gaze shone around him and attracted a crowd of friends, fascinated by this strong, if silent, presence. It was not his discourse that captivated, but a light that emanated from him and permeated everyone. (Translated from French)
– Darthea Speyer
In honor of the centennial of Beauford’s birth in 2001, the Palmer Museum of Art organized an exposition of selected works by Beauford and his dear friend Larry Calcagno. It was shown at five institutions around the U.S. from February 2001 to November 2002.
Catalog cover for An Artistic Friendship
He is about the only person in my life, who gave me generously of deep insights into life – without demanding tribute. A true artist – beyond this world!Two of Beauford’s friends sent tributes specifically for this blog posting. Here is an excerpt from what Richard Gibson has to say (his full tribute will be published in a subsequent posting):
– Larry Calcagno
Beauford Delaney was a master and friend who taught me how to see, hear and understand a lot that I learned about the arts, from jazz to Marian Anderson and Paul Robeson and the spirituals to the European and American classics, from the glories of African sculpture to Mondrian…Finally, Richard Long has contributed the last lines of his poem “Ascending, for Beauford” (1975):
All gathers, comes to growth, fuses.
The yellow, the green. The white paper
catching, refracting the sunlight.
The palette fills with light and love.
The spirit lifts, rises.
The world floats, ascends.
Ascension.
Ascending.