Story Time

Last night the art association had the third event in their lecture series. They called it “A Stroll Down Memory Lane” and, indeed, it was. Nancy Strisik, photographer and widow of the great painter Paul Strisik, brought slides of photos she had taken over the years of her life with Paul - photographs of fellow artists, many long gone now. What made the evening particularly wonderful was that other artists who have lived and painted here for decades came and, when a slide of a particular artist was shown, they stood and told stories about that person. It was wonderful.

Nancy is a beautiful photographer. Some of the images of those faces of people who loved art, and spent their lives making it, told stories on their own but when a face appeared on the screen and a fellow artists said, “oh, that’s so-and-so, I remember the time...” There is magic in that.

I don’t remember a time when I was not enchanted by stories. To me there is little in this world more delightful than listening as another person weaves a tale - whether true or imaginary. When I was little my father was my favorite storyteller. “Daddy, tell about your adventures in darkest Africa,” I would say. And he would spin a yarn. He was the one who started that. “Did I ever tell you about my adventures in darkest Africa?” he always said. And I would sit mesmerized as he took me on some thrilling journey into darkest Africa. I didn’t know where darkest Africa was, but I knew it must be wonderful.

I think I was in high school before I figured out that my father had, in fact, never been to darkest Africa and that most of his stories were suspiciously familiar to the plot lines of Tarzan movies. But what did that matter? I’d spent countless hours there in my imagination, thanks to his stories, and it was truly a wonderful place.

So last night the artists who were there shared stories from their lives as painters living and working with painters now gone. “That’s John Cicutti,” Nancy says and Charlie Movalli stands and tells about how he dealt with people trying to pay less than the asking price for a painting. “This is Jack Callahan” and Bruce Turner stands and tells a story. Bruce has a lot of stories - and people tell a lot of stories about Bruce, too. With every face that came on the screen more stories were told. Ron Straka and Nancy Alimansky and the Tutweilers whose legendary parties were the background for more than a few stories, all join in. Nancy has some gorgeous slides of Emile Gruppe and everyone has stories about him. I get to tell one of my favorite stories about Roger Curtis, one his son David told me.

Roger was a great marine painter, famous for his paintings of thundering oceans and crashing waves. He raised three sons who became painters as well - David, Alan and William. One time when all the sons were home from their various travels, they got the idea that it would be great for the four of them - father and sons - to go somewhere and paint together. They settles on a beautiful pond in a serene location and went there to paint for the day. The sons were having a wonderful time painting but Roger couldn’t settle down and find a subject - pacing around and offering advice on their work. Finally he had enough and exploded - “how can you stand this?” he yelled. He was used to the excitement of the ocean and pounding surf. A quiet pond held no appeal.

Domenic DiStefano was there too and he and I had a chance to talk before the program began. Domenic is the subject of one of my most recent and very best stories - a story I told to a reporter from the Gloucester Daily Times and it wound up in the paper. Domenic LOVED that.

On a Saturday morning a few weeks back, the great art teacher Charles Gruppe was teaching a class in the parking lot at the North Shore Arts Association. After his demonstration he walked around giving advice and tips to members of the class as they painted. He approached one man who was working on a watercolor and said, “Gee, you’re off to a good start.” The man thanked him and Charles commented on the strong lines in the painting. The man chuckled and introduced himself - it was Domenic, of course.

“Oh my goodness,” Charles said, “I have your book! It’s one of the best.” I was standing right behind them when this happened and snapped a photo as Domenic stood and tipped his hat to Charles.

I love telling that story.

Thanks for reading.