Revolutionary Artist as Key Buddy

When I moved into my current apartment, the landlord boasted several times of an "artist" in the building. I was intrigued of course, since art is so close to my heart (and stupidly was given up for many years). The first night I moved in, I met his wife, since we went well into the night -- it was the worst moving day of my life! I approached her and apologized for our disturbance. I think she thought I was weird. It was pretty awkward.


Anyway, one day I finally met him, and found out his name was Wadsworth, which I thought was pretty cool. A black man, most likely in his sixties, with shoulder-length, thin grey dreds. He just looked like an artist. We rode the subway downtown and chatted. He said he did sculpture, which was a big of a bummer for me. I've never really been a big sculpture fan. I guess I'm boring in that I do like paintings the best.

As weeks went by, I saw little of Wadsworth. There are only 8 units in my building and I rarely see anyone, which I find kind of weird, but figure it has to do with our varying schedules.

I did a little Google research on Wadsworth and discovered that he did have some fame in the art world, and for paintings (it seems sculpture is something he moved onto later in his career). I even found a book on him, entitled, "Wadsworth Jarrell: The Artist as Revolutionary." Intrigued, I looked for his various paintings on the web, finding some, many of which featured famous black activists from the 60's as well as many paintings of jazz singers. I was fascinated -- this guy was for real. I loved his paintings too, not only were they beautiful and interesting, they were all painted with bright, dramatic colors, which is another thing I prefer about paintings.

I thought it'd be fun to buy a poster of his work off the internet and then have him sign it, but I had a lot of trouble finding one to buy. Finally, when I saw him in the building, I mentioned it and he let me know that he had several posters left over from an event in Atlanta. He said to come buy on the weekend.

But I never did. As often is the case in my life, I was broke and the money I thought I'd have for the poster was just not available. So, I let weeks go by, thinking NEXT paycheck I would contact him.

I think a couple of months went by before I finally did, and the reason had more to do with a recent raise and a bonus than anything. Wadsworth led me to his studio, which was simply the apartment directly above the one he lived in with his wife. Densely packed and messy, I loved it immediately. On one wall, stretching nearly its entire length, was one of his paintings featuring jazz musicians. It was absolutely stunning and I spent most of my time that day staring at it.

I got to spend a few hours in that studio with Wadsworth and learned a lot about him -- all interesting. After attending the Art Institute of Chicago, Wadsworth began meeting with other black artists, including his wife, Jae (she did fashion/textile design). The art was not just art but a social statement. And they called themselves, AFRI-COBRA (African Commune of Bad Relevant Artists -- Coalition of Black Revolutionary Artists).


"So, it's like a school of art then." I said.

Wadsworth paused and smiled, "Yes, yes, that's what it is. I'm surprised you got that, hardly anyone else gets that or thinks that way."

Wadsworth showed me a black and white photo of the original members of AFRI-COBRA which also included his wife with their young son on her knee. He pointed out different members and what they did, and noted if they were still alive or not. It's one of those moments when you fear aging and the day when you will look at a photograph and wonder who are the few still left alive?

Wadsworth pulled out the book I mentioned above, which was filled with his works in their bright colors. Later I would read in this article that they were "coolade" colors, and were to be associated with African-Americans.

All this time he was pulling out canvases and showing them to me. They were all gorgeous. It was so interesting to see the original painting that you've seen in a book or on a poster and here it was, right in front of me. I'm talking about this one in particular: http://cat.middlebury.edu/~slides/inactive/HA202pk/pkma036.jpg

He had several versions of his paintings through lithographs and screenings. He showed me how they did all these types of printing and some of the history of things. I was really wanting one, but they were all thousands of dollars, so I would have to be happy with my poster.

One thing that interested me was a funny, colorful, tall pole of a man, that was leaning up against some paintings. Hard to describe, really. He told me that there was a set of them, I think there were about a half of dozen. And they were of famous black jockeys from years ago. Digging through a storage closet, he pulled out more of the piece, including its little white cap and the matching bottom portion. It was pretty cool. Wadsworth told of how people had tried to buy just one (they're a set) or had promised money once they were sent (no way would he do that!).

I asked him about his life as an artist. One thing that has always interested me is simply making a living as an artist. As I've mentioned before, when I was a child, I had some real talent in art, but thinking it would only perpetuate my life in poverty, i completely turned away from it -- a choice I now deeply regret.

Wadsworth stated how he's never regretted becoming an artist, not even for a second. Beyond the person satisfaction of being a painter or sculptor, he said it provided so many wonderful opportunities throughout his life, many of them all-expenses-paid, including traveling all over Europe and a lengthy trip to Africa.

Wadsworth continued pulling out paintings and continued to dazzle me. He also had two large pieces in progress which were a sort of painting - sculpture mix. Lots of colors and textures were used. Underneath it all seemed to be a light painting of Michaelangelo's David.

He finally did find the poster and opened them all carefully, trying to find one undamaged. I was expecting the black marker, stylish strokes of a John Hancock-like signature, but instead he took a blue pen and signed it in a modestly on the bottom right. I found a fairly decent poster frame at Target and it now hangs on my wall, behind my beloved bowl chair.


Finally, beginning to feel less like a neighbor, and more like a groupie, I made my exit from Wadsworth's studio. Since then I've kind of wished I hadn't been so self-conscious and had stayed even longer, listening to his stories and the background to many of his paintings and sculptures.

And I have only seen him a couple times since that day, one day to hand him over my keys. With the colorful array of neighbors in my building, he was by far the best choice, being both truthworthy and likely to be around. I needed someone in the building since I'm notorious for locking myself out of my apartment. Surprisingly, I haven't done it yet in this apartment, but I'm not stupid; I know that day will come.

I feel really lucky to have had the chance to meet and get to know a famous, lifetime artist. I could chalk this up to just another one of my "only in New York would I have this opportunity!" things, or maybe i'm just lucky (though i've never really been lucky, unfortunately). The guy who lives above me, diagonally writes horror stories. Maybe I should go knock on his door...