It was the fall of 1978. I sat in the sculpture foundry at Wichita State University with a group of students and faculty waiting for
the arrival of Louise Nevelson. I had just moved three rnonths earlier from New York to Kansas, where I had accepted my first
academic position. In the vortex of this new environment, I sensed a very different perception of the art world. For example, sculp
tors in the region tended to favor the macho persona quite different from Louise Neve son, who was, at the time, a few months
short of her eightieth birthday. Her Cor ten steel sculpture Night Tree had recently been installed on campus in front of the Edwin
A. Ulrich Museum of Art. Although she had planned to visit the museum earlier that year, she was too exhausted to make the
trip. Now the time had come. Nevelson was on her way from the airport. Anticipation was in the air. A luncheon and celebration
was ia preparation. The focus that day would be on Nevelson and on the acquisition of Nr~ht-ffee.
Her entrance was unforgettable. She came through the door of the foundry with an exuberant flair--a sense of regalia, warmly
accentuated by mascara, extended eyelashes, a silk turban, a magnificent robe, and polychrome shawl. Nevelson emanated both
sophistication and elegance. Her demeanor was unreserved. She sat down beside the arc welder and requested a glass of water.
After a short, calculated introduction, delivered by one of the faculty, Nevelson magnificently transformed the mood. A more
relaxed aura took hold.
She began by saying that she had nothing in particular to say. Yet within moments, Nevelson was discussing ancient and
medieval sculpture, rendering inc sive, poetic observations, calibrated with philosophical ins ghts that moved in all directions
simultaneously. The focus was always there--always in the present. Sbe told stories about her ear y years her travels, her influ-
ences, her love of dance drawing theater and choreography.
还没人写过短评呢