Alphonse Mucha and "Only the Lonely"

My Mother was dying. I had gone to visit her some months before and had numerous talks and reminiscences. At the time of that visit, it had some how not registered that she would soon be "gone". She had beaten cancer twice and had always "been there" and seemed to still be strong and her usual self. But, since my visit, it had become very clear that she was not going to rally this one last time. So. In one of those odd moments in life when you really should probably not plan anything, I, of course, for reasons that I cannot recall, scheduled an extended trip. Some business in Las Vegas. Continuing on to Richmond, Virginia (via Washington DC) and then my annual visit to Oregon for the Oregon Country Fair. The Richmond part of the trip was to visit an old high school pal and, in particular, to visit the Virginia Fine Arts Museum. I had studied all forms of Art history and different styles and periods. Though I have a very good understanding of why and how different Art forms evolved---and particularly how each style fit each era, I found that there were certain types of art that "struck a chord" with me. Something about a particular genre "fit". One of those was the Art Nouveau movement of the early 1900's. The fluidity and free form organic styling of the artists of that period, seemed to me to be almost improvisational. Funny that the beginnings of Jazz were from around that era---a similar fluid art form. Through research, I had been surprised to find that the Virginia Fine Arts Museum had one of the finest Art Nouveau collections in the USA. My trip, therefore, had turned into a strange combination of friendly visit, art research, and art fair. All with a bit of soul searching thrown in---a type of artistic spiritual journey.

The trip into Washington DC was really only because of the "open legged" type of fare that I had purchased. "DC" was cheaper than flying directly into Richmond and I thought it would be an interesting bonus to the trip to take the train from National Airport (a station was just walking distance from the terminal) down to Richmond. After boarding the train and settling in to a window seat, I was able to sit back and relax and watch the countryside roll past. As we moved south, away from the "city" views of the nation's capital, I began to realize that I knew these names of small cities from my history books----in particular, the names of Civil War battle fields. The railroad went along through these little stations much as it probably did in the days of the Civil War---following the same tracks and routes.

In Richmond, over dinner with my friend and a friend of hers, I spoke of my interest in Art Nouveau and how I was looking forward to the museum visit. They were very much aware of the museums collection but seemed a bit surprised by my enthusiasm for this particular era. They both mentioned "You need to meet Lester. We'll have to see if we can go to a dinner at his house. You'll be amazed at his house and furnishings" OK, I thought, for whatever reason that seemed necessary, they didn't feel the need to explain further and I was open to whatever ,so---let's do it!

My visit to the museum the next day was all that I could have wished for!

One of the most amazing things for me about the Art Nouveau period was the partnering of different artists from different media of the period---especially the combined talents of Alphonse Mucha---known for his wonderful advertising posters and imagery --and George Fouquet--noted jewelry designer and enamelist. Their combined efforts utilizing Mucha's imagery and floral touch with Fouquet's technique and talents with enamel and organic materials created some of the most amazing and ethereal jewelry ever seen---to this day! The boutique/showroom designed by Mucha for their jewelry at the Paris Exhibition of 1900 was one of the featured delights of an Exhibition that has not been equalled since. The complete showroom can be seen ---reconstructed--at the Musee Carnavalet in the Marais district of Paris. It is, quite literally, breathtaking.

I spent a day wandering around the VMFA (mostly empty and all to myself) and was able to stand in front of Mucha original lithographs for some time---reveling in his technique and genius. The portrayal of classic scenes----such as his separate panels for The Four Seasons---and the inspired interpretation of the flowing hair of the "Job" cigarette paper girl pictured here was even more amazing in the original colors as opposed to the final paper advertisements. He had taken the style of the Pre-Raphaelites with long flowing hair and diaphanous gowns and transformed it into a style of poster that had not been seen before. Advertising posters had previously contained mostly "copy" with maybe a small sketch to portray the item being marketed. Mucha turned it completely around and used an image to portray what it may feel like to use the product.

The next day, it was announced, we (my friend and hers, again) were to journey out into the Virginia countryside to have "supper" at Lester's house. I was informed that he lived out in his family home---in the middle of nowhere--quite some distance away from Richmond "In more ways than one!", they laughed. "His southern drawl takes some getting used to, "one of them said, as we drove away from the city. "Just don't take his "Yankee" digs too personally. It's just him." Hmm. Just what I needed. "Yankee?", I thought. A smartass Southerner . Oh well---we'll see. After numerous wanderings and turnings we pulled up a long drive to a green version of the house pictured here---

A mossy green with a willow tree off to the right---with a cluster of people sitting in chairs around a barbecue pit & table.

As we pulled up and started to get out of the car, an average height man with sandy blond hair and a white stripped shirt tucked into old faded jeans came walking over. He greeted the "gals" and then came over to me and said "Yur that fella from Hawaii, right? Imagine that. ALL THE WAY FROM HAWAII! ", he yelled over his shoulder to the other folks around the table. "What ya drainkin?" he asked as he put his arm around my shoulder and started walking us toward the table. "Oh, how about some red wine, " I said. "How about some bourbon?" he said.""Ahh, sorry, not much of a bourbon man. How about a gin & tonic?" "How about some bourbon?" he said ---hugging me tighter to himself. "OK, with coke?" I offered. He gave me a quick hug and leaning into me, very quietly, said "Yur funny." "How about on the rocks?", I said. He reached over and grabbed a glass and handed it to me while pouring a brown liquid out of a jar into it and said, "I like you already!"

And so began an evening of "southern charm" like I had never witnessed before. Lester had a very dry, joking manner---mixed in with that slow drawl---and a big grin--- always a hint of malice in his tone. He kept everybody laughing with his tales and joking but there was always that hint of a threat. Suddenly, everything changed when my friend explained that I was there---while my Mother was dying in Detroit. He stopped and looked at me for a long minute with his head kinda tilted to the side. To dispel what I felt might be a false judgement, I said "We had a talk and she made it clear she didn't want a bunch of us standing around while she died. So, I'm here!" Everyone sat there and looked at me for a LONG pause, until he said, "Cumon---I got sumppina show ya" We went into the house and down a back hallway was a very thin, steep stairs leading up to a darkened second floor. He said "Comon'" and led us up this tiny little stairs. At the top, he turned right and switched on a light and there---for about 2/3 of the space of the 2nd floor----was what could only be described as a Victorian style sitting room with the most amazing Art Nouveau and Victorian furniture! All arranged like a stage set. The most amazing cabinet with woven vine motif and bevelled glass. Rolled back sofa and chairs in a polished black horsehair. A gorgeous brass 6 ft tall Art Nouveau birdcage. Not a speck of dust. And there, hanging on the wall behind a pleated cream colored silk sceen, were , two Alphonse Mucha panels. They were faded a little but quite obviously NOT paper advertisements. These were original lithos! "These are---wonderful!", I exclaimed. "Ohhh, this was my Mamma's favorite room. She spent all of her time in here---I didn't have the heart to change it since she passed", he said, "and the stairs was too small to drag anything down anyway". We "ooohed" and "awed" at the whole thing. I kept looking at him and he was watching me the whole time----like he was gauging my reaction. "Here---I got summin else" he finally said. We stepped down across the landing and then up over a high door sill into the room across the hall and walked into what amounted to a Civil War museum. "THIS!", he announced, "Was my great-granddaddies" And there------also preserved perfectly ----was a Confederate flag on the wall. And a perfect cavalry saddle. Boots and jacket. Swords crossed on the wall beneath a painting of a Confederate officer. (I assumed his fore bearer) "Here," he said (with a wink) "Let me show you somethin" and out of a saddlebags side pocket, he pulled a leather packet that was FULL of Confederate currency! Full as in about 12" long by the same wide and stuffed with neatly tied packets. "Here," he cried, while tossing me another, "I got six of them in all." A desk with a pile of brown faded papers--not newspapers---what looked like correspondence ---"Those have not been touched in over 120 years" he said. I was stunned---but also a bit wary. This was an odd cache. And equally strange to stepped into this dual timewarp here in, what I had never thought of, the Confederate south!

We all headed downstairs and I said I'd like to go for a walk before it got completely dark. I wandered away from the house and down to the left along a dirt trail. Off to the left, over the top of some tall vegetation, a big yellow full moon was rising through the mist and fog forming around the tops of the plants. "That there's tobacco" I heard him say as he came walking up behind me. "Beautiful" I said, "My Mother would have liked that!" "You can see it for her," he said, looking down at his shoes as we walked along. We turned around at a corner fence post and, as we started to walk back up the road toward the house, a man was coming down toward us walking between 2 big draft horses. As he got closer in the fading light, I could see that he was a black man with a straw hat on. "Mr. Lester? I'm done and was jus goin to put them away for the night." "This here'z Tommy, " he said---leaning in close to me with a low chuckle "Jus like you!"(that menace there again)"His family's been aworkin with mine for-a -a LONG time----ain't that right Tommy?" "Yes, sir" Tommy said----with a long slow look at me ----then at Lester----then he walked away. Lester must have sensed that he had played that game a bit hard----so he said---"Here. Here's somethin you can tell yur Mamma about" and picking up a beachball up off of the lawn, rolled it forward into the 1ft tall grass of the lawn coming down from the house. And a cascade of fireflies flashed out of the grass on either side of the oncoming ball-----like something out of a Disney Fairy movie. "This is ALL something she would not believe if I DID tell her about it," I thought.

We found everyone else inside the house. Lester said "I hear you're quite the singer" and before I could stammer something about "well, you know, I kinda use to...." he said "Sit down, I got something to show you," and suddenly, there on the TV, was Roy Orbison---performing in his "Black and White Night" concert! I had never seen this video and was simply amazed at the great performance and all the great musicians singing and playing with him. I had gone, with my brother Dave in his 1950 Oldsmobile, to see Roy at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in LA some years before. That astonishing voice coming out of this simple plain man was hard to believe. And now here we were, sitting watching an equally amazing performance.

As Roy began to sing "Only the Lonely", I gestured with my left hand toward one of the fellow performers , when Lester, sitting in a chair to my left, quickly reached over, grabbed hold of my hand and said "Here's your song! Listen, listen." And with his eyes closed and tears steaming down his face, held onto my hand in a death grip through the whole song. The was getting a bit weird and as the next song "In Dreams" began with "I close my eyes. And I drift away. Into the magic night, I softly say, a silent prayer, like dreamers do, as I fall asleep and dream, these dreams of you. IN DREAMS! I WALK, WITH YOU!!"

OK! I yanked my hand away and thought "This has been one of the most bizarre evenings I have ever experienced"

We said our goodbyes and headed out the door. As we drove away, I shook myself like a dog shaking off water. I felt like I was coming out of a weird dream filled with fireflies, and misty moons and the amazing imagery of Mucha with a touch of "The South will rise AGAIN!" thrown in.

I didn't get the chance to tell her all about it before she passed away but I know my Mother would have loved my southern tale.