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“НА ШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ЧЕР ВЕНЬ 2020 WWW. UNWLA.ORG 2 5 An Artist's Story by Patricia H. Zalisko When I was a toddler, my mother and my maternal grandmother introduced me to the art of making pysan ky, one of my earliest memories. During Lent that year, they placed styluses for me directly in the middle of my w orktable. Years later they explained that they weren’t sure whether I was right - or left - handed (I am ambidextrous) and wanted me to use the h and that I felt most comfortable working with. The eggs were raw, and I broke one. No worries. They gave me anothe r egg. As I grew older, they nurtured this tradition, and our bond was strengthened by attending pysanky workshops together at the Ukrainian I nstitute of New York. For the most part , my art education occurred in the streets, museums, and art fairs of Manh attan and from family travels. While my mother attended her branch meetings for Soyuz Ukrainok on the upper east side of Manhattan at the Ukra inian Institute, my fat her or sister wou ld take me to nearby museums. The Guggenheim, Frick, Whitney (now the Met Breuer) and the Metropolitan Museums of Art became favorites in that neighborhood. My sister and I were also introduced to the Whitney Biennia l and the Mu- seum of Mod ern Art (MoMA) at a young age. And if my mother and my grandmother attended embroidery work shops at the original Ukrainian Museum on the lower east side, I joined them. While exploring that downtown neighborhood, I recall seeing some notable artists, such as Louise Nevelso n (whom I spotted picking up discarded furniture near Cooper Union Square, wearing her legendary false eyelashes), Elaine Sturtevant (who curated an exhibit in a pop - up space) and Mark Rothko, sitting and smoking in the Cedar St. Tavern ea rly in the aftern oon as I walked from church with my father. These artists and the abstract work that I viewed were intriguing and mysterious. I soon discovered that children below a certain age were not charged admission, so I would venture into the city after school and before my parents returned home to explore puzzling pieces of art that my elders would often whiz by during our outings. The work of Motherwell and Mitchell mystified me, and I would tag onto docent - escorted tours wh enever I could, just to learn more about these abstract expressionists and many others. They were my storytellers. On one occasion, a security guard at MoMA stopped me as I lingered between two abstract paint- ings placed on two floors, one above the other. One was white and the other black. I as ked him to explain what was happening in the work by Reinhardt as I couldn ’t understand them. He asked me where my parents were, and when I replied, “At work,” he soon discerned that I was there unaccompanied and he shooed me away, telling me “Go home, kid .” But I didn’t. I went on to the Impressionists and Monet’s massive Water Lilies in another area. My mother often purchased art supplies and brought them home for me to play with. I was sup- plied with oil paints and mediums, drawing tools and implements, and often shopped with her at an art supply store in Manhattan. I learned some basic printmaking skills from Christine Holowchak Dubarry, who was my sister’s friend. When I matured into a teenager, despite many regu lar studio art classes, I was discourage d from pursuing art as a career. In a household where academic performance was revered but where the visual and performing arts were meant to be appreciated, I was encouraged to pursue a more practical occupation tha t could support me. But shortly before r etiring from a legal career, I returned to make art as my schedule allowed . I audited classes in NYC and took courses at art schools near my suburban home. I studied art history, a subject that I could not pursue as an undergraduate or law student, but in which I had already received an early education wandering through NYC’s mu seums and art fairs. Today, I continue to im- merse myself in art studies by auditing classes at my state’s university system and by participati ng in res- idencies; I al so read about art voraciously and attend major art fairs here and abroad. My work is best characterized as abstract, perhaps channeling the same artists who influenced me long ago in NYC. Abstraction represents a ‘language’ that I c omprehend on a more int imate level than other, more direct , artistic gen es. My work is generally prompted by readi ng and words. Unlike my former profession, in which words were often used as tools and weapons, this ‘language’ that I respond to and strive t o perfect defies explan ation. But when t he work is complete, I know it. And if viewers perceive this art in the sa me way or in a way that echoes their own experiences, then it is indeed a universal and spiritual ‘language’ that we all appreciate. Editor’s note : The author is a member of UNWLA B ranch 56 and currently resides in Florida. One of h er work s is featured on back co ver of this issue of Our Life .
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