Panel text reads:
I remember arriving at BMC, an absurd little student with no idea of art education, or even living, I think they were the things I had come to BMC to learn. It was an excruciatingly difficult time for me. Looking back now, it seems a simple, relatively easy time, free from any "real" care. But hindsight is nothing if not beside the point. Life seemed as burdensome and oppressive in my innocence and insecurity as the crucifixion of Gogol's Akakey Akakeivitch. And I remember a suicide occurred during my time there, so I was certainly not the only person for whom it was difficult.
Despite the enormous amount of pain, I will always be grateful for being exposed to that crucible of egocentrism and negation. That world of active and talented people who had determined to do and be all things interesting, unusual, and worthwhile.
I loved the beauty of the countryside. The walks in lightly wooded hills. I remember the shiver of almost stepping on a heavy rope that was a green and coral snake. I remember, exhausted on one of these walks, lying down on a thick bed of leaves in the light and gloom or a pathway and sleeping for hours. I remember the dogwood and the tulip trees. I remember the persimmon trees and the wisteria. And I remember watching bluebirds flit and hummingbirds suck.
I remember the educational hikes with that kind man, Max Dehn, hikes that ended in the discovery of something rare and beautiful. I remember the kindness of Bucky Fuller, and the exuberance and drama of his lectures. Of course I remember Josef Albers (I still say alzzo). I remember the friendship of that remarkable woman Hazel Larsen. I remember Hazel's singular photographs, and her courage the night her darkroom burned to the ground. I remember her stamina, her patience, her wisdom, her sympathy and her generosity.
As I write this, I walk again down the path around the lake from the library to the lunch room. Along with the ducks, I see faces ripple in and out of the water. Beautiful and enigmatic Joan Stack, Stan Vanderbeek with his buttery yellow hair; Solomon in his New York (what else?) rags; intense Art Penn; Bill Levi, and MC Richards. an interesting pair crying to be made into a New Yorker cartoon. The Jennerjahns. Huge Charles Olson and his diminutive wife, Connie. The German family with their large terrifying dog. And of course wry sophisticated Cornelia and buxom motherly Malory, housemothers and cooks to all and sundry, doling out food, friendship, advice as needed. I am struck by what an important part all of these people and many more that I have not room here to name or describe played in my life. I am grateful to have been a part of such a vital world and to have shared BMC with that remarkable, wonderful and diverse group.
I am happy and honored to contribute these few photographs of remarkable women I have photographed to this exhibit.
Wilma.
I remember arriving at BMC, an absurd little student with no idea of art education, or even living, I think they were the things I had come to BMC to learn. It was an excruciatingly difficult time for me. Looking back now, it seems a simple, relatively easy time, free from any "real" care. But hindsight is nothing if not beside the point. Life seemed as burdensome and oppressive in my innocence and insecurity as the crucifixion of Gogol's Akakey Akakeivitch. And I remember a suicide occurred during my time there, so I was certainly not the only person for whom it was difficult.
Despite the enormous amount of pain, I will always be grateful for being exposed to that crucible of egocentrism and negation. That world of active and talented people who had determined to do and be all things interesting, unusual, and worthwhile.
I loved the beauty of the countryside. The walks in lightly wooded hills. I remember the shiver of almost stepping on a heavy rope that was a green and coral snake. I remember, exhausted on one of these walks, lying down on a thick bed of leaves in the light and gloom or a pathway and sleeping for hours. I remember the dogwood and the tulip trees. I remember the persimmon trees and the wisteria. And I remember watching bluebirds flit and hummingbirds suck.
I remember the educational hikes with that kind man, Max Dehn, hikes that ended in the discovery of something rare and beautiful. I remember the kindness of Bucky Fuller, and the exuberance and drama of his lectures. Of course I remember Josef Albers (I still say alzzo). I remember the friendship of that remarkable woman Hazel Larsen. I remember Hazel's singular photographs, and her courage the night her darkroom burned to the ground. I remember her stamina, her patience, her wisdom, her sympathy and her generosity.
As I write this, I walk again down the path around the lake from the library to the lunch room. Along with the ducks, I see faces ripple in and out of the water. Beautiful and enigmatic Joan Stack, Stan Vanderbeek with his buttery yellow hair; Solomon in his New York (what else?) rags; intense Art Penn; Bill Levi, and MC Richards. an interesting pair crying to be made into a New Yorker cartoon. The Jennerjahns. Huge Charles Olson and his diminutive wife, Connie. The German family with their large terrifying dog. And of course wry sophisticated Cornelia and buxom motherly Malory, housemothers and cooks to all and sundry, doling out food, friendship, advice as needed. I am struck by what an important part all of these people and many more that I have not room here to name or describe played in my life. I am grateful to have been a part of such a vital world and to have shared BMC with that remarkable, wonderful and diverse group.
I am happy and honored to contribute these few photographs of remarkable women I have photographed to this exhibit.
Wilma.
Artwork: 1995.87.1
Four Remarkable Women
This work was created for the 1995 exhibition Remembering Black Mountain College curated by Mary Emma Harris in conjunction with Black Mountain College Museum + Arts Center and the BMC alumni reunion organized by Mary Holden Thompson, founding director of BMCM+AC.
24 x 18 inches
In copyright
Gift of Wilma Fuerstenberg Evans
Wilma Fuerstenberg Evans, Four Remarkable Women, 1995. Photographs and printed paper on foam board. Collection of Black Mountain College Museum + Arts Center. Gift of the artist.
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