The Marionette Theatre

12in x 14in | 30.5cm x 35.5cm
Oil on mahogany board
Collection of Helen of Troy

For the story behind the painting, scroll down or click here

Available for Purchase

Awards

One of the joys of living in Paris and in Europe is the marriage of the past with the present. This juxtaposition has become an integral part of much of my art.

Nestled in a park on the north side of the Rond Point of the Champs Elysees (pronounced Schahm-zee-lee-zay), roughly two thirds of the distance down from the Arc de Triomphe on that famous boulevard with its modern cinemas, popular mega chain stores, and perpetual promenade of tourists, is a charming marionette theatre (Marionnettes des Champs-Élysées or the Théâtre du Vrai Guignolet) that enchanted children with the antics of Guignol, his nephew, the policeman, the mouse, among others.

The character, Guignol, came from Italy to Lyon, France in 1795, and this particular theatre, created by M. P. Guentleur, dates from 1818. Traditionally, the owner sets out the benches, rings the bell, gathers the money, and wields all the puppets; and José-Luis Gonzales, the puppeteer from 1979 to 2019, is no different. When I asked his permission to portray his image and theatre, he replied, “What an honor for Guignol.” To explore more about Guignol and the historic theatre you can check out this site.

For those of you who have asked, this is not a self portrait, but yes, the woman sports my hair and my black suit (several of my friends posed for me wearing it in the same attitude).

Child in red

There is an emerging color theme in my work of the child wearing red and an adult in black. An adult in black stems from my own choice of apparel since I have moved to France. As usual, I had several models (my sister-in-law, my cousin’s wife, and a childhood friend who is married to the family dentist). This time, however, they all posed wearing my black suit.

My decision to have the child dressed in red, when compositionally feasible, was the direct result of a moving short story my aunt, Ruth Berdick, sent to me a few years after I came to Paris. She is not only a part time writer, a retired teacher and my father’s little sister, but also my godmother. In her story, she mentions that with money saved from her first job, which was at Northwestern University, she purchased an airline ticket to visit her brother’s family in Ohio.

A few excerpts explain it all: “…in my purse I had $20 from my summer’s work to spend on my godchild. …Her mother suggested a snowsuit. So we three went shopping in the basement of…a fine department store in Cleveland and looked at snowsuits. There were green, and plaid, and blue, but we three immediately saw the red snow suit… It was a Sunday school snow suit not for sledding in the park. Ann tried it on and all the shoppers turned to smile. ‘Isn’t she precious?’ someone said. We smiled, Ann smiled and was precious.”

“Ann paraded the red snow suit in front of her daddy, her brothers, and us. Then she and I walked around the block in 90 degree weather to show anyone on the street how she looked in the red snow suit. Finally it was time for dinner, but Ann didn’t want to take the suit off. So the day ended in tears as her parents pulled the red cloth coat from her hands.”

I do not remember that day, as I was only 2 1/2 years old; however, I remember well the photo my Dad took of me.

Though I was not blessed with children of my own, Providence has compensated me with my art and I am grateful for the opportunity to share my work, my “children” with you.