I guess I went on a little blog hiatus. Next entry will be about travel, promise, since I'm in the midst of planning for France and Denmark, but right now it's just all the fussy tiresome stuff about finding rentals and flights. But this entry is to remember Elemore.
Louisiana landscape artist Elemore Morgan Jr. died a couple of weeks ago. I'm still kind of in shock, still every now and again looking at the envelope with the letter and DVD inside for him that I was about to send to him when I heard the sad news. The photo above is clipped from some video 2 colleagues and I shot one glorious day 2 summers ago when we were invited to his home out on the Cajun prairie to interview him and discuss Robert Flaherty's film, "Louisiana Story," for a documentary project we were working on. That day was so extraordinary. We chatted for awhile then went out with him to the rice fields since he was on schedule to paint--everything depended on the clouds being right, so off we went. I got to ride in his falling-apart van, a movable studio, splattered with layer upon layer of paint, rattling over the fields and lurching alarmingly, like the whole front end might come off.
I've never watched an artist at work this way before, and I was fascinated. He seemed to paint quickly, but those intervals were punctuated by long periods of contemplation. After several hours of painting, we went back to the house and went to a joint to get sandwiches, brought them back and had lunch on the porch. Elemore brewed some exotic twig tea, and various dogs and cats circled us, hoping for a handout. His house is drop-dead gorgeous, and we learned it was in fact made from what he had rescued of his grandfather's house that was in Baton Rouge. He told the most wonderful story of carrying the house pieces around and finding storage for them move after move for decades until he finally had some land and resources to recycle it. Inside I recognized works of some of our favorite southern artists.
I date this time as the beginning of my own preoccupation with regional artists, especially of southern landscapes. I had just been to the Ogden Museum of Southern Art to see the double show of Elemore and his father, Elemore Morgan Sr., who was a wonderful photographer. Elemore Sr. once made a photograph of the sugar house at Homestead plantation, just a quarter mile down the road from us. Sadly, it was torn down long ago, but pieces of it are actually parts of the additions made to our house over the years. I like the recycling, but I wish I could have seen that sugar house.
I'm digressing--but that was what talking with Elemore was like, full of delightful digressions. He was a talker, a gifted one, witty and warm and wise. After our lunch we interviewed him on camera, talking mainly about "Louisiana Story." He had for some years worked to keep the memory of that film alive, curating an exhibit of Todd Webb's production photos, for instance, that I'd also seen at the Ogden. And J. C. Boudreaux, the boy hero of the Flaherty film, was good friends with Elemore--actually, that's how we met JC later, with Elemore's help. He sent me all sorts of clippings from an archive on the film he's kept; he was so generous and helpful to us, I couldn't begin to thank him enough. I sent him some pecans from our trees last fall and got the most delightful thank you letter. When our film was finished and we showed it in Baton Rouge, Elemore drove JC and his family all the way here to be at the premiere.
Through this all, Elemore became a friend. I can't claim to know him nearly as well as his students at ULL and the many artists he inspired, but I learned so much from him and feel so privileged to have made his acquaintance. When one of his watercolors showed up on the Louisiana Public Broadcasting auction last year, I bid on it and was very surprised to have had the high bid. I think now that painting is my most cherished possession.
Summer Cloud Study, by Elemore Morgan Jr.
So this is a tribute to Elemore. He enriched so many lives, and I think of him daily, every time I look at his Summer Clouds, which seems to bring back the full sensory experience of that magical day when we watched him paint under his beloved southern sky.
