BERT'S WORK

 When the internet and social media came along, I was a little late to the party. I didn’t even own a computer until 2003 and resisted joining facebook and instagram for some years after that. The reason I got a computer was to email people out of the country. I’d been to Cuba twice in ’03. The best way to stay in touch with my Cuban artist friends was through email. Their access was random and spotty, but phone and snail mail were even worse. So, about once a week I drove to my local library in Monticello and used the free computer in the basement to contact my Socialista buddies. It was then and there that I discovered the paintings of Ethelbert Baldwin Crawford.

 

Any reader of HWS knows the story of EBC. To recap: After being traumatized by a late in life love affair being cock-blocked by an overly possessive mother, the (not quite) good enough painter put the barrel of a deer rifle to his chest and pulled the trigger on Aug. 11, 1921. His mother, now devastated by her son’s suicide, tried to find a home for his paintings. Aiming high, she offered them to the Met. They were not interested. Instead, in what I consider a beautiful gesture and a perfect example of social sculpture, Estelle Crawford bequeathed the Village of Monticello the funds necessary to build a library. This they did. The only stipulation was that they MUST ALWAYS display Bert’s work. The artist had permanent context. I have a copy of the will.

 

A couple of days ago I got a message on Instagram from a woman in Southern California who had purchased (for $16) two Crawford paintings in a thrift store in Palm Springs. Recognizing they were more than amateurish vernacular, she had done a little research and come up with my name as a de facto Crawford “expert.” She sent me pictures of the little paintings and wondered what I could tell her about them.

 

I immediately knew they were Bert’s. I’d viewed plenty similar, all painted on the same fragile board, in the old library’s attic. The collector (an interior designer) had contacted the library (now moved to a new location) and didn’t get a response. We had a pleasant exchange as fellow art geeks. I welcomed her to the very small community of Crawford afficionados.

 

The social sculpture that Estelle Crawford started in 1921 continues to reverberate. It took a trip to Cuba to get me on the internet. That led me to EBC, the library that bears his name and the place that houses his work. After years of negotiations, I was able to purchase ten Crawford paintings from the library and show them in my gallery/social sculpture MO David North. This small show (that sold nothing) garnered some local press. So, when you google Ethelbert B. Crawford my name usually also pops up. We are linked in the algorithm.

 

I love the fact that this random woman 3000 miles away can spot a good painting in a thrift store and pick it up for a song. Then, because they were signed (many are not) she was able to not only find the library but me on the internet, over 100 years since poor Bert killed himself. I told her I thought they had found a good home, outside of the art world, not recognized within the canon, but still joyfully cherished by a person with a good eye. Way to go Bert!