Anne Truitt, Valley Forge, 1962As a child I had to fight for abstraction (“It’s a besign!” I’d insist to the teachers who challenged me). But everything’s relative. The other night my friend, Alexandra Truitt, daughter of the late sculptor, Anne Truitt, told me that, filled as the family home was with work by Frankenthaler, Morris Louis and Noland, she was nine before she realized paintings could also be pictures. Of things.
She described living in Japan (where her father was bureau chief for Newsweek) and excitedly bringing a book of paintings by Keane, which she’d found at school, to her horrified parents at the dining table:
This was her next crush:
Sakamoto Kyu
I guess there’s no such thing as a “normal” childhood.
2 comments:
I interviewed Alexandra Truitt years ago by phone for a catalogue raisonne project over a decade ago and found her both warm and insightful. This is a very funny story, thanks for sharing.
I just read Daybook...what a beautiful book. It is so nice to hear about an artist's balance of family and art.
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