I wrote this piece when I was trying to syndicate a column on obscure books that were worth reading. I include it here simply because I think readers should know about this nice little book, which captures Alexander Calder’s life and art so well. It’s out of print, unfortunately, and used copies are selling on Amazon for $60-$160.00… still, maybe you’ll manifest a copy now that you know about it.
to Sandy it was like working in his own projected brain
Pedro Guerrero, better known as the chief chronicler of Frank Lloyd Wright’s life and work, had a similar long term relationship with another eccentric, creative titan, the altogether more lovable Alexander Calder. This beautifully produced book, full of simply stunning photographs of Calder in his various homes and workshops, is not a conventional study of Calder’s oeuvre (there are dozens of these), but rather a very intimate look at how Calder lived, and how his eccentric, joyful environment was part and parcel of his unique and astoundingly prolific (more than 16,000 pieces are catalogued) artistic output. The pictures of Louisa Calder’s kitchen, with barely a spoon not crafted by Calder himself, are worth the price of the book. From the text,
“Believing it almost a sin to buy something he could make himself, Sandy would drop anything he was involved in, no matter how important, and beat out a roasting pan for Louisa or fashion a large-capacity serving ladle or a sieve. This do-it-yourself dictum was undoubtedly a carryover from their earlier, leaner days, but it had become an obsession with Sandy.”
A creative artist of any kind—writer, painter, musician—needs two conditions met in his outer life to be productive for the long haul: a physical space in which to work that he doesn’t have to think about, that is as natural for him to get to and be in as a kitchen table, and, just as important, people around him who are dedicated to smoothing his way, who will see to it that the washing is done, that visitors are handled deftly. Calder had both of these, for nearly his entire career. His homes, in Roxbury, Connecticut and in Saché, France, had multiple workshops and each shop had multiple stations where dozens (and ultimately thousands) of works—mobiles, stabiles, gouaches, jewelry, kitchen goods—lay scattered about, with their attendant tools, waiting for their creator’s hand to turn to them again. To the outsider it looked like a sparkling chaos, but to Sandy it was like working in his own projected brain, with nearly finished thoughts readily at hand. And for smoothing his way, Calder had Louisa.
Louisa Calder, nee James (the grandniece of Henry and William James) met Sandy on an ocean liner in 1929, and less than two years later they were married. It must have seemed a quixotic choice to Louisa’s family. Calder’s signature creations, the mobiles and stabiles, were a few years off, and financial success would not come for a couple of decades. Up until that time he had worked at no particular job, and had exhibited only a few wire sculptures, conventional wooden sculpture and his—eventually—famous circus, a combination of kinetic and performance art to which he would charge admission. But there was something about him…
Louisa lived on for 20 years after Sandy’s death, during which time she published a book, stiffed President Gerald Ford – she didn’t like his politics – and was named Woman of the Year by the United Nations. But during her marriage to Sandy, virtually all of her formidable energies and abilities were bent to the task of keeping him happy and productive. She cooked, cajoled, cleaned, inspired and in general took care of every household detail so that Sandy could spend most of every day in his workshops, doing his godlike puttering. In nearly all of the pictures of the Calder homes, the floors are generously lined with rugs, dozens of them, made of his designs. Louisa hooked them all.
Calder at Home: The Joyous Environment of Alexander Calder
Though not primarily a writer, Guererro’s text does capture beautifully the texture of the Calder’s life – together with the photos, this is the best book available for getting a feel for what they were like as people, far better than a conventional biography. Guererro, using plain words, describes many of the subtleties of what they were as people. Here, for example, is Guererro relating one incident from his friendship with Sandy:
“When we came to visit him in Saché that fall of 1963, Sandy met my wife, Barbara, and me at the train station. I was dressed like all my fellow commuters in the Connecticut suburbs—in the typical uniform of gray flannel suit and wing-tipped Cordovan shoes worn by one and all streaming into New York City. My French getup also included a very unbohemian velour hat with a tiny feather in the band. I thought I looked pretty spiffy. Sandy shook my hand and gave me an enormous bear hug. That done, he snatched the hat from my head and flung it as far as he could. Calder disdained pretense and couldn’t abide anything he considered sham. Neither of us ever acknowledged the incident, and I never missed the hat… My days of dressing like a banker ended that afternoon.”
Calder at Home
And ultimately, this is a very inspiring book. After reading it, I tried my own hand at making mobiles, materially assisted by tips I gleaned from the studio photos. One of them hangs above my head as I write, like a stray thought or a cheerful daydream.
Did you like this essay? You’ll love my books!
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