Tribute to Nan Yeomans

Commentary by Artist J.T. Winik
presented at Nan Yeomans' Funeral
We always think of the last time... the last time we saw her - seeking in that memory some meaning, some explanation. How could she be so vibrantly there one moment... and not here now?

We always think of the last time... the last time we saw her - seeking in that memory some meaning, some explanation. How could she be so vibrantly there one moment... and not here now?

The last time I saw Nan was at the Women's Art Festival earlier this month. As with so many years past, she stood behind her table, a cheerful but quiet presence, her prints and cards neatly arranged in boxes before her. I flipped through them, stopping here and there to examine some image not seen before and others which were as familiar as friends: Tommy Turtle, the Downtown Kingston Domes, a sailboat in the night, bluebirds on a wire, a rooster, a tree, an autumn leaf, a star in the sky. As I did so, others gathered and soon became as engrossed as I, for with every flick of one's finger, came a wonderful surprise ..... with every image encountered, a smile was made.

I selected a small print - a downtown scene - and Nan wrapped it with care, including, as always, a copy of her biography. At the last moment, I chose one of her "cut-out" cards - one which depicted a cocktail glass with a sprig of mint - .... "A strange image for Nan!"I thought, at first. But, in fact, nothing was strange for Nan. Her vision was varied. Her vision was vast. I set the card on the table while searching my purse to pay for it. "Oh no!" she said. "That's a bonus!"

Indeed, it was a bonus, a gift... as was she. She smiled in her quiet, genuine, unassuming way and as with her work, one responded. One always felt better upon encountering her. I believe she made us better people.

As in life, she helped make this world a finer place, and so will her work continue to do so.

In her work... she has left us something truly significant: a bit of her soul. And through it we may continue to be charmed, cheered, moved, transported. In her work we may find a simple autumn leaf and within its intricacy appreciate the universe... and our part within it.

During the filming of "Under My Shell" I had the pleasure one day of being with her in the woods in the area of her childhood haunts. As she sat, I watched her take up her pencil and position it tentatively over her sketchbook to draw a leaf - and as an artist myself, that was a great lesson for me. For Nan did not simply draw a leaf.

As she drew, one could see her eyes creeping as carefully as a tiny insect, exploring the edges of that leaf, examining its nooks and crannies, its idiosyncrasies, its surface, its web of veins. It was apparent that this leaf - this particular leaf - was an entirely new object to her, something she had never seen before and thus, something she could not treat lightly. Her intention was not to render "a beautiful leaf" - there was no end result in mind, it was not her purpose to make a "Pretty Picture." In drawing, that day, there was simply an intense examination and evident wonder as though she were seeing a leaf for the very first time.

And it is that which she leaves us. That wonder, that joy in the simple and the familiar. Her vision guides us to a place where we might also enjoy the vast world of small things, be they bluebirds on a wire or a star in the sky.

In that light, it is not a question of "...the last time we saw her..."

How could she be so vibrantly there one moment and not here now? She is here in still. In her work, she will continue to live among us... and perhaps long after we are gone.

Fifty or a hundred years from now, someone not yet born, may glance up from their desk to a special place on the wall where hangs a delightful little print of a turtle or a comet or a sailboat or an autumn leaf... and he or she will smile. In doing so, they will have known Nan.

BACK

Created on ... August 29, 2004