Meryl at the Rose

(I wrote this as a let­ter to Bran­deis Uni­ver­si­ty to protest the clos­ing of the Rose Art Muse­um and post­ed it on Face­book on April 28, 2009.)

Many of the works of art at the Rose Art Muse­um are gifts – gifts from artists and gifts from those who love them. Every one of these gifts has a sto­ry to tell. This is the one that means the most to me.

Meryl Brater, my dear depart­ed friend, was a won­der­ful artist who made amaz­ing, inven­tive prints and artist’s books, using all kinds of mate­ri­als and tech­niques. Meryl delight­ed in the trans­fig­u­ra­tion of a vast assort­ment of shapes and objects – birds, flow­ers, vas­es, mum­mi­fied fish­es from ancient Egypt, Per­sian minia­tures, Japan­ese can­dies, punc­tu­a­tion marks, palm trees — every­thing that caught her bright, dis­cern­ing eye. She ground and mixed her own spe­cial col­ors, and made her own paper, often work­ing with Joe Zina at the old Rugg Road. She even made large-scale prints of plants using a steam­roller as a print­ing press – a birth­day gift from her hus­band, the light artist John Pow­ell!

Meryl was in sev­er­al group shows at the Rose, includ­ing the Lois Fos­ter Exhi­bi­tion of Boston area artists in 1989. Cura­tors Carl Belz and Susan Stoops vis­it­ed her stu­dio many times.

Meryl’s work was an expres­sion of her spir­it. She was a vibrant part of the Boston art scene, involved with Mas­sach­setts Col­lege of Art and Exper­i­men­tal Etch­ing Stu­dio, show­ing up at open­ings look­ing fab­u­lous, with her long curly hair and some fas­ci­nat­ing out­fit she had sewn togeth­er from hand-me-downs, hand­made and antique jew­el­ry, lucky finds, and the per­fect lit­tle scarf or hat. If you came to her with any prob­lem, she would always say,

“Just do your work.”

After Meryl’s trag­ic ear­ly death in 1996, John Pow­ell gave the Rose first choice of her work, in accor­dance with her wish­es, and the muse­um bought a gen­er­ous selec­tion. Meryl was very much a “process per­son” as she liked to say, so John also gave the Rose many of her note­books and sketch­es. After­wards, oth­er cura­tors and col­lec­tors, includ­ing Joan Sonnabend, bought most of the rest of Meryl’s work, and it is now dis­persed in col­lec­tions and homes all over the world, includ­ing the Muse­um of Fine Arts, Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty, the Muse­um of Mod­ern Art, the Nation­al Muse­um of Women in the Arts, and the Son­es­ta Hotels in Egypt.

In the Spring, Susan Stoops orga­nized a Memo­r­i­al Exhi­bi­tion for Meryl at the Rose. That evening, the muse­um was a place to cel­e­brate and a place to grieve – a sacred space — a place of mem­o­ry and loss and transformation.

Hun­dreds of  peo­ple came to the muse­um – artists, writ­ers, dancers, musi­cians, friends. We all stood in a cir­cle, spoke about Meryl, and cried. We all believed that Meryl would live on, here at the Rose, and that many gen­er­a­tions to come would have the chance to know her through her art.

Meryl will nev­er be for­got­ten. But to close the muse­um now would be a ter­ri­ble blow to every­one who loved her – to every­one who loves art and artists – to every­one who trust­ed their trea­sure to the Rose.

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One Response to “Meryl at the Rose”

  1. Rebecca Nemser» Blog Archive » Ruins at the Rose Says:

    […] Rebec­ca Nemser Sto­ries about Art « Meryl at the Rose […]