I’m not at all certain that Elizabeth Bishop’s paintings were ever in any such places, but after reading the introduction to Exchanging Hats (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1996) I learned that they were not exactly easy to find. In fact, William Benton’s introduction to the book is as of much interest as the paintings themselves—he relates his adventure of trying to locate as many of her paintings as he could, an adventure not without great difficulty. As it turned out Bishop’s paintings did not reside in one location but in many, and with a variety of friends. Benton writes, “To assemble a group of her paintings meant not just securing their loans but finding them first.”
Bishop was not exactly known as a painter, except mainly to those who knew her and received her small watercolors as gifts or cards—nor did she call herself one. She said in 1971 when asked about her paintings, “They are Not Art—NOT AT ALL.”
But, of course, they are works of art, regardless of the fact they may have been painted on small, thin sheets of paper prone to tear and fray, and regardless of her saying that they were “Not Art—NOT AT ALL.”
So Benton set off to locate as many of these works as he could, and writes of the experience, “The process of tracking the paintings down, and of eventually putting on the exhibition, led through a community of her friends. They were all a little like characters in the same novel—generous, helpful, at times vivid, and most of them now in their seventies and eighties.” One person, one character, leading to the next and so on. Ultimately the exhibition took place in a Key West museum in the Winter of 1993—14 years after Bishop’s death and more or less her debut in the art world.
Also of interest in Exchanging Hats are the quotes that appear at the end of the book—excerpts from Bishop’s letters associated with art in some way. One of my favorites was taken from a letter to Dr. Anny Baumann in 1952.
“At last I am mailing you a picture. However, I am not very well pleased with it. I’m afraid, to use an elegant expression, I bit off more than I could chew. However, it’s big enough so that if you like any section of it you can cut that part out; and I’m doing some more smaller ones and if any turn out well I’ll send you another one. The one I’m sending is from Lota’s road, looking down over the land belonging to a florist, just below us—a very nice neighbor to have…
On second thought I realize now I should have sent you one of the cook’s paintings instead of mine. Hers are getting better and better, and the rivalry between us is intense—if I paint a picture she paints a bigger and better one; if I cook something she immediately cooks the same thing, only using up all the eggs.”
It appears Bishop’s particular variety of humor and wit found its way into her poetry as well as her correspondence—and certainly for someone who so clearly had great facility both as a poet and a painter, she seems to have enjoyed the practice of self-deprecation. For someone who enjoys the practice as well, I can’t help but wonder what it is that hides behind these witty self-deprecations. By dismissing her art as “not art”, for suggesting that her cook’s paintings were better than her own—perhaps she reveals to us a blend of modesty and competitiveness within her, and the comments are her attempt to manage an inner conflict between the two?
Nevertheless, whatever she had to say about her small collection of paintings and however she chose to say it, it is hard not to appreciate them for what they are—fine works of art. Some of my favorites are “Interior with a Calder Mobile”, “Interior with Extension Cord”, “41 Charles Street”, and “Brazilian Landscape.”
Her paintings perhaps like segments of a self, or pieces of a personality, offered to her friends, and later to be discovered by many more.