(Author: Bernard Levinson, Vol. 64, #3, Chanukah 2009)
Group 4. It sounds like a high powered enclave of politicians meeting in the Swiss Alps, deciding the fate of the world…
At the end of the Nineteenth Century, certain like-minded Impressionists met at the same café, at the same table each day. They not only had similar techniques, but shared a philosophical belief system for their art and for all of life. They attracted writers and poets to assist with the transportation of painting into words.
The marriage of poetry and painting goes back many centuries. The Japanese were doing it thirteen hundred years ago. They called it ‘Shigajila’.
So, this marriage was not entirely alien. In keeping with this tradition, Group 4 was created. Four astounding young artists. And I became the official poet.
I had never seen such energy and enthusiasm. Such electrifying concern for one another’s work. Such excitement and joy in the weekly sharing of new work. Fresh, new, wet-on-the-canvas dreams. I could not keep up with this wild, youthful, seemingly endless stream of creativity.
Group 4. They are all established painters. All over the age of eighty! Hannatjie van der Wat. A long established icon of South African painting. A celebrated international reputation. About to host a retrospective of her work. Sidney Abramowitz, the distinguished leading architect. Exhibiting his astounding Turneresque watercolours in America at the moment. Sheila Jarzin, the baby of the group. An Everard Reed exhibitor, with her massive ecstatic oils burning the canvas frame.
And finally, Monty Sack. He photographed autumnal leaves on the pavement. Flattened cold drink tins on the road. He transferred these images onto paper and canvas. Small studies were blown up, revealing hidden grain and shade. He successfully merged the world of spontaneous form and colour with the formidable high tech computers, manipulating his dreams into giant pictures. He was the ultimate dreamer. He had a world experience of space and colour harmony. He knew the balance of forms and the magic of disparate materials placed side by side.
Gather clouds
and the air between
The essence of trees,
the autumnal pain,
and the dark curling
green at the earths
core. Add a whisper
of man. The volume
and silence of stones
Let the giclee seep its
magic distillation. The
white universe comes
to life and sings!
Group 4 are meeting. One of their homes. An easel is set up. They all have pictures to share. The excitement is palpable. There is a painting on the easel. Silence.
“Does it work?”
“Is it finished?”
Monty steps forward. His grey beard barely conceals the tight fineness of his cheeks. He is thin and angular. A mixture of fragility and steel. He has an overwhelming intensity. As he stands in front of the painting, he becomes the essence of the painting. He misses nothing. His eyes search every swoop of the brush. He speaks softly. Wonderfully articulate. He has picked up every nuance of the painting. The negative spaces leaping into new forms, the breathing of colour and finally where the painting wants to go….
He exhibited with Sidney Abramowitz. Two old colleagues. Their paintings and translucent manipulations waiting comfortably on adjacent walls.
Walk softly. The
paintings are deep in
meditation Even the
air is still. A dialogue
of coloured mist. I
tiptoe into the
museum of the soul.
Walk slowly. A
kaleidoscope of
singing light –
Transparent glass
transposed on green
on blue
on glass
on air –
a spiral of song.
The meetings of Group 4 have continued. They still call themselves Group 4… Monty is still there. Still urging, still praising, still pointing a fragile finger at the quintessential core of the entire composition.
Monty believed in love. The philosophy of the Group was love. A deep love for their art, a love for each other, a powerful intimate love for so many in their lives. Monty infused his work with a humanity and a joyous sense of being alive in this amazing world. P.D. James says it all: The world is a beautiful and terrible place. Deeds of horror are committed every minute and in the end those we love die. But we have LOVE. It may seem a frail defence against the horrors of the world, but we must hold fast and believe in it, for it is all that we have.
Bernard Levinson is a distinguished South African poet whose work has appeared in numerous scholarly publications and anthologies, including Jewish Affairs. Professionally, he is a psychiatrist based in Johannesburg.
