G.C Coxe and Ed Hamilton shared studio space across the courtyard at The Cloister where our Community Art Gallery was housed. The Gallery displayed the works of those two black artists in one of our monthly shows with G.C. presenting his bold abstracts and Ed offering his “found art” pieces titled, “King” and “Queen”.
G.C.’s brother, an accomplished artist in Washington, D.C. visited the show. Out of earshot of others in the room, he closely examined one painting and whispered to me, “G.C.’s work is getting better.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “But I’m not going to tell him!” He gave an “Eh! Eh! Eh!” laugh that I will never forget.
I could count on an afternoon visit from G.C. during the winter months. Their studio was cold and drafty and the Gallery had a large coffee urn for the convenience of viewers. Our afternoon coffee conversations ranged from the weather to new works by the many artists who came through our doors.
My favorite story about G.C. was one he related on one of those wintry afternoons. G.C. had married a much younger woman who complained that he painted too much. After giving her comment considerable thought, he took his paintings out to the backyard and burned them. Several months went by and his wife said that she noticed he had not been painting much. He told her what he had done and she replied, “G.C. if you had been any kind of man at all, you would have ignored me and painted anyway.”
G.C. took the message to heart, began painting again, and never stopped.
Ed and G.C. followed the example of many of us connected with the Cloister Art Gallery in purchasing inexpensive buildings in the area. We had all watched the renovation of the Cloister as the plaster was knocked down off walls and bricks exposed. Little by little, we saw piles of debris removed and shops open in the former girls’ academy.
Ed’s choice was around the corner on Shelby Street at the edge of an alley. A fire in the building taught local firemen to never trust an artist. Along with taking down walls to enlarge his work area, Ed had removed the ceiling to accommodate working on one of his large sculpture commissions. Fortunately, the fireman who fell through the opened ceiling was not injured.
Ed hailed me down one afternoon and I went into his building to see what progress he was making on his Black Civil War Soldiers. The soundtrack of “Glory” was playing in the background. I was astonished by the magnificence of the piece which he was sculpting on a large turntable attached to a belt and a hand crank.
As he slowly turned the work the young men seemed to come alive before my eyes. When the turntable rotated around, the back of the work revealed the families for whom they fought to free. I was overwhelmed and I cried. I told him this work would be remembered far beyond our time.
Ed nodded. I knew by his gentle smile that he understood what an impact his work would have when it was installed in Washington, D.C.
G. C. was a fine carpenter. He made me a very nice floor easel. He laughed when I asked him to sign it.