The Cloister Community Art Gallery was incorporated by three art groups in the Louisville area. The Crit Club, The Palette Club, and the Southwest Artists joined in making the non-profit organization a recognized participant in Ray Schumann’s endeavor in converting Ursuline Academy into a Chestnut Street commercial establishment.
My first public studio was on the third floor of the Cloister and I was among the artists who rented one of the very small spaces that were once the former bedrooms of Ursuline nuns.
When the opportunity arose, I moved to a larger area on the same floor shared by several artists, toward the east end of the building.. An Environmental House was established to the east of the Cloister,
As Executive Director of the Cloister Community Art Gallery, Inc. I came to wear many hats and felt at ease when donning most of them. Introducing visitors to our local artists and craftsmen was first on the Gallery agenda.
As coordinator for the Southwest Artists organization, I had extensive experience in hanging art shows in various spaces throughout the area, so the opportunity of having a home site for these artists and craftsmen was quite appealing.
Since The Cloister was a unique attraction, tourist buses arrived and inquiring travelers walked the halls with admiration for the exposed brick walls and the shops they visited. Community members brought their out-of-town guests for fine dining in “The Chapel” Restaurant.
The exhibition of a monthly featured artist guaranteed visitors with changing views of art on parade and the story of each artist was summarized and mailed to a growing news release list.
Educational programs to benefit the community were initiated.
By this time I had put much sweat equity into the “red brick cottage” across the street and classes were offered in pastel, watercolor, and oil painting. Children’s classes were given in drawing.
Henry Gentry made contact with Betty Edwards after using theories of art from her book, “Drawing On The Right Side of the Brain” produced the work of a young neighborhood boy that looked like it had been done by Michelangelo. We were all excited and gratified in knowing art was making a difference in the area of town near the Clarksdale Housing Project.
Walt Harned taught pastels, Aline Barker instructed watercolor and I held oil painting sessions.
We began to venture farther from the Gallery’s doorsteps to Muhammad Ali for classes in oil painting at Senior House. Ida Stith was 92 when she first began to paint and her quote still evokes tears when I recall her telling me, “Art is the joy of my life.”
The Clarksdale Housing project was located west of downtown Louisville, Kentucky. Children from the Clarksdale Housing Project came to the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel for summer evening classes in oil painting. I used oils as I had those supplies and we were careful with the cleanup.
There we were in a Baptist Chapel and I had told the children, as I always told my adult students, “You can paint anything you want.”
I did not glance at the Reverend to see if both eyebrows were elevated when one child proceeded to paint a pair of dice.
That painting taught all of us a lesson as before it was taken to the drying room for the evening, it was stolen. The children, whose lives were filled with streetwise theft on a daily basis, were enraged!
They knew who had taken it and “He was wrong to do that! We will make him give it back! You should not do that!” The first night of class was a success on many levels.
Later during the course of the summer, I arrived at the Chapel to see my usual group of youngsters waiting to get into the building. It seems that the Reverend had not yet arrived.
After waiting ten minutes, little Everett came over to me. He was a small featured child who always had an engaging smile with his socks pulled up high and his ball cap worn at an angle.
“Paint Lady,” I can get us in there.”
“No Everett” I replied. “The Reverend will be here soon.”
After another ten minutes, Everett returned to my side and assured me again that he could get us inside.
“Everett, even if we got into the building, our supplies are all locked up in rooms that we can’t open,” I told him with a straight face.
There had been a mix-up and the Reverend did not appear that evening so we all went home. The next morning I was conducting a Senior Citizen class at the Baptist Chapel and I told the Reverend what Everett had said.
He waved my words off for emphasis. “No, he could not get you into the building.” The Reverend walked away with a confident stride. In a few minutes, he returned and tilted his head.
“Did Everett say HOW he could get you into the building?”