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Joann Gedney died last June at the age of 88. She left behind a treasure trove of paintings -hundreds of them - and drawings  -thousands of them. There were stacks filled to the brim with paintings that haven't seen the light of day since moving to New York to pursue  life as an artist in 1947 and portfolios on the floor brimming with drawings and stacked high with work spanning almost seven decades. To have walked inside her home in the East Village was to have walked into  a secret world with secret rooms filled with mystery and art of years gone by. Paintings that, when pulled down from the stacks one-by-one and into the light, had an energy and freshness in their ambitious and gestural facture that I near cried for the little known old lady who left them all behind because I knew this was true: my hands held the work of an artist the art world forgot and, in that, there was no value to them. No auction records. No museum collections. No nothing but rooms and stacks filled with art, and this tid-bit of history: she founded The March Gallery on Tenth Street in 1957 with Elaine de Kooning, Felix Pasilis and others. She loved Franz Kline and Milton Resnick, neighbors on 8th street where she lived. She was one of the few female artists allowed to be a member of The Club  and was truly an active participant in the downtown art scene of the 1950's. But who will pay attention now? Who will care and show up at Rox Gallery in March and pay this fine artist a tribute? How to bring her art, her 'Magnificent Obsession', into the light to shine on its very own? Join me in a celebratory toast, won't you? I've never cared so much for an artist's worth as I do hers.
Joann Gedney died last June at the age of 88. She left behind a treasure trove of paintings -hundreds of them - and drawings -thousands of them. There were stacks filled to the brim with paintings that haven't seen the light of day since moving to New York to pursue life as an artist in 1947 and portfolios on the floor brimming with drawings and stacked high with work spanning almost seven decades. To have walked inside her home in the East Village was to have walked into a secret world with secret rooms filled with mystery and art of years gone by. Paintings that, when pulled down from the stacks one-by-one and into the light, had an energy and freshness in their ambitious and gestural facture that I near cried for the little known old lady who left them all behind because I knew this was true: my hands held the work of an artist the art world forgot and, in that, there was no value to them. No auction records. No museum collections. No nothing but rooms and stacks filled with art, and this tid-bit of history: she founded The March Gallery on Tenth Street in 1957 with Elaine de Kooning, Felix Pasilis and others. She loved Franz Kline and Milton Resnick, neighbors on 8th street where she lived. She was one of the few female artists allowed to be a member of The Club and was truly an active participant in the downtown art scene of the 1950's. But who will pay attention now? Who will care and show up at Rox Gallery in March and pay this fine artist a tribute? How to bring her art, her 'Magnificent Obsession', into the light to shine on its very own? Join me in a celebratory toast, won't you? I've never cared so much for an artist's worth as I do hers.
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Grand Premiere "Get on Up" Premiere: Mick Jagger Rocks the Apollo Theater