FOR NOÊMIA

​

I am one of those who believe that the work of an artist is the reflection of their deepest "ego". Some will say, "The signature of a personality".

Having taken part in Noêmia's life for almost half a century, I can declare, without fear of contradiction, that at the heart of all her creations we will find just one and the same element: an immense "Love of Life".

Certainly this love of life is translated in various ways, as no-one is monolithic and each of us has different facets. And what are these facets in Noêmia? I will try to explore them and associate them with her work.

First of all, the Love of Painting.

It is quite revealing that one of the first remarks she made to me when we first met in Spain, in 1958, was "How different the greens of the trees here are from those in Brazil"... Color, immediately!

Later, she would frequently talk to me about when she received a reproduction of Vermeer's painting "Woman Reading a Letter", sent to her by her father when traveling through Europe, which represented to her a revelation, an enchantment, and doubtless contributed to the unfolding of her destiny. Her attraction towards drawing and painting was noticed by her schoolmates at the Cole­gio Sion, still young girls or adolescents. Her first preserved work, hens scratching in the earth in the garden of her parents' house in Laranjeiras, dates from 1934, when she was only 14 or 15.

Later, Noêmia worked very hard, as evidenced by the many exhibitions, both individual and collective, that she participat­ed in. Only towards the end of her life did she distance herself a little from the gallery circuit, disappointed with the growing commercialization of the "arts market", which we are all wit­nessing, and with the increasing submission to the wishes of the art dealers, eager to sell anything. But she never stopped painting, much less lose her passion for art.

In Paris, we used to go every Monday morning to the Lou­vre (the museum is closed on Tuesdays), with her folder of draw­ings under her arm, in order to explore the infinite riches of this magic place and, if possible, sketch something - which was not at all easy due to the great number of visitors. Or else, it was the Musee d'Orsay, the Pompidou Center, the Modern Art Museum of the City of Paris (we were both "Friends" of these various mu­seums, which meant we didn't have to join the queues).

Art was not left aside during our trips, either - many trips at the time of conferences, symposiums, or simply at the weekends, long or otherwise. How should we choose where to stay at? Which hotel would be the closest to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, the Mauritshuis in the Hague, the Galleria degli Uffici and the Bargel­lo in Florence, the Accademia and the Scuola di San Rocco in Ven­ice, the Gulbenkian Foundation and the Janelas Verdes in Lisbon?

During the two last decades of Noêmia's life we became used to spending about a fortnight in Madrid, to celebrate Christmas and the New Year. Why such a choice? It's obvious : I'm Spanish. And Noêmia had also become Spanish, by adoption. She loved the teeming crowds, the lively atmosphere of the city... and the flamenco. But above all, our hotel was very close to the Prado, the Thyssen Bornemisza, the Reina Sofia, the Academia de San Fer­nando. Our visits were frequent and we ended up knowing (al­most) every detail.

However, Brazil was never far from her heart. When it was time for the ball to start in celebration of the "Noche Buena" (Christmas night), she very often asked the orchestra to play "Aquarela do Brasil" and swept everyone into a feverish dance. Next, we would go to the nearby church of the Jeronimos, where traditionally the kings and queens of Spain are crowned, for Midnight Mass.

It was just the same during the "Noche Vieja" (New Year) Ball. In addition to the dancing, the thing to do now was to swallow the traditional 12 grapes, if possible without choking, in the rhythm of the tolling of the bells of the Puerta del Sol.

Am I getting away from the main theme? I don't think so. All this is only proof of Noêmia's astonishing vitality, so obvious in her work.

With her fondness for color, she couldn't help being at­tracted by the stained glass windows of the Sainte-Chapelle, of the Notre Dame de Paris, and even more by Chartres. The years when we missed going to immerse ourselves in the splendor of Chartres were rare. Theater binoculars enabled us to identify each of the stained glass windows, but our favorite was "Notre Dame de la Belle Verriere", with its incomparable blues. It even warmed us up (just a little...) during a Midnight Mass we attend­ed without any heating in this huge nave.

To visit museums and churches assiduously is great (you will say). Even if it's not a passive process (contrary to what some people think), it's still not "painting".

But when, how and what to paint? That is when one of the mainsprings of "being Noêmia" comes into play. A deep love of Nature in all its manifestations. I hardly ever saw Noêmia go out without at least a pad and pencil; more often she would take a folder for drawings, sheets of paper, pencils, brushes, tubes of watercolor and gouache and a canteen full of water that could not be left behind... Never oil on canvas!...

Based on sketches done on the spot, the paintings were sub­sequently produced in her atelier in Paris or Lagos, and many of them are on display.

Let's first talk about the sea and its surroundings, always close to her mind and her heart.

First, two of her remarks:

• arriving at the beach of Dieppe (Upper Normandy): "How coarse the grains of sand are here!"

• settling down at the Lido beach in Venice, where it is nec­essary to pay in order to use a booth, 2 canvas chairs and even a bucket of water to wash one's feet: "What kind of prison is this? Long live the confusion of Copacabana!"

Her desire to work was such that she was willing to face the greatest discomfort, and sometimes even to run risks.

In order to study the rocks and the tides from the steep cliffs of Algarve, she would sit right at the edge, very often with her feet in empty space. A large straw hat would protect her a little from the scorching Summer sun. I would stay beside her, some­times also drawing, but above all taking care of her and trying to keep the ticks away - unfortunately, almost always human ticks. In a way, it was easier on the beaches. Both in Algarve and in the surroundings of Salvador, a sunshade was enough..., but the "ticks" were far greater in number.

Thus she studied, on the beaches of Amaralina, the threat­ening storms, the coconut trees, the fishermen and their janga­das with triangular, multicolored sails; the lagoon of Abaete and its famous white sands.

In Salema (Algarve), installed on a small sand dune, she sketched the boats of the fishermen who rushed to arrive and sell their catch, at the highest possible prices and by shouting, the fish thrown straight on the sand.

Sometimes there were problems. It was not easy to get close to the fish market of Salvador, Bahia, with its exuberant crowd. In Portimao, close to Lagos, the problem was solved in an original manner. In the seventies it was a very active harbor, almost entirely dedicated to the sardine business. Noêmia wished, at no matter what price, to study the movement of the many boats preparing to leave the harbor, coming back or unloading their catch. Too many people on the quay, too much agitation for one to dream of getting installed there. And in addition, the viewpoint, close to ground level, would not be appropriate. She managed to persuade the harbor master and obtained permis­sion to work comfortably, right at the top of his quarters.

It was difficult to resist when she wanted something. Her smiling, gracious manner was very persuasive.

But it was not only the sea that interested Noêmia. She also studied urban or semi-urban landscapes. Very early she had "discovered" Ouro Preto, and had been seduced by this lit­tle town with narrow lanes, full of steep hills, rich in baroque churches and works by Aleijadinho (especially in the nealippy town of Congonhas do Campo). So we went back for an extend­ed stay at the Pousada. There she was able to study at leisure the most interesting angles.

The same happened in relation to Salvador, Bahia, an end­less theme for painters, sculptors and writers. Its monuments, its dances, its acaraje sellers... I will not talk at length about this topic, as it has been addressed a thousand times.

Lebanon, where we spent part of the Winter of 1966/1967 (fortunately just before the war that would lead to bloodshed in the country), was a revelation to us. Firstly, the suks, of which she managed to capture the teeming agitation. And then the landscapes, the mountain that is never further than 5o km from the sea. As we wanted to explore everything and Lebanon has the reputation of being a French-speaking country, we hired a car in order to move about comfortably. What a disappointment! Only the hotel receptionists and erudite Lebanese speak French. All the signposts on the roads are written in Arabic characters... while our knowledge was limited to differentiating our numbers (known as Arabic) from the true Arabic numbers (thanks to the bi­lingual car number plates). We therefore had to use other means.

However, they enabled us to see the famous cedars of Leba­non, the arid road to Damascus, the majestic ruins of Baalbek, the cities of Tripoli, Tyre, Sidon and Byblos.

And some questions arose. What had we forgotten in our glorious loth century? How did those massive columns and their capitals get to Baalbek? And above all, how is it possible that cen­tral heating, based on hot water, was commonly used in Tyre before the Christian era, while the palace of Versailles totally lacked heating? Questions without satisfactory answers.

I will also mention another "discovery". On the occasion of a journey to the United States, in 1984, in the neighborhood of Sao Francisco, nestled among junipers and cacti, we came upon a small building. It was the ancient Carmel Mission, dating back to the Spanish occupation.

I am fully aware that this may give the impression of a globe-trotter's diary. But Noêmia was far from being a Japanese lady armed with a Nikon. I only mention these episodes because she made good use of them, and paintings and watercolors re­sulted from them.

I could also mention Toledo, sketched from the top of the Parador del Cid, and many other places that attracted her atten­tion... but one has to know when to stop.

I will now deal with another great "love" of Noêmia's - that of the vegetable world: forests, trees, flowers... Curiously, the vegetable world attracted her much more than the animal world, even though she painted sumptuous golden mandarin pheasants in the park of the Sao Jorge castle, in Lisbon. First, Rio. Never visit this city without a walk through the Tijuca Forest and without saying a hello to the Taunay Waterfall. She addressed this theme in different ways.

There is also the Botanical Garden. She knew it "by heart" and she studied its majestic trees many a time.

In France, we both felt immensely attracted to the forests close to Paris (though very different from those in Brazil: Noernia's first remark): Rambouillet, Chantilly, Senlis, Fontainebleau, and especially Compiegne. We used to go there several times a year, in Spring, but above all, in Autumn, and not only for a walk, but because of the brilliant foliage. The exhibition presents the result of many of our expeditions.

For example: she wants to work. It's the beginning of No­vember. We leave the hotel early in the morning, by car. It is "cool". We seek the most interesting perspective and we stop the car. She unpacks her materials and, so as not to freeze, she stays in the car, with the heating on. I go out for a walk, with a stick in hand in case some mountain goats, deer or wild boars appear (there are many in Compiegne... but they never attacked us). My main task, however, was to wipe the windscreen from time to time.

Enough has been said about the subject of producing the watercolors and later, the paintings.

And what can one say about the flowers and the green plants she adored? No artificial flower ever entered her home! As she had a "green thumb", even the kitchen of her apartment was full of the most varied plants. In Paris, she painted delphiniums or larkspurs, medic, peonies, roses, lilac that I brought in from the garden. In Lagos, the crop was abundant: sweet peas, roses, dahlias, poppies, sunflowers, creepers, gladioli, roses again... or in Spring, wild flowers we picked during our walks, flowering almond branches or mimosas. Noêmia was cheeky...

One day, a villager who lived nearby, irritated to see her cut­ting off some branches, complained about it. She retorted: "It's because I'm a painter..." And he said: "You might be the queen of England and it wouldn't make any difference". And everything ended with a good laugh, shared among us.

In Holland, a country of flowers par excellence, we visited the Rijkmuseum, Rembrandt's House, the Van Gogh Museum, the Mauritshuis in the Hague (Vermeer's "Woman with a Pearl"!), the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem. But we never failed, dur­ing the season, to take advantage of the splendor of the magnifi­cent Keukenhoff flower park, with its beds of bulb flowers, and sometimes the orchid greenhouses.

When we traveled twice to Guadeloupe (French West Indies), she was interested in the island's flora, especially what the na­tives called "wizard's wand" (or Japanese tulip).

In Paris, she soon became a member of the French Orchid Society (her passion for orchids was immense, certainly inherited from Brazil). She painted countless watercolors or gouaches, seeking never to reproduce photographic details, but rather try­ing to capture the "essence" of each flower. She took part in two collective exhibitions, in Paris and Marseilles.

Another theme that interested Noêmia in her work: the hu­man body and its movements.

She had deep respect for the human body, firstly for her own. I can see her facing the cold (which, as a good carioca, she hated) and the darkness of Parisian Winters, leaving at seven in the morning (no time to waste!), several times a week, for pro­fessor Charbon's gym classes.

On the the beach, she would rapidly put on her black gym suit, which covered her from neck to feet, and did her warming-up exercises without any concern for the comments she aroused; then she would dive into the water... very often without remem­bering to take off her black bodysuit.

At home in Lagos, starting at 6:15 in the morning, she would unroll a small foam mattress in the patio; and there she was, for a whole hour, just saluting the rising sun. This devo­tion to the body could only result in an enormous love for ballet and dance of all types .

For us, it was a real shock to watch the presentation of Stravinsky's "Consecration of Spring", interpreted by Maurice Bej art's "2oth Century Ballet". Of course, we later watched other presentations, but this will be forever the most impressive, and one from which she took various great compositions.

And then, the dance. I have already described her love of the flamenco at the "Cafe de Chinitas" in Madrid, or the Anda­lusian tablaos.

But her heart would bring her back to Brazil. The popular manifestations of Brazilian folklore were, in their sphere, her main source of inspiration, whence most of her paintings came.

And this, in fact, would cause the cancellation, at the last moment, of an exhibition that had been scheduled for a long time at an important gallery. Having presented the slides of the paintings that were to be displayed, she saw herself be­ing given, by the director of the gallery, a period of one week to soften her colors and, above all, remove some mulatas, be­cause there were too many... Her immediate answer: "I don't need a week. Co to hell!" All her friends know how quick her answers could be.

A few words about the portraits. She painted a very large number, many of them exhibited. Just as in the case of the flow­ers, without research into details, without excessive minutiae, but rather wishing to convey the intimate personality of the model and whatever went through his or her mind, at least at the time of posing.

Let's talk now about some traits of her personality, underly­ing the whole of her work.

She had always been especially attracted to the cicada. She always quoted to me a verse of the poet Olegirio Mariano: "When the cicada sings it is the sun that sings" (and how she loved the sun!). In fact, one of her first works, in the fifties, was to illustrate with pen-and-ink drawings the book "The Last Cicadas", by the same author (it is on display).

Much later, in 1973, when it was time for us to choose a house "in the sun", after exploring the Spanish and Portuguese coastlines, we opted for Lagos, in Algarve, which at that time was still not very urban. Together we created the plans for the house and drew it in its smallest details. What should we call our house? Obviously, "The Cicada's House".

Noêmia had designed a large mosaic (approximately 6 x 4 m) for the facade. The "proof" of the mosaic was ready. All that was necessary was to carry out the work, obviously inspired by an enormous cicada. It was done (a huge job) with the help of two competent masons, from August 15t to 3150, 1976 (my professional activities then allowed me only one month's absence). The mo­saic is composed of pieces of marble of different colors (Portugal is very rich in such stone) and stones coming from... Brazil: ag­ate, amethyst, rock crystal, malachite... (I should say, in order to complete the "cicada' spirit, that - to our great shame - we tried to acclimatize in our garden some of these little animals caught during our walks. Fortunately, we failed.)

However, this spirit is no more than just one of the facets of an unlimited generosity. No "poor relatives" in her circle, and not only from the material point of view. She put no limits on expense when it came to helping people in difficulty, nor did she hesitate to sacrifice part of her time, precious though it was, in order to transmit her knowledge to those who wished to receive it. One example among many: she took courses in Chinese and Japanese Calligraphy, which were paid for, of course. But she never charged anything at all for the many drawing and watercolor courses she offered. She often even supplied paper, pencils, and paints.

This "cicada" or "cricket" aspect of her character, in the most common meaning of the term, should not hide the "ant" aspect. Noêmia had nothing of the (supposedly) idle and lazy character of the nice little cricket. On the contrary, she was a tireless "ant" - but helpful, unlike her counterpart in the fable. I never saw her idle! She had multiple occupations: in the first place, painting. But also her occupations as a housewife, assidu­ous participation in several different courses, her passion for the cinema, for the theater, and also for reading - which I will deal with further on.

Another "ant" characteristic: a strong tendency to store everything: one day this may be of some use. And, frequently. that proved right. There was a certain charm to this blend of cricket and ant!

And what can one say about her curiosity? Not this foolish curiosity focusing on gossip, which she hated. But rather an in­finite thirst for learning, getting to know more and more.

It is significant that, soon after her arrival in Paris in Oc­tober 1958, she started taking courses at the College de France: initially Aesthetics, with Professor Rene Huyghe, and Philoso­phy with Professor Maurice Merleau-Ponty (whose brutal and premature death soon after affected her enormously). And the courses were multiplied after that.

The creation, in 1981, of the College International de Philos­ophie (at the former Ecole Polytechnique, at Rue de la Montagne Sainte Genevieve) was seen by her as a blessing, and we became assiduous pupils. How often, having fed our spirits up to 9 or io at night, we stopped at "Chez Henri" to enjoy a leg of lamb, cooked for 7 hours - it would melt in the mouth - accompanied by a jug of Coteaux du Lyonnais!

She also took part in "erudite" societies: the British and International Society of Aesthetics, and naturally the Societe Francaise d'Esthetique, of which she became a member of the Honorific Commission.

As Aesthetics and Philosophy were not enough, she was not indifferent to social problems. That is why she participated very actively in the forums organized every year, at Le Mans, by the newspaper Le Monde.

And what should one say about reading? She was always an assiduous reader. Over the years, she assembled a library (which started in Rio) of thousands of volumes (most of which were tak­en back to Rio), essentially comprising works on the arts, philos­ophy, and "serious" literature (there were few or no commercial best-sellers in her library).

She also loved reading aloud! Thus, we enjoyed hundreds of works in French, English, Portuguese and Spanish. We took turns every 15 or 20 minutes, and from time to time we paused for comments. We preferred that by far to being besotted by the TV, which was in fact completely absent from the Cicada's House.

After commenting on her generosity and curiosity, how could we fail to mention other traits of her character?

Her taste for detail, in certain activities: just like in her painting, only the essential interested her; leaving aside details considered superfluous, she was focused on and achieved perfec­tion in other sectors.

Two examples: we have to send Christmas and New Year cards and birthday cards. Buying them ready-made at the cor­ner shop is out of the question. She took hours preparing them, impressing her personal touch on them, inimitable and always spiritual (some cards are on display here).

Another example: all the friends invited to her table - and there were many - pointed out, besides the excellence of the dishes served (always prepared by her personally), the care taken with their presentation and with the table itself.

Her gift for writing: her letters were always vivid, merry and jovial, though profound in her inimitable style. I am con­vinced that a large number of the people with whom she corre­sponded decided to keep them.

And, last but not least, her loyalty, both to her loves and her friends.

Treachery was to her a mortal sin, even though that caused her some disappointments.

Those who were closest to her, naturally, but also some classmates at Colegio Sion, are witness to that.

She was very attached to her family relics. Thus, she kept till the very end an old wooden chest, used by her mother, Dona Cacilda, to bring to Brazil the purchases she made at the "Bon Marche" in Paris. And also the old apothecary-type blue glass bottles inherited from her grandmother.

One could say so much more... but it is necessary to conclude.

I am not an art critic. I have not sought, in any way, to as­sociate Noêmia with this or that artistic movement, more or less short-lived, She obviously experienced, like each one of us, several influences. But just as I am convinced that Fra Angelico could not paint a Griinewald or a Bosch (and vice-versa), she, guided by her loves and deep convictions, could only paint "a Noêmia". She chose her path: through colors and movement, to express her intense love of life; and despite the difficulties, she followed it to the very end.

I have sought, more than anything else, to establish some kind of "posthumous" dialogue between the artist and the be­holder, to show how and how much she worked, to allow the visitor to the exhibition to penetrate a little of the artist's inti­macy, to highlight some features of her personality.

How, and in what circumstances and under what stimuli, was she able to accomplish such rich and varied work?

For all those who have been touched by her work, all those who had the privilege of knowing her, and found in this exhibi­tion "their" Noêmia, her life will not have been in vain.