Herb Davidson passed away since our last reunion and he will be missed, especially by his fellow artists. Herb endured many setbacks in his life but continued to work as an artist until his eyesight began to fail. After an almost miraculous recovery, Herb again started painting and was in good spirits and excited about his work when we spoke at the last reunion. It is sad indeed, that just as he was coming back his life was cut short. He was a good friend and a good artist - we will miss him.
The following is Roger Mandle's personal reflection on Herbert Davidson, as emailed to me
Herb Davidson was hard to know. He was intense, nervous, awkward and often petulant about life. He was a loner, and not particularly by choice. His life had not rewarded him to the best of his expectations. His quest to be a great painter was interrupted by damaged health, vision, personal life, and financial difficulties. What carried Herb through to the end as his greatest asset was his loyalty to his friends and to his art. As an artist and friend, his soul and his character soared. Out came his incredible energy and focus which overcame any obstacle for him to achieve his aim.
In high school, Herb was thought "different" but in a way that even his least ardent admirers could accept in that tense social climate. He was often unkempt, unruly and petulant. His long silences could be broken by shouts of excitement about a discovery on his drawing pad, or a better time on the track. In fact, his greatest moments were in art class, and in sports. Even in high school, his paintings were bursting with energy and were raucous with daring combinations of color, shape and form. Where did it come from? Somehow, as if informed by some unfulfilled former life, Herb's art erupted with ideas not finished by masters like Cezanne, Matisse and Picasso. His teachers only partially recognized his talent, but Herb persisted. Even then as an adolescent, all Herb really wanted to do was to paint, to draw and to run.
Herb and I became warm friends - I became Solieri to his Mozart. I was intensely jealous - I now have to admit to myself - of Herb's incredible artistic talents. I was magnetized by his unique vision, his instinctive use of color, and his dynamic compositions. He put paint and pastels on canvas and paper with such natural grace that I knew these gifts flowed from a great source.
We lost track of each other - Herb going to school out West, and I to the North of Hillsdale. It was only in the past decade that Herb and I reconnected. Herb got in touch with me through an article he read that told him I was at RISD, and he wrote me to announce he was in Connecticut nearby. Through some miracle, he had regained his sight recently, he said, and was painting again. Again? How could that be - why did such a artistic genius lose the most important element of sight? He had been blind for nearly a decade, and unable to paint. His diabetes, the curse of his life, had taken his ability to paint away, in addition to making his life a constant battle. But now his sight had returned, and he wanted to show me - after all these years - what his art looked like now.
I invited him to come to stay with us to renew our friendship. He arrived with a trunk full of paintings; he was weak, and I helped him to bring his work into the house. My wife is an artist, with the same great instinctive talent, and she shared my intense pleasure in seeing Herb and his art. He brought several paintings and pastels with him, and we delighted in seeing them, and more importantly, hearing from Herb what they meant to him. He talked animatedly about his work, his life, and his aspiration to paint with renewed energy, given his sight's return. We delighted in our times together, corresponded regularly, and he sent us work from time to time.
We are blessed to have several paintings and pastels by Herb, and have great pleasure in looking at them daily. We miss Herb's wonderful scratchy, quirky voice and personality - his quiet jokes about himself and his art always masking the serious business of making beauty that centered his life. I feel that I lost a lot by not keeping up with Herb throughout the years. I could have seen so much more of him and his art, and enjoyed his perceptions about art and life from which I could have learned so much.
Herb Davidson's art sings of his soul, of his joy in color of the actuality of life from which he absorbed so much beauty and gave it back to us in his work. We who knew him had the honor of being touched by genius.
William S "Bill" Eickhorst
Herb Davidson passed away since our last reunion and he will be missed, especially by his fellow artists. Herb endured many setbacks in his life but continued to work as an artist until his eyesight began to fail. After an almost miraculous recovery, Herb again started painting and was in good spirits and excited about his work when we spoke at the last reunion. It is sad indeed, that just as he was coming back his life was cut short. He was a good friend and a good artist - we will miss him.Astrid (Arti) Madsen (Baruth)
The following is Roger Mandle's personal reflection on Herbert Davidson, as emailed to meHerb Davidson was hard to know. He was intense, nervous, awkward and often
petulant about life. He was a loner, and not particularly by choice. His life
had not rewarded him to the best of his expectations. His quest to be a great
painter was interrupted by damaged health, vision, personal life, and financial
difficulties. What carried Herb through to the end as his greatest asset was
his loyalty to his friends and to his art. As an artist and friend, his soul
and his character soared. Out came his incredible energy and focus which
overcame any obstacle for him to achieve his aim.
In high school, Herb was thought "different" but in a way that even his least
ardent admirers could accept in that tense social climate. He was often
unkempt, unruly and petulant. His long silences could be broken by shouts of
excitement about a discovery on his drawing pad, or a better time on the track.
In fact, his greatest moments were in art class, and in sports. Even in high
school, his paintings were bursting with energy and were raucous with daring
combinations of color, shape and form. Where did it come from? Somehow, as if
informed by some unfulfilled former life, Herb's art erupted with ideas not
finished by masters like Cezanne, Matisse and Picasso. His teachers only
partially recognized his talent, but Herb persisted. Even then as an
adolescent, all Herb really wanted to do was to paint, to draw and to run.
Herb and I became warm friends - I became Solieri to his Mozart. I was intensely
jealous - I now have to admit to myself - of Herb's incredible artistic talents.
I was magnetized by his unique vision, his instinctive use of color, and his
dynamic compositions. He put paint and pastels on canvas and paper with such
natural grace that I knew these gifts flowed from a great source.
We lost track of each other - Herb going to school out West, and I to the North
of Hillsdale. It was only in the past decade that Herb and I reconnected. Herb
got in touch with me through an article he read that told him I was at RISD, and
he wrote me to announce he was in Connecticut nearby. Through some miracle, he
had regained his sight recently, he said, and was painting again. Again? How
could that be - why did such a artistic genius lose the most important element
of sight? He had been blind for nearly a decade, and unable to paint. His
diabetes, the curse of his life, had taken his ability to paint away, in
addition to making his life a constant battle. But now his sight had returned,
and he wanted to show me - after all these years - what his art looked like now.
I invited him to come to stay with us to renew our friendship. He arrived with a
trunk full of paintings; he was weak, and I helped him to bring his work into
the house. My wife is an artist, with the same great instinctive talent, and
she shared my intense pleasure in seeing Herb and his art. He brought several
paintings and pastels with him, and we delighted in seeing them, and more
importantly, hearing from Herb what they meant to him. He talked animatedly
about his work, his life, and his aspiration to paint with renewed energy, given
his sight's return. We delighted in our times together, corresponded regularly,
and he sent us work from time to time.
We are blessed to have several paintings and pastels by Herb, and have great
pleasure in looking at them daily. We miss Herb's wonderful scratchy, quirky
voice and personality - his quiet jokes about himself and his art always masking
the serious business of making beauty that centered his life. I feel that I
lost a lot by not keeping up with Herb throughout the years. I could have seen
so much more of him and his art, and enjoyed his perceptions about art and life
from which I could have learned so much.
Herb Davidson's art sings of his soul, of his joy in color of the actuality of
life from which he absorbed so much beauty and gave it back to us in his work.
We who knew him had the honor of being touched by genius.
Roger Mandle