I’ve only had my portrait painted once. It was done in the fall of 2013 by Jon Imber, a summer resident of the town of Stonington on Deer Isle. Jon first came to the Island in the 1970s and had a stellar reputation as an artist—his work was in the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and he had taught at Harvard for many years.
In 2012, Jon was diagnosed with ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, which causes the deterioration of voluntary muscle movement. By the summer of 2013, he could no longer paint using his dominant (right) hand. He began a new body of work, painting portraits of friends and neighbors, people who, Jon said, “dropped by to visit, bring a meal, or give a back rub.” He painted portraits in one sitting, using his left hand braced by his right. He moved in large motions from his right shoulder to create brush strokes. At the time he said that he was “amazed that his left was as good as his right, only it ‘made mistakes.’” But, in the process of working, he found that the “mistakes were pretty good” in that he discovered a way of working that for him was more about feeling than technique.
It happened that my wife, visual artist Susan Webster, was one of those people who brought food to Jon and his wife, painter Jill Hoy, and we began to visit with them. Jon painted Susan’s portrait, and then mine. He worked in a studio behind his house.
Jon Imber, portraits of Susan Webster and Stu, 2013.
Deer Isle artist Holley Mead mixed paints to create the colors Jon wanted. Jill sometimes painted portraits at the same time. Jon talked as he worked. His speech was growing more labored, but his language was full of wit and humor. The portraits that he had already completed were either hung or stacked all around.
While Jon’s diagnosis was devastating, in the studio he was undeterred. The act of making the portraits fully engaged him, and he worked that summer through the late fall. By the end of the season, he had painted over one hundred portraits. It was a record of the community that he lived in and of the people who supported him. We decided to make a pop up exhibit of the paintings at the Haystack Gallery in Deer Isle village. The work was hung salon style, with paintings stacked three-high running the length of the gallery walls. At the opening reception, we had the unusual experience of being able to see ourselves and neighbors in person and on the walls at the same time. Even when the gallery was empty, the space felt alive with the presence of these paintings. Jon would die five months later, just three days after he no longer was able to paint.
Jon Imber, portraits of community members, gallery view, at Haystack Gallery in Deer Isle Village, 2013.
Looking back now, I realize that in addition to all of us in the studio, death was in the room with us too. Our own mortality is a constant companion, but we can always find ways to push it aside. In Jon’s case it was close enough to feel and touch. The world felt more fragile and alive, and that life was captured in the paintings. How with the roughest gestures, making abstract marks, applying paint to a flat white surface, he created these portraits, which are a record of the connection between artist and subjects. The paint still holds the light of those days.
Image at top: Jon Imber, portraits of community members, gallery view, at Haystack Gallery in Deer Isle Village, 2013.