Like Building a Campfire

Painter Maurice Sterne at 69 was feeling "rather like a debutante." His first show in 14 years, which opened in a Manhattan gallery last week, introduced a brand-new Sterne to the public. It was not at all the kind of thing that had made Maurice Sterne one of the most respected--and highest paid--artists in the U.S.

Sterne, a polished craftsman, had hitherto painted what he saw with a cool, formal realism. He had been accustomed to making dozens of studies for each canvas, spending months on the final version. Then, all of a sudden, "I decided that I didn't have much time left and I'd been trying too hard."

From Sunset to Smear. Recently Maurice Sterne made the porch of his Provincetown cottage into a studio, and concentrated his attention on the sea out front. His new paintings were as salty and wet as the breakers, and they had the same compelling evanescence; each one seemed made of wind, water and light, ready to shatter and collapse in an instant.

In a catalogue introduction, Sterne tried to explain how it happened: "My renaissance," he wrote, "took place about three years ago. ... I was too ill to work and was admiring my view from the porch; the incoming tide, the crimson and orange and gold of the sunset, the delicate nuances . . . when suddenly, nature ceased to be nature and became a wet painting. This sensation was so real, that when a sea gull suddenly soared across my vision, I exclaimed, 'The fool! Its lovely white wings will be smeared with paint.' "

From Beer to Bali. The porch at Provincetown was the end of a long, winding trail. Born in Russia, Sterne came to the U.S. at eleven, earned his living as a Third Avenue bartender. The proprietor gave him his first painting commission: a picture of a cool, foamy stein of beer, labeled "5 Cents." In his off-hours, Sterne went to art school. He studied anatomy under Thomas Eakins, won a traveling scholarship which took him back to Europe.

Sterne had his first big show in Berlin, spent a year in a Greek monastery, moved on to India, Burma, Java, and finally Bali. He had never heard of Bali, went there only because he happend to miss the boat to Borneo. But Bali held Sterne for two years, and he can still remember much of it in detail simply by closing his eyes. At first Sterne felt no desire to paint there ("It was art"), but the paintings he brought back with him helped to make Bali a dreamer's byword across the U.S. He feels sure that tourists have ruined the place by now.

From Rome to Home. During World War I Sterne returned to the U.S., married the much-marrying Mabel Dodge and took her to Taos, New Mexico. Mabel divorced Sterne to marry Pueblo Indian Tony Luhan (TIME, May 5). To Mabel, Sterne "seemed old and spent and tragic, while Tony was whole and young in the cells of his body." Sterne was not too spent to get married a second time, to Vera Segal, a honey-haired follower of Dancer Isadora Duncan.

With her, Sterne moved into a 48-room castle in the Sabine hills south of Rome. He was already famous both as a painter and as a sculptor, sometimes made $5,000 for a few weeks' work. The King of Italy opened Sterne's first one-man show in Rome. After Manhattan's Museum of Modern Art gave him a well-publicized exhibition in 1933, Sterne spent more & more time in the U.S. He painted a series of murals for the Department of Justice building in Washington, found himself represented in 16 U.S. museums, including Manhattan's Metropolitan, and the owner of a summer cottage on Cape Cod and a house in suburban Mount Kisco, N.Y.

Now that he has learned to look at nature as if it were a "wet painting," Artist Sterne believes his best work lies ahead. He confesses he cannot see nature as art whenever he chooses: "I wish I could, but it just happens at moments. I try to catch those moments in my painting, as fast as I can. The old masters built paintings bit by bit, like houses. When they were finished building they knew it. Now I say the thing is finished when you finish what you have to say. Painting can be like building a campfire on a rainy day. Very difficult; the wood is sodden and you are down on your knees in the wet, blowing from above and from below. Suddenly the white flame blazes up and there it is. If you rearranged things you might ruin it."

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