ArizonaGal
Member
- Messages
- 23
I was thinking about an old friend of mine named Sidney Cohen. We weren't close friends, but we lived next door to each other. I was 23 and he was almost 80. 47 years ago.
He invited me into his apartment one day for tea, served in proper cups, and he had a Manet on one wall, a Seurat on another, and the hallway was an art gallery.
We chatted about his wife, whom he missed, and one of my favorite pieces of art I told him was a chair that she had needlepointed. It really was a lovely piece of work, and he was pleased by my comment. He had a cubist piece by Florsheim I also really liked. A tiny Picasso... But a Picasso nonetheless.
He was a nice old man. And if you ever make it to the St Louis Art museum, there is a gallery that he funded, the Sadie and Sidney Cohen gallery.
There was no security whatsoever in his apartment, and it was really in a very modest neighborhood, and of course I never mentioned to anybody I knew that he had (even then) millions of dollars of art on his walls.
Maybe because I'm getting old too, or maybe because I've picked up art again, I've been thinking about him, kind, lonely, generous...living in solitude among all that museum quality art.
That's it, just the memory.
He invited me into his apartment one day for tea, served in proper cups, and he had a Manet on one wall, a Seurat on another, and the hallway was an art gallery.
We chatted about his wife, whom he missed, and one of my favorite pieces of art I told him was a chair that she had needlepointed. It really was a lovely piece of work, and he was pleased by my comment. He had a cubist piece by Florsheim I also really liked. A tiny Picasso... But a Picasso nonetheless.
He was a nice old man. And if you ever make it to the St Louis Art museum, there is a gallery that he funded, the Sadie and Sidney Cohen gallery.
There was no security whatsoever in his apartment, and it was really in a very modest neighborhood, and of course I never mentioned to anybody I knew that he had (even then) millions of dollars of art on his walls.
Maybe because I'm getting old too, or maybe because I've picked up art again, I've been thinking about him, kind, lonely, generous...living in solitude among all that museum quality art.
That's it, just the memory.


