Shannon

I have found that those whom I can call friend have mostly been fellow artists, particular ly my dear  wife, Lucy Graves-McVicker.   Perhaps it's because we speak a similar language and suffer the same sense of isolation self-employed artists feel.  To most people, the profession of being an artist is mysterious at best.  And at worst it is little respected.

And the problem with being an old artist is that those artists who were cherished friends begin to disappear.  Barney Plotkin and I shared studio space for twenty-five years.  We often critiqued the museum and gallery world of Manhattan delightedly.  It was Barney whose good taste helped me choose my tenth anniversary wedding gift for Lucy.   But Barney has been gone for many years.

I first met Shannon Stirnweis at Art Center {it was in Hollywood at that time}.  We were both studying illustration on the GI Bill.  Our oldest daughter, Lauri, was already part of our family, and we subsisted on the Bill and donations from our families,   Shannon wasn"t married yet, but we all lived like the proverbial church mice.  We both left Art Center after graduation and on the advice of the school left for New York.

While living with Lucy's Mother in Princeton I was hired at a large studio as an apprentice.  I lost touch with Shannon for a time.  After ten months as an apprentice I became a free-lancer and found a studio in the Lincoln Arcade, an old building at sixty-fifth and Broadway (now Juliard School of Music). For the next decade and a half I shared studios with other illustrators while I conducted my business.

Over the years, Shannon would visit our studios and  talk art and business.  Eventually we both became members of the Society of Illustrators.  He went on to become president of that organization, and I followed a few years later.  When Manhattan became too expensive I was able to find a position as Assistant Professor of Art at Trenton State College (now the College of New Jersaey).

Shannon went on to become a well-known painter of Western Art.  Over these years I would periodically receive phone calls from Shannon.  He would keep me posted on artist friends from the Society, their doings and, unfortunately, their passings.  He and Regina raised three sons and Lucy and I, three daughters, and we would discuss their trials and successes.  I did look forward to those calls. But the calls lately have been darker.  Shannon had cancer.  The last time we talked, Shannon ended the call by saying, "Goodbye Chuck."  How can one respond to that?  A few days ago Regina called to say Shannon had died quietly.  I will miss you Shannon. When old friends aren't there anymore, there is a hole in your life that can't be filled.