Orozco

Orozco

Orozco

Orozco

Excerpt

ONE SULTRY AFTERNOON in the summer of 1928 I found myself at the door of a parlor-floor studio on a shabby Chelsea block somewhere in Manhattan's West Twenties. I was calling on José Clemente Orozco, the Mexican mural painter, at his invitation. Our first meeting had taken place only a few days before at the home of Miss Anita Brenner, who had known him in Mexico and had written about his achievements for an American art journal. The young writer was aware of my admiration for Orozco's monumental frescoes in the National Preparatory School of Mexico City and, out of a kindly impulse to help the artist make useful contacts in New York, had arranged to bring us together. Orozco, she told me, had arrived in New York about six months earlier, while I was still abroad, and had passed the interim in dismal obscurity. The celebrated painter, Miss Brenner confided, was not only 'sad and lonely and neglected' but his finances, precarious enough at the start, were steadily growing worse. She insisted that I was 'just the person' to deal with the emergency, although she frankly warned me that I might not . . .

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