Description

Dad never really had a studio. He was an outdoor painter. When he painted indoors, he used our living room.

He often talked about wanting a studio, but it never happened because of our scant resources and other family priorities.

Back in Hungary, Dad worked in master Szõnyi's studio while attending school at the Budapest Royal Academy of Fine Arts (1943-1948) and until around 1950, but that was all in the past. Coming to America meant giving up everything and starting anew.

When we arrived in the United States in 1956, we were destitute. Sponsored by the Presbyterian Church, Mom and Dad's main goals were to learn English, get us into schools, get themselves jobs, and gain US citizenship. That all happened within about four years.

In 1960, after receiving our citizenship, we lived in a small railroad-style apartment in uptown Manhattan, in an area called Spanish Harlem. The space was tight, but Mom always ensured that Dad had somewhere to store his work, even though there was never a separate room for him to do his work.

This photo is of our living room, where Dad did his inside work - his Studio. It was also the room where we all watched TV at night. So by default, Dad's work was always in sight. And today, these images forever live in my mind's eye. ❤️

Through My Father's Eyes