Thank you, Yuyo. Safe travels in the au-delà
I learned this week that Yuyo Noé has left his body. As with all passings, I have many emotions swirling. I have deep sadness, because he was such a generous artist and human, sharing so much of his time, vision and creativity. I had the great fortune to be able to photograph his process when he created his monumental work for the Venice Biennale in 2009.
Yuyo Noe at the Central Park studio in Barracas, Buenos Aires, working on Red/Net for the Venice Biennale.
He was 75 at the time, and worked late into the night, listening to Bach and having a gin & tonic. I could’ve watched him paint for hours, but at some point I’d go home, and when I came to the studio the next morning, I’d always be amazed by how much more he’d created after I left.
From those days in Argentina, spent with Yuyo and many other talented artists, I understood that when you spend your time making art, or anything that lights you up, on a daily basis, working from your heart and soul, it keeps you “young,” or rather feeling alive, with purpose. We talk about that a lot now, but we (I) easily forget. My time with these artists helped me see it, feel it, understand it. And in the years since that biennale, I saw Yuyo in Paris several times, and always felt like his creativity was a strong motor.
Yuyo painting late at night at his home on Tacuari.
Witnessing his work ethic was inspiring, an example of dedication. Being in this kind of creative soup gave me permission. His family was so different than my own. His daughter is an artist as well, and I’ve always felt like her art-making is a strong spark of life-force, something timeless in her. Whereas her family would consider her “day job” as a waste of time, and her art-making to be the real work, for my Midwestern American family it’s the opposite. The trick, I gather, is finding your own balance on your journey forward.
A moment in Yuyo’s process.
Watching Yuyo’s creative process opened up many doors to freedom in my mind. As he ripped off pieces of what he’d painted the night before, as it found its place on the canvas, I almost held my breath. Observing him, I felt a bit of childlike, “let’s try it! it’s fun!” but also saw a clear mastery and vision behind the act.
As luck would have it, I showed up on the first day they began working at the re-converted match stick factory, Central Park, in Barracas, Buenos Aires. It was the day they put the canvas on the huge frame. My Spanish wasn’t so great, so throughout those three months, I was often making prints and giving them to his team, to show what I was doing. This was before instagram and smart phones.
Yuyo in action one night, on a fresh roll of paper.
Some of Yuyo’s brushes.
It’s hard to select photos to share from my time documenting his work and process. There are so many.
In remembering Yuyo and his work, the warm family of friends that surrounded him and welcomed me, I have deep gratitude. It brought vibrant colors to my dreams and opened up doors of perception.
In my work, I put everything into a frame, with a certain obsession for geometry, which Cartier-Bresson said was necessary for a photographer. Being with Yuyo’s paintings, observing him creating, loosened my tight fist on geometry and relaxed my thirst for a certain order, learning to appreciate a different kind of order in chaos.
Yuyo adding details with a white pen.
Yuyo, wherever you are now, I wish you peace and joy, seeing how your work and care and vision expands through each person that you touched during your time here. Give a hug to your dear Nora. Thank you for opening your home, your studio, and your heart. I’ll pay it forward in your honour.
