A Look at Man Ray in L.A. : Friends and colleagues paint a personal remembrance of the artist

“Perpetual Motif,” the retrospective of seminal surrealist Man Ray, opens today at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Encompassing every aspect of his long and varied career, a portion of the exhibition is given over to work done during the years of 1940 to 1951, when he lived in Los Angeles.

Born in Philadelphia the son of a Jewish tailor, Man Ray was forced to flee his adopted home of Paris--a city which revered him--during World War II. Like many European artists, he was attracted to Southern California’s film industry. However, the 11 years he spent in Los Angeles--whose art audience was minuscule and unsophisticated at the time--were disappointing for him. His work as a painter went largely ignored, and though he socialized with the film industry, he never succeeded in getting any of his film projects off the ground. As Merry Foresta, curator of the MOCA show, points out, “the L.A. art audience felt more comfortable with Man Ray as a historical figure than with his interruptive presence.”

Herewith, reminiscences from some of Man Ray’s friends and acquaintances during his years in Los Angeles.

JAMES B. BYRNES was curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art from 1946 to 1950 and subsequently held directorial positions at several American museums. Retired from the museum field, he presently works as an art consultant and an appraiser of fine art.

During the ‘40s I gave a course at USC on 20th-Century art, and when it came time for the session on Dadaism I asked Man to do it. I knew he could use the money, so I told him “you take the $15 for the night.” He did a marvelous job and brought in many of the objects of his affection, and also held a kind of raffle. He gave out little slips of paper, and at the end of his lecture he asked, “Who has No. 8?” Somebody raised their hand, and he said, “Now, who doesn’t have No. 8?” Somebody else raised their hand and he said, “You win.” He then brought out a large inner tube, which he deflated and cut into pieces, then handed the pieces out to the students--none of whom were familiar with his work, by the way.

His distinguishing garb was quite noteworthy. He always wore a black shoestring for a tie, and on occasion would affect a paper mustache. He loved costume parties and fantasy, and had quite a bit of theater in him.

He was rather flirtatious and women seemed to find him attractive, despite the fact that he was a small man and somewhat furtive in his demeanor. His charm had a lot to do with the fact that he was rather mysterious in many respects.

He had a very droll, biting sense of humor that could be a bit antagonistic on occasion. One must remember that he was an enthusiast of the Marquis de Sade, so there was a certain harshness about him.

He belonged to a group of people in L.A. who came to know each other primarily because they’d all come here from somewhere else. At that time the local population was described as “the Okies and the Arkies,” and L.A. was referred to as “the buckle of the Bible Belt.” There was no interest in modern art here at all, so these sophisticated outsiders stuck together. The way of life Man had known in Paris--the cafes and so forth--was absolutely unknown here, and I think he missed it a great deal. He lived across the street from what was then the Hollywood Ranch Market, which was open 24 hours a day, and Man thought that was extraordinary for L.A. I remember him exclaiming, “I can buy a bottle of good wine in the middle of the night for 99 cents that’s the equal of anything I can buy in Paris!”

He had a great ego--he said so himself.

The L.A. art community was very small during the years Man lived here and the only thing we had for local artists was an annual competition. I talked with Man about entering, but he refused--he was vehemently opposed to competition of any sort. He wasn’t interested in critics, believed everybody was an artist, and thought there should be no jurors or process of selection. He was basically an anarchist.

He was generally kind of a grumpy guy. He believed in himself and it upset him that his work didn’t provide him with a comfortable way of life, but he never considered compromising his work in any way for money. I remember one time when he was at a very low point financially and a woman tried to commission him to do a portrait of her. He rather disliked the person who’d asked and he announced that he wanted $250 for the project. She said, “Anybody else would charge $50! I can’t believe that price!” He replied, “Believe it.”

KEVIN WHITE is Man Ray’s nephew. He is a writer.

I was just a kid--maybe 10 or 12--when I used to see him, and I remember him as a very funny man. I’d bring pieces of paper to him and he’d draw funny faces for me. I don’t think he was crazy about kids--he never wanted any of his own as far as I know--but he never gave me the impression I was being shunned or patronized.

He seemed to enjoy life quite a bit. He liked good food and drink, good conversation and a challenging chess game. He didn’t fit the prototype of the tortured artist as far as I could see.

JOHN WHITNEY SR. is a pioneering avant - garde film maker who presently works with computer graphics and music.

In the ‘40s, I was in my early 20s and was making abstract animated films. I read in the paper that Man Ray was living in L.A. and, being aware of the film making he’d done, I wanted to show him my work. He was fairly accessible to artists such as myself who wanted to meet and talk with him, so I called him up. He was quite cordial and invited me to come by. I showed him my films and he was very generous in his response. He pointed out--and this is an obvious comment coming from him--that there must be an element of surprise in any artwork. He said the word surprise in French.

The first day I met him I was knocked out by some of the novelties in his apartment. There was a lamp made out of a Ford steering wheel, and though I could be mistaken about this, it seems he had a sofa shaped like the lips in his famous painting, “The Lovers.”

He had very delicate hands and unusually graceful body language. He was a very relaxed man, very easygoing.

Man had two lives and I was totally barred from one of them. He moved in very wealthy circles and in fact, his films might not have been made were it not for the generosity of an extremely wealthy French count who gave him a camera and several thousands of dollars worth of film. Today, people might consider it a conflict of interest that Man, who espoused a philosophy of anarchy, was so chummy with the aristocratic element of society, but in those days no one worried about such things. The wealthy class--and this was particularly true in Europe--was enthralled with anarchists and the grubbiest members of the avant-garde.

WILLIAM COPLEY’s Copley Galleries presented Man Ray’s only one - man show during his years in Los Angeles (the show was presented in 1948) . Copley currently works as a painter.

Hollywood didn’t treat Man like a celebrity and I think he resented that. He expected more recognition than was forthcoming, but at that time most people dismissed Surrealism as something very nutty. That bothered him, but only to a point; he was too intelligent to be ambitious as far as his standing in the community.

He was not a voracious reader. I don’t think he read any more than he had to.

PHIL STERN lived next door to Man and Juliet Ray on Vine Street in the St. George Apartments (now called the Villa Elaine.) He is presently working on a book of his photographs of Hollywood from the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s, to be published next year by Alfred Knopf.

The apartments were really quite nice--two floors, huge windows and maid service for $65 a month. The maid service came once a week and Man’s biggest challenge in life was to prevent the maids from cleaning the windows. Man did his work in the apartment and he never cleaned the windows because the patina of dust on them created a diffuse light that was perfect for what he wanted to do photographically. I can remember him coming home one day and going absolutely berserk when he discovered that a new maid had washed the windows. He spent the next six months trying to cultivate the dirt on the window1931506799them with dirty water, went to an empty lot and got some dirt and tossed it at the windows--he was a bit obsessed with those windows.

He used to give talks and went on these strange lecture tours. His delight in life was to talk to Pasadena ladies and say things that shocked the hell out of them. In appearance and demeanor he was very much a Mr. Milquetoast, and I think he had a little Walter Mitty thing going.

You know those animals called the sloth? Well, I never saw Man move faster than a quarter of a mile an hour. He was a slow, methodical man and was constantly puttering. He kept a very irregular schedule and sometimes he’d stay up all night working on his little projects. I rarely knew what he was working on--he tended to be secretive about his work.

During the ‘40s there was a group of bohemians living in a commune in Big Sur and the patriarchal head of the group was Henry Miller, who was a friend of Man’s. Henry convinced Man to visit the commune but Man didn’t enjoy the place at all. I can remember him talking about how crudely these people were living and exclaiming, “They didn’t have any amenities!” Man was a bit effete and he liked comfort and cosmopolitan living.

EMERSON WOELFFER is a Los Angeles painter.

The first time I met Man was in Chicago. He was on his way to L.A. and I was studying with Moholy-Nagy at the Chicago Institute of Design. Man visited Moholy at the school one night when we were having a dance, and I can remember him complaining about how much he disliked Chicago. In those days people took the train to get from New York to L.A., and the trip included a one night stop-over in Chicago. Man grumbled that that was the only reason he was in Chicago.

He was a modest, sweet man and wasn’t at all ambitious. People would tell him he was a success and he’d reply, “What do you mean by success? Money? I don’t call that success.” He was avidly against those kinds of attitudes.

JULES ENGEL was a pioneering experimental film maker. He currently teaches film at California Institute of the Arts .

Man took an interest in my films and was very generous with help and encouragement. I remember I once had a screening of my films where the audience didn’t like what they’d seen and booed quite loudly. Man began screaming “Don’t listen to those bastards; they don’t know what they’re seeing!” He took on the whole damn movie house!

He wasn’t much of a drinker. A little wine, but nothing excessive.

He was never pushy about his career and wasn’t the sort to arrange and manipulate things the way artists often do. Man had the stuff in his gut and you either bought it or you didn’t.