Portrait of Gratitude

My father, Sam Feinstein (1915–2003), would have enjoyed seeing his portrait of Yusef Komunyakaa on the cover of Callaloo, even though this particular work does not reflect the general nature of his paintings. Well trained in realism, he nevertheless found himself moving away from direct portraiture by the mid-1940s; in 1949, he began studying with Hans Hofmann, and his work turned more completely to abstract expressionism. Speaking of the principles solidified by Hofmann's teaching, he once explained to me:

You had your direct experience from the world around you, and simultaneously you were creating a direct experience not simply on the canvas, but out of the canvas, seeing the rectangular flatness of the canvas as a countenance in itself, or as a body in itself, which had to be brought to a vibrant life.

In the half-century that followed, my father created large, symphonic paintings responding to the dynamic range of nature and human emotion.

But as this cover reproduction makes clear, he never completely abandoned realism. I recall a number of times in my teenage years when he would pick up a cheap Bic ballpoint and photorealistically sketch his left hand ("Just to keep my hand in it," he'd say). He also completed several pen-and-ink portraits based on photographs, and those were almost always made gratis for friends or acquaintances who had done personal favors: one pal who frequently fixed our decrepit lawn mower and who never accepted payment, or an old family friend who used to repair our 1958 Volvo station wagon. These friends, I should add, appreciated this kind of art far more than abstract expressionism, and perhaps my father felt a certain amount of satisfaction in demonstrating to the community his prodigious academic skills. But in private, he dismissed those works as being "merely a coordination between the hand and eye."

So the portrait of Yusef is something of a curiosity, partly because the impulse to make the piece was not generated by such a specific or mundane circumstance. (As far as I know, Yusef has never repaired any of our gas engines.) In this case, the gesture had to do with a father's gratitude: I first knew Yusef as my mentor, then we became collaborators on books and good friends. In fact, the development of my relationship with Yusef in many ways paralleled my father's personal history with Hofmann, and so he fully appreciated both the invaluable knowledge that I received as a student and the depth of friendship that followed.

The moment of my father's inspiration arrived unexpectedly when he encountered a poster on Broadway advertising one of Yusef's readings. Struck initially by the shock of familiarity—seeing the face of someone he knew fairly well—my father then became captivated by the photograph itself (taken by Don Getsug and later reproduced on the back of Thieves of Paradise), which he found far more animated and suggestive than most publicity headshots. He later obtained a copy of the poster, and that became the basis for this portrait, although he took great liberties as well: the drawing incorporates what the photograph provided (facial features, details of the glasses) but also what he was responding to in that photograph (warmth, wisdom, movement), as well as his own memories and associations from their several encounters. In the photograph, for example, Yusef stares directly into the camera's lens; in my father's piece, he looks away from us—head slightly lowered and turned, eyes glancing upward. Those familiar with Yusef's profoundly shy nature will agree that the drawn portrait more accurately reflects his demeanor and spirit.

I should add that the friendship Yusef enjoyed with my father extended beyond my relationship with them individually, and it seemed grounded by their mutual admiration for each other's art as well as genuine personal respect. While my father did not know a great deal about contemporary poetry (despite my efforts!), he admired writers and writing, and he knew, of course, Yusef's astonishing accomplishments. He was also well aware of Yusef's complex personal history: that he had...