Jazz in the name of artist Verna Hart

My friend Al couldn’t believe it. And neither could I.

I had bumped into him at an art show and sale at a gallery in Wilmington, DE, some years ago when a jazz painting by African American artist Verna Hart was the prize in a raffle. I bought one ticket – probably for $5, just to help out this small mom-and-pop gallery – never expecting to win.

The painting showed a drummer and his instruments immersed in a blend of pinks and golds and blues. His face was aqua, and his features were blobs of black. The painting didn’t immediately endear itself to me, but I loved its subject.

I was vaguely familiar with Hart’s name, but she wasn’t one of those veteran African American artists I was seeking at the time. I ambled among the other artwork; I don’t exactly recall what else was in the gallery, but I always went to African American art shows to see new artists and – if possible – buy some artwork that I could afford.

When the raffle was finally held, the gallery owner called out the number. I looked at mine and saw that I was holding it. I was flabbergasted. I was the last person who needed another painting. I already had lots of artwork at home.

Of all the people to win, Al said. I know, I said, excited, beaming, not believing that I was so lucky. It was a mixed media painting, signed by Hart and dated 2000 (the year was hard to decipher but an appraiser later figured it out).

I learned that it was titled “Five @ the Village Vanguard,” which I believe came from the person who framed the painting for me and perhaps found it somewhere on it. I wonder, though, if it was the word “Live” rather than “Five” since there’s only one musician in the painting. Hart was said to have frequented nightclubs in New York to listen and sketch, and the Village Vanguard was a very historic and popular site. At auction, I had found photos of singers Ann Robinson and Leadbelly and Josh White performing there in 1941.

I put the painting away and came across it recently while going through my artwork. I got to thinking about the artist and why I never hung it. I sadly learned that Hart had died in her sleep last year at the age of 58 at her home in Delaware, where she had moved to 20 years ago. I’m not sure how I missed it.

Hart was Harlem-born and jazz-inspired. She was known to always have music by Dizzy or Coltrane or Miles or the Duke playing in her home. She named her children after musicians and artists, including Eubie (for compose/pianist Eubie Blake) and Romare (for artist Romare Bearden, a mentor).

She decided at age 5 that she would be an artist, giving up her coloring books and sketchpads to paint cartoons and more on the walls of her family’s home. She took painting classes at Cooper Union while in high school, and received a bachelor’s degree in fine arts from the School of Visual Arts and a master’s from Pratt Institute, all in New York. She also earned a master’s in education supervision and administration.

Her works have been shown in museums and galleries in this country and Africa, as well as U.S. embassies and State Department offices. They can also be found in public and private collections. She received commissions from private companies, and jazz and arts festivals, among others. Her painting “Piano Man” was featured on a wall in the home of the main character Bleek, played by Denzel Washington, in Spike Lee’s 1990 film “Mo’ Better Blues.”

“Like the jazz musician, I seek to say something personal and spontaneous,” she stated in a brochure accompanying a 2017 “Art in Embassies” exhibition at the U.S. Embassy in the capital city of Cape Verde off the east coast of Africa. “The energy that’s in the music, I expose on canvas. It’s important that you not only see my work, but feel it too … and, like the music; when it hits you … move.”

She said she painted the faces green because “it’s about the music in the art piece, not the characters.”