Not so long ago, few knew artist Norman Lewis’ name

I was standing in the last room of the Norman Lewis exhibition when my friend Monica walked over to me. I was admiring a 1978 painting bathed in lilac with Lewis’ familiar figures in motion.

Did you see the letter in that case, she asked. I had seen several pamphlets and correspondence from Lewis’ archives that augmented the exhibit, but I had not yet read the ones in this room.

I followed Monica to the glass case and she pointed to the letter. I started reading, anticipating something exciting.

It was a letter from Lewis, dated 1977, to New York gallery owner Leo Castelli:

“I have read that you have not stopped discovering talent and helping artists. Your valuable assistance is needed – I have talent.”

Those last three words were enough to break your heart. Here was a man who was an obviously talented artist from way back (he had been painting since the 1930s, moving from social realism to abstract expressionism in the vein of Jackson Pollock and Willem De Kooning, whose works were shown in Castelli’s first exhibit in 1957) and was essentially asking to be recognized by one of the most influential dealers in the world.

Through his exhibits and private sales, Castelli made artists. His gallery was the place to go for Abstract Expressionist artists during the 1960s, which were said to be its best years. By the 1970s, New York saw the opening of new upcoming galleries that were competing with this stalwart. Castelli noted at the time that he had not lost any major artists, but he was sharing them with other galleries. The art world itself was also changing.

Lewis had the misfortune of becoming a painter at a time when that world – as well as the country as a whole – was unwilling to recognize him as a person, much less as an artist. There were some in the art world that had long patronized artists of his color (the Harmon Foundation, a white benefactor, and such entities as the African-American-owned Pyramid Club in Philadelphia).

Lewis was no slouch. He was represented for almost 20 years by the Willard Gallery in New York, and his works were shown in some major museum exhibitions. During the 1970s he received grants, fellowships and awards from various foundations, and accepted commissions. He left Willard in 1965 and had no gallery affiliation after that.

In New York in December, one of his paintings sold for $800,000 at auction. His works have been purchased by some of the country’s major museums. The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) in Philadelphia is holding an exhibition titled “Procession: The Art of Norman Lewis” with nearly 100 of his paintings and prints until April 3. That’s where I saw the letter.

The letter continued:

“I have had vast experience as a painter, far more than most, yet others have succeeded with much less talent. This situation occurs frequently and is constantly brought to my attention by others renowned in the art field. This is not an accident I have been told, and later discovered to be true. I have continued to pursue my beliefs because I believe as you do in America. Galleries, including those in SoHo, seem to be reserved for whites only.

I need a gallery and could be an asset to your gallery. Come to see and judge for yourself. I am just around the corner from your establishment.”

This appeared to be a copy of the letter and there was no indication if Lewis got a response. A listing of exhibits at Castelli gallery locations does not include Lewis’ name.

My friend Kristin noted that Lewis wrote the letter two years before he died. He was 70 when he died in 1979.

A New York Times reviewer questioned whether Lewis ranked alongside a Mark Rothko or Jackson Pollock as a “stylistic groundbreaker,” but acknowledged his importance in the “social history of American art.” The writer quoted art historian and artist David Driskell as noting that Lewis was one of only a few African American abstract painters and one of a few represented by a mainstream – or white – gallery.

I found the exhibit amazing in its breadth and depth. It covers Lewis’ early years as a figurative painter of social protest (which many African American artists of his generation embraced) to his settling into abstract expressionism, which he to some degree used as a tool of protest. One section of the exhibit held  abstract works depicting social protest. (Interestingly, one docent mentioned that some young adults thought his painting of a Klansman in cap and robe was the Tin Man from “The Wizard of Oz.”)

It was a joy to see his early realistic paintings because I was more familiar with Lewis’ abstract art. In fact, several of his smaller prints on paper came up for sale once when I first started going to auctions. I had planned to buy at least one of them, as was a couple who had come for the same purpose. Neither of us got a chance because one man out-bid us on each piece.

One of Lewis’ figurative paintings titled “Meeting Place” – which I loved – was up for sale two years ago with a starting price of $80,000, but it did not sell. It was included in the PAFA auction as belonging to a private collection. Many of Lewis’ paintings are affordable.