Grey. We spoke of grey.
One day we talked about the color grey for so long I thought my head would explode. Grey. It’s the best color he said. Not as stark as white. Not as dark as black. Grey. Then came his Grey Matter Art Space. Grey matter. The part of the brain that absorbs information, memory, emotion, and movement.
Now, those of us who knew and loved him have nothing but memories. Locked inside the grey walls of a sprawling downtown art loft. The dream, passion and home of artist, Dave Herman, who left us way too soon, on July 4th.
A Baltimore guy, Dave was about the chillest person who you could ever meet. He radiated calm and peace and all other types of new age adjectives. A graduate of MICA, he was one of those artists who was completely uncomfortable with making money from his art. He bore a bohemian distaste for the commercial aspects of being an artist and dreaded any kind of marketing or self- promotion. He was the embodiment of “art for art’s sake.”
His works all spoke to and of him deeply. In the last few years, he was trying to move from landscapes to abstract expressionism and he was frequently frustrated. He felt that his landscapes were too safe-that HE was playing it too safe. They were too predictable; they were the kind of thing people wanted to hang in their house without much thought other than it was beautiful. He didn’t want that.
Dave wanted his art to push boundaries and to make people see what they didn’t initially see. He wanted the viewer to feel what he was feeling. There was so much of Dave in these later works. Some were dark and sad (how prophetic) and some were bright, happy and lyrical as he tried to find his way through his new style. And, as it turns out, Dave himself was changing, too. He dreamed of leaving Baltimore one day and moving to an island somewhere.
The last time I saw Dave was at a Station North Art Walk in May. He had his Grey Matter Art Space open to the public. A couple of the attendees asked for price lists. In true Dave fashion, he didn’t have a price list. He waxed poetically about what good deal he could give them and what did they want to pay. He was just unable to ask someone to pay for his work.
That same night, I asked him if he had something small that I could buy right then and there. (A lot of his works are quite sizable, and my walls are not). He said he didn’t have the right thing for me at the moment, despite racks full of art, and we could talk about it later. Of course, we didn’t talk about it later because the problem with the last time you see someone is that you don’t know it is the last time. I don’t have any work of his and now the absence of him and his work seems surreal.
He was the most talented, quiet soul. He was so fun and easy to be with. His loss has punched a gaping hole into the heart and soul of the Baltimore art community. This one is going to hurt for a long, long while.
~Kathleen Hamill
Director of Art, Alex Cooper Auctioneers
