WHEN JOYCE CREIGER paired Addison and me for our inaugural show in 1998 at the Creiger- Dane Gallery on Newbury Street, little did we know that she had initiated our twenty-year-long friendship. Little did I know that my exhibition partner had already achieved renown in the ’80s in New York, not long after graduating from the Rhode Island School of Design as part of the neo-Expressionists with shows at the Joan Washburn and Andrew Crispo galleries. He achieved parallel success as an art critic at ARTS Magazine and, when he moved to Boston, at the Christian Science Monitor. In 1998, Addison drew on his New York and Boston connections to mount a show of hybrid abstraction at Creiger-Dane entitled Severed Ear, which, in retrospect, could only be considered postmodern anticipating the Provisionalist painting that Raphael Rubinstein labeled as such in 2007. It bespoke his ability to befriend a diverse group of artists and also a highly intuitive mind that could sense connections unseen to most people. For more than a decade, Addison and his wife, Stacey Parks, ran the Bow Street Gallery in Cambridge. On occasion, he would host luncheons with gallery members and other gallerists where there were vibrant discussions on art that one gallery member described as Pinteresque. These are memories of Addison at his best, a brilliant conversationalist bringing people together to discuss the topics of art and life that defined his existence. People remember him. One evening, I was conversing with someone at the Milton Resnick and Pat Pasloff Foundation, telling him about the death of Larry Deyab, who had been Resnick’s studio assistant. Somehow the conversation turned to Addison’s death, and he said Addison had reviewed his first show in NYC. Recently, a Boston artist contacted me out of the blue to tell me what an impact Severed Ear had on his life and art. Addison was not a happy camper in Boston, and justifiably so, since a certain fussbudget mentality reigns in this town that was not sympathetic to charismatic types like him. He was an enthusiast in an art scene defined by doctors and lawyers. What is most memorable about Addison is his unbending resistance to those experts who wished to define him, whether it was the doctors who set timelines on his illness, or a stockbroker who thought he should go all tech stock in 2000. Sometimes I almost wondered if he possessed the wisdom of a shaman in the way his insights seemed to transcend the boundaries of practical knowledge. For all of these things and more, he will be greatly missed. — Martin Mugar
https://martinmugar.blogspot.com/2018/06/my-recollection-of-addison-parks-will.html?showComment=1573818111972#c1880641619137782875
WHEN JOYCE CREIGER paired Addison and me
ReplyDeletefor our inaugural show in 1998 at the Creiger-
Dane Gallery on Newbury Street, little did we
know that she had initiated our twenty-year-long
friendship. Little did I know that my exhibition
partner had already achieved renown in the ’80s
in New York, not long after graduating from the
Rhode Island School of Design as part of the
neo-Expressionists with shows at the Joan Washburn
and Andrew Crispo galleries. He achieved
parallel success as an art critic at ARTS Magazine
and, when he moved to Boston, at the Christian
Science Monitor.
In 1998, Addison drew on his New York and
Boston connections to mount a show of hybrid
abstraction at Creiger-Dane entitled Severed Ear,
which, in retrospect, could only be considered
postmodern anticipating the Provisionalist
painting that Raphael Rubinstein labeled as
such in 2007. It bespoke his ability to befriend
a diverse group of artists and also a highly intuitive
mind that could sense connections unseen
to most people.
For more than a decade, Addison and his
wife, Stacey Parks, ran the Bow Street Gallery
in Cambridge. On occasion, he would host
luncheons with gallery members and other gallerists
where there were vibrant discussions on
art that one gallery member described as Pinteresque.
These are memories of Addison at his
best, a brilliant conversationalist bringing people
together to discuss the topics of art and life that
defined his existence.
People remember him. One evening, I was
conversing with someone at the Milton Resnick
and Pat Pasloff Foundation, telling him about
the death of Larry Deyab, who had been Resnick’s
studio assistant. Somehow the conversation
turned to Addison’s death, and he said
Addison had reviewed his first show in NYC.
Recently, a Boston artist contacted me out of
the blue to tell me what an impact Severed Ear
had on his life and art. Addison was not a happy
camper in Boston, and justifiably so, since a
certain fussbudget mentality reigns in this town
that was not sympathetic to charismatic types
like him. He was an enthusiast in an art scene
defined by doctors and lawyers.
What is most memorable about Addison is
his unbending resistance to those experts who
wished to define him, whether it was the doctors
who set timelines on his illness, or a stockbroker
who thought he should go all tech stock in 2000.
Sometimes I almost wondered if he possessed
the wisdom of a shaman in the way his insights
seemed to transcend the boundaries of practical
knowledge. For all of these things and more, he
will be greatly missed.
— Martin Mugar