This month’s blog is in memoriam for Louis B. Sloan, a dear man, friend, mentor, well known prize winning landscape artist and teacher died last week. He was a critic, who really listened, a shoulder to cry on and a buddy to paint with whatever you needed he was there. A quiet man with a gentle caring soul who reached out to many of his students in a way no other teacher did.  He was one of the kindest caring men I have known.

Lou attended the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and after graduation he taught at there from 1963 until his retirement in 1997. I attended from 1991 through 1995. I served on many committees with Lou as well as attending his classes. Lou often told stories reminiscing over the rich history of the Academy and its students as well as the faculty. 

Looking back I remember him fondly as I entered the doors of the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts School, just after enrolling for classes in the fall of 1991.  I was accompanied by my mother as we wandered through the halls. I was trying to familiarize myself with the classrooms, my locker and the overall layout of the place prior to starting. I ran into Lou on his way from his studio to set up a still life in the room just beyond my locker. He asked me if I was enrolled in still life in the fall. I confirmed that I was and that I was intimidated by the reputation of the school as much as I was excited to attend.  I also told him I was concerned because I had not painted in oil before and didn’t know what I was going to do. He took me under his wing from that day forward and told me not to be afraid to put paint on my canvas. Let the subject speak to you along with its colors. Just mix up the paint and place it on the canvas the way you see it. You will be fine, he assured me. And I was.

Lou took the time to know me and bring the best out of me. He had a rare gift of reaching out to his students. Many a time he would provide a student who had little means with supplies. He never wanted to make them feel if it was charity, so he would tell them that an older student who could no longer paint or some other story had left them with him. All the while he had gone to the good will and purchased an old wood box, attached a handle and filled it with oil paints himself. That’s the kind of person and teacher he was forever nurturing you in a way only he could.

He was there when I had questions, in class or out. He counseled me with his fatherly way, a twinkle in his eye and a grin after he delivered a critique of my work, all the while providing me self assurance that whatever I decided would be right. Louie had a real talent of encouraging you as well as giving you confidence when you felt crushed. Whether it was that I entered a show and for what ever reason the piece didn’t get in or because I was struggling with the next level of development of my work Lou was there guide me. He would say “Don’t let it get you down there is always another juror with a different point of view in another venue for the same piece. If the piece is good it will have a venue just be persistent.” He helped me learn to grow thick skin. I entered many shows where I would get in some and get rejected from others. More than once I got a piece rejected and the same piece entered into another show had won a prize. Go figure!

Lou was absolutely right.

Several years later when jurying an exhibit for entry and prizes I realized that there are many different reasons that certain pieces don’t make it. In one case it was the size of the gallery which limited the entries that could be exhibited. That is I think the hardest, having to reject good work because the space doesn’t allow the hanging of the work.  Another time I was one of three jurors you may come to an agreement where each of you pick one until the gallery is filled. Everything else is out. I have been told that sometimes it is just a question of the space and how the show flows not necessarily the work. When I jury I do try to concentrate on the size of the space and filling it with the best work I can. Lou had an amazing way of looking at a space and knowing exactly what would fit. For me there has been a learning curve.

I remember a time when he juried a show for MCGOPA, (Montgomery County Guild of Professional Artists) and he went through each of the pieces took about 1 min to look intently at each piece and then he told me which ones to pull out and which to leave in. We went to lunch and then we returned. Lou went through each pile once more and said

”That’s it all but this one piece.” Every piece just fit into the three galleries perfectly with no space to spare. He really had a knack.

Lou also continually spoke on how a frame should do just that, frame the work and not over power the work. “You shouldn’t see the frame before the piece.” He use to say. There was a time again at MCGOPA where one piece entered was framed poorly, with a messy matt.  He said” If the artist doesn’t care enough to present it well then why should I care and he turned it around and never jury it.

Lou was a conservator at the Philadelphia Museum of Art for 18 years. He was a recipient of many honors, awards, and fellowships. He died of a heart attack on Oct. 15, 2008. Lou was one of 13 brothers and sisters.  He was 75 and lived in Northeast Philadelphia with his sister Barbara Sloan.

Lou had many passions in life including baking, gardening, tending to his assorted animals, traveling with his students and spending time with friends and family.

Lou was survived by his brothers;  Beuford, Carl, Ronald, James, John, Andrew, Warren and his sisters; Roxy and Barbara.

Lou was an inspiration to all who knew him. Although he wasn’t married and didn’t have any children he was a father to many who knew him.

Dear Lou,

Continue to paint your landscapes in heaven and as your nephew said at your funeral,” There isn’t a landscape, sky or tree that I will look at that won’t make me think of you. They are somehow brighter, more colorful, viewing them in rememberance of Louie. What a blessing to have known you. ”

Another nephew said” You came into this world naked, and most people leave this world naked but not you Louie, you will take your good deeds with you.” Louie you will be missed, especially by me.