Art Crimes and Family History in “Letting In Air and Light” https://ift.tt/wQCS0gr
When a new perspective is needed, you have to shake out the dusty drapes, push them aside, and open the windows to let fresh air and light in. Teresa Tumminello Brader executes this action with her narrative interpretation of her family, their community, and their enigmatic connection to art history in Letting In Air and Light. What led her uncle William “Bill” Toye to his ultimate rejection and extraction from a world he longed to be a part of in a positive way? What made him believe he could sell forgeries of another’s artistic contributions? Visual and textile artist Clementine Hunter may have seemed like an easy target despite her commercial success, but the author gives us a new perspective on what else may have triggered her uncle to commit these crimes and uses their New Orleans family home as the allegory in this memoir. Brader’s physical memory of it serves as the catalyst for her uncle’s early life experiences and the choices he made when it came to art and theft.
It would not be an understatement to say that Bill’s effort to be successful in the art world originated from a silent competition he participated in with his sister Helen. The author’s aunt was also a visual creative and received public recognition for her artwork. Frequent visits to the residence of Brader’s maternal grandparents highlighted this underlying rivalry between siblings. The author seemed to prefer her aunt’s work over her uncle’s, as did a number of others. This is evident from Brader’s detailed descriptions of her aunt’s success despite creating art for peace of mind rather than prosperity. She doubles down on this by highlighting her aunt’s achievements and making multiple references to her uncle’s lack thereof.
Brader never states that her uncle did not try for success, but a pivotal impeding circumstance could have been his living conditions. Bill never seemed to have his own space, a topic the author continues to revisit throughout the book. He faced a number of limitations within the confines of his home and seemed irrevocably tied to it throughout adulthood. His dwelling was never a place of privacy and one could only imagine how imprisoned he felt cohabitating in a small area with his competitor. A makeshift partition was the only separation from his parents and money was obviously scarce. The family home served as a temporary sanctuary to many, so Bill was unable to claim any right over where he laid his head. Future life experience as the head of his own household made him realize the constraints that come with rushed independence, and he was constantly strapped for cash to pay his bills.
Bill longed for the spotlight, which Brader highlights when she describes him marveling over being recognized in a newspaper article – never mind that he thought the writer was insulting his artistic ability. Notable figures (like her father) thought he was intelligent and stable. Brader acknowledges her uncle’s intellect with references to him conducting the orchestra during a performance at the NOMA Museum of Art, but the author also recalls a time when he was hospitalized for manic behavior. Nevertheless, recognition of any kind was alright with him. He ran an unsuccessful political campaign for a local office, bartered his paintings in exchange for services he could not pay for, and attempted a number of other questionable business ventures. Despite his efforts, he seemed to constantly hit a stream of bad luck. Shortly after acquiring a property near the family home, Bill was slammed with a number of small claims court cases for trying to finagle his way out of paying his debts. Brader also discovered that he was charged with forgery almost forty years before. Even his wife was an accomplice of sorts and seemed to encourage his low-vibrational behavior. There is speculation she lied about obtaining original artwork created by his victim to cover his tracks.
Bill’s story is extensive, but Brader does not allow Hunter to get lost in translation. Clementine Hunter was a local and less conspicuous target than other artists may have been. She came from a family of sharecroppers and worked in similar domestic positions throughout her life. She created textile art, and her early portraits came from scraps of material left behind by the people she served. Her creations served as her voice, and she eventually achieved national success from this form of self-expression.
Brader carefully outlines the stream of events that led to her uncle’s criminal behavior, but she is mindful of and pays homage to his victim on and off paper. She doesn’t downplay his actions and emphasizes the long delay of justice for Hunter — she passed away almost thirty years before Brader was prosecuted, which was only a few years before his death. It would be fair to assume that the process was delayed because of her race and cultural background. Brader highlights her respect for Hunter in a remark about stubbing her toe while investigating her uncle’s crime: “I joke that Clementine Hunter knows who I’m related to and had caused the injury; at the same time, if I believed in spirits, I know Hunter would be a benign one.”
Brader sheds light on a significant part of art history and an artist who is often overlooked. She admits not knowing all of her family’s story, but she succeeds in giving readers deeper insight into why Uncle Bill chose Hunter to betray. Brader “decided that there was no point in overly fictionalizing his story. The facts are too sensational on their own.” Her sentiments and this memoir are not an excuse for his actions, but a victorious attempt to clarify and contextualize them.
Letting In Air and Light
By Teresa Tumminello Brader
Belle Point Press
Published October 10, 2023
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