In February 2022, Arthur shared the following:
“As you know Bill and I were very involved with the Addison…. Bill’ s sculpture inspired me to do the work on paper. He lent me a sculpture that I worked from. If my memory serves me, I think Bill wanted Chris to take a look at our collaboration. Chris liked what he saw ,and gave us the show. I think this began my long friendship with Chris and the Addison.
Bill liked to pare things down both in his art and his life.
I do recall that he inevitably talked about balloons, their expansion and contraction. They were mentioned in his every lecture, both casual and official.”
And, in December, 2023: “All the years that he and I were close friends, he seldom mentioned some of the shows he had. In many respects he was quite private. We did show with Tom and Leni. I met them through Bill. My sense is that Bill was more concerned with his vision as a painter than career moves in the art world. He did allude to this sometimes when we talked.”
“Thank you so much for reaching out to me. I am thrilled I have found someone who knows about the brilliant William Holst! ….. He taught me how to see abstractly. A big job! I adored his classes.Thank you for the link, and please keep me updated on your goings-on!All the best ~Rebecca”
R E B E C C A R I C E D A N C E
Rebecca Rice, email, 4/14/2020
Bill Holst
Artist, Teacher, Mentor, Friend
I arrived at Colby Jr. College in 1968, enrolling as a freshman. I immediately connected with the painting professor, Mr. Holst (as we students called him). He was the first educator I was aware of who also pursued a career as a professional artist. With his gentle and soft spoken demeanor, he encouraged my curiosity and thirst for learning as I sought to find my creative voice and medium to express it. I felt truly “seen” as an artist by him – and this enabled me to set my sights on a creative life.
During my second year at CJC, Bill invited local artist/weaver Susan Rumsey to teach us students her skills. Susan was the first of many people that Bill introduced me to with whom I developed long and meaningful relationships. Susan Rumsey, a Cranbrook graduate, ran a local weaving studio in her New London home. She showed me that weaving is an art form and eventually this lead to my pursuit of a BFA in Textiles from RISD.
When I graduated from the CJC two year program, it was expected that I would go on to a four year college or art school But I didn’t feel focused or ready to attend that schools that accepted me. And perhaps more importantly I had fallen in love with a local painter whom Bill had introduced me to. For three years I lived in the area maintaining a friendship with Bill and his wife Gretchen. I worked a variety of odd jobs including being a housecleaner for Bill and Gretchen. For a year or so I set up a weaving studio in their home, using Gretchen’s loom.
About 1972, Bill introduced me to Haystack Mt. School of Crafts and Deer Isle. Haystack was near and dear to Bill since his colleague Fran Merritt was the director. I visited Bill at his home on Deer Ilse and attended Haystack several times from 1972 until 2013. It was at Haystack that I felt at home – like I belonged to a tribe.
About this same time Bill introduced me to Richard Hooke, a printmaker/sculptor friend of his who taught at New England College. And through the Hookes I met one of his students, Ben Fowler, who I married in 1976.
Through this series of significant relationships and connections Bill fostered and supported my creative and personal life. I think Bill could see my potential in ways that I could not. As a young artist, having someone (who is not your parent) be your advocate, your guide and advisor – is critical to one’s ability to thrive and persevere. Bill was all that for me. We talked art theory, influences and techniques – but I never felt judged – only loved and supported.
As a professional artist, Bill modeled perseverance, commitment and vision. Looking at his newest work and talking about it was a joy that we would share for years. Bill and I maintained a close and warm relationship for decades, though his moves, his divorce and remarriage. I felt fortunate to be able to attend his memorial service, honoring his life.
Bill was a gentle, wise, patient and good humored soul. His spiritual foundation was his constant guide. I was lucky to be in his circle of light, creativity and love.
Sarah Haskell, Artist, Teacher, Weaver
Former Student and friend, July 2020
I studied with Bill privately for many years, both in Exeter and in Stonington, Maine. We met when he was teaching at the Art Institute of Boston in the 1980’s. How well I remember his ”push-pull” and “open book” discussions as he tried to instill plastic space into our heads. He was an exacting mentor who I dearly loved. For several summers my husband and I rented a cottage in Stonington, Maine and we spent many wonderful hours with Bill. He had such a joy in the simplest things of life—we took him to the Blue Hill Fair in the early 1990’s. His joy on the ferris wheel ride was unbelievable. Another time we brought him to Bar Harbor to the tea house there. His delight in the popovers and strawberry jam was inspirational. I hear Bill speak whenever I paint. He was a remarkable man with a rare zest for life.
Elizabeth Kasevich, December 15, 2021
Thank you for sending me the link for the talk by you, sponsored by the Stonington library. I plan to register. It’s nice that you have such a devotion to presenting the values and work of someone, who, being humble but deeply sincere in his conviction about art, deserves more recognition, even as time passes.
It is my hope that reminding people how the best of the past successful ways of sharing art of all types, and the support of all creative people, can illuminate a pathway to a better future for everyone. Listening to those artists and story bearers, poets, and sharing visual convictions with artworks and music will help humans realize that our values are of import.
Alana VanDerwerker, artist, author of “Haystack at Liberty,” January 23, 2022, Alana interviewed Holst with Fran Merritt extensively for her book.
I’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the past which meant much to me and changed my life. Haystack does this for many. I live nearby and have been involved in various ways, including the scholarship committee – particularly meaningful as they took me in in those early years under Fran Merritt and I had some wonderfully inspiring instructors. May your project take wings…..
I am grateful for your research. I didn’t realize he had such an impact as a teacher (not surprised) and was involved in so many notable art endeavors resulting in an impressive award history. You mentioned Joop Sanders, Fred Mitchell and Wolf Kahn, all of whom I took classes with at Haystack. Wolf Kahn was the most memorable, with a dynamic personality. I lived nearby, with a large field bordering the ocean and for some reason our class ended up in my field one day and Wolf marveled “Look at all that red!” I did not see any red……One last note: Haystack Director Fran Merritt was perhaps the kindest man I’ve known.
Penny Plumb, former student.
On “Luquillo Beach”
Thanks for getting back so quickly! OK, here’s a long-winded story about the painting and my family. Are you ready?
It begins with my grandfather who was originally from Uganda, a small town in upstate NY. When Grandpa Charlie was a young man, he answered an ad to be a manager for a fruit farm down in Puerto Rico. He was so good at growing things that he eventually bought his own plantation and at one point, the story goes, his grapefruit (and pineapples?) often garnered some of the highest prices on the London fruit exchange. Ha!
Charlie married, brought down his bride from the U.S., and raised his daughter Marguerite (my Mom) in Puerto Rico until she was around 16.
While Mom was in her teens, William Holst visited the island as a U.S. serviceman (yikes—there was a war going on). My mother’s family were in the habit of entertaining young service men and in this capacity they met Holst. I think he might have painted this work for them, but at any rate, they acquired it.
My Mom went off to college in the states—Principia, in Illinois—and my grandparents came back to retire in Park Ridge, a Chicago suburb. The painting came with them and and always hung in their parlor over the baby grand. I vaguely remember, even as a kid, being aware of its presence.
Later, my Mom inherited the painting, and it lived in my parent’s renovated “buggy house” in historic, Elsah, IL. When Theodor Wolfe—then, art reviewer for the Christian Science Monitor—visited the area, they hosted him for tea and couldn’t resist asking him his opinion of their collection of paintings. Guess what stood out to him most? Holst’s Caribbean canvas.
The painting is of Luquillo Beach—one of the most stunning beaches on the island—which wraps around a large, rounded point that juts out into the frothy, blue-green sea. Jet-black sand, studded with coconut palms and huge, poinciana trees full of bright orange blossoms. Behind it rises, El Yunque, the rain-forest national park, dense with green.
My Mom always raved about the beauty of Luquillo. And melding this painting with current photographs and a long-ago childhood visit, I can see why. But looking at the online photos just now, there are two things that mystify me:
1) Where are all the poinciana trees? They don’t appear in any Luquillo beach shots. Were the trees cut down? Or did Holst exercise artist license in exaggerating their presence? Maybe a combination?
2) The sand in the online photos seems to be typically-colored sand. My mother always rhapsodized about the drama of the black, volcanic-sanded beach and the painting would confirm this. I’ve seen black sand in Guatemala and it does impress. But maybe there are different levels of blackness depending on the locale. Plus, sand definitely relies on ocean water soaking into it to heighten it’s darkness.
Anyway. . .we can imagine what an effect this tropical paradise must have had on a young serviceman visiting from the U.S. of A. And, in the painting, we can see it, feel it, in every stroke!
Whew! As you can imagine, this painting means a lot our family…
Best,
Nate