Henry Lehmann
Montreal has had a long tradition of art writers, critics going back to Lawrence Sabbath, John Lyman, Rodolphe de Repentigny. Henry Lehman is firmly part of that tradition. A prodigious writer he held his place in an ever changing arts scene. Henry Lehmann’s career spans the multi-cultural character of Montreal, a cultural mecca that embraces Europe as much a North America for its sources since the days of Picasso.
Arriving from the south suburbs of Chicago as a draft dodger, and very much in the arts scene from the start, Henry Lehmann was involved with Vehicule Art at its most experimental, when artists came to Montreal from all over, many to later become big names, at a time when art was a free for all. The spirit was social and Henry was part of that. As two art critics, Henry and I would occasionally call each other about shows and share cabs, feeding each other comments on shows. From his home on Clifton in NDG, Henry lovingly covered Montreal, and that meant writing on artists whose careers were just starting though to the mainstream names like Molinari, Gagnon, Borduas, Riopelle, de Tonnancour and Tousignant. In a word, Henry Lehman did his job and had a strong instinct for what was happening in the scene. Henry will be missed as a major voice in Canadian arts writing, and likewise for his friendly character.
- John K. Grande, Montreal
- www.grandescritique.com
The Henry I best knew was my best friend throughout childhood. His home was "up the hill" from my home on w. 216th Place in Matteson, IL, and it was also my second home, as I spent much time with him and his mother, Virgina, father Henry Sr., sister Jean, and #1 dog Matt (short for Matthew).
We collected butterflies,moths, caterpillers and cocoons together. We collected Mazon Creek plant fossils together. We waded in Turtle Pond together, catching painted and Blanding's turtles and getting our clothes all mucked up. We also often visited the fields of Matteson and Richton Park looking for a wide variety of frogs, toads and snakes. And we visited the Chicago zoos and the back (work)rooms of the Field Museum together. I was two years older, but we pals with a common interest in whatever Mother Nature could teach us. Two of his pen-and-ink-and-watercolor sketches (completed when he was 10-12) are my fondest possessions. So, his becoming an artist and beloved teacher were a perfect fit. He was not the Henry Lehmann many of you knew, but my memories of him from the 1950s will be with me until my turn comes.
Henry grew up in one of the south suburbs of Chicago, reared by a loving father and free-spirit mother, both now deceased. His "question authority" attitude was one of the guidelights for his friends in high school, and brought him to sanctuary in Quebec. When I last saw him at a memorial for his mother, he himself lit up when talking about beloved Wendy and children. He said his falling in love with Wendy, and in turn with each of the children, were completely unpredicted wonders in his life. His memory and example will be fondly cherished.
He was a colleague of John's who taught in the Liberal Arts program with him for a while. Apparently, he died in front of his students, which must have been harrowing for them. His wife, Wendy, teaches at Dawson, and is a wonderful person.
Thanks, John.
Posted by: edith | 11/13/2010 at 07:53 PM
Henry Lehmann
Montreal has had a long tradition of art writers, critics going back to Lawrence Sabbath, John Lyman, Rodolphe de Repentigny. Henry Lehman is firmly part of that tradition. A prodigious writer he held his place in an ever changing arts scene. Henry Lehmann’s career spans the multi-cultural character of Montreal, a cultural mecca that embraces Europe as much a North America for its sources since the days of Picasso.
Arriving from the south suburbs of Chicago as a draft dodger, and very much in the arts scene from the start, Henry Lehmann was involved with Vehicule Art at its most experimental, when artists came to Montreal from all over, many to later become big names, at a time when art was a free for all. The spirit was social and Henry was part of that. As two art critics, Henry and I would occasionally call each other about shows and share cabs, feeding each other comments on shows. From his home on Clifton in NDG, Henry lovingly covered Montreal, and that meant writing on artists whose careers were just starting though to the mainstream names like Molinari, Gagnon, Borduas, Riopelle, de Tonnancour and Tousignant. In a word, Henry Lehman did his job and had a strong instinct for what was happening in the scene. Henry will be missed as a major voice in Canadian arts writing, and likewise for his friendly character.
- John K. Grande, Montreal
- www.grandescritique.com
Posted by: John K. Grande | 11/13/2010 at 04:42 PM
The Henry I best knew was my best friend throughout childhood. His home was "up the hill" from my home on w. 216th Place in Matteson, IL, and it was also my second home, as I spent much time with him and his mother, Virgina, father Henry Sr., sister Jean, and #1 dog Matt (short for Matthew).
We collected butterflies,moths, caterpillers and cocoons together. We collected Mazon Creek plant fossils together. We waded in Turtle Pond together, catching painted and Blanding's turtles and getting our clothes all mucked up. We also often visited the fields of Matteson and Richton Park looking for a wide variety of frogs, toads and snakes. And we visited the Chicago zoos and the back (work)rooms of the Field Museum together. I was two years older, but we pals with a common interest in whatever Mother Nature could teach us. Two of his pen-and-ink-and-watercolor sketches (completed when he was 10-12) are my fondest possessions. So, his becoming an artist and beloved teacher were a perfect fit. He was not the Henry Lehmann many of you knew, but my memories of him from the 1950s will be with me until my turn comes.
Posted by: Owen Wavrinek | 12/04/2009 at 04:21 PM
Henry grew up in one of the south suburbs of Chicago, reared by a loving father and free-spirit mother, both now deceased. His "question authority" attitude was one of the guidelights for his friends in high school, and brought him to sanctuary in Quebec. When I last saw him at a memorial for his mother, he himself lit up when talking about beloved Wendy and children. He said his falling in love with Wendy, and in turn with each of the children, were completely unpredicted wonders in his life. His memory and example will be fondly cherished.
Posted by: J. Longley | 12/02/2009 at 03:16 PM
He was a colleague of John's who taught in the Liberal Arts program with him for a while. Apparently, he died in front of his students, which must have been harrowing for them. His wife, Wendy, teaches at Dawson, and is a wonderful person.
Posted by: Bev | 11/29/2009 at 11:22 AM