Rudolph Schirmer Portrait

Painted in the early 1960's in Santa Barbara, CA, by the Trieste native Guido Fulignot, this portrait is part of a trio (Rudolph; his second wife, Iris, and their daughter Liane). It is a matter of some curiousity that the three portraits have never simultaneously graced the same set of walls at the same time. (well, that's what the Frick is for, isn't it...in about 50 years..."Ah yes, "Rudy and Family"...so tasteful, so reminiscent of the Kennedy era East Side set, don't you think so dear?)

Actually, this portrait was commissioned during the "Friend in Fantasy" period, and probably coincided with the publication of Rudolph's first volume of poetry.

On a more darkly comedic note, some years later, about 25 or so, I had been informed by my mother that "dear Mr. Fulignot" had gone to his reward. I related the news to my father a few minutes prior to the arrival of our luncheon party one summer in Montecito. Rudolph shook his head, expressing his surprise, and gave a little nod of regret to passing eras. Moments later the doorbell rang and he and I went to open it.

You can imagine the expressions on our faces when, much to our chagrin, we found ourselves standing face to face with the aforementioned "passee". Jaws dropped, furtive glances exchanged and pleasantries sputtered forth as we did our best to cover in front of our "post-humous" guest. After what seemed like the longest pause west of the Mississippi, I burst out with, "Guido, it's so good to see you!" relieved at not having to fake an emotional greeting.

Of course, Raffaela had invited him along with some friends of his, and simply hadn't mentioned his name (why would she...she hadn't been told he was dead). When I called my mother that evening to have her explain where she had obtained the offending data, she took it all in stride (Latins have a very matter-of-fact relationship with the Beyond). "Oh...well, that's wonderful, dear....now, as for my trip to Argentina..." Easy come, easy go.

At the time of this writing, I actually have no idea as to Mr. Fulignot's whereabouts, and would sincerely like to know if he is still among us. He had a longtime muse, a Mrs. Frances Innes, whose name in this blog will hopefully trigger a trail as to the latter.

I must admit, I am rather fond of these portraits, marking as they do my brief interlude as a nuclear family. I wonder whose decision it was to paint us all in singular disunion, but it was a fitting tribute to our combined (albeit failed) familial efforts.

So, "Guido", we have you to thank for immortalizing us all in oil.

"Grazie, Guido, dovunque che sia..."

(* The painter's repertoire includes a portrait of Jaqueline Kennedy, 1952, pastel on paper23 x 18½in. (58.5 X 47cm.) sold by Christie's in 2000)