Art: A Sergio, or a Garfunkel

This happened a few years ago. It was my usual, Thursday night, over-thirty, over-the-hill basketball league, where bedraggled aging males chased an elusive orange ball and even more elusive memories of past glories that may never have actually occurred. I’d begun finding ways to cover up for my fading athleticism, but there was no disguising the limp and aches on Friday mornings.

On this particular night, I was matched up against a new guy. He was younger, but couldn’t go to his left, nor could he stop my crossover or spin moves. I lit him up—no mercy. After the game, he shook my hand and introduced himself. I asked him what he did, and he told me he was a professional artist.

Artist. This appealed to the dilettante in me. Hey, I’ve been to the Louvre and the D’Orsay, the National Gallery, the MFA here in Boston (I’m fascinated by Watson and the Shark)…even the Isabelle Stewart Gardner, several times.

"What do you paint?" I asked.

"Landscapes", he answered. "Maritime scenes. I used to work in watercolor, but now I work in oils. But you can see my work, if you want. I have a one-man show next week."

I was expecting a church basement, but instead, the exhibit was being held at the prestigious Guild of Boston Artists on Newbury Street. It seemed that Sergio Roffo, my basketball whipping boy, was a Copley Master who exhibited works in nationally known galleries. My crossover move was seeming less impressive by the minute..

The exhibit stunned me. I knew enough about the Hudson River School to recognize that Sergio was a luminist, a painter of light. The detail of the brush strokes was incredible. But everywhere I looked, Sergio had painted a place I knew, a place I thought I alone appreciated. He’d taken my memories of these places and improved upon them. The Great Point Lighthouse on Nantucket was improved by the detail of a goldenrod bush in the foreground; Edgartown Harbor was romanticized by the shades of white in a picket fence. The North River. World’s End. Pleasant Bay. Reed by reed, wave by wave, all were better than I could picture them in my mind’s eye.

Knowing an artist seems to make you more aware of all artists. Sergio is a neo-realist, but somehow, appreciating his art has broadened my appreciation of all art…impressionist, expressionist, abstract, symbolist…everything. I’ve learned that you can train your eye to see what the artist sees, so eventually your perceptions become almost as acute.

There has been another, practical benefit. My friendship with Sergio has made me into the sublime giftgiver. A visit to Sergio for a signed print or an artist’s proof, a call to Aisling Galleries for framing, and I soon have a thrilled recipient on my hands. My best friends Mark and Donna got the catboat in Pleasant Bay for their wedding. My godchild Paula got Nantucket Harbor for her housewarming, and my son Matt got Great Point Light for graduation.

Sergio recently returned to his birthplace in San Donato, Italy, where he completed a spectacular series of oils. He still can’t go to his left, but somehow, that doesn’t seem to matter much anymore.