Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 30 – Back in Brazil: Bureaucracy and Babies

If Elizabeth and Lota had been busy in the final weeks of their stay in the US, they were even busier once they returned to Brazil. Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 11 December 1957. If others were written and sent, they no longer survive. Undoubtedly, Bishop did let Grace know when they were safely back in Brazil, but perhaps it was just a postcard, which vanished into time’s vast vaults. These vaults hold many lost and forgotten communications. Even so, it might have taken Bishop that long to settle down enough to write, the prompt of approaching Christmas bringing her to the letter she perhaps had wanted to write all along.

Another issue in the delay was Brazilian bureaucracy. After expressing her hope that her missive would reach Grace “in time for your Christmas,” in spite of the “slow mails” at “this time of year,” Bishop informed her aunt that her delay was partly because she was “waiting for my Christmas cards that I bought in New York to show up!” But they, along with much else, were “still in the customs … and now they’ll have to wait until next Christmas.”

Since returning, Elizabeth and Lota had been trying to free their many boxes and barrels from Brazilian customs. Bishop noted, “Poor Lota has been to Rio three times now and still half our stuff is there.” They both had to make another trek “next week” to keep at the bureaucrats, who had, “at one point … lost all our papers — including both our passports!” Bishop’s word for this slog was “maddening.”

After being away for months, Lota’s family had its own demands. Bishop wrote that the “two oldest ‘grandchildren’” were visiting. Old being a relative term: “aged 3 and 4½.” Their mother had just had her fourth child, another girl, so the older siblings needed tending. The newborn was named after Lota, “‘Maria Carlota’  and nicknamed ‘Lotinha’, or ‘Little Lota’.” If these toddlers weren’t enough, “the cook’s new baby is here, too … three months [old].” As well as Betty (Bishop’s namesake), who would be three in February. Bishop acknowledged the “big responsibility” these little ones brought to Lota. Musing on the nursery that surrounded her, Bishop wrote, “You’d think that two old maids could avoid all this fuss about little shoes, cod liver oil, bowel movements, haircuts, etc. — but apparently not!”

The straw on the camel’s back of all this activity was the “horrible weather since we’ve been back.” So bad was it that Bishop could count the sunny days on one hand: “exactly three sunny days so far.” The “pouring rain” meant the children were more or less housebound: “You should hear me trying to tell stories in Portuguese!”

Winding down her letter, Bishop apologized for its poor quality, “but I think you owe me one.” Her brief epistle was meant to carry the “small present” (the usual money, with an echo of her previous claim that it would have been bigger “if I weren’t so broke after my N.Y. trip”).

Suddenly realizing that she had forgotten an important update, she added, “I love having the pictures.” The grandchildren were intrigued by them, too. They “think they’re my mother and father, and asked all about them.” When Helena asked, “What did they die of?” Bishop directed her, “go and ask your Grandmother … so she went and asked Lota.”

One thing that becomes clear in this letter is that Grace was back in the US, in Florida. In Hollywood, FL, to be exact, where Hazel Bulmer Snow lived. Hazel was Arthur and Mabel Bulmer’s daughter, so another of Grace’s nieces.

Hazel had been living in Florida for some time. Mabel, a widow of five years, was spending the winter with her daughter. Grace joined them. Clearly, Grace had been in touch about this recent development (it was not “news” to Bishop), so perhaps it was Bishop who really owed a letter. Bishop wrote, “I’ll try to get a card for Aunt Mabel in Petrópolis today.” And concluded this brief, jumbled letter with a plea: “I am very eager to hear from you and learn what you’re doing, if you’ve got a job, etc., and how you’re liking it there.”

While not as far south as Key West, Hollywood was in southern Florida. Having been in that neck of the woods relatively recently, it is clear Bishop was pleased that Grace was experiencing something of the “state with the prettiest name.” Scribbled in Bishop’s gnomic holograph, at the bottom of the page, was her acknowledgement that Grace would find it “strange,” having her “1st Christmas in the tropics! They put off fire-works — or used to.”

Distracted, with little left to say, Bishop signed off with love to her cousin and two aunts. If you would like to see a photograph of Grace and Mabel in Florida,click here. And Mabel and her daughter Hazel, click here.

The next post makes up for December’s brevity, but when 1958 is well underway.

Click here to Post 29.

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 29 – Too little time, too much to do

Bishop’s 16 September 1957 letter to Grace was written not long before she and Lota were due to return to Brazil. It was a busy time. Bishop had just returned from Key West, where she had gone to see Marjorie Stevens: “I felt I couldn’t leave the U.S.A. without seeing Marjorie.” With Lota occupied with a Brazilian friend visiting for a few weeks, Bishop had gone off to reconnect with Majorie after nearly a decade. Grace knew Marjorie, so Bishop knew Grace would be interested in how she was doing. Marjorie was also interested to know about Grace. “She asked all about you,” Bishop wrote.

(Marjorie Stevens and Pauline Hemingway in Key West, 1940s)

Marjorie was living in a “new little house” and was keen to show it to Bishop. Though it was “fearfully hot in K.W.,” Bishop seemed to have a pleasant time, and saw several other “old friends.” The big topic was “Blue Points,” that is, Siamese cats, which Marjorie was taking care of for a friend: “pale gray with silver markings and blue eyes, beautiful animals.” Being a died-in-the-fur cat person, Bishop “let them sleep with me,” in spite of the heat. The more challenging part of their nature was they “talk a great deal!”

Bishop had welcomed this side-trip because Lota (and the visiting Brazilian friend) was “shopping like crazy,” so the apartment was in a state of upheaval with all the packages and packing.

Upon returning to New York, which was “hotter than ever — an unusual heat wave for September,” Bishop found “a new batch of proof waiting,” which had to be gone through before they left. You can see what came next: “This, plus the earlier sailing date, plus the fact that I’m completely BROKE, of course — means that I don’t see how I can possibly get to N.S.” I suspect Grace was not surprised, even if she was disappointed. Bishop always “hop[ed] against hope” to get to Nova Scotia on the rare occasions she was in the U.S. in the 1950s and 1960s. But it never happened.

To further explain her financial constraints, Bishop noted, “I thought I was getting a refund on my income tax that would have paid for the ticket.” Her accountant, however, had conscientiously applied the refund “on next year’s instead.” Bishop was never good with business matters. Perhaps the accountant knew this weakness and was trying to help Bishop, in spite of herself. After months in the US, Bishop declared, “I’m going off with lots of unpaid bills and unseen friends.” Still, her “I am so terribly sorry, really,” sounded genuine. She added, “If it’s any consolation, Aunt F tells me my Worcester relatives are mad at not seeing me again!” Poor Aunt Florence “got Lota on the telephone while I was away — called her “LOLA” and told her how smart I am, but how it was only natural because the Bishops are all so smart!” When Bishop returned, she called her elderly paternal aunt, who told her that she wanted “some pink pajamas, ‘pretty ones dearie’ (as if left to my own devices I’d buy ugly ones).” There might have been good reasons why Bishop avoided her Worcester relatives.

Amusingly, Florence declared (in all seriousness) to Bishop that Grace was “getting married.” Bishop knew, of course, that this was not true, but couldn’t resist: “Is this true, and if so I wonder who is the lucky man?” Though she knew perfectly well it was “Aunt F’s fancies.” To extend the joke a bit more, Bishop noted, “I think it is a fine idea but I’m surprised you’d confide in Aunt Florence first!” One can see the two of them laughing heartily over this fancy.

Bishop was clearly pressed for time with completing the book work, shopping, final visits, and other appointments. This letter has a tone of: there are not enough hours in the day; and a regret of letting go of something she really wanted to do.

Bishop concluded this letter with an odd story, about an appointment with the dentist (she had been preoccupied about her teeth in Brazil, needing to get to the dentist; so getting to one in the US was a priority). To Grace she said, “I spent the morning at the dentist’s and read the Sept. [sic: August] National Geographic — a very silly piece about the Bay of Fundy.” This piece, “Giant Tides of Fundy,” was written by Paul Zahl. She told her aunt, “I think I’ll buy it just for the photographs — some of them made me feel homesick.”

In 1918 Bishop was in another dentist’s office reading a National Georgraphic. Here, nearly 40 years later, she was again registering the contents of one of the most ubiquitous magazines found in such waiting rooms. One wonders if it might not have triggered the old memory, though it took nearly another decade before she began to write “In the Waiting Room.” Zahl’s piece is actually not “silly” but a passionate and lively account of the environment of the Bay of Fundy. There are dozens of photographs, and no wonder some of them made her homesick. She concluded her letter, “I do wish I could get there now, to see the colours of the maple trees. With much love, and I’ll try to write sooner.”

The next letter has them back in Brazil.

Click here to see Post 28.

An Uplifting Evening with Suzie LeBlanc and friends

In these troubling times, positive creativity is vital. We need more music, more poetry, more painting, dance, drama. Suzie LeBlanc’s “APocket of Time” concert, a tribute to Elizabeth Bishop, on Sunday evening, 13 November, at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts in Halifax, N.S., embodied the kind of collaborative creativity that brings out the best in and inspires all of us. Presented by Cecilia Concert Series, it gave all those who attended a great lift.

With Blue Engine String Quartet and pianist RobertKortgaard, Suzie sang several settings of Bishop poems, which had been composed for her for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011: a setting of “Sunday 4 A.M.,” by John Plant (whose birthday it was that day – imagine, having Suzie LeBlanc sing you “Happy Birthday” accompanied by a string quartet!); and “A Short Slow Life,” by Emily Doolittle (who had arranged an orchestral score for this superb string quartet).

Two new settings of Bishop poems were also performed. The most recent, “Paris 7 A.M.,” by British composer Ivan Moody, was a world premiere performance. Halifax pianist and composer Peter Togni recently set “Lullaby for a Cat,” for Suzie and she closed the show with this tender song. The concert opened with Blue Engine performing Alasdair MacLean’s “The Silken Water is Weaving and Weaving,” inspired by this line from Bishop’s poem “Cape Breton.”

Music and songs by Brazilian composer Heitor Villa Lobos and Robert Schumann rounded out this program which explored time and dream and the moon.

I had the privilege of presenting a little pre-concert talk, which I think entertained those kind souls who arrived early. Here I am in full flight – not singing! – but declaring Bishop’s life-long love of music.

(Photo by Binnie Brennan)

I want to thank Cecilia Concert series for their warm welcome and for deep commitment to music, and all those who attended. It was a kind of “old home night” for me, seeing friends I had not seen in a long time, as I do not live in Halifax any longer. Including my friend, the poet and Open Heart Farming editor Mary Ellen Sullivan. To be part of this kind of music-making is a tremendously uplifting honour. Thanks to Binnie Brennan for taking these photos.

 (Photo by Binnie Brennan)

As Bishop wrote, “I am in need of music,” aren’t we all!

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 28 – A Gap and a Gift

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota were going to take to the United States. As Brett Millier records, this trip was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for the US, on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida. It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace returned to Nova Scotia (indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September 1957, and was written in New York at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter down to Key West with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits, one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for, and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to Brazil. (p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought them back when she left Brazil in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift: “I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W. Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar College. She commissioned rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

In December 2011, the Tybor de Nagy gallery in New York City opened an exhibition of Bishop paintings and memorabilia, “Objects and Apparitions.” It included the portraits and the “Poem” painting. The latter sold. But the portraits did not. Frustratingly, I have now lost track of where they are.

The next post will be pressed for time.

Click here to Post 27.

Letters to Aunt Grace, Part 28 – The Gap and a Gift

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota were going to take to the United States. As Brett Millier records, this trip was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for the US, on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida. It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace returned to Nova Scotia (indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September 1957, and was written in New York at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter down to Key West with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits, one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for, and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to Brazil. (p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought them back when she left Brazil in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift: “I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W. Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar College. She commissioned rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

In December 2011, the Tybor de Nagy gallery in New York City opened an exhibition of Bishop paintings and memorabilia, “Objects and Apparitions.” It included the portraits and the “Poem” painting. The latter sold. But the portraits did not. Frustratingly, I have now lost track of where they are.

The next post will be pressed for time.

Click here to Post 27.

“A Pocket of Time” – Suzie LeBlanc concert in tribute to Elizabeth Bishop

On Sunday evening, 13 November 2016, at 7:00 p.m., at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts, in Halifax, N.S., soprano Suzie LeBlanc, Honorary Patron of the EBSNS, will present a concert in tribute to Elizabeth Bishop, “A Pocket of Time.” She will perform some of the settings of Bishop poems that she commissioned for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011 and premiere a new one. She will be joined by the Blue Engine String Quartet and pianist Robert Kortgaard. This concert is presented by Cecilia Concerts. You can find out more about this concert by clicking here.

I am pleased to say that I will give a short pre-concert talk, focused on Elizabeth Bishop’s love of music.

(Suzie LeBlanc at the Elizabeth Bishop House, August 2010)