Arts and Letters

Barry Faulkner: a man loved by all who knew him. He contributed substantially to art and culture in our country. In his special field of mural painting he conceived and executed monumental works in major public buildings. Trained in the classical tradition in which he believed, his murals, in harmony with the architecture and purpose of the building, have great dignity. He was a splendid craftsman and his drawings are sensitive and delightful.

While fashion in art has a tendency to obscure traditional works, those of integrity persistently re-appear to warm our spirit with the realization that aesthetic values exist along with recognizable subject matter. Barry Faulkner's achievement has an honorable place in this category. Furthermore he was an excellent writer and lecturer. His letters are gems. He had a warm, optimistic point of view. He brought pleasure and comfort with him wherever he moved. He was a man of unusual erudition, tempered by wit and charm.

An active member of a number of honor societies in the profession, he was a devoted member of our own Institute and Academy. He served on its Board of Directors, also on various committees, with skill and good judgment. He was always alert to recognize quality in the works of other artists, both young and old, some of them far removed from his own approach to a work of art.

Born eighty-five years ago in Keene, New Hampshire, descendant of an old and respected family, Barry Faulkner was educated at Phillips Exeter and Harvard and served as an officer in the First World War. He was extremely modest about his own considerable achievement and would brush aside compliments with a subtle sense of humor all his own. He loved his friends and his great delight was to have small dinners at his house or ours and with other friends as well. Rewarding conversation, which old John Butler Yeats told me was rare in this country, flowed beautifully wherever Barry was present. He enjoyed discussions on books, food, and wine, or on any other agreeable subject.

I have here Barry's last letter written to us on August fourth of this year. We had a charming visit with him at his lovely house in Keene and stayed over night. Fearing we may have tired him, we wrote of our concern. His reply is a reflection of the mind and heart of this man. While the letter is rather personal, it is so characteristic of his charm that I would like to share it.

Dear Viette and Leon:

Far from being exhausted by your visit, it buoyed and sustained. Montaigne seems to think that friendship is better than marriage. What luck that you two have been able to combine the two states so happily. You are much to be envied. And now, Viette, I have been using the tarragon freely, and it is oh! so good! Do you cook it into vegetables or use it raw and on top?

At last we have rain, gentle and, I hope, persistent. I'm glad I'm not camping out over this glorious holiday, sitting among the debris of former merry-makers on the sands of Cape Cod, or keeping a reluctant camp-fire burning in the damp of the Adirondacks. Let's hope that the sun shines on these resorts, but we've been so long without rain that I imagine it everywhere in New England. I hope you are getting the benefit of it, house guests or no.

Affectionately yours,

Barry

He lived according to principles without being pompous about it. He had the innate kindness of a gentleman.