AMERICA, The Beautiful

Who could ever imagine that after such a horrible beginning with my arrival in America, my life was to change completely because of “ America  • The Beautiful”. 

After a life of battles, I finally became a USA citizen on the 22^nd of June 1956 in Los Angeles, California. I do not know where I would be today without America. In those days, there was no life for a woman artist in Italy, it was also very difficult worldwide. I had a studio in New York for 35 years, a better description will be in several of the stories included in the Part Two of this book about my life.

After many years of separation and two duodenal ulcers, I divorced my first husband Peter. The details of the divorce were horrible for he agreed to return my son’s passport only after I sold our home in Pacific Palisades, California and deposited the money in a bank account to his name.  

I still remember sitting in the kitchen and trading the savings account booklet with my son’s passport. I did not want any alimony, against my attorney’s advice, but did ask a monthly support for my son Carlo, in the event that I should be unable to take care of him.  He never did send the monthly support check.

When Carlo graduated, he was then seventeen years of age, I suggested that to celebrate his brilliant student report, he could take  a trip around the world . He was  most happy about the idea, and chose the destinations (see page 33 of Part One of the book about my life). I therefore contacted an attorney in California and TWA, where my exhusband worked. The attorney agreed to help me on a percentage basis, of what he could recuperate. He did indeed recuperate the entire amount he owed. I deposited the money in a bank account to my son Carlo’s name and also managed to get the last free tickets from TWA.  Being the son of a TWA employee, he was entitled to a free ticket. Carlo happily left for his wonderful trip. He only saw his father, once while he was visiting with me, during his Christmas vacation, and helped me install my solo exhibition at the Palm Beach Gallery. Carlo was very hurt by this meeting and by what his father said: “I never think that I have a son”. That was the last time that we ever heard from Mr. Herrmann. Today, I wonder if he is still alive for he is 9 years my senior and he would be 86.  

A painful lesson of INDIFFERENCE ! How can one forget his son ?

 In spite of it all, America has taught me a lot of what I know, has helped me grow as a person and artist, it was not all easy, but I owe a lot to America.

I repeat: “where would I be without it ? ! ”