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By JOHN CHAMBLESS

In the memory, I am alone in a cavernous
space, watching water drip into a bucket
from a hole in the roof.

It was the first time I was in Tom
Bostelle's rambling studio on the banks of the
Brandywine Creek in Pocopson,
Pennsylvania. My father and Tom had a
mutual friend, so, at the age of 6, I must have
been invited to an opening at the studio. I
don't remember the art, but I remember
thinking how odd it was that the rain was
coming inside.

I felt that same sense of unfamiliarity --
and butterflies -- when, in the late 1980s, I
again bravely re-entered Tom Bostelle's
domain. Every artist I had ever interviewed
for the Daily Local News had mentioned him
in passing -- some called him an inspiration,
some regarded him as a crank.

In any case, I was intrigued by his
artwork. It was grim, dark, satirical, bursting
with energy and purpose. His "shadow"
figures packed a novel's worth of character
into the slant of a shoulder or a well-chosen
gesture.

Tom turned out to be a gregarious host
and a charming man. He seemed to know
more about art than any college professor.
His opinion of himself was alternately
egocentric and self-deprecating. "You see
how I deceive the public," he once said,
winking at me, as he described the simplicity
of his painting technique.

The studio seemed to be a place out of
time, with 1920s girlie postcards thumb-
tacked to the rafters, bits of canoe paddles
tossed here and there, and all those paintings
-- hundreds of them, some of them painted
last week and some dated in the 1950s.

Whenever I talked to him -- and I was
there plenty of times over the years -- I came
away dizzy, having learned something
startlingly new from Tom's inexhaustible
mind. He delighted in telling stories,
referencing artists I had never heard of, and
challenging me to reach higher in my craft.

He's gone now. He died on Feb. 17,
2005, at the age of 83, sitting comfortably in
his favorite wing chair. He had been frail for
several years. I guess he figured it was time
to go.

That rambling shack of a studio must be
very, very quiet now. Of course, no one else
could ever live there. An icebox in winter and
a broiler in summer, it will have to stand
empty. The life-size black metal sculptures
will remain in the yard, as haunting as ever,
and the accumulated magic of Tom's 70
years as an artist will still be soaked into
every weather-beaten pore of the building.

But the man himself won't be there
anymore. He's moved on, into the memories
of everyone who crossed his path. And, in
that way, he'll live forever.

Tom Bostelle established the Bostelle Trust for two purposes: first, to preserve
and disseminate his work; and, second, to preserve and encourage the use of
the Aeolian Palace, a former dance hall, a Chester County landmark on the
Brandywine River, and Bostelle's studio for almost forty years.

The trust sponsors sales and shows of Bostelle's paintings, drawings and
sculptures, and attempts to place pieces in museums and public institutions
with art collections. In addition, the trust hopes to be involved with the
preparation of a large retrospective show of Bostelle's work at one or more
local museums in the near future. Finally, the trust provides a focal point for
collectors and others who are interested in Tom Bostelle's life and work.

A holiday sale of Bostelle's work will be held by the trust at the Aeolian Palace
Gallery in Pocopson, PA on Saturdays in the fall of 2007.

Anyone interested in the trust and its aims should contact one of the trustees:

John Chambless (jacham1@excite.com)

Mary Heath (heathmb@gmail.com)

Warren Hope (hopefifthseason@aol.com)

Thank you.