Paintings of An American, Primitive
Artist Biography: A Kansas Girl Encounters Art

Clockwise from upper right: with her mother, Coral Alberta, in Havensville; on her 10th birthday, Los Angeles 1942; sketch of mother by artist at fourteen; her grandparents' General Store in America City.
Excerpts from conversations with Coral Getty, winter and spring 2012

An Exciting Find
America City and Havensville, Kansas —1937

“The general store was a big old room. My grandparents sold canned food and bread and had a huge icebox—wonderful colas, Grape Nehi. I remember going behind the counter and looking through the cubby holes. There, in the back, in a dark recess were jars of poster paint, new, unopened. I picked them up, so beautiful, such bright, wonderful colors — red, yellow, blue, green — an exciting little find.

“But that was as far as it went. Grandma said no. Such a let-down, yet I remember the feeling of wonder I had touching the jars of paint, the feeling of possibility. It was illuminating, a revelation.”

“My father would save the butcher paper. He’d always draw the same girlish face, Clara Bow, with her cupid bow mouth, puckered and pouty. It excited me to see his faces. In the winter, he made a snow woman holding a child, a Madonna. He had artistic leanings but that was as far as it went. His attempts, little things in themselves, built an atmosphere of interest in me.”

Sketching in the Land of Glamour
Los Angeles —1941

“We moved from Kansas to LA when I was nine. My father got a job as an aircraft mechanic with Lockheed. Our neighbor was a fashion illustrator. I babysat her little boy. She gave me my first art lesson, gave me the run down: how to sketch a model, the proportions of the ‘eight head,’ the head, breasts, waist, pelvic, mid-thigh, knee, calf and foot. Then I got interested in movie stars, the beautiful women you’d see in pictures, they fed my imagination. I’d want to sketch them, so I started drawing all the time.”

The Smell of Oil Paint
Sacramento and Citrus Heights, California —1946

“When I was fourteen, I saw an ad in the paper for art lessons; my father drove me. The studio was in an old Victorian. I was so excited by the smell of oil paint. There were paintings against the walls and a large painting of a nude. My father saw it and was snickering. I thought ‘What a hick. He can’t look at a nude without snickering, such a farm boy!’ I was so disgusted. But, my father, he always encouraged my art. ”

Freedom and Constraint
Loomis and Roseville, California —From 1976

“The after effects of the polio constrain my life. There was a time I loved to dance . . . but no more, I’m handicapped.”

“Now I love my cats’ company. I'm an animal lover. Years ago, I had a horse, I rode with a couple women friends. I loved to ride. Then after a time, I wanted a girl child, I had my baby and I didn’t ride anymore. Life is in phases. Eight years later, I left my marriage, so I had to work. I’d never earned a living and that was the new challenge. ”

“So art was an occasional thing. I took classes at the junior college, life drawing and a ‘Great Artists’ correspondence course. But I was a bit cavalier about my ability. I didn't go whole hog. I had a few exhibits, showed paintings in restaurants, a dentist office. Hung a painting in a roadside bar, a large canvas of a woman with bare shoulders in a white drape. The bar burnt down and the painting with it.”

“But there was plenty of time to do all this stuff, and life would be long. Along the way, I had four children, six grandchildren and a great-grandchild.”

“It’s always good to look forward to something new. If you experience too much, too early, it’s like ‘What’s left?’ My philosophy is space it out so as you age you have something to look forward to. I’m still excited. I’m more productive art-wise than in the past and more capable. It still keeps me interested. At this point, I’m not a dried up old prune, or maybe that’s wishful thinking.”