THE
INTIMATE
GALLERY

ROOM 303

ANDERSON GALLERIES BUILDING

489 PARK AVENUE AT FIFTY-NINTH STREET, NEW YORK

announces its Second Exhibition—January 11 to February 6—

ARTHUR G. DOVE EXHIBITION

The Intimate Gallery is used more particularly for the inti-
mate study of Seven Americans: John Marin, Georgia O'Keeffe,
Arthur G. Dove, Marsden Hartley, Paul Strand, Alfred Stieglitz,
and Number Seven.

It is in the Intimate Gallery only that the complete evolution
and the more important examples of these American workers can
be seen and studied.

Intimacy and Concentration, we believe, in this instance will
lead to a broader appreciation and to a wider distribution of the work.

The Intimate Gallery is a Direct Point of Contact between
Public and Artist. It is the Artists' Room. Alfred Stieglitz has
volunteered his services and is its directing Spirit.

Every picture is clearly marked with its price. No effort will
be made to sell anything to any one. Prices in this exhibition range
from $25 to $300. Rent is the only overhead charge.

The Intimate Gallery is not a business nor is it a "Social" Func-
tion. The Intimate Gallery competes with no one nor with anything.

The Gallery will be open daily, Sundays excepted, from 10 A.M. till 6 P.M.

Exhibition I —JOHN MARIN, December 7, 1925-January 11, 1926.

Exhibition II —ARTHUR G. DOVE, January 11-February 7.

Exhibition III—GEORGIA O'KEEFFE, February 7-March 11.

Exhibition IV —MARSDEN HARTLEY, March 11-April 7.

Other exhibitions to be announced.

All the not overtired are welcome

The Intimate Gallery, Room 303
Anderson Galleries Building
489 Park Avenue, New York City

Arnold Rönnebeck, Esq.,
Director Denver Art Museum
Denver, Colorado

Dear Rönnebeck

9100 visitors in the little Room 303 during the seven weeks of the O'Keeffe Show. And not many curiosity seekers amongst these. An extraordinary and sometimes a very trying time. Much more than money was at stake. As a matter of fact money was very secondary. Naturally O'Keeffe must have a certain amount of money to live half-way decently, simply, to be able to work in her spirit and present her work in her way. Merely to have her show she had an outlay of approximately $3000 to cover expenses! Frames $1100, rent $1000 (she and Marin are paying for the Room this year). Then there are the items of canvas and paint and all sorts of expenses connected with painting, directly painting not at all living, which run close to $1000. I as usually am giving my time free gratis for nothing, driving home, as ever an IDEA. In the beginning I had put values on the pictures. These values I arrived at with the help of the men.

The Show was truly a grand one. You have really no idea what it looked like - the scope, the daring and grandeur. Let me tell you that one picture was wanted by 241 people! A Blue Sea. For nearly three weeks a battle raged between me and those wanting to buy. Millionaires, many of them, wanted pictures. But instead of acquiring, they gave me advice about the value of the pictures and how they should be disposed of. Inwardly I was wild with rage at the audacity and stupidity of these truly indecently rich and lacking of all appreciation of what the artist really is, if he truly be an artist. And as for me I haven't met so very many artists in my 37 years in America. And by artist I mean a creative one - a pioneer. When finally I arrived at the conclusion that the more bath rooms our rich had the dirtier their souls. I felt once more like a free man. I felt I had something to say to my friends the rich, the charity givers, the enslavers of the true artist. And so I told these people what I had discovered. Can you imagine the scene in the little Room?

Finally a man appeared, about 35 years old, an Americanised German, who has about $10,000 a year supporting a family of four, and he a minute after he had entered the Room asked the price of one of the pictures. I informed him - the Room was packed with visitors - that there was no price that he would have to find a way himself to get the picture. Without hesitation he sang out : I'll give $1500. The miracle had happened. He did not know that we had valued the picture at $1800. But $1500 was really a very generous offer. Particularly when one considers his circumstances. As soon as he had made the offer I sang out: The picture is yours - for $1000. He wanted to know why. I told him that I'd like to have him, when looking at the picture, to feel that instead of having spent $1500 to procure it, he really had saved $500. This was a new way of starting a savings bank account. There was much smiling at the new idea thus introduced into the art world.

Ronnebeck

2

Well, I'm not going to go into the details of what happened the
next few days. But let me tell you that one lady offered to give
O'Keeffe $1200 a year for five years for her "Shelton - Sunspots" (she
was really ready to give very much more but I refused to hear of it).
Another woman offered $1000 a year for four years for a red canna, a
large one. I told her that $1000 for three years was sufficient (we
had valued the picture at $5000.) Furthermore she received a picture -
a small one much admired by the artists and one of the best things
O'Keeffe ever did - as a gift to celebrate the occasion. O'Keeffe could
have gotten $900 for this picture but as I said to you before money was
not the chief objective of the Room nor of O'Keeffe. The woman did not
want to accept the gift. But we insisted. An extraordinary woman - a
fine husband. A young couple living in Brooklyn. Another picture went
to Mrs. Rossin, you remember her, for $2000. It is to be hung in the
Brooklyn Museum as a loan.

Well, in short, O'Keeffe is to receive nearly $20,000 minus costs in the next three years. In short, she's assured complete freedom for that time. She could have gotten easily fifty per cent more. But not only money was considered but the quality of home for the picture. Many were turned down not because of money but because they really didn't care enough for what they were to receive. I am trying to teach the people that the artist has some sort of self respect even though he may be forced to starve to preserve it. It's a difficult road but not an impossible one.

At present the Room is being cleared out - it's quite a job - to prepare for a Lachaise Show - a very select one. Enclosed announcement.

I can imagine how busy you must be as architect, as lecturer, art
adviser, father, husband and maybe as I hope also, sculptor. But I
guess you get as little time for that as I do for Photography. On April
3 I hope to get at my own work. That is, put some order into what I
have and possibly mount some prints that have awaited mounting for
several years. It is out of the question to photograph as I have no
place to work.

It's good to know that all is well with you and yours. The
informant of the heir's arrival, a sister-in-law of yours. She happened
in to see the O'Keeffes. All the men are naturally elated that you are
doing so well and wish to be remembered.

With most cordial greetings from Georgia and myself,

Ever your old

4 March 1927.

Arnold Rönnbeck, Esq.
1300 Logan St
Denver

509 Madison Ave.
New York City

Sept. 9, 1943

Dear Ronnebeck,

It is good to hear from you, even though it is because of
our mutual friend Hartley's death. I think I was the last to
see Hartley in New York before he left for Maine. He had been
coming to the Place nearly every day. He seemed to like to
come even though his pictures were elsewhere. He had great
plans for next winter, going to the Southwest + he felt it
would be good for him to go there. I did not know that he was
in touch with you. You know Hartley's way as well as I do. He
simply said that the climate there would be better than the
climate here, although he had grown to love New York. At the
Place not so many weeks ago he said that the place he loved a-
bove all others in the world was New York.

I had not heard from Hartley after he left, which was at
the end of July, or in the first week in August, just before I
left New York for Lake George for a short stay - driven out by
painters who were to paint the Place. The first I knew of
Hartley's death was that the New York Times called me up, ask-
ing me certain questions, telling me that he had died that day.
Was I shocked? Not at all. I felt that Hartley was a most
lucky man. He had an amazing financial success during the
year. He even got $2500 prize in the Metropolitan Museum of
Art. And other institutions had begun to buy. Rosenberg, that
prince of art dealers from Paris, had taken him up (him and Web-
er). And Lipschitz had immortalized Hartley, making three
busts of him. And Kelekian, the connoisseur amongst Oriental
antique dealers, gave Hartley treasures of Oriental art that
Hartley covetted, in exchange for some Hartley paintings (of
course not his best). And Hartley lived well. He had arrived.
He was writing poems and so many other things. I didn't see them.
I don't know where they are. I don't know what's to become of
his paintings - how many there are. *None belonging to him are here.*

As I know Hartley, he made no will or any arrangements.
The dealers will now get busy and Hartley's praises will be
sung to the skies. Too bad Hartley won't be here to witness it
all from a proscenium box seat. How he would glory in it! I
think, as I have said before, that Hartley is one of the luck-
iest men that I have ever met. He died at the right moment.
I haven't seen any of his work that he did in some years. I
don't go to exhibitions and I never asked him to bring any here
to the Place. I don't think he ever thought that I might want
to see it.