"Oldtown"

"Oldtown," pen and ink drawing, late 1930s, unpublished work. Oldtown (or Old Town?) is presumably a neighborhood in Cincinnati, where Flora lived at the time he rendered this drawing. We were unable to locate this community in a rudimentary search on our Google Machine. If any locals have the answer, please leave a comment below. 

Jim Flora: The First 100 Years

One hundred years ago today, James Royer Flora was born in the quaint village of Bellefontaine, Ohio. Above, possibly making its first public appearance, is the artist's earliest extant work, a pen & ink with pencil (or charcoal) entitled First Steps, dated June 8, 1935, around the time Flora enrolled at the Art Academy of Cincinnati. Whether the work is intended to be autobiographical shall forever remain a mystery.

To observe the centennial, we have two exhibits in development, and one or two others under consideration. The first, at a cool Brooklyn club/bistro/gallery called Jalopy, will run from June 13 to August 22. Because the club's decor is largely music-themed, this exhibit will spotlight Flora's album cover art—which also happens to be the focus of our most recent anthology, The High Fidelity Art of Jim Flora (published by Fantagraphics in August 2013). On display will be original copies of Flora album covers—some extremely rare—as well as selected offerings from our album cover fine art print catalog.

The second will be a major retrospective of Flora's fine art and commercial illustrations at Silvermine Art Center, in Norwalk, Connecticut. The opening reception takes place September 21, and the exhibit runs for six weeks. Flora and his artist wife Jane, whose Bell Island home was part of greater Norwalk, were members of the Silvermine Guild of Artists, so this exhibit is something of a homecoming. Dozens of rare works will be displayed, along with paintings and original artist prints which have appeared in our four anthologies.

So, to the esteemed Mr. Flora, wherever you are:

puzzle pony

Untitled, undated, unsigned woodcut print from Flora's Little Man Press days (1939-1942). The original block cannot be located, and we have no idea of the image's original context. It does not appear in any LMP publications.

Little Man Press, Summer 1939

Another rare (and previously unseen) print acquired from a recent estate sale in Cincinnati. As with all prints from Flora's productive post-Art Academy period, the original block cannot be located (possibly having been destroyed or discarded by Flora's LMP partner Robert Lowry). The above water-damaged print is unsigned, untitled, and unnumbered. No documentation exists regarding the work's purpose (e.g., publicity, ad, edition print, chapbook page). The faded vertical center section (and lack of signature) implies this print could have been an early strike, when the block had not been thoroughly inked.

sitting man

Woodcut print, ca. 1938-1940, rendered when Flora lived in Cincinnati and was working with Robert Lowry producing Little Man Press publications. Title, edition run, and location of original block unknown. The print was discovered in the estate of a Cincinnati collector who passed away at age 93 several months ago. The collection included about a dozen vintage Flora prints, most previously unseen by us. We'll publish others soon.

Little Man Press logo (evolution)

Above: rejected attempt at a Little Man Press logo, ca. 1939-1940, discovered in early sketchbook. The experiments continued:

Eventually Flora and his LMP partner Robert Lowry settled on this design:

Murderpie

Flora woodcut print reproduced in Murderpie, a chapbook written by Robert Lowry, published by their struggling Little Man Press, Cincinnati, 1939. Many Little Man publications featured bizarre, meticulous cuts by Flora, but none of the original blocks are known to exist. This is one of the few extant signed LMP-era prints.

From Lowry's text:

I WILL HAVE TO BAM THEM NOW, he said.

He began to push them down with his two hands. He pushed them all down to the floor. He pushed them down with his two hands. Some little squashy ones he shook. He shook big greasy ones with moonbeam smiles. His little knife was gone because no one was left to care whether anyone was alive or anything. The whole room was packed full of bones and shanks and broken wishbones. And some of the blood and gore was trying to get away out of the door. He closed up everything.

Robert Lowry @ 90

Robert Lowry (1919-1994) would turn 90 today. Don't expect a presidential proclamation in commemoration of this troubled man's legacy. However, we salute the Little Man Press writer/editor for changing the course of Flora's career, and probably for influencing his art. It all began one day in 1938 when the volatile literary turbine accosted Flora on the Art Academy of Cincinnati campus and demanded the undergrad illustrator serve as art director for his fledgling independent press publication.

"I was intrigued by his verve and the wild look in his eyes," recalled Flora in a 1987 autobiographical essay. "Lowry at the time was only seventeen or eighteen but he had been a child prodigy and was enormously talented. We found an immediate rapport, and I slipped into the harness and became co-founder of the Little Man Press."

GUP: Three Adventures, written by Robert Lowry, cover by Flora, 1942

"Lowry had no money and I had only a string of zeros," Flora explained, "so we decided to sell subscriptions to our nonexistent magazine. We tackled and browbeat everyone we knew on the campus of the University of Cincinnati. It was backbreaking work but we eventually squeezed $300 out of our subscribers and bought a press."

Subscription form, 1939 (collection of Ginnie Hofmann)

"We reasoned that the average little man during the depression might not be able to afford a big expensive magazine, so we published each article or story as a separate booklet and supplied a box so that our little man could assemble his own magazine. The box idea was a brainstorm about two centuries ahead of its time and was soon abandoned in order to avoid bankruptcy."

Box cover, Little Man Press editions, 1939 (collection of Ginnie Hofmann)

"We had only enough type to set two pages at a time. It was thus necessary to learn to calculate space very accurately. We were forced to set and print the first and last pages of our booklets, then break up the type and set the second and the next to last page and so on, until we met in the middle. If we undercalculated I made an illustration to fill the blank space. We didn't dare overcalculate and never did."

Two-page spread, Murderpie, 1939

"Bob was full of juice, a constant eruption, like a volcano," Flora told Lowry biographer Billie Jeyes. "He was constantly testing me, always pushing me to the limits. One day I was at the art academy, and Bob came to see me because he wanted me to do something. I was very busy at the time, and he kept pushing. So I hit him, in the chest. From then on we were on an even keel."

It lives, it walks, it seeks revenge!

Rasputin-strength, dismembered and trepanated zombie. Spot illo (woodcut, one of many), Murderpie, Little Man Press, 1939. Publication written by Robert Lowry. Whereabouts of original woodcuts unknown.

Mount Adams Winter Scene (1937)

Mount Adams Winter Scene (1937) was painted by Flora while studying at the Art Academy of Cincinnati, and is the only existing color work from his academy days. It may, in fact, be the earliest existing Flora work—period. (There are undated student-era sketches.)

The style, of course, does not reflect Flora's future direction. At the academy he was training to be a fine artist, and such were his aspirations. It's ironic that in the depths of the Great Depression, Flora—the student—was painting on canvas. By the time he was certified by the Academy in 1939, and throughout the World War II years when he was employed (successfully) as a commercial artist, Flora rarely, if ever, painted on canvas. Existing private works from 1938 to 1945 are on paper, artist board, cardboard, blocks of wood, onionskin, postcard scraps, vellum, and occasionally on the backs of convention brochures, printer's proofs, rejected drafts—anything with a blank surface. Wartime rationing had been imposed by the government, but it couldn't suppress Flora's artistic impulses.

The oil on canvas, which measures 26" x 32", hangs at the Flint (Michigan) Institute of Arts, where it is part of the museum's Regionalists Collection. The work is cataloged as a "gift of Pat Glascock and Michael D. Hall in honor of Pat’s parents Charles R. and Nadine V. Patterson." Flora fan Andy Gabrysiak dropped us a note: "I saw it there myself a few weeks ago. It's beautiful!"