Dispatch 40: Under the Cover with Edward Pramuk

Distance discussion with artist Edward Pramuk

INTERVIEW BY: Jeffrey Roedel / ARTWORK BY: Edward Pramuk

Born in 1936, Edward Pramuk is a celebrated abstract expressionist painter from Akron, Ohio. Educated at Kent State and Queens College in the 1950s, Pramuk taught painting, printmaking, drawing and design at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge for 35 years before retiring in 2000. 

His work swims in the deep, breathing in themes of nature, dreams, the passage of time and jazz. His piece titled “Spring: Shelter, Lake Sun II” is featured as the cover artwork for Distance, my album of pandemic-poetry-set-to-music.

I spoke to Pramuk remotely while he quarantines during Covid-19, and found him both brilliantly composed and measured, with a bedrock of wisdom and a slice of whimsy. Very much like his stunning work. 

“The future? I like to live in the moment. ”

Good morning Ed!

Good morning, Jeffrey.

I’m so happy and thankful to have your work as the album cover for Distance. It’s nice to talk to you about your creativity.

It is a pleasure to read the passionate musings of a bardic voice of the deep South—rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

I am always pleased to have my images connected to poetry, and I have a small history along those lines with work featured in the The Southern Review, The Georgia Review and a jazz journal called Brilliant Corners. I have a cover painting on my friend Ed Ruzicka’s collection Engines of Belief.

I would like to give you some background thoughts about how I worked after 2010 until now.

Portrait by David Humphreys

Sure thing. I know you had a life-changing event that year. 

2010 was the year I had a stroke which kept me in a wheelchair for about 6 months and triggered the series of paintings called “Illuminations & Spring.”

The Ann Connelly-sponsored exhibition in the Manship Theatre space featured walls of dominant yellow paintings—Illuminations—and walls of dominant deep hued-blue paintings—Spring.

The large, mostly vertical yellow canvases dealt with some visions I experienced during my two days of unconsciousness in the wake of the stroke. I experienced myself rising-up in a warm yellow light, which felt very good to me. I awoke paralyzed from the waist down with a smile on my face.

“I experienced myself rising-up in a warm yellow light.”

You've said this painting is based on your experiences walking around the LSU Lakes—Describe your relationship to those lakes and feelings about water, sun, earth and shelter in particular.

The “Spring” paintings are about walks I made during my recovery period. I walked from our home in Southdowns to the LSU Lakes and back late in the day.  

The paintings are a kind of diagram of the walking experience, with the Spring foliage appearing up top and the large blue area below symbolizing the lake at sundown with a streak of yellow sun adding a touch of drama. Arriving at the lakes was kind of a reward for the effort I made.

It’s a remarkable marriage of mysterious shapes and subtle texture within the colors.

I attempt to transform the experience of the fresh green coloration in the trees overhead which is delivered by early Spring weather, into a geometric equivalent of levitation and balance that hovers over the expanse of blue lake water along with the accent of bright yellow knifing into it.  

The levitating green geometric shapes above the large blue areas attempt to capture the way tree branches float free with their burden of fresh green leaves. I also noticed this in trees which grow along the lakeshore, and I noticed their reflections in the water, as well.   

Would you walk the LSU lakes often, even before your stroke necessitated walking for recovery?

Yes, I spent a lot of time there during the childhood of our daughters, Clare and Andrea.  A pirogue I used to have was fun to take out into the water.

Have you been particularly productive during this pandemic? How has Covid-19 affected your work, if at all?

As for the plague and isolation, I miss most the ability to visit with friends, but my wife and I are of an age that staying close to home is nothing new to us. I have a home studio I visit every day.

My studio is a place of the moment and a place with a history. Since nature is a factor in much of what I do, I see no end in sight.  Memory is also key to my work, not mention dreams.

What can those who follow your work expect from Ed Pramuk in 2021?

My interest in culture, like my work in making jazz collages and my love of art history, keeps opening doors.

What are you hopeful for, for the future?

The future? I like to live in the moment. I learned about that early on, and right now it seems like a good idea.