Donald Judd is a cat

Last week I had lunch with Marianne Stockebrand, director emerita of the Chinati Foundation and Judd’s companion at the end of his life. Although she now lives in Berlin, she travels regularly to Marfa, where she had been living since the late 1980s. In 1994, the year of [more]

Last week I had lunch with Marianne Stockebrand, director emerita of the Chinati Foundation and Judd’s companion at the end of his life. Although she now lives in Berlin, she travels regularly to Marfa, where she had been living since the late 1980s.

In 1994, the year of Donald Judd’s death, she became the director of the Chinati Foundation. The museum is located on the grounds of an early 20th century military base that first served as a stronghold against the Mexican Revolution going on only 60 miles south, and was later used as a POW camp for German soldiers. Today a permanent large-scale display of works by Judd and a selection of other artists is preserved and shown there.

When we met in front of the bookshop, Miss Stockebrand was dressed in an elegant black suit and wearing Ray-Bans. Her soft facial features contrasted with piercing blue eyes and her penetrating gaze reminded me of Isabella Rossellini. I was slightly intimidated. Marianne gave the impression she was well known and loved by Marfa inhabitants. Walking with her towards the ‘Shade Structure’, a large-size canopy in the middle of town where we had agreed to have lunch, felt like being on the electoral campaign of a successful candidate. From the bookseller to the food-truck cook, everyone on the way would warmly greet her, showing how dearly missed she was.

We sat together for lunch. Past the initial unease, we soon found a common interest in food. Remembering her first years in Marfa in the 80s, she told me how difficult it was to get decent food, especially fresh vegetables and good bread. The dry climate and her constant travelling made it difficult to keep a healthy veggie patch, forcing her and Judd to fast on carrots, potatoes and onions (Judd did for a while entertain a pigsty in a corner of The Block complex of his house and studio). On each trip from NY she stuffed her luggage with bread that was then religiously rationed and kept in the freezer. Cooking for the many artists who were visiting her while working on a project with or for Judd was a real challenge, as no restaurants had opened yet.

We kept the small talk on Marfa’s gastronomic austerity going for a while, until I dared asking her about a legend that was circulating around town about Donald Judd’s reincarnation as a cat. According to the story, ‘Pooshy’ was born the night Donald Judd died and consequently adopted by Stockebrand. Without losing her calm, she elegantly sidestepped, striking a callous ‘This is ridiculous.’ The gossip had puzzled me as it did not correspond to the smallest extent to the serious, almost solemn attitude Stockebrand was carefully cultivating. It was hard to believe the widow of minimalism would have a taste for esoteric perspectives. She nevertheless admitted that the aforementioned animal existed but had been left unnamed before she completely changed topic.

Image courtesy LiveInYourHead, Geneva