PRINT Summer 1994

John Wesley and Hannah Green

IF DON WERE ALIVE I wouldn’t dare write about him, and I can’t be sure that merely outliving him allows writing about him now. I’ve asked my wife, the author Hannah Green, to help me put some memories together. I’ve known Don a long time, almost 35 years. Hannah has known him almost 25 years, ever since she took up with me.

There was a certain thin sweet sad quality in Don’s soft voice that was very beautiful (these are Hannah’s words), like his smile, and that carried in it his sense of wonder, the innocence somehow shining out of his enthusiasms, the innocence of the artist—for he was a genius, and the purity of his work, the mathematical proportions worked out in it, had a strength and esthetic power that approached the mystical, the sublime. The rapture one feels walking among the milled aluminum pieces in the old artillery sheds that he redesigned at the Chinati Foundation in Marfa is

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