Joachim Aviron was a man searching for meaning. Born at the end of the 19th Century, in either 1898, 1899 or 1900, he was on the precipice of a time of great change. His birthplace of Mogilev, Russia was a place that saw turmoil and political wars for many years, Aviron left his birthplace right around the time of the Russian Revolution and came to New York City. World War I draft records show that initially Aviron found himself living with his mother, Bessie Aviron, in Manhattan on East 99th Street just off Madison Avenue. Aviron had registered himself as a music student and in the employment of a private music teacher. It was around this time that he began to compose music. There are records that show his ballads and music collaborations as early as 1920. Aviron had begun on his creative path. He then started to write poetry, and long after his first book of poems, Songs of Supremacy, was published in 1926. Aviron wrote a follow up book of poetry, Dear Earth poems, which was published in 1927. In a newspaper article also from 1927, a critic reviews his Dear Earth poems and cites them as a "big improvement" from his initial book of poetry. The author then goes on to talk about Aviron's realist nature and his "wonderful sketches of courage and strength and love" in his writing and how he is placing himself in the greater meaning of life. Certainly high praise for a young man, somewhat new to the country, searching for meaning. It wasn't long after that he moved to Brooklyn. He found the meaning he was searching for in Brooklyn. Just three years prior, around 1924, Aviron had begun to teach himself how to paint. A music student and now a private violin and piano teacher living in Brooklyn, Aviron found himself drawn to his easel as a place to explore his creativity. He knew he was an artist. Around 1931, Aviron met and married Bertha Wohl. Ms. Wohl was a part-time substitute teacher in New York City public schools. She was to become Aviron's partner, supporter and advocate. It was in 1936 that Mr. Aviron entered several works into 20th Anniversary Exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists. He was interviewed by a local Brooklyn newspaper where he told the author that he regarded himself as an artist, a poet and painter, even though his income was solely from teaching violin and piano to kids in Coney Island. In the article, the author captured Aviron's realist tone. A tone that the review of his poetry nine years earlier had captured.

Mr. Aviron did not paint for an audience. Instead, Aviron painted for himself. Perhaps the truest form of expression. He painted because the desire to express himself as an artist overtook the need to present a work that would be what was expected of him. Mr. Aviron painted the unexpectedness of his reality. A reality that formed around him. One in which every detail was present, accounted for and celebrated. Mr. Aviron continued to paint, to write, to teach. With his wife by his side, the Aviron's continued together along Joachim's path of creativity. He continued to paint his reality, But by 1944, Mrs. Aviron reached out for help. Bertha began to notice changes in her husband. And so she acted in the best interests of Joachim. Bertha contacted the Curator of the Brooklyn Museum, Mr. John L. Barr. Bertha asked Curator Barr for suggestions on where to present the works of her husband. Mr. Barr directed her to contact Assistant Curator Dorothy Miller at the Museum of Modern Art. Upon receipt of her letter, Ms. Miller responded to Bertha's request for an audience for her husband.s paintings. Miller offered to view Joachim Aviron's work as soon as it was brought in to her office. This was Joachim's chance to place his work in front of an audience eager to see it. Ms. Miller had recently created her first of at least six curated art exhibits focusing on American artists. Joachim Aviron had become an American citizen years prior. He could technically be in the running for consideration of her next show. So why then did the Aviron's not take Miller up on her offer. I can't say. But Mrs. Aviron did not give up on her husband or on her connection at the MoMA. And that is why in 1945, Mrs. Aviron wrote a second letter to Ms. MIller. This letter lacked the matter-of-fact tone that the first letter had. This letter was desperate. This letter spoke of depression, loss of hope and a lack of desire to live. It was a truly moving cry for help in which Bertha painted a picture of being surrounded by paintings that were not being seen by an audience other than the artist and his wife. Imagine being surrounded by what you love, what you have created and feeling as though it is swallowing you up. Mocking you. Reminding you that no one has seen your work and still pushing you to create more.



Had Aviron lost his will? Or was it a response to the current situation of World War II. Abstract Expressionism grew out of the visceral response to the war by a school of New York artists in the downtown scene. Aviron was living far out in Brooklyn, on the edges, the fringe, if you will. He was in Seagate and Coney Island. Perhaps being far removed from the activity of Manhattan, Aviron had created his own reality that threatened to consume him. Add on to that the response to a global war. A war that caused death and destruction. A war that had its own reality. Surely, an artist like Aviron would've had moments of despair. And perhaps his wife, while meaning well, could not understand this full body response. And I think that Curator Miller from the MoMA knew this. She resounded to Bertha's letter within a day. Miller did not focus on the hardships that Bertha perceived, but rather on what could be done. On galleries that should be contacted. On plans to make. On the hope to have in the reality that Aviron had created.



And so what had happened between 1945 and 1963? Did Joachim Aviron take Dorothy C. Miller's advice on what galleries to contact? According to a newspaper article from a local Brooklyn newspaper in 1963, the Aviron's had moved to Brighton Beach around 1956. Joachim's work had been exhibited in both the boroughs of Brooklyn and Manhattan, but records of those exhibitions are lost. He obviously continued to paint, to create and to live. He had not lost hope. He had not lost his will. He had not allowed his reality to consume. Rather, it appears that Joachim found a new desire to pursue his calling.