When we were together, Roberta was Ro and I was Berta. We did lots of things together--saw movies, plays, went on art museum trips, birthday lunches--and in her last years, she joined my family for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Being the taciturn sort, she didn't talk much about herself, but I want to share with you some things I did know about my friend.
When I first met "the other Roberta," she was a near-daily St. John's Coffeehouse denizen, covering her table with newspapers, bags of books and whatever origami or scrapbooking project she was working on. She rarely spoke to anyone but when she did, it was with that distinctive Jersey accent and a laugh that rang to the walls. So I had to meet this unusual, elderly lady who always sat by herself making things. I went to her table, asked if I could sit, she loudly replied, "Sure!"...and sort of politely answered my questions about her project, but kept her head down to work on it. She wasn't lonely at all, her brain was on fire and she was involved in a million things.
A few weeks later, I was hired by the board of the St. Tammany Art Association to run the office and kick-start all kinds of programming. On my first day, I walked in the front door and was still closing it when a shout came from the front desk: "HI!!!" and Ro's arm shot up in the air, holding my building key. This laconic lady was the main reception volunteer, usually a job for a high-energy, bubbly socializer. She knew it wasn't a great fit, but she didn't care--the Art House needed someone to answer the phones, so she did it, and reliably, for years, as the socializers would come and go. Meanwhile, she'd work on dozens of art projects right there among the craziness of a busy reception desk.
Eventually, we updated the desk-to-office phone system, built up the volunteer pool and hired more staff, so she was able to step away from the desk and keep making things.
Though she always thought herself more artist than scientist, she was a highly regarded educator at LSUHSC School of Public Health, retiring in 2006 as Assistant Professor of Cell Biology and Anatomy. She earned her PhD from Cornell Univ. Medical College in 1967, and a highlight of her professional accomplishments included publishing a book on Human Anatomy (1979, Harper & Row). Dr. Bruck-Kan, as her students knew her, was active with and supported numerous groups concerned with the arts and community, education and scientific advancement, especially the St. Tammany Art Association.
A dedicated volunteer and patron, she served on the STAA board of directors as Corresponding Secretary, hand-making and mailing welcome cards to every new and renewing member. She created and maintained a media archive, compiling thick binders of articles and photos to document the goings-on at the nonprofit. She exhibited mixed media creations in the members’ gallery and rarely missed a Second Saturday Art Walk, fundraiser or festival night. She was a member of the Louisiana Watercolor Society, and exhibited in their shows at Christwood’s Atrium Gallery.
She brought her knowledge of anatomy to Bill Badon's monthly life drawing group, one of her favorite activities at the Art House. Similarly, she was teacher as well as student, participating in dozens of studio art classes. She brought academic rigor to her surveys on Asian and Middle Eastern art—they were comprehensive, compelling and funny. She loved pointing out the comical, strange and gross things that occurred down through history--so much so that many years prior, she did stand-up comedy under the moniker, "The Very Gross Anatomist."
She once said that, when her time came, she hoped to have a memorial at her dear Art House, where her friends could come together to eat, drink and be merry. So, sometime this spring, STAA will host a potluck with a brass band, drinks--probably including absinthe, her favorite--and her many watercolors on display. All are invited to celebrate and share memories.
