Shirley Koller does it her way: Laurelmead’s distinguished resident stimulates thought with art

Shirley Koller next to Seurat’s masterpiece. /Irina MissiuroShirley Koller – artist, curator, educator – is at a point in her life when she no longer has to do something she doesn’t like. And, having lived a full life, she knows what appeals to her and what does not. Among her dislikes are: dry chicken, gossip, cliques and artificial flowers. The latter are a particular bane of her existence. As we settle down on a comfortable couch inside one of Laurelmead’s gorgeous rooms with Victorian dimensions, she points to one of the two vases on nearby end tables, “These were everywhere!”

Koller is referring to the time when she entered the senior retirement community 2 1/2 years ago. Since then, she’s volunteered to transform the room we are sitting in, and some others, with artworks she considers to be more fitting for the space. Koller dispensed with the still lifes and the bouquets and hung some reproductions of well-known masterpieces that feature people enjoying life.

She points to the painting above the mantelpiece. It’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.” Studying it, you notice that Georges Seurat used different applications of brush strokes – small horizontal ones and dots, never sticking to a specific technique, despite working under the umbrella of Pointillism. Perhaps, it’s the slight rebelliousness of the artist that appeals to Koller, who seems to relish the unexpected. Or, maybe, she – a sculptor as well as a painter – is drawn to the statuesque manner in which Seurat depicts his subjects. The people in the painting resemble toy figurines placed onto the grass with a child’s nimble fingers. Yet, however stiff they look, most are moving about, engaged in a full appreciation of the glorious sunny day. Koller says, “Art should show people doing things.”

A believer in action in life as well as in art, Koller didn’t lose any time when she arrived at her new home a couple of years ago, “I walked in here and said, ‘This place needs some new art!’ ” A longtime curator, she launched right into her beloved specialty. Besides cataloging all the works that hang on Laurelmead’s walls, ensuring that every piece has a proper label, and purchasing some new reproductions from the Internet (she has been entrusted with an art budget), Koller attempts to stir people’s thoughts. Sometimes, she tries to involve other in-house artists, including Ruth Samdperil, Margaret McGowan, Diane Goldman and Sam Bender, by featuring them as Artists of the Month. She says that her goal is to have the residents notice their surroundings, ask questions, become aware of the changes that are happening in their environment. “Otherwise, everything is very dull,” she sighs.

To start the conversation, she gave a talk about the new acquisitions. To keep residents talking, she frequently moves art around. If she feels a certain piece doesn’t work in its space or if she simply wants to “keep [the residents’] brains working,” she’ll introduce changes. Koller has devised a tactful response to criticism, “Occasionally, someone will say they don’t like something. I reply, ‘I’m glad you noticed.’ ”

She has a tendency to favor unexpected pairings. For instance, she hung an abstract piece in the game room among mostly Impressionist paintings. Under that Seurat stands a collie – a small dog she purchased in an antique store for $19. Some people were perplexed by the juxtaposition, while others understood the reasoning behind it. Koller was glad when Ron, the manager of dining services, told her he figured out why she placed the figurine near the painting – because there’s a dog within Sunday Afternoon as well. This is exactly the type of a reaction Koller is looking for – a stimulated thought process. She says, referring to her work as a teacher and curator, “It’s a continuation of what I’ve been doing.”

Koller is one of the lucky people who have always known their destiny. She describes an image that’s burned into her consciousness. Koller is 4 years old. She’s sitting on the floor of her family’s Cleveland apartment and drawing with some crayons her mother has provided to occupy her while the older siblings are at school. As early as elementary school, Koller had been recognized as a gifted painter. She says that her pictures often ended up decorating the principal’s office. In high school, she chose to take an extra period of art instead of a foreign language. It was then that her work began to be featured in exhibitions. Teachers started to encourage her to apply to Cleveland School (now Institute) of Art. Since she had skipped a grade, Koller was young and had to ask her parents’ permission to apply. She used public transportation to get to her classes on drawing, painting and composition.

After Koller discovered that the school had an arrangement with Western Reserve (currently Case Western Reserve) University, she took some courses there. In addition to offering her an opportunity to earn a bachelor’s degree, the school also played another major role in Koller’s life – it was there that she met her husband, Herbert Koller. They were married at 22 and soon moved to Virginia, where her husband had a job at a patent office. Years flew by as Koller had three children in quick succession, volunteered making art posters and took night courses while her husband tended to the brood. By the time he decided to take some night classes at Washington College of Law (now part of American University), the kids were older, and Koller had the freedom to be involved with art activities.

She knew she wanted to teach, so that’s what she did, becoming an early childhood educator. She went on to further her studies at American University, taking so many classes that the head of the department suggested she register for an MFA in painting. Gladly, she did, “Washington, D.C., was the best place to study art!” After Koller earned her degree, she began entering art shows and teaching Color Theory, Drawing and Two- and Three-Dimensional Design at Northern Virginia Community College, where she stayed for roughly 14 years. Following her husband’s death at 67 in the late 1980s, Koller stopped teaching, focusing on curating exhibitions of various groups, such as Tri-State Sculptors of North Carolina, and of her own work. When she received a phone call from The American Association for the Advancement of Science about organizing a show, she accepted the prestigious position, and ended up working there for another 14 years, retiring in 2011. Two and a half years ago, she arrived in Providence to be closer to her daughters, who live near Rhode Island.

Koller continues her involvement in the art world. Every Monday, she can be found in Laurelmead’s art room, preferring that to playing bridge or bingo. The only game she’s passionate about is Scrabble; she plays it at Temple Beth-El on Tuesdays. She has taken the Plein Air summer art class and The Nature of Spirituality class at the Lifelong Learning Collaborative at Brown University. Koller has even taught one session for the latter class, illustrating art’s relation to spirituality. Her latest forays into teaching included a class called “So You Think You Can’t Draw,” offered at the Martin Luther King Elementary School and at Arts on the Rhode, another LLC course. 

Creativity and the art world continue to pull Koller through good times and bad. Having recently lost a close friend, Koller says, “It [the death] was a real blow.” She’s carrying on, though, painting and being creative. Drawn to nature, she enjoys portraying wounded trees – those that have healed after their branches have been sawed off. A member of the Providence Art Club, she participated in its “110th Annual Little Pictures Show and Sale” in November. While Koller herself couldn’t be there because she attended an out-of-state wedding that weekend, her daughter represented her series, “America the Beautiful,” on her behalf. The six paintings she contributed to the show are a testament to Koller’s strength, resilience and stability. A true artist, she sees “a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower,” as William Blake painted with his words.

IRINA MISSIURO is a writer and editorial consultant for The Jewish Voice.