David Sipress talks Rob Moore

Interview: February 22, 2024

SPEAKERS

David Sipress, John Guthrie (JG)

You know, I did not realize when somebody gave me your name that you were the famous one. I didn't know!

David Sipress

(Laughs) The famous one.

Yeah, it's exciting. Your stuff is hilarious, too. I know, everybody probably has to say that to you. But does anybody ever tell you that they don't think you're funny? I mean, does anybody ever say that, like, "I just don't get your stuff?"

David Sipress

No, I've never, I've never had that experience.

It is funny though. It's pretty laugh out loud a lot of the time. So congratulations on that. So anyway, I'm John Guthrie. I'm an old student of Rob's from the late 80s, early 90s. I run a small gallery that's actually in the same building where Rob used to have his studio. We were sitting around talking about Rob, who had his anniversary last year. It was the 30th anniversary – he passed away on December 31, 1992. We were lamenting the loss of Rob and somebody said, "Oh, you should do a Rob Moore Show." And I was like, "Oh my God, that would be amazing." So, we're doing it now. Finally, we're getting around to it. And I'm gathering some of his work. And we're also going to do a website. You know, he passed away before the internet. There's almost nothing about Rob on there. And he's so loved, you know, every single person that I tell this to just get so excited. Everybody's got Rob Moore stories. He had a million close friends. Can you tell me about your relationship with Rob?

David Sipress

I met Robbie at Jack's bar on Mass Ave. in 1971. He hung out there – he was a friend of the owner, Jack. It was an amazing venue for music. People like Bonnie Raitt and The Cars started performing there. Robbie was sitting at the bar and started up a conversation with me. He was the most seductive, attractive human being I'd ever encountered. Immediately I felt drawn to him–not in that way, but just as somebody I really wanted in my life. And I think a million people felt that way. He was beautiful. He was hilarious. He had a wonderful combination of dignity mixed with the ability to make fun of himself. And that combination was just amazing.

I had just dropped out of Harvard Graduate School, and I was trying to decide whether I wanted to be a visual artist or a writer. I had started to make cartoons for what was then the Boston Phoenix. And Robbie knew Mike Bartlett. He suggested that I come to the Graphic Workshop and see what they were doing. Through that experience, with him and with the others at the Workshop, I made this decision that I would go with visual art. I spent a number of years in the Graphic Workshop with Rob's tutelage, making posters, learning everything I could from him. Eventually, we became roommates. I lived with Rob in South End in a four-story brownstone. My most vivid memory of that time was when Robbie and I took a famous–well, famous amongst our friends–journey across America in my very old Toyota Tercel. We started off visiting his wonderful family in Sewanee, Tennessee, and then we drove across country to California, initially to visit a friend of his who was one of the founders of [Est].

Who was that?

David Sipress

Robert Weston. He and Robbie were very close. I think they went to college together. He was like Robbie: big, charismatic, great looking guy. We drove across country, and we were in such a hurry to get there that we kind of forgot about sleeping. And at some point, somewhere in the desert, both of us began to hallucinate. It was a pretty dreadful trip. We finally crossed the border into California. We didn't have the strength to get to where we were going. So, he suggested we stopped at a motel. I was behind the wheel, and we're at the top of a hill and Robbie said he'll go down and see if they have a room for us. So, he headed down and I immediately fell asleep at the wheel. My foot slips off the brake, the car rolls swiftly down the hill, and crashes into a tree. All these apples fell on the car, and we had to wait to get that fixed. We had already spent three days in Winnemucca, Nevada.

What year was this?

David Sipress

1972 or 1973. We really became connected during that trip. It was just the two of us, but we visited his friends. His friends were living the hippie lifestyle, which must have an eye opener for me. Anything related to pleasure, Rob dove right in. Pleasure was so important to him. He dove right in and I dove in after with him. When I spoke at his memorial, I told one of my favorite stories about Rob. On that trip, we went to Tahoe. There was this big craze of inner tubing–you know, people getting inner tubes and sailing down the water rapids. And there was a prescribed way to go, but Robbie said, "Come on, let's just do our own thing." So, he poured himself a martini and got in the inner tube, and I got in the other end with a beer. We started going down and he directed us towards what turned out to be some really scary rapids. I almost immediately got thrown out of my tube. And as I was bumping along in the water, I looked up and there was Robbie, ensconced in his inner tube, still holding his perfectly unbothered martini, and smiling as he drifted past. That's always the image I've had of him, that big smile on his face, enjoying something he really enjoyed, because he did enjoy life to the fullest.

Anyway, back to the Graphic Workshop. I stayed in the Graphic Workshop for several years, and I learned everything I could about how to make an image. At some point, I started painting, and that's where I got a taste of Rob's teaching style. You know, he's had a million students who I'm sure were grateful for their lifetime for what they learned from him about color, and about form, and about everything else. Robbie always talked about his teacher when he was in graduate school in Philadelphia, a guy named Julian Stanczak. His teacher was a Holocaust survivor who lost the use of one of his hands...anyway, Rob, always worshipped this guy. He said that he was in graduate school with him for two years, and the man never said a single word to him about his work. He would just walk through his studio, look at the work and leave. Rob said, from that, he learned the important lesson of self-reliance as an artist. You learn to figure out things for yourself and not depend on someone else to show you the way. And I don't know, because I never studied with him in a class at MassArt, but I know that as a friend and a teacher, that was his approach to me.

Some of us from the Graphic Workshop, including Robbie, lived across from Jordan Marsh and Filenes Robbie was in a loft downstairs, and I was sharing a loft with Felice Reagan and [unintelligible] was across the hall with her husband. We were all pretty much together. I had a big wall with my paintings on it, and Robert would just do that same thing. He'd walk through, never say a word and leave. It did sort of force me to figure things out on my own, and also left me feeling really disappointed that I wasn't getting any feedback from him. And I think that is a kind of indication of Robbie's style of human interaction. That distance makes people want to be even more close to you and to connect to you. Robbie was this wonderful combination of being the most warm, friendly, generous person, and, at the same time, you always had this feeling that you didn't really know him, there was a kind of mystery to Rob, this something that he held back. That was very enticing, and just made you want to get closer to him. And that was both incredibly, well, difficult at times, but it made you feel very special when he did turn his attention to you.

Everybody I talk to has these perfect memories about Rob. People remember these stories. He's so memorable. I only studied with him for two and a half years, and he was the most important person in my art life, you know? Still, 30 years later, you know, I think about the things he said. In 1968, you were like 20? That's the year that you met him?

David Sipress

No, I met him in 1970. I think. Not long after I dropped out of graduate school. It might have even been ‘71. And I had just started publishing cartoons in the newspaper there. And he was he was just so supportive. And, you know, I think that the choices I made back then were in large part under his influence. And I've stuck with that my whole life. I had a 20-year career as a sculptor, and I took up sculpture, in part, because it wasn't something that Robbie was teaching. It wasn't something that was in his bailiwick.

In 1983, I moved down to New York, where I had grown up. And part of the reason I did that was that I needed to have some distance from him. And from what I worried about were his judgments and his opinions on what I was doing. And the lesson of self-reliance that I felt he always tried to teach people who were making art–to have to see things for themselves about their decisions, free of someone telling you what to do–I only was able to achieve that when I established the distance between Boston and New York.

So, I moved down there. I lived a few blocks from two well-known Boston artists who also moved, Joel Janowitz and my really dear friend Todd McKie. Todd and Robbie were also very close. And so I had that relationship with Rob around 1983. I didn't see too much of him for the next few years. At some point, I met my wife, and we drove to visit Rob and Brian. And all we did was laugh and get high. We laughed the whole time and it reminded me how much I loved him.

***

[Rob] was the most open, generous person I've ever known. He took care of so many people so beautifully. But there was always a part of Robbie that he held back. There was always a kind of secretive side to Robbie that no one could penetrate. At least I certainly couldn't. And we were very close. And that's partly what made Robbie so seductive because there was always something that left you wondering what he wasn't saying.

Was he open? He was openly gay. Everybody knew, right?

David Sipress

That was not something he was very open about. You know, we all got to know Brian. That relationship was really sweet and lovely. You know, he was a kind of down to earth, working-class kid. He loved Robbie, and Robbie loved him, and they took really great care of each other. Brian took great care of Robbie when he was sick.

***

One thing that can't be emphasized enough was that [Rob] was physically so beautiful. You looked at him and saw this very regal, beautiful guy. But he was also the silliest person I've ever known. I mean, I've never laughed harder than I've laughed with Robbie. All of us who were close to him, all of us in the Graphic Workshop would agree. It was just a hilarious, wonderful time that we spent in his aura. The whole Graphic Workshop thing was pretty incredible. I'm sure you're aware of that. It was just amazing people who did amazing work and were guided by him.

I wanted to ask what you did for the Graphic Workshop – did you do any endangered species?

David Sipress

I didn't do endangered species. By then I had abandoned the Graphic Workshop. I did posters for theater, anti-war posters, stuff like that. But mostly, he gave me a desk and I sat there, and I drew whatever I felt like. It was the 70s, and money was really tight, but Robbie kind of took care of all of us. And we all took care of each other. It was one of those periods in life that happens so rarely, when people just take care of each other. It was all about him. He was the center of it all, for Chris and Felice and all of us involved in the Workshop.

***

The only other thing I want to say is that for my 50th birthday, four years after Robbie died, my wife went up to Boston and bought me a Rob Moore which hangs in my bedroom. It's absolutely beautiful. It has all the restraint and formal rigor of all Robbie's work. Every time I look at it, I just think about him. It's beautiful.