Wet-Wall Tattoos: Ben Long and at the Art of Fresco

I first encountered Ben Long in 1989 in Raleigh, North Carolinawhen I was working on a television profile of his friend and fellowfresco painter, Charles Kapsner. Ben sat, somewhat reluctantly, I thought, for an interview, and regaled us with tales of their days in Florence. I later joined his circle of associates attending the dedication of the St. Peter's fresco in Charlotte. The sense of inspiration was palpable in the church that evening, Ben's generous and deep nature infusing this great monument to the sacred; later, at a bistro down the street, he stiffed me for a bottle of Wild Horse Pinot Noir. How could one not be charmed by this study in contrasts?By 1990 I had been drawn into his circle, videotaping work at Ben's Paris studio on his next project: the massive fresco triptych which adorns the Bank of America lobby in Charlotte I briefly met Richard Maschal when this book came out, and I found him describing the same man of brilliant mastery, intense commitment and provocative nonsense that I came to know over the span of three years. As painting proceeded at what was then called NationsBank Corporate Center, captains of industry replaced the church hierarchy, and Ben's subject matter moved into secular themes. But the dichotomy of patron and painter remained the same, as Richard so aptly compared to that of Michelangelo and Pope Julius II. At one point Ben's work was halted while Charlotte Powers that Be decided that they understood Ben's desire to make a strong statement about regional heritage, but could not countenance a certain larger-than-life image contained within the center fresco: that of a KKK member smoking a joint. After an enlightening meeting with local African-American leaders Ben gracefully found a way to alter his composition, but at no expense to his vision.Ben has moved onto other equally challenging commissions, but it is the St. Peter's fresco, and its story as related by Richard Maschal, that places Ben Long as a maestro at the fore of an American renaissance of this ancient technique, the genuine article, just beginning to hit his stride.

Being the author's daughter, I was surprised to find it listed when I took a search on my last name. I was equally surprised to see such a great review!Aside from my obvious inclinations, this really is a great book. Witty, culturally far-reaching, honest, and wonderfully crafted, it is a fascinating portrait of a man who surely mirrors the tempestuous Michaelangelo. Ben Long is a fabulously challenging man, angry, intelligent, even sexy. Read this book and learn about art, religious tradition, and the creative landscape of America ...and I got to pick out the title!

I dipped into this book because I'm interested in Italy and wanted to learn a little about fresco technique (but I wanted to learn it painlessly, which for me means tucked inside a narrative instead of laid out in a textbook). But I found that I stayed with the whole story, genuinely interested in the personalities and the outcome of the project, a religious fresco executed in Charlotte, North Carolina in the late 1980s. Clearly Ben Long is a difficult albeit talented man, but just as clearly he seems willing to do what he must to keep fresco alive. We read stories of earlier musicians and artists (Mozart and Renaissance painter Lorenzo Lotto come immediately to mind) who produce a work and present it, uncertain the agreed-upon compensation will be forthcoming or that there will be any at all. Much of Long's work has followed the same pattern: slow, steady execution of a religious fresco, in Italy or the United States, followed by a small "purse" from a grateful priest. The North Carolina project followed by the author in this book was, by design, more lucrative and more modern, but the negotiating, the arguments, the temporary withholding of final compensation, the frayed nerves, the eager acolytes working just for the experience--all of it could have happened 400 years ago. And just when you're starting to realize this, the author deftly segues into the relationship between Pope Julius II and Michelangelo during the frescoing of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It's refreshing to see such a quiet subject get such careful, journalistic treatment. There are no fireworks here, just a well-told story of interest to those with a fascination with the making of art, with Italy, with fresco in particular, and with the intersection of history and modern times.