Dale Says

At the celebration of Ruth Asawa’s life, her friend, Peter Coyote, told us that she isn’t really gone; her presence will always be here. He said that whenever it rains, he will think of it as Ruth tap dancing on his roof.

That’s a pretty sweet thing to say, about a pretty sweet lady. Ruth set a wonderful example for the rest of us.

Born poor into a Japanese-American family in southern California, Ruth was raised in a produce-growing family, and as a girl she had to work hard to help her family. She did, and she worked hard in school, too, where her favorite subject was art.

As a teenage girl, she was separated from her father and placed in an internment camp during World War II; taken away from everything that was familiar to her and sent to live in a prison (with barbed wire fences) in Arkansas. Allowed to leave the camp after a year-and-a-half to attend teacher’s college, she was then denied a job as a teacher because she was Japanese-American. Instead, she attended art school in North Carolina, became infatuated with art, and fell in love with an architecture and design student named Albert Lanier. They moved to San Francisco’s Noe Valley neighborhood, where they believed they would be better received as an inter-racial couple, in a good neighborhood to raise their children.

Ruth and Albert spent the rest of their lives in San Francisco. He designed buildings and she raised six children and designed art. Her specialities were sculptures, fountains, paintings, and wire hangings, which she learned to make during time in Mexico.

Best known for her art, which is prolific around the San Francisco area, Ruth was also a community leader in art education. She served on several art and education committees, always featuring a calm and committed nature. She won the respect of everyone she met, and she later developed an art school that carries her name.

Ruth’s children remember her as a mother, a cook, an advisor, and as a happy and wise lady. So does everyone else who spoke at her celebration.

She suffered poverty, but she never spoke of it. She suffered discrimination, but she never complained about it. She did the best she could, became the best she could be, and told everyone who would listen that she was not a victim — she was a survivor.

Ruth was always positive.

When, in her later years, she became so ill that she could no longer effectively use her hands she was asked what she would like for Christmas. “More time,” she replied.

More time to do what she had already done so well.

“An artist is not special.
An artist is an ordinary person
who can take ordinary things
and make them special.”
– Ruth Asawa