225BatonRouge.com

Gallerist Ann Connelly sighs deep. She looks away, her eyes welling swift with tears. There is a long pause—as long as the shadows cast by Emerson Bell’s “Destiny for Children” sundial beneath I-10, as long as Bell’s 74 years, as long as his indelible legacy will reach out across generations of young painters, sculptors and dreamers. “I’m not crying for Emerson, because he’s in a better place,” she says finally after translating her feelings into a whisper of words. “I’m crying for me. We’re all going to miss him.”

Bell called Connelly “my girl,” an affection especially significant since he had grown cautious of people after some of his early work was plagiarized by competing artists. Bell’s methods—sculpting with bronze and painting with a unique mix of ink, sand, oil, wax, graphite and charcoal—were secrets he kept safe at the Southern University foundry and within the confines of his home studio, which burned bright into the wee small hours. He would, however, share expertise with children just learning to express themselves through creativity.

His last public showing was in March at Baton Rouge Gallery and packed wall-to-wall for hours with old friends and new fans of his work. The exhibit was a triumph, a beautiful bookend to a life fulfilled.

Emerson Bell—son, artist’s apprentice, church renovator, McKinley Panther, painter, sculptor, serviceman, husband, father, observer, searcher, gallery founder, jazz musician, hep cat, artist-in-residence, old soul, mentor, friend, cap lover, storyteller, coffee drinker, believer, Baton Rougean, inspiration—died April 12 from cancer and heart failure. These are some who new him best. These are their memories.

James Cross

Emerson Bell loved music and working with children. We affectionately called him Em. During our younger days, Em would travel with his flute. At nightclubs, when some of the friendly bands were playing, Em would accept the invitation to sit in with them and take the solo on a song or two. My wife and I were longtime friends of his and supported him at his art exhibits. We have several of Em’s paintings in our home and feel very fortunate to have been counted among his friends. Last year, the family Christmas dinner was held at the home of Gregory and Maxine Harris on Christmas Day, and Emerson was there. He was seated at a table with us, and we reminisced about our friends and the old times in Baton Rouge.

Maxine Harris

Many knew Emerson for his sculpture, paintings and quirky ways. Emerson was one of the most perceptive people I ever knew. He had an innate ability to read people. Emerson lived in a poorer part of town for 30 years, refusing to ever leave. Across the road is a row of houses where a group of elderly persons live. Emerson never went to the store without buying extra fruit and vegetables for all the neighbors, the largest amount always going to Ms. Andrews. Emerson watched over his community, and whenever he saw need, he gave assistance with food, money, art supplies and a lot of advice. Eating watermelon on Ms. Andrew’s porch was a regular event. Emerson would cut the melon and as always, the largest piece was for Ms. Andrews. We all miss Emerson but are left with wonderful memories.

Bell often told gallery owners not to mark up his work too high. He wanted it afordable for the people. Above is one of the pieces available at Gilley's Gallery on Florida Boulevard.

Randell Henry

Emerson said to me on several occasions: “Let the people know who I was and what I was about,” if he should go before me. On the morning of April 12, I received a call from James Cross informing me that Emerson was taken to the hospital. Later that night as I watched him taking the last few breaths left in his frail, weak body, I began thinking about what I would say if he did not make it through the night. I began thinking about the ways Emerson Bell enjoyed helping people, how he was devoted to his nation of friends and how he enjoyed watching children play together on beautiful springtime days. He was always making art. He had a passion for creativity. Emerson was devoted to God and art. Over and over, he would say he was “doing his Father’s work.”

Michael Mahaffey

I always wanted to film a documentary about Emerson because I knew that it would be a rich and beautiful film. I envy the passion with which he lived his life. I sat down with Emerson for a long talk the Sunday before he passed away. He took one of my Camels and broke off the filter, lit it up and told me about a coffee shop he been to in the “Orient” many years ago when he was a young man. A beautiful place cut out of a mountainside. I could picture that place then, and I can picture it now. I picture Emerson sitting with his cup of coffee watching the sun go down, his eyes squinting with knowledge and life, ready to share it with the next person to come along.

Jennifer Eplett Reilly

Emerson was a real gem as an artist and friend. He cared deeply about what really matters in this life. Emerson was always present in conversation and in quiet. He was open to experience joy and suffering and all that life offers. He really gave it up to share his special gifts with our community, especially with children. Emerson’s authenticity, his faith in God and love of women, his experiential innocence and his bodacious and loving spirit will live in us as we are blessed to experience all this through his art.

Dale Langland

Emerson was a once in a lifetime friend. I spent many an hour with him at his favorite coffee shop Perk’s and at his home studio being what his friends called being “rung by the Bell.” That meant listening while he discussed history, art and craft. His quiet and gentlemanly discourse took me back to the Baton Rouge of the late ’30s and ’40s where the streets were alive with people, music, and movement. He often told of his military years in the Korean War and postwar Japan, where he learned so much from the Asian culture and it’s artisans. The bohemian days of the ’60s and ’70s in Baton Rouge and New Orleans were spoken of as a major part of his artistic development. But probably the most important lesson he gave me was that truth and beauty expressed through art and music can overcome any prejudices presented by our Southern society. All I had to do to learn these lessons was to lend an ear to my quiet and gentle friend.