A Party for Florine is a personal and artistic reflection on how one unconventional Jewish female artist inspired another — the author of this book herself. Born into an affluent family, Stettheimer (1871 – 1944) became an artistic innovator, a feminist, and both an observer and a colleague of the gifted and well connected. Yevgenia Nayberg writes that she was fascinated with Stettheimer from the moment she first saw her paintings: “She was an artist! I am an artist, too.” The rest of the book presents an overview of Stettheimer’s life in the context of their imaginary connection across time.
Rather than comparing her specific artistic techniques or overall vision to Stettheimer’s, Nayberg describes the personal influence that Stettheimer had on her. She imagines the artist’s Jewish family life as parallel to her own, noting that both of their families talked constantly and used effusive hand gestures. Word bubbles float around the Stettheimers’ faces, enclosing such questions as “Have you eaten?” and “You call it a good grade?!”
Stettheimer’s art lessons in Vienna, her later residence at the luxurious Alwyn Court in New York City, and her exciting parties with the likes of Marcel Duchamp are all a fantasy for Nayberg. She pictures doing these things in an alternate life. In contrast to Stettheimer’s frenetic social activity, Nayberg is more of a homebody. A self-portrait shows her near a window on a rainy day, reaching out to a pigeon and “sulking.” But there is nothing sad or defeated about the imaginary party she throws for Florine Stettheimer. A gorgeously composed table covered with flowers and fruit features a miniature Nayberg seated on a peach, satisfied with her creation.
Children and adults alike will relate to Nayberg’s friendship with a role model from the past. They dance, paint, and write together, and when their meeting ends, Nayberg leaves with renewed faith in her ability to also create beauty, even if the images of New York she renders in her work are quite different from Stettheimer’s. In one illustration, a giant squirrel flies above the city skyline holding a cinnamon bagel overtop a group of street musicians — a departure from Stettheimer’s elegant and elite subjects.
At the end of this illuminating book, Stettheimer, dressed all in white like a benevolent ghost, relaxes with a young Nayberg. When the older artist exits the invented scene, she leaves a lush trail of flowers spreading over two pages.
Emily Schneider writes about literature, feminism, and culture for Tablet, The Forward, The Horn Book, and other publications, and writes about children’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures.
