I have been gearing up in the last few weeks to write a blog post about what I've been doing lately, artistically, but now that's going to have to wait for a bit.
A few days ago, on Tuesday, June 9th, my father died. His name was Dr. Brunno Von Ristow, and he was quite an incredible man.
My father was born in 1940 in Brusque, Brazil, a town founded in 1860 by German immigrants. 80 years after the town's birth, German was still widely spoken there and my father grew up speaking both German and Portuguese. As a child of around 8 years old, or so the legend goes, he decided he would grow up to be a plastic surgeon. In the late 1960's he moved to New York City because it was the only place where his new young wife, who had leukemia, had any chance of getting life-saving treatment. By the time she died a few years later, my father had already re-started his medical training and he decided to make his permanent home in the US. Not long after, he met and married my mother, and in the next few years I was born, followed by my brother Trevor.
Upon completing his studies, he decided to follow the suggestion of one of his colleagues and move to Los Angeles; his friend had told him that LA was where a plastic surgeon could get rich! But on the way to LA, he and my mother stopped in San Francisco and fell in love with the beautiful city by the bay. They never made it to Los Angeles.
Like many people who grow up in financially challenged circumstances, my dad resolved early in life to become rich, and he succeeded spectacularly. In fact the desire for wealth may have been the chief reason he focused so early on plastic surgery. My father lived the American Dream, moving to the US poor and doing incredibly well for himself. But there was basically only one secret to his success, and that was hard work. He worked all the time. And... ok maybe there's a second reason... he was so damn good at what he did! He was good because he actually cared. He wanted to be the best. He specialized in facial cosmetic surgery (face lifts), and his results were incredible.
At one point about 3 years ago I had a great conversation with him about his work. He lit up talking about his results, how he achieved them, about facial anatomy and innovations he made in his field. In fact there is a space within the tissues of the face which is now referred to as the "Ristow Space" because my father discovered it, or at least drew the attention of the medical community to its importance.
When I was young, my father wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become a surgeon. Between the ages of about 10 to 12, I was my father's operating room photographer; I have vivid memories of photographing his surgeries. In retrospect it's easy to see that he was trying to get me interested in the discipline, and probably also to give me a head start on my eventual education as a doctor. I think these experiences contributed significantly to my love of the human body and its anatomy. There's a great picture that I really should insert here, of 10-year-old me watching him operate, but the photo is back in Taos so I guess it will be a while before I can include it.
I think the pressure my dad put on me to become a doctor, and the ways that I increasingly veered away from that path, were the primary sources of a certain friction that existed between us in my 20's and 30's. Even into my 30's my dad would occasionally say things like "You know, it's never too late to go back to school and take up medicine"! And this was when I was already establishing myself as an artist! Of course there were ways in which I could have been an excellent surgeon, such as my interests in the human body and in aesthetics, and my dexterity in working with my hands, and I think my father was was quite observant in noticing these tendencies in me. But as I grew through my late teens and twenties I began to see that there were other aspects of my personality that fit much better with the life of an artist than that of a doctor. It took me a long time to be able to confidently say "I am an artist," and I think the person to whom I was most afraid to make that statement was him. It's so interesting, the power our parents have over us. In hindsight it seems quite clear that he probably just wanted a stable and clearly-defined and rewarding career for me, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's quite fatherly, really. And there I was, making sculptures and building robots and staging clandestine performances; he must have thought I was crazy!
There's a famous quote from Thomas Jefferson which goes: "We will be soldiers, so our sons will be farmers, so their sons will be artists." Ironically, it was my dad who first told me this quote (and I'm pretty sure that in his re-telling, "farmers" was replaced by "lawyers and doctors"). Sometimes, if my father expressed doubt or concern about my career, I would remind him of this quote, and he would chuckle.
The other thing that caused occasional friction between my father and me was our opposing political persuasions; he was a "Reagan Republican" and I've always been liberal / progressive.
But something kind of magical happened between us about 20 years ago. It happened slowly and imperceptibly; I couldn't see it at the time but now, looking back, I can see it clearly. I think the easiest way to explain it is to imagine my father, 20 years ago, speaking words something like these: "You know, Christian, there is a lot we don't agree on. We don't agree about politics, and I think your career is strange, and I don't really understand it. And for these reasons, we might not be as close as we could be. But what is more important than any of that is the fact that I love you, and I want you to be happy. So let's not talk about the ways in which we don't align. Let's connect instead about family and about how we care for each other." This contributed in later years to the fact that our conversations were sometimes rather short and superficial, but they were always sweet and mutually supportive. There was a lot of love between us.
From time to time I find myself musing about all the things my father gave me, and I'm grateful. His wealth afforded my brother and me excellent educations as well as certain other advantages which made it possible for me to become an artist. (Thanks for being the farmer, Pop!) But much of what he gave me was less tangible. I mentioned earlier that he was passionate about his career and wanted to be the best. Sometimes, when I am going over-time or over-budget on a project because I just want to achieve the best artistic result that I can, I see echoes of my dad's passion and commitment in me. Thanks for showing me the value inherent in the 'pursuit of excellence,' Pop; not everyone understands that. I also credit him with instilling in me a love of female beauty and a love of the human face, both of which have been hugely influential for me. Sometimes when I am sculpting a face, I think of the many specific things he taught me about facial beauty, such as the gentle curve at the root of the septum or the proper proportions of the nose, and I feel the generational continuity flowing from his career into mine. Thanks, Pop.
As my mother succinctly put it recently, "Brunno lived an incredible life. He achieved everything he ever wanted." Bravo, Papa. Well done.
I love you, Pop, and I will miss you.
And thank you.
❤️
