I did not know Morris well, but I knew that he was a wonderful friend to my sister Kathryn, later to our Mother, and then to Andrew and the Kimball family. The few times he and I spoke I always felt his concern and friendship for those around him, especially at the time of Mother’s death when he called from Paris or New York or wherever he happened to be at the time to offer his words of comfort. How fortunate that he could be with friends and family in his last moments. How fortunate all were to hear the words that Deborah and Andrew offered in his memory in the place of his passing as all gathered to celebrate his life. Thanks for sharing here.
I haven’t heard from certain friends for awhile so I decided to see if I could find them on the internet. Awhile back a letter to Morris Arrari had been returned as “undeliverable” My friend, Morris Arrari, was the first name I googled in an effort to re-connect. I began reading this memorial and the recollections all sounded very familiar. Throughout my reading a part of me continued to be in disbelief; however, that disbelief faded when I saw the posted drawings of Morris Arrari. His drawings confirmed that I was reading the memorial of my dear, valued friend. As stated, my letters to Morris had been returned by the post, I thought it was an error on my part with the zip code or a number written incorrectly. It was neither. His friends that have written previously said it all so well. Their writings opened a floodgate of wonderful memories. Im not sure where to begin; however, I will begin where my friendship with Morris began….
Paris, France the fall of 1979, while walking to my home. I took a shortcut through the Champ de Mars. while walking under the shadow of the Tour Eiffel, I was headed toward my small apt on Avenue de la Bourdannais in the 7th arrondissment of Paris. As I neared the Rue St. Dominique a conversation began with a fellow pedestrian and within minutes I discovered he was an American (or I should say a “New Yorker with Greek ancestry) living and working in the Paris fashion industry. I didn’t need to ask, he would later inform me, that he could tell from my walk and my costuming on this cold fall evening that I was an American in Paris. Within minutes I learned he had an encyclopedic memory along with a competitive nature. While walking, we challenged each other to naming the most “Motown” artist of the 1960′s. Morris won and and the gleam in his eye left me know that he was very proud of his accomplishment. He not only knew the names of the artist, but their hit songs, along with the words. To this day one song brings a smile to my face; it brought him to life. The song is Aretha Franklin’s, ” R-E-S-P-E-C-T”.
My friendship continued to grow throughout my time in Paris. Morris, as a friend, supported and appreciated my struggles as an artist studying mime in Paris. He would enjoy listening to my stories as a student of mime with Marcel Marceau and Ettienne Decroux. He encouraged me to follow my dream and many times he helped me to remain focused and clarify what that dream was. These conversations were not always easy.
As an artist Morris was always at work observing the world around him. He would talk of colors he observed in the market outside of his Rue St. Dominique loft. Throughout his home were small objects that he would find at flea markets, in stores, or though his travels. He saw beauty in objects that others may discard. Morris would take inanimate objects and give them new life in his drawings. He also found beauty, and provided guidance and support, to individuals that he sensed had talent as artists and also may have felt discarded. I was fortunate to be one of those people that Morris always found time for and always supported. Morris’ success in his art never made him forget his struggles and his beginnings as an artist. Morris was a successful illustrator of high fashion: however, he was first and foremost an “artist”. During conversations he would share stories about learning his craft, his days in New York, his move to Paris. He would share stories of his travels and work with Lanvin, Dior, etc.;however, he would shine when he spoke of his friends and family, both were one to Morris. His friends were his family and his family were his friends. He had great value for both.
Most that knew Morris’ loft at rue St. Dominique may agree that its’ decor was functional. It was, like Morris, direct, unpretentious, unassuming, “to the point”. At his loft Morris would leave notes for his house cleaner, most of the time she would be maneuvering around his sketches. His directions to her would usually include making fresh rice pudding. On occasion, I would stop by and we would share some of that amazing rice pudding. Morris would remind me that he didn’t have much time, he was on his way to his advanced dance class. Morris was proud that he was in the advanced class and that the teacher would recognize him during class. We would discuss dance but I never needed to ask why a successful illustrator of fashion was taking dance. It is easy to see the influence of dance in Morris’ artwork; his art moves off of the page and goes beyond the confines of the paper. Morris’ artistic eye was always at work. As time passed Morris mounted a show of his own work in Paris. Friends were invited and it was an honor and a pleasure to support the realization of his dream in the manner that he had always done for me and many others.
Morris moved from Rue St. Dominique to his place in the 13th. It was a big move for him, but he was excited. He was moving toward a bigger,better and more exciting time in his life. I would miss him in the 7th but as time would have it I also moved to a different quartier of Paris and our friendship continued. We would visit each other, and keep in contact by phone. His profession took him out of town as did mine. Morris’ friendship and support guided me from a starving artist to accomplishing a “one man show, onto choreographing national operas, etc and my friend Morris was there to listen, or see it directly. Prior to my leaving Paris in 1987 I informed my dear friend that I had been diagnosed with a life threatening illness. He, as always was caring and supportive. Since my departure I visited him upon my return. During that time we visited a new flea market that he had just discovered. After my departure we kept in touch with an occasional letter and or phone call.
The years pass quickly and the life scenarios that I imagined in my youth have changed with time. The direction that my life’s scenarios have taken me are not always what I had imagined. I had hoped to carry the friendships into my older years so that we could continue to share our life’s stories;however, I am saddened that the realty of this seems to be changing.
In hearing of Morris’ passing I am reminded again that my life scenario has changed once again. Although I will miss the presence of Morris Arrari, I am forever grateful for Morris Arrari being in my life. His presence made it so much richer.
My dear friend Morris, Thank you for your kind support, your caring guidance, and your love.
God, thank you for bringing the friendship of Morris Arrari into my life.
Matthew Lesniak, Los Angeles, California 3, January, 2010
April 15, 2008 at 10:30 pm
I did not know Morris well, but I knew that he was a wonderful friend to my sister Kathryn, later to our Mother, and then to Andrew and the Kimball family. The few times he and I spoke I always felt his concern and friendship for those around him, especially at the time of Mother’s death when he called from Paris or New York or wherever he happened to be at the time to offer his words of comfort. How fortunate that he could be with friends and family in his last moments. How fortunate all were to hear the words that Deborah and Andrew offered in his memory in the place of his passing as all gathered to celebrate his life. Thanks for sharing here.
January 3, 2010 at 2:17 pm
I haven’t heard from certain friends for awhile so I decided to see if I could find them on the internet. Awhile back a letter to Morris Arrari had been returned as “undeliverable” My friend, Morris Arrari, was the first name I googled in an effort to re-connect. I began reading this memorial and the recollections all sounded very familiar. Throughout my reading a part of me continued to be in disbelief; however, that disbelief faded when I saw the posted drawings of Morris Arrari. His drawings confirmed that I was reading the memorial of my dear, valued friend. As stated, my letters to Morris had been returned by the post, I thought it was an error on my part with the zip code or a number written incorrectly. It was neither. His friends that have written previously said it all so well. Their writings opened a floodgate of wonderful memories. Im not sure where to begin; however, I will begin where my friendship with Morris began….
Paris, France the fall of 1979, while walking to my home. I took a shortcut through the Champ de Mars. while walking under the shadow of the Tour Eiffel, I was headed toward my small apt on Avenue de la Bourdannais in the 7th arrondissment of Paris. As I neared the Rue St. Dominique a conversation began with a fellow pedestrian and within minutes I discovered he was an American (or I should say a “New Yorker with Greek ancestry) living and working in the Paris fashion industry. I didn’t need to ask, he would later inform me, that he could tell from my walk and my costuming on this cold fall evening that I was an American in Paris. Within minutes I learned he had an encyclopedic memory along with a competitive nature. While walking, we challenged each other to naming the most “Motown” artist of the 1960′s. Morris won and and the gleam in his eye left me know that he was very proud of his accomplishment. He not only knew the names of the artist, but their hit songs, along with the words. To this day one song brings a smile to my face; it brought him to life. The song is Aretha Franklin’s, ” R-E-S-P-E-C-T”.
My friendship continued to grow throughout my time in Paris. Morris, as a friend, supported and appreciated my struggles as an artist studying mime in Paris. He would enjoy listening to my stories as a student of mime with Marcel Marceau and Ettienne Decroux. He encouraged me to follow my dream and many times he helped me to remain focused and clarify what that dream was. These conversations were not always easy.
As an artist Morris was always at work observing the world around him. He would talk of colors he observed in the market outside of his Rue St. Dominique loft. Throughout his home were small objects that he would find at flea markets, in stores, or though his travels. He saw beauty in objects that others may discard. Morris would take inanimate objects and give them new life in his drawings. He also found beauty, and provided guidance and support, to individuals that he sensed had talent as artists and also may have felt discarded. I was fortunate to be one of those people that Morris always found time for and always supported. Morris’ success in his art never made him forget his struggles and his beginnings as an artist. Morris was a successful illustrator of high fashion: however, he was first and foremost an “artist”. During conversations he would share stories about learning his craft, his days in New York, his move to Paris. He would share stories of his travels and work with Lanvin, Dior, etc.;however, he would shine when he spoke of his friends and family, both were one to Morris. His friends were his family and his family were his friends. He had great value for both.
Most that knew Morris’ loft at rue St. Dominique may agree that its’ decor was functional. It was, like Morris, direct, unpretentious, unassuming, “to the point”. At his loft Morris would leave notes for his house cleaner, most of the time she would be maneuvering around his sketches. His directions to her would usually include making fresh rice pudding. On occasion, I would stop by and we would share some of that amazing rice pudding. Morris would remind me that he didn’t have much time, he was on his way to his advanced dance class. Morris was proud that he was in the advanced class and that the teacher would recognize him during class. We would discuss dance but I never needed to ask why a successful illustrator of fashion was taking dance. It is easy to see the influence of dance in Morris’ artwork; his art moves off of the page and goes beyond the confines of the paper. Morris’ artistic eye was always at work. As time passed Morris mounted a show of his own work in Paris. Friends were invited and it was an honor and a pleasure to support the realization of his dream in the manner that he had always done for me and many others.
Morris moved from Rue St. Dominique to his place in the 13th. It was a big move for him, but he was excited. He was moving toward a bigger,better and more exciting time in his life. I would miss him in the 7th but as time would have it I also moved to a different quartier of Paris and our friendship continued. We would visit each other, and keep in contact by phone. His profession took him out of town as did mine. Morris’ friendship and support guided me from a starving artist to accomplishing a “one man show, onto choreographing national operas, etc and my friend Morris was there to listen, or see it directly. Prior to my leaving Paris in 1987 I informed my dear friend that I had been diagnosed with a life threatening illness. He, as always was caring and supportive. Since my departure I visited him upon my return. During that time we visited a new flea market that he had just discovered. After my departure we kept in touch with an occasional letter and or phone call.
The years pass quickly and the life scenarios that I imagined in my youth have changed with time. The direction that my life’s scenarios have taken me are not always what I had imagined. I had hoped to carry the friendships into my older years so that we could continue to share our life’s stories;however, I am saddened that the realty of this seems to be changing.
In hearing of Morris’ passing I am reminded again that my life scenario has changed once again. Although I will miss the presence of Morris Arrari, I am forever grateful for Morris Arrari being in my life. His presence made it so much richer.
My dear friend Morris, Thank you for your kind support, your caring guidance, and your love.
God, thank you for bringing the friendship of Morris Arrari into my life.
Matthew Lesniak, Los Angeles, California 3, January, 2010