ART, INHABITED

by Cynthia Reece

On a short street, just one block long, sliced through the center of a Garden District block, Jo Ann Flom Greenberg found a pleasant little house under an old oak tree and turned it into a gem of a home studded inside and out with the glistening product of her own hands.

Jo Ann Greenberg is a potter, a painter, a gardener, a mother, a grandmother, and a supporter of the arts in New Orleans. A resident of New Orleans since she came to Newcomb College from Florida in the late 1940s and a respected figure in the local art community, she earned her BA, BFA, and MFA at the college that once stood on the very spot on which she now lives. The ground under her house was the original location of Sophie Newcomb College from 1887 until 1918, when it was relocated to its present site on Broadway. Newcomb ceased production of its renowned pottery in 1940, but Greenberg’s work seems to embody the spirit of her alma mater.

On a street populated by other notable residences in the Modern architectural style, including one built by the firm that built the Superdome, Greenberg’s narrow, two-story structure of taupe stucco and white brick relaxes into its subtropical landscaping in a timeless, comfortable way. Curving beds of shrubs flank the brick sidewalk, and clumps of multicolored annuals attract a look and a smile.

The house was one of a pair built in the 1950s, a small family compound designed by architect James Gilbert for civic activist Ruth Dreyfous and her brother. It was on the market about 7 years ago when Greenberg began looking for a one-story home to accommodate her needs as she looked ahead to retirement.

Greenberg’s vision of an accessible home all on one floor changed when she began working with architect and Tulane professor Errol Barron. He convinced her to add a guest room, bath, and studio above the existing structure. With the design skills of Greenberg’s friend Melanie Feldman, who was also a licensed contractor, and builder Ron Hansen, the original building and its new second floor became a cohesive unit, filled with light and art, a perfect place to nest, create, and welcome family and friends.

The entrance is beyond an iron gate, on the right side of the house. Once inside the foyer, the visitor is greeted by a large wall of open shelves, filled with a treasure of gleaming ceramic vases, jugs, urns, and tiles, many adorned by the tranquil female nudes that are a constant theme in Greenberg’s work.

The concave shelf that faces the entrance and divides the foyer from the dining room is an example of Melanie Feldman’s special touch. “The curved surface will draw people in,” she told Greenberg. Some of Greenberg’s best pieces of raku pottery are displayed there. Raku is a firing process that is known for its unpredictability. Pieces may crack or even explode in the kiln, and even if that doesn’t happen, the end result is never totally predictable. When it does work, it can produce spectacular pieces like the vase depicting a pink-skinned nymph surrounded by glowing copper vegetation that is one of Greenberg’s personal favorites.

In the living room, the pickled hardwood floors that carry on throughout the house first appear, along with the creamy beige walls, pastel oriental rugs, and white slip-covered furniture. The room teems with art by Louisiana artists, which Greenberg collects with ardor. Paintings of her own join the works of Douglas Bourgeois, Peggy Good, Lin Emery, Jackie Bishop, and Auseklis Ozol. Much of the furniture in the room once belonged to her mother. All of it has been refinished in creamy shades or pickled finishes.

The master bedroom, an inviting retreat with a view of the backyard, has its own Louisiana collection. Christopher Maier, Peggy Good, Jim Steg, Robert Gordy, George Dureau, Carol Leake, Nini Bodenheimer, and Shirley Rabé Masinter hang alongside a painting by Greenberg’s mother and one by her daughter, Jane Schramel. Down the hall, a small study boasts the works of John Clemmer, Tony Green, Dottie Gardiner, and Brenda Greenberg (Jo Ann Greenberg’s daughter-in-law), among others.

Back in the center of the house, the kitchen is the first place we see Greenberg’s artistic expressions embedded into the very structure. The backsplash is studded with butterfly tiles, each one unique and original. And just around the corner, a glimpse of the artist’s home studio proves irresistible.

A narrow room that was once a maid’s room and laundry teems with shelves of pots and thousands of tiny paint containers, the diminutive accessories for the potter’s wheel in the corner and the cylindrical stone flattening device for forming tiles from raw clay. A kiln the size of a washing machine sits in another corner. Greenberg shares a large Magazine Street studio with a few fellow potters, but she values her home studio as a place to grab ten minutes here and there to create something. On one wall of the cluttered studio hang two large paintings by Gene Rogas of Greenberg’s hands at work.

A visit upstairs begins with a return to the foyer. On the stair wall, a painting Greenberg completed in 1940 joins a tri-toned piece by John Clemmer. Narrow paneling with the familiar pickled finish, thick gray carpet, and a gleaming chrome stair rail provide contrasting textures and a touch of contemporary style to the passage, while light pours in through windows to the left and above the landing.

Most of the second floor is occupied by the large, open studio/family room that Greenberg calls simply “the big room”: more pickled paneling on the walls, creamy white-and-beige furniture, soft pastel textiles—and windows everywhere. Side-by-side windows with custom-fitted honeycomb shades line three sides of the spacious room. A full-size twin mattress fills a bay-window seat, under a large, odd-shaped painting by Elemore Morgan, Jr., titled “Under the Tree,” (1996). The acrylic painting on Masonite went unsold at a gallery for several years, according to Greenberg, who came across it and knew it was the perfect piece for her sunny aerie above the trees. “It was just waiting for me,” she said with a smile.

A large sofa covered in white duck is the only new piece in the room. The rest is furniture Greenberg already owned. The charming side chairs, with a pickled finish like the floor, were natural maple when she and her husband, Henry, bought them in the 1950s. Reupholstered in a soft, multicolored tapestry, they fit the room like comfy shoes. A large, carved screen in the corner once belonged to her husband’s aunt. It was originally a dark wood, but it has taken on the look of lace with its white-painted finish. The lamps on the end tables have ceramic bases, formed and fired in Greenberg’s studio.

A tall light with a white reflector on a stand in the corner is a hold-over from recent years when Greenberg and a group of three or four artistic friends gathered in the sunny retreat to do life drawings with a model. “Most of the members of the group have moved away, now,” Greenberg said. But the light is still on stand-by, should the need arise to provide highlights for the next group of would-be Picassos.

From the big room to the expanded ground floor to the shaded gardens that surround Jo Ann Greenberg’s home, every inch of the space reflects an artist’s aesthetic. Umbrella stands—not one, but three—overflow with artistic versions of an object that is simply utilitarian in most homes; little carts of wooden blocks to amuse visiting children have been illustrated with drawings by generations of Greenberg youngsters; bird feeders and planters in the garden sprang from the artist’s hands; tiles from her kiln even adorn an exterior wall, in a series depicting classic women athletes. A painting in the dining room by Greenberg’s friend Jackie Bishop shows a bird’s nest inside a flower. The work is called “Inhabiting.” Jo Ann Greenberg’s recreated home is like that: she found the perfect place to live and then created her own world of art inside it.