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Arts Culture

Artist Nym Pedersen’s small-scale works leave a big impact

In the years leading up to the pandemic, artist Nym Pedersen could often be found on the Downtown Mall, peddling his small paintings, drawings, and collages, which he dubbed “art snacks.” Much like Steve Keene, Nym felt that art should be within everyone’s reach and priced his work accordingly. Nym died on March 9 at the age of 64 after a brief bout with cancer.

Nym came to Charlottesville in 1997 from Portland, Oregon, to join his sister, theater maven Boomie Pedersen. Nym (his nickname a combination of Norman and “him,” thanks to Boomie) grew up in New York City, where he attended the Collegiate School and Columbia University. The Pedersens lived on Central Park West just across the street from the park that became their playground and sanctuary.

It was not an easy childhood. The Pedersens’ father was the director of education at the Whitney Museum of American Art. Heeding the 1960s’ call to “Turn on, tune in, and drop out,” he abandoned his young family for points west, creating years of financial insecurity for those he left behind. 

The burden created feelings of low self-worth; in Nym’s case, they helped mold him into someone who was self-effacing and introverted. The trauma showed up in his work, where he expressed the angst of the abandoned child. “I think my brother painted to resolve his relationship with our father,” says Boomie. “That’s where he worked out the torments going on inside him.” This is not to say Nym’s was an unhappy existence. In addition to his family, he had a close circle of friends he valued and who cherished him.

Remarkably prolific, Nym focused on the human form and, in particular, faces. Some of these, generally his pen-and-ink works, are delicate figures in repose, while others, paintings or collage, are grotesques with wild eyes and scar-like grimaces. Nym could also be scathingly funny and much of his art occupies the same absurdist world as Paul Klee’s work. 

Nym took studio classes at Columbia and The Art Students League of New York and worked in different media—drawing, painting, collaging, sculpting. Drawn to collage for its ability to suggest layers of meaning, in some works he assembled bits of paper narratively to create startling portraits and in others he employed it as a visual device to provide texture and spatial ambiguity. In several pieces, he even mimicked the effect of collage with paint.

In addition to his artistic practice, which remained a constant throughout his life, Nym worked as a copy editor for McGraw Hill in New York. In Charlottesville, he was employed at Harvest Moon Catering and also as a relief copy editor at C-VILLE Weekly.

Through his marriage to Allegra von Studnitz, whom he adored, Nym became a devoted stepfather and step-grandfather to her biological daughter, two adopted sons, and grandson. The couple would go on to adopt two more boys, and Nym loved being a father and living a pastoral existence in the country surrounded by a large and varied menagerie. 

It was this happiness that helped resolve his demons. Allegra describes the sea change: “Some years back Nym reached a breaking point. He felt deep despair about life, his past, the art world,” she says. “He made the decision that his outlook on life would become an introspection on life. He became the kindest, most loving human being, filled with humility. … And with that, he departed.”

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News

Street heat: Downtown storefront owner battles vendors

In a progressive town like Charlottesville, the owner of a 31-year-old business on the Downtown Mall says it’s time that equivalent rules and regulations are imposed on downtown storefronts and street vendors alike. His request comes in the form of a petition.

“We’re a fast city, man,” says Tony LaBua, the owner of Chaps Ice Cream. “Let’s make it fair.”

While it varies widely, depending on the building and its use, downtown brick-and-mortar business owners can expect to pay between $18 and $22 per square foot a year in rent, along with fees for electricity, water, sewer and other accommodations, according to Chris Engel, the city’s director of economic development.

That adds up to quite a bit more than the $250 per quarter that most street vendors are required to pay, says LaBua. An extra, say, $200 per month from the vendors, might level out the playing field, he suggests.

Even though he says he “love[s] having vendors on the mall,” the “one-man band,” LaBua, plans to start knocking on Downtown Mall doors in the coming weeks to gather signatures for his petition, which says vendor fees should be increased. He has already gathered a few from people walking by his restaurant.

LaBua will then present the petition to City Council, under the guidance of Downtown Business Association of Charlottesville Co-Chair George Benford, who says his organization is not taking a stance on the matter.

Hearing of the petition for the first time, several downtown vendors refused to comment, but mentioned that business has declined over the years and tighter restrictions on their operations have already been imposed.

“I couldn’t afford to do this if I had to pay more,” says Nym Pedersen, who sells original artwork in a shared assigned space in front of the fountain on the Downtown Mall.

While there are currently 17 assigned locations for vendors paying $250 per quarter, only 11 are actively rented, according to Engel. And 19 unassigned locations are filled by 10 nonprofit organizations, which pay $25 per year, and nine other vendors who pay $50 less per quarter than those who set up shop in an assigned location.

The city’s Commissioner of Revenue’s Office collects a $125 peddler’s license from vendors and says they should be collecting and remitting sales and use tax to the state, just like storefronts. The two food vendors, who declined to comment, must also pay the same monthly meals tax—5 percent of gross receipts—to the commissioner.

“For a lot of the vendors, this is their livelihood,” says Pedersen.

While Pedersen has largely sold his art on the weekends for the past three years, those walking down the mall on any given day will notice a scad of vendors offering colorful scarves, knit hats, sunglasses, jewelry and incense from morning until night.

Vendors don’t pay for amenities like water or electric because they don’t have the luxury of using their own restrooms—or even setting up in a dry space when the weather is bad, Pedersen says. Because the mall already caters to “big businesses that can stomach a lot of fees,” like chains such as CVS and Kilwins, Pedersen adds that Charlottesville is gradually losing its small-town feel.

“My own personal mission is to promote my work and to sell art that is affordable,” he says. “We provide a lot of flavor to the mall.”