Paschón An artist by the name of Paschón burst onto the American art scene in the early 1970’s.

Paschón

UPDATE: Since posting the original message, we have received a picture of the only known Paschón original. The authenticity has been verified by two individuals who attended the showing in Hawaii. We welcome your comments.

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Sheri and John - Kansas City, MO

It was an interesting evening in the Spring of 1972. I know for certain it was 1972 because I was pregnant and my daughter Karli was born in the fall. Funny talking about spring and fall in Hawaii since there’s not much difference—in paradise the weather is almost always beautiful!

After the showcase the tale about the pilots was floating around, although I never heard or don’t remember the details as recalled by Margaret. I do agree with her that although the fighter pilots were a pretty lively bunch, the idea of them (or anyone, really) pulling off this extravagant caper is hard to imagine . . . not impossible, but improbable.

I will offer another interesting, yet heartbreaking version which in my mind has a little more credibility, based partially on a background of Paschόn read that evening by a gentleman who, I presume, was hosting the event.

I offer this as a 40 year old fond memory whose shine has been dimmed by the years. Many of the details have slipped away but the glow of that evening and subsequent events still burns bright. My husband, and another couple who have been dear friends since Hawaii, helped fill in the blanks.

Paschόn supposedly was from a small village in the Côte D’Azur region in southern France, possibly Menton or Fréjus and St. Raphaël along the coast. He became somewhat of a young art prodigy along with a passion for solo sailing in the Mediterranean. These two solitary pursuits were to the exclusion of most others, including, like a lot of eccentric artists, the desire for close friendships or activities which required interaction with others.

After high school he enrolled in the Sorbonne to study art, two of his heroes being Picasso and the Spaniard Salvador Dali. Somewhere in this four or five year period he changed, altered, or shortened his name to Paschόn, the consequence being there is practically no information on the web about his early personal or professional life.

One interesting fact we recall is that he roomed in college with a student from the U.S. who was spending his junior year abroad. The two became close friends on improbable separate tracks; one a French middle class beret wearing long haired, Left Bank, liberal intellectual conscientious objecting anti-establishment agnostic starving artist. His roommate was an American upper class short haired clean shaven conservative WASP patriotic team sports oriented fighter pilot wannabe from a prominent East Coast family.

After college Paschόn’s career was on the rise but he knew France would be a long hard pull. He also knew the U.S. was where the fame and big money was if he could combine his prodigious talent, ambition and hard work with a lucky break. So he put his rather unconventional beliefs and appearance on the shelf (like a lot of college kids from the sixties we could “scrub up” pretty good when it came time to make a living!). He contacted his former roommate to see if his family, in the antiquities business in the northeast, perhaps New York or Boston, could help him.

Unbeknownst to Paschόn his good friend was now in Hawaii flying fighters out of the Kaneohe Marine Base. As a first step his former roommate offered to arrange a showing on short notice as he was heading to Viet Nam as soon as orders arrived.

So Paschόn made his first visit to Hawaii with a handful of paintings (maybe ten, give or take) for the showing and some sailing afterward.

Here is where the story gets a little murky.

After the showing Paschόn gave his former roommate a painting as a gift for his help, then boarded a sailboat for a trip to the outer islands, perhaps to the Big Island of Hawaii via Molokai and Maui. Somewhere on this trip, possibly crossing the Alenuiha’ha Channel (pronounced “isle end you ha-ha”), something happened. Between Haleakala on Maui and Mauna Kea on the Big Island is recognized as one of the most dangerous crossings in the world.

When the boat did not arrive on the Big Island several days later a search was conducted by the Navy from Pearl Harbor. Some debris was identified, but no survivors. There was scant coverage of this as people from all over the world were sailing into and out of numerous locations in the islands, and unfortunately accidents were not uncommon. My husband and I sail and we had to remind ourselves that the beautiful, but terribly unforgiving Pacific Ocean was a hundred yards off Waikiki.

If all this is not enough to process, the fighter pilot roommate was reportedly shot down in Viet Nam and never rescued.

My husband was in the Marine Corps (not a pilot) and we were transferred shortly after the showing back to the states and separated from the service. Except for a few phone conversations and now emails that usually include, “I wonder whatever happened to . . . . “ this bittersweet memory has lain dormant for all these years.

To use the now ubiquitous term “connecting the dots” I will take some extreme literary license (a little already taken I must admit) and give some wild conjecture on what I think happened—my husband and friends abstaining!

Here goes: the paintings were on the boat and lost. His roommate had the only surviving one. After the pilot was lost in Viet Nam the painting, along with his other personal effects, were sent to his family back East. They sat undisturbed all these years until someone, possibly a pilot friend who knew some of this story, serendipitously happened to meet a family member and together started putting pieces of the puzzle together. The family, for personal reasons that perhaps I can understand, wanted to remain anonymous, but now has decided to disclose the existence of this one painting.

Big disclaimer follows: I have absolutely no proof of any of this whatsoever. In the absence of facts to the contrary it just seems to fit. My husband and friends think I have od’d on coconut daiquaris!

After reading over this way too long epistle, maybe they are right and the inebriated fighter pilot story makes more sense. Or, maybe Paschόn flew out of Honolulu the next day coach class direct to Marseilles, took back his real name and is now retired Professeur D’Art Jean Claude Papillon. As he looks out from his balcony in beautiful Saint-Tropez, drinking Pouilly-Fouissé and painting seascapes of the magnificent Mediterranean, there is no doubt he is laughing himself silly at this wild goose chase.

But I don’t think so. This 40 year void is perplexing but we are thrilled Paschόn has been reincarnated. I will never forget that special evening and I can identify that painting in my sleep . . . it was my favorite!

Paschón

An artist by the name of Paschón burst onto the American art scene in the early 1970’s. Eight heretofore unseen paintings were introduced at a private showing to approximately 40 people in a personal residence on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. The unusual and thought provoking pieces garnered rave reviews from those fortunate enough to have been invited to the only known showing of Paschón’s remarkable works.

Just as unusual as the art, Paschón and the art pieces disappeared. It is believed that there is possibly only one painting whose whereabouts is known and that it is for sale through unknown channels for an unusually large sum of money.

It appears there is something of a cult following by a small group of art enthusiasts that have maintained a veil of secrecy surrounding the artist.

I am seeking information on the artist Paschón, Paschón's whereabouts if still living, the location of the one known remaining painting, who has possession, and the possibility of the existence of the other seven pieces, especially the one entitled "Circus Circus."

Please respond to paschon@paschon.org