Jean came to Commonwealth in 1978. I remember showing her the dim, hazily lit ceramics room. It was a mess: big, heavy, gray clumps of dry clay in dusty green trashcans, a few cumbersome kick wheels, and no tools—the previous teacher thought sticks were the only necessary apparatus. This petite woman had a big reaction—she was very indignant, as if someone had vandalized her own studio. Well, of course she was hired. The ceramics room got better, and Commonwealth School, if you can believe it, got even better. And I got better, because I had acquired a lifelong friend who has kept me smiling all these years.
Jean is an exceptional artist. Over the years she has been a ceramicist, a book maker, a producer of monoprints, a printmaker, a sculptor, and always a watercolorist—and always, of course, a teacher extraordinaire. She touches people with her work and with her hugely compassionate and witty being.
People walk in the school and ask, “Is Jean here?”, and if the answer is yes, they go off looking for her with a little smile. I have often seen someone come out of the ceramics room looking perplexed because they couldn’t find Jean. (They needed their Jean fix. She leaves in her wake cheered-up students, colleagues, and friends.)
Jean is always strikingly and creatively dressed; she is a walking painting, eye candy for the fashion world, commingling textures, fabrics colors, and accessories in enticing ways—a new hair cut or strange pair of sunglasses—she knows “just the right touch.” Recently she told me about a new manicurist, one of those shops, like “The New Nail Spa” that have lately popped up everywhere. But this one was special. It was called “Clay Nails”—they offer the “clay cure manicure” that Jean loves. I believe it is run by a wannabe ceramicist. I ran into Jean the other day just after she had had a manicure, and she very proudly showed me the arresting results and asked me take a picture, which I thought I would share with you all.
In the lingo of the '60s, like, man, Jean is far out awesome.
[Ed. Note: Rusty gathered thoughts on Jean from a few other people. While he could not include them in his remarks because of time constraints, he asked if we could include them here.]
Janetta Stringfellow: With Jean, it's not about the clay: her warmth, humor, and ability to laugh at herself create an atmosphere in her studio where anyone will tell their deepest secrets and wildest dreams. Personally, knowing Jean has been one of Commonwealth's greatest gifts to me, and I'm grateful every day to be counted among her friends."
Emily Botein '87: "A couple of weeks ago I came home and my boyfriend Will said, 'There is a message from your mother on the machine.' 'Really?' I asked. 'I just talked to her.' Will said, 'Yeah, she's there.' I played the message back. Who was it? My mother? No, it was Jean Segaloff. It was a mess-up that made me laugh -- and made sense. For more than 25 years, Jean has been a mother of sorts to me.
"Jean and I have shared food, death, a devotion to ugly shoes, and general silliness. I don't come back to Cambridge much, but I'm always happy to go to Jean's. Jean's is the Cambridge I like to remember—and thankfully, while I don't see her as much as I would like, I have one of her watercolors of a triple-decker upstairs and a print of pasta downstairs. Jean is always with me.
"And while I know her free time is happily spent in her studio, in the back of my head, I still think there is a radio host in Jean—with her voice, her inquisitive questions and her laugh, I can imagine her showing up as I turn the dial. We should all stay tuned for where Jean Segaloff appears next."
Jean is an exceptional artist. Over the years she has been a ceramicist, a book maker, a producer of monoprints, a printmaker, a sculptor, and always a watercolorist—and always, of course, a teacher extraordinaire. She touches people with her work and with her hugely compassionate and witty being.