Legendary Philly artist Sam Maitin built a life and career at the University of the Arts. A nearly 50-year-old painting of his still adorns the northside stairwell of the former Gershman Y building, owned by UArts since 2000. The three-panel painting — with a 16-foot-long central piece and two 8-by-4-foot flanking paintings — bursts with vibrant colors.

After the sudden announcement of UArts’ closure, Maitin’s daughter, Ani, made a trip to the arts college to ensure her father’s work would be saved. She covered the triptych with sticky notes with her email and phone number. She left another Post-it with a more urgent message: “Anyone told to remove these artworks please contact me in advance. They require special handling.”

Former staff member Elisa Seeherman understood the urgency.

“It’s not just about the monetary value of these pieces, it’s about the historical value of them,” said Seeherman, who was the school’s director of career services. “He was a Philadelphia icon.”

Ani Maitin talked to Seeherman, UArts Board members, and a representative from the company handling the closing of UArts, and was told she could take custody of the paintings. Still, much like the fate of the students, faculty and staff of UArts, the future of Maitin’s work — and that of many other pieces in the UArts system — remains up in the air.

Seeherman said it would take a crew to remove Maitin’s painting from the building, most recently home to the UArts’ Student Center and Lightbox Film Center. The biggest issue, she said, is finding a place that will properly restore and house the slightly abraded artwork.

“These pieces are huge and won’t fit into most homes,” Seeherman said. “It’s complicated. And that’s probably why the former Gershman Y people left them in the building after they left.”

Sam Maitin: Mayor of the Arts

Sam Maitin was born in 1928 above a grocery store run by his Russian Jewish immigrant parents in North Philadelphia.

After graduating from Simon Gratz High School at age 16, he won a citywide art scholarship to the Philadelphia Museum School of Industrial Arts, now known as UArts. He simultaneously attended the University of Pennsylvania, and would later go on to teach at both schools and the Moore College of Art and Fleisher Art Memorial. He died in 2004.

“His work is an important piece of Philadelphia. But whether or not people loved his work, he was recognized as an endlessly generous person who did so much for other people and organizations,” Ani Maitin said. “It’s an incredible gift to manage his work. ”

The “Mayor of the Arts” — as Maitin was often called — was connected to the Gershman Y through his involvement with the center’s Y Arts Council. He was the in-house designer during the 1960s, working with figures like Joan Kron, Audrey Sabol, and others to promote the Arts Council’s visual, literary, and performing arts programs.

He was commissioned to create a set of paintings for the building’s lobby, and the result was the vibrant three-panel painting adorned with a Hebrew message that represented the mission he and the culture center shared.

The Hebrew phrase “Al tafrosh min hatzibur” translates to “Do not separate yourself from the community.” The painting also contains “Simcha” and “Sasson,” which translates to “joy” and “happiness.”

“I think the message still translates today,” said Craig Stover, Maitin’s former studio assistant and longtime friend. “If UArts made it their mission, their closure may not have happened.”

When the painting was unveiled in the early 1970s, Ani Maitin was only in preschool. But she remembers how it enlivened the Jewish family center, even as the building took on other iterations. “It felt very much like home to me when I was a kid,” she said.

An uncertain future

On Monday, Ani Maitin received a phone call from Alvarez & Marsal, the company tasked with managing and liquidating UArts properties after its closure. Though the consulting firm didn’t respond to The Inquirer’s queries, it informed Maitin that she or anyone from her family could come take Sam Maitin’s artwork from the building.

“Given the circumstances, I’m now feeling more reassured that the company is making efforts to handle things thoughtfully,” she said. “It’s all definitely an unexpected and time-consuming part of caring for my dad’s work and legacy.”

Ani Maitin said she’s scouting for nearby preservation sites and hopes to find a place to house the paintings soon. Her trip to UArts, however, opened her eyes to another glaring problem: No one knows what’s happening to other artists’ works displayed on campus.

“It was clear to me it wasn’t just about my dad’s artwork,” she said. “I felt like I was channeling my dad because he was such an activist. He taught me when you do something, you do it to uplift others too. Don’t just do things to support yourself.”

Based on their phone call, Ani Maitin said Alvarez & Marsal intends “to take their time to deaccession” the other works on UArts campus. This process involves the removal of artwork from an institution’s collection in order to sell or dispose of it. But no further details were provided, she said.

UArts faculty and staff can submit access requests to retrieve their personal items from university buildings, but it’s unclear whether the families of artists are given the same courtesy — or what will happen to artworks that don’t have family advocates like Ani Maitin.

An art piece has slipped through the cracks before, Seeherman said.

In June 2022, Seeherman said, she held a meeting to express concern for a sculpture named A Woman of Courage by Gladys Barry, a donation that had been in the Gershman Hall foyer since 1979.

With a new lobby construction set to begin, she was worried the sculpture would get damaged or misplaced. And when the construction project was completed in 2023, her fears were proven right — the sculpture was missing.

Seeherman is hopeful that outcome can be avoided this time around, citing the work of Ani Maitin and what others are doing to advocate for artists’ work on UArts campus.

“I wish [the art] could find a home where it can be appreciated for the art it is. Whether it’s in a museum, a private collection, or goes back to any of the families connected to it,” she said.

“UArts may have closed, but we’re still a community.”

– The Philadelphia Inquirer