Henry James once described New York as a city obsessed with motion, never pausing long enough to hold onto its past. Over a century later, that still feels true — but tucked away in corners of the city, some spaces resist change. The studios of long-departed artists are being preserved almost exactly as they were left.
One is the Cooper Square studio of Tom Wesselmann, a Pop Art painter who died in 2004. Known for blending advertising and consumer goods into his work, Wesselmann filled the space with canvases, sketches, and brushes. His widow Claire decided to keep it running after his death, with the same assistants working the same hours. The shelves still hold his cardboard maquettes, his gloves are marked “TW right” and “TW left,” and the paint-splattered floor remains untouched. Entering the studio feels like stepping directly into his process.
On the Upper West Side, the modernist painter Milton Avery’s apartment has been left much the same since his death in 1965. His wife, Sally, worked there for decades after, and now their daughter, March Avery, lives in the space at 92. The scratched floors, the original furniture, and even the old intercom system remain. The only thing that changes often are the Avery paintings on the walls, rotated like a private gallery.
New York isn’t known for protecting its history, but these preserved studios — whether Wesselmann’s downtown, Avery’s uptown, or Louise Bourgeois’s Chelsea townhouse — offer a rare glimpse into the daily lives of the city’s artists. They stand as living archives, grounding the work in the present and keeping the memory of creation alive.
For more information see M.H. Miller “What Happens to Artists’ Studios After They Die?” The New York Times, September 22, 2025.
Special thanks to Lewis Saret (Attorney, Washington, D.C.) for bringing this article to my attention.