Brandon began teaching herself to paint in 1960. She set out to depict a joyful and loving Black community—deliberately countering negative stereotypes. Her paintings blossom with bright colors and strong figures, often embracing, often surrounded by flowers.

“I experienced racism and segregated spaces in New York,” she said. “One memorable story: As a college student, I attempted to get a job wrapping gifts at Saks Fifth Avenue. I got the job but was surprised to find myself hidden away in the basement instead of on the shop floor where I could’ve accepted tips. I noticed there were no Black gift wrappers on the shop floor.”

Brandon was born in the Bronx and grew up in Washington Heights. In a racially and economically divided society she often found herself in-between: neither rich nor poor; Black, but not “Black enough” for some. This struggle shows up in the choices she makes with her art, where she always chooses a warm and flattering portrayal of her subjects. Her skin tones cover a broad spectrum including whimsical tinges of green, blue, and purple.

She is a fixture of the neighborhood, having made it her home since 1990. She can often be found strolling the streets with her leopard-print cane, fashionable shades, and a daring new hair color.

“Every day that I’m on the Upper West Side I’m so grateful,” she says, beaming.

After seeing Brandon’s paintings, I immediately knew I wanted to help curate a solo show. Our goals were to bring the community together to share in the important conversation about representation and the Black female perspective during international women’s month, find loving homes for her dazzling canvases, (alleviating some of the overflow at Nancy’s apartment), and honor our beloved neighborhood artist.

Her biggest regret and source of insecurity is that she never had formal training as a painter. She agonizes over the shape of hands or direction of eyes, and often paints the same detail over and over, never satisfied. But through this struggle, she finds grace, frequently working through the night due to her insomnia.

She loves jazz, but her first love is classical. You will often hear classical music blasting in Brandon’s place, as a panacea to sadness, and a successful attempt to ward off entropy. She formally studied the harp for 20-some years, but moved on from the instrument because while she enjoyed playing and practicing, she did not enjoy performing. She fondly remembers the matinees spent dancing at the legendary Savoy ballroom in her youth, a subject of one of her paintings. Art ended up being the thing that drives her the most to express her joy.

Nancy Brandon has been alive for 93 years, and a painter for 60. When I think of our friendship over the past year, in one sense I feel sad that I only met her now. In another sense she’s been a potent reminder to me that one should never underestimate older adults. Our friendship means so much to me because it shows me that one day I can strive to age as brilliantly as she has, living a life full of community, passion, and conviction.

“To do anything off the ‘grid’, you have to have courage,” she told me once. “In doing notable things, you will first hear people say ‘why are you doing this, what’s wrong with you?’ The key is to ignore them.”

Manon Manavit is the Manager of the Goddard Riverside Community Arts Program.