In November 1970, Argentine abstract artist Roberto Pignataro held his first international exhibition at the Miami Museum of Modern Art in the United States.
This article originally set out to explore the origins and career impact of this event; however, it inadvertently uncovered a different story: the gripping saga of two men from distant corners of the globe, Roberto Pignataro and Bernard Davis, striving to organize an international art show as they grapple with the fallout from a very unexpected catastrophic incident.
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Introduction: From Local to Global Art Scene
July 1964. Roberto Pignataro’s exhibition at Salon J. Peuser in Buenos Aires, AR
By the year 1969, Roberto Pignataro had developed a well-established presence within the Argentine art scene, with a 12-year trajectory, nineteen solo exhibitions, participation in three collective shows, and the publication of an art book.
While he largely operated outside the mainstream spotlight, his consistency and contributions to Argentine informalism had not gone unnoticed, garnering him manifest respect among art critics and peers.
However, he had long desired to expand awareness of his work beyond the local art circles. Since 1965, he’d been actively promoting his artistic brand on the international stage, periodically mailing color slides of his artwork to art institutions worldwide, including museums, universities, magazines, and galleries in the US, Europe, Asia and Latin America.
In the early days of October 1969, his persistence paid off, as a reply letter arrived in the mail from Mr. Bernard Davis, the then-president of the Miami Museum of Modern Art, discussing the possibility of an exhibition.
Mr. Davis’ letter represented the breakthrough opportunity Pignataro had long awaited—a chance to showcase his artistic vision to international audiences.
Unbeknownst to Pignataro, however, it would also mark the beginning of a long, testing journey spanning three years, during which he and Bernard Davis would find themselves entangled in a series of unforeseen circumstances, which would persistently test their resolve and ultimately reshape the fate of the exhibition.
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Navigating Challenges
The opportunity to host an art exhibition abroad can be an exhilarating experience for any artist, opening doors to connect with new audiences and fellow artists, and hopefully leaving a lasting impression across geographical boundaries.
However, it is not without its challenges.
Pignataro's Artwork Crate Bound for New Orleans
March 25, 1970. Photo by Roberto Pignataro at the Buenos Aires docks
The prospect of shipping artwork to distant regions of the world can be daunting, involving expensive shipping, complex logistics, and other taxing operations such as obtaining permits, insurance, clearing customs, artwork-handling, and potentially managing the return—all while navigating language barriers and other cultural nuances.
Roberto Pignataro’s 1970 exhibition at the Miami MoMA was no exception, with a few added peculiarities:
Despite Pignataro's lack of experience in international events, Mr. Bernard Davis requested in his letter that he assume full responsibility for transporting the artwork both ways. Notably, Davis did not offer any guidance or assistance with shipping logistics, an oversight that would later prove consequential in this story.
Pignataro’s wife had recently become pregnant with their first child. Therefore, he faced the prospect of having to organize this event remotely from his hometown of Buenos Aires, as impending parenthood now prevented him from traveling.
Adding to the challenges, Pignataro had a full-time job at the Argentine Central Bank, an obligation which left him with limited personal time to focus on what could potentially become a demanding endeavor.
In light of these circumstances, I began researching this story with one main question in mind: how did he even pull it off?
Mind you, It wasn’t just the vast geographical distance between Buenos Aires and Miami what made me wonder; there were other more idiosyncratic factors at play I simply couldn’t ignore, such as the archaic state of 1960s global telecommunications, the language barrier, grappling with the notoriously Kafkaesque Argentine bureaucracy, and the economic disparities between the two countries.
Fortunately, I was able to uncover answers within Pignataro’s career records, which, to my surprise, ended up revealing quite a different story than initially anticipated. Please bear with me as I compile my findings and provide essential context in the following sections.
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The Miami MoMA Files
Brochure for Pignataro’s 1970 exhibition at the Miami Museum of Modern Art
Roberto Pignataro was a meticulous record-keeper. He documented every step of his three-decade-long career, including photos and slides, letters, newspaper clips, brochures, personal notes, receipts and invoices, etc. This is why I am now able to reconstruct the Miami exhibition story, and do so with a level of detail and first-person perspective that would otherwise be impossible to achieve.
Of course, record-keeping in the 1960s and 1970s was not a gratuitous effort; in a pre-internet world, it was essential to proving one's career, especially in the eyes of art critics, gallery owners, or anyone who showed an interest in your work. For this reason, Pignataro maintained files for every show he held, neatly organized and ready for presentation.
Roberto Pignataro’s 1970 Miami MoMA files
What caught my eye about the Miami MoMA files in particular was the sheer amount of records he kept in it—three hefty ledger binders filled to the brim with documents and written correspondence.
No other exhibition file amounted to this much volume, let alone in postal communications. What could possibly justify such extensive exchange between Pignataro and the Miami MoMA?
While this intrigued me greatly, I still resisted delving into the files for many years, partly because I was focused on other projects, but also assuming that, in the end, they would yield nothing but a mundane compilation of carbon-copied formalities and bureaucratic documents guaranteed to bore me senseless in no time.
It was in 2014 when I finally reached for the binders. I was bedridden due to a back injury and looking for things to occupy my mind with, and I thought “why not?”. To my surprise, I quickly became engrossed by the unfolding story, especially as things kept taking unexpected turns.
In the section below, I will chronicle all my findings, commencing with Bernard Davis’s letter from September 30th, 1969, followed by Pignataro’s long, troubled journey to realizing the show, and concluding with the paintings returning home on June 4th, 1971.
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About Bernard Davis
Bernard Davis (right) at the National Philatelic Museum in Philadelphia. Oct 1950.
Allow me to take a moment to further introduce Mr. Bernard Davis, the intriguing gentleman from Miami who plays a pivotal role in this story.
Mr. Davis was primarily known as an eccentric millionaire, art collector and philanthropist who owned and presided over the Miami Museum of Modern Art from 1962 until his death in 1973.
Born in Ukraine in 1893, he emigrated to Philadelphia in 1913 where he launched several successful ventures within the textile industry and also became an avid art collector. He served as the director of the National Philatelic Museum in Philadelphia during the 1950s, before moving to Florida where he founded the Miami MoMA.
Beyond these basic facts, there isn’t much additional information about him online. What I did learn is that he had a penchant for supporting lesser-known artists who otherwise lacked opportunities to showcase their work. This likely explains his interest in hosting Roberto Pignataro’s show. He is especially remembered for his patronage of Purvis Young, a celebrated Miami artist whose work he actively supported and promoted.
Everything else I have read about Bernard Davis paints a picture of an art-loving man, with a larger-than-life personality whose open-minded approach to art turned his Museum into a vibrant, all-embracing hub for the Miami art community during the 1960s.
The mansion at 2010 North Bayshore Dr. that served as the home for the Miami Museum of Modern Art from 1962 to 1973. Source
With that said, the story I’m about to tell may not always present Mr. Davis in the best light. Some of his actions, as understood from his correspondence with Roberto Pignataro, may at times appear puzzling and even invite critical interpretations.
However, regardless of my views on how Mr. Davis may have handled certain situations, I want to establish that I sincerely believe he was a well-meaning gentleman who loved art and genuinely wanted to help Roberto Pignataro achieve a successful show at his museum.
This story is not about judging anyone’s character, but rather chronicling how the technological limitations of this era so drastically hindered the best efforts and intentions of two men in distant countries trying to bring an international art show to life.
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About The Mail Exchange
Between September 1969 and June 1971, Roberto Pignataro and Bernard Davis exchanged hundreds of letters, documents and telegrams, all within the context of organizing Pignataro’s international art show at the Miami MoMA.
I’ve long pondered the best format to present such extensive exchange without turning this article into a book-length piece. I have concluded that there is no easy way to do so, nor should there be.
The story is long because so much transpired. Over-summarizing would do a disservice to a narrative that derives its richness from the constant stream of circumstances that the protagonists had to contend with, both big and small.
In the end, I chose a chronological structure and divided it into thematic sections for easier reading, with each section presenting a digest of the key events and developments, and occasionally including some personal notes.
I must note, however, that a recurring issue Pignataro and Davis experienced during their exchanges was the unreliability of the postal service. Mail was often delayed or outright lost, leading to significant conversation lags and causing their correspondence to become disjointed. Therefore, maintaining a strict but coherent chronological order of events proved challenging at times. In such cases, I resorted to more generalized summaries to avoid overcomplicating the timeline.
Let’s the journey begin.
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Chapter I: Setting the Stage
Sep 30, 1969 - Feb 5, 1970
During this initial timeframe, we observe Pignataro and Davis exchange their first letters—about a dozen in total. Following introductions and pleasantries, they quickly delved into organizing an exhibition. Below are some highlights of this early exchange:
On the day of September 30th, 1969, Pignataro receives the first letter from Mr. Bernard Davis discussing a potential exhibition at the Miami MoMA.
They discuss a tentative timeframe for the show between March and April of 1970. The production of a brochure becomes central in their conversation.
They experience the first hiccups with the postal service, with mail delivery delays resulting in communication lag. They pull through.
Upon learning that Pignataro is a non-profit artist who creates art mainly for personal enjoyment, Davis expresses concern about the financial strain an exhibition in the U.S.A. may impose on him if he doesn’t consider artwork sales. Pignataro dismisses Davis’s concerns and insists he will absorb all pertinent costs nonetheless.
By late January 1970, almost four months into the exchange, Pignataro’s anxiety grows as Mr. Davis continues to avoid confirming the proposed exhibition date. With the possibility of a March show still looming, Davis seems unaware of the lengthy bureaucratic processes Pignataro would soon need to initiate—permits, insurance, customs clearance, and more—to meet a fast-approaching deadline.
On February 5th, 1970, Pignataro breathes a sigh of relief as they finally agree on May for the exhibition. With this decision, he gains some much-needed breathing room and can now safely begin the necessary bureaucratic processes for exporting the artwork.
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Chapter II: Preparing for the Journey
During this timeframe, we see Pignataro and Davis solidify their relationship as they both gear up for a May 1970 show. Pignataro begins planning logistics for the artwork’s transportation to Miami. The future looks bright.
1970. Pignataro’s personal notes tracking progress of permit paperwork
Feb 5, 1970
Pignataro files for export permits with the two required government agencies: the Argentine Customs and the Argentine Secretary of Culture.
Note: It's worth mentioning that the Argentine government at the time demanded all artwork leaving the country on temporary permits be returned within 180 days or face strict penalties. The seriousness of these regulations was such that personal property had to be pledged as collateral. In this case, Pignataro had to pledge his apartment.
Feb 17, 1970
Pignataro airmails a copy of his artistic book 'A Través de Estampas' to Bernard Davis, including photos of his previous artwork and a three-page letter introducing Davis to elements of his creative process and artistic philosophy. Davis praises his work.
Pignataro shares with Davis that he’s considering other exhibition offers in the USA following the Miami MoMA show, but hesitates due to the 180-day limit on his export permit, which severely constrains the idea of a traveling show.
He also laments being unable to travel to Miami to attend his own show, citing financial constraints and other personal matters (impending first baby).
Feb 18, 1970
Pignataro submits the artwork for the exhibition brochure's front cover. Davis is pleased, gears up for printing.
Feb 20, 1970
Davis kindly volunteers to assist Pignataro if a traveling show in the US were to materialize, offering to forward the artwork to other museums and help with promotion.
Davis offers to write a foreword for the brochure of Pignataro’s show. However, Pignataro, adhering to his artistic principles, kindly declines, preferring the artwork to speak for itself.
Communication disruptions persist due mail delivery delays, this time impacting discussions on brochure expenses, cover design and other matters.
Mar 3, 1970
Pignataro gets the export permits approved and begins considering transportation options. He weighs air shipping versus marine shipping—a decision that will soon prove consequential.
Davis expresses gratitude, commending Pignataro for shouldering the burden of translation in their correspondence. He requests copies of any art critiques from previous shows. Pignataro agrees, but declines to translate the critiques, citing such task would require time and a level of English proficiency he lacks.
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Interlude: About the Artwork
As we see the show gradually take shape in the timeline, what can we expect from the artwork itself? What types of pieces will Roberto Pignataro be unveiling to the audiences at Miami MoMA?
The period between the mid 1960s and early 1970s in Pignataro's career was marked by his exploration of intricate three-dimensional abstraction. His compositions typically incorporated micro-sculpting techniques with oil paint, assemblage, and mixed media. What emerged from this period was particularly defining of his artistic identity, and I believe that, under normal circumstances, is what he would have showcased on the international stage.
Two Paintings Featuring Pignataro's Micro-Sculpting Techniques with Oil Paint
Photo by Roberto Pignataro, 1970, Galeria Lirolay, Buenos Aires, AR
However, he understood well the perils of shipping such delicate objects across the world, so he decided to take a more practical approach, opting for producing collages instead—a medium that he also greatly enjoyed.
The lightweight nature of collages would allow him to send multiple pieces to the museum—twenty five total—while minimizing the risk of transportation damage and reducing shipping costs and complexity.
The intricacies of long-distance transportation influenced other aspects of his creative process as well. For instance, he realized that framing the collages to uniform dimensions would be important factor to facilitate packing and handling, allowing for a practical, stackable arrangement within the shipping crate.
To this end, he personally designed and hand-crafted all twenty-five frames, using standard lumber from the hardware store. He meticulously cut each piece to specs and assembled them securely with steel nails to withstand heavy handling.
Roberto Pignataro's handmade frames
To enhance their visual appeal and durability, Pignataro finished each frame with a coat of epoxy, which he later molded into ridges and honeycomb patterns by pressing household objects into the resin, such as forks, combs and knives. Lastly, he he painted the front faces and lips of the frames in varying shades of gold and dark magentas, with the sides sporting a blueish shade of dark gray.
As for the artwork itself, he employed a familiar technique: producing randomly torn and cut pieces of paper, mostly from stocks he had previously treated with oil paint, then assembling the pieces into backgrounds and motifs through various layered arrangements.
"Obra C.O. 372"
by Roberto Pignataro, 1969.
While the overall color palettes in this collection are quite subdued—predominantly earth tones and muted shades—Pignataro introduces bursts of vibrant colors such as reds, oranges, and yellows to create focal points within each piece. The gallery below showcases this. It must be noted, however, that the collages have been photographed frameless, as the frames were undergoing routine conservation work at the time of this writing.
Following his artistic principles, he chose not to give the collages descriptive titles. This approach emphasizes his belief that interpretations should derived not from the artist’s intent but from what the visual narratives evoke in the audience.
Curiously, Pignataro signed and dated all the collages. This was a very rare for him at this stage of his career, where he’d long quit signing his artwork to minimize distractions in the viewer’s interaction with the artwork. I suspect he made the exception exclusively to sidestep issues with the overly distrustful Argentine Customs bureaucracy, which might have raised questions about ownership had the works been unsigned.
Another notable aspect of the artwork's production involved the mats. Consistent with his hands-on approach to the entire project, he crafted all twenty five mats himself. He chose lauan plywood sheets over paper-based mats to add further structural integrity to the frames during shipping. He cut each sheet to size with a hand saw, both outside and the inner openings, and finished the surfaces with off-white paint. Lastly, he enhanced the openings with a layer of gold epoxy similar to the frames.
Unfortunately many of the these plywood mats warped over time and had other issues, generally failing to provide a safe environment for preserving the artwork. After consulting with a conservator, we've decided to replace them with modern conservation-grade alternatives.
Lastly, given that the artwork is dated 1969, this suggests that the creation of both the artworks and their frames occurred sometime between early October and late December of that year.
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Chapter III: Setting Sail on Troubled Waters
During this timeframe, communication pains between Davis and Pignataro only grow as mail consistently arrives late or goes missing. They power through it nonetheless. Meanwhile, Pignataro manages to arrange the artwork's transportation, but some key logistical decisions will prove highly consequential in the days ahead.
Mar 11, 1970
Pignataro opts for maritime shipping over air, primarily due to a union strike in Argentina threatening cargo operations at airline carriers, but also due to budgetary reasons. He goes with a company named ‘Empresa Lineas Marítimas Argentinas’, or E.L.M.A.
Note: for the reader's context, it's important to note that E.L.M.A also had a US subsidiary named "Argentine Lines Cosmopolitan Shipping Company," as both names will often come up in this story. Additionally, a second company named Strachan Shipping Co. will later come into play as a freight handler contractor working for E.L.M.A. in the US
Pignataro secures artwork insurance with a company called Capital Insurance.
For reasons that will become clear later, Pignataro selects New Orleans as the destination port, assuming the artwork case can be easily forwarded to Miami from there. Davis is not yet aware of this choice.
Mar 25, 1970
Pignataro's artwork case, containing 25 framed collages, is loaded onto an E.L.M.A freighter named "Naviero" Pignataro documents the stowage process with his photo camera.
Mar 26, 1970
The 'Naviero’ freighter sets sail with the artwork case. It is expected to make several stop in South and Central America before reaching New Orleans, including the ports of Santos (Brazil), Rio de Janeiro (Brazil), Paranagua (Brazil), and La Guaira (Venezuela).
Bernard Davis airmails a mock-up of the exhibition brochure to Pignataro for final approval. He insists that Pignataro provides them with translated critiques of his work, even if they are rudimentary, as Davis can refine the translations later.
Recognizing that Pignataro is facing tight deadlines, Davis suggests postponing the May show to June. However, Pignataro insists on sticking to May, citing concerns that June may be an off-season month for art shows. He emphasizes that, given the significant financial and personal effort he is investing in this exhibition, he wants to ensure it garners the highest possible attendance.
Pignataro laments the constant problems with postal mail, as losses and delays persist, but notifies Davis of the good news that the artwork has been shipped, expecting to arrive in New Orleans on April 20th.
Additionally, he asks Davis if he can assist with trans-shipping the artwork case from New Orleans to Miami, committing to cover all associated costs.
Upon Davis’ insistence, Pignataro goes above and beyond and translates nine different critiques and mentions of his work However, he remains firm in his position that he doesn’t want them featured on the brochure.
Pignataro begins tracking the cargo daily in the newspapers as the 'Naviero E.L.M.A.’ ship moves up the Atlantic coast.
Newspaper clip detailing tracking of Naviero E.L.M.A. as it sets off from Buenos Aires for Tampico.
Diario ‘La Prensa’, 1970. ‘Navegación Marítima, Fluvial y Aérea’. March 28, p. 9, third section.
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Chapter IV: A Storm Brews
During this timeframe, we observe the ‘Naviero’ freighter making its way along the Atlantic coast towards New Orleans, but earlier logistical choices by Pignataro begin to manifest as unwelcome inconveniences for Davis. The situation rapidly deteriorates as the cargo handlers commit a baffling act of negligence, leaving the exhibition's fate hanging in the balance.
March 25th, 1970. Roberto Pignataro stands by the "Naviero" vessel at the Buenos Aires port, the day before its departure to New Orleans.
Mar 31, 1970
‘Naviero’ arrives at the port of Paranagua, Brazil
Apr 1, 1970
‘Naviero’ arrives at the port of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Apr 3 , 1970
Pignataro informs Davis that ‘Naviero’ has reached Rio de Janeiro and attaches a copy of the bill of lading to facilitate collection at the New Orleans port.
Due to ongoing issues with postal mail, Pignataro begins producing three copies of every letter he writes. He dispatches each through different carriers, hoping at least one will reach its destination.
Apr 7, 1970
Davis sends Pignataro two letters on this day
In his first letter, Davis confirms he received the bill of lading and states:
“we feel confident to handle the situation when the shipment arrives” but needs information “as to who is to be contacted in New Orleans to have the shipment forwarded to Miami.”
Davis oddly claims Pignataro never sent them the artwork specifications, despite Pignataro having provided such information on two occasions including photos (Dec 17th, 1969 and Feb 17th, 1970). In a somewhat contradictory statement, Davis also mentions struggling to translate the artwork dimensions from metric to imperial.
In his second letter, Davis realizes that the bill of lading doesn’t specify the Museum's address in Miami and worries this oversight could jeopardize the cargo delivery. He sends a heads-up letter to the New Orleans port authority, requesting assistance and to be notified upon the cargo's arrival.
Apr 9, 1970
Pignataro telegrams Davis, providing insurance information in case of cargo damage. He also informs Davis that the artwork is expected to arrive in New Orleans on Monday, April 20th.
Apr 13, 1970
‘Naviero’ arrives at the port of La Guaira in Venezuela
Apr 15, 1970
Pignataro informs Davis that the shipment is ahead of schedule, now anticipated to arrive in New Orleans on Saturday, April 18th. He apologizes for the Museum having to manage the trans-shipping to Miami, but explains, without further elaboration, that his options were constrained. He insists he will absorb all associated costs.
Apr 15, 1970
Pignataro asks Davis to send him copies of the exhibition brochure for promotional distribution in Argentina. Additionally, he provides Davis with another copy of the artwork specifications, including translated measurements from metric to inches.
Apr 16, 1970
Pignataro telegrams Davis the contact information for the Strachan Shipping Company—the cargo handlers in New Orleans.
Apr 18, 1970
The ‘Naviero’ freighter arrives at the port of New Orleans, USA
Apr 21, 1970
Three days after the ship’s arrival, a frustrated Davis jolts Pignataro with a harsh letter:
“you have made very serious error by sending the comparatively small package to New Orleans when the cheapest thing would be to send it direct to Miami, and probably due to the smallness of it, by air. (…) We have spent a fortune of time and money telephoning long distance to try to get the stuff out of the customs”.
Additionally, Davis demands $75 dollars from Pignataro, stating he must now engage a custom broker to help with the situation.
Apr 22, 1970
Still unaware of this development, Pignataro sends an invitation letter to the Argentine consulate in Miami for the show’s opening on May 5th.
Apr 24, 1970
On this day, Davis sends out two letters: one to Pignataro and another to the Strachan Shipping Company.
In his first letter, Davis criticizes Pignataro's logistical choice once again. He also reveals very alarming news:
“We have already written to you telling you we have been terribly upset about the shipment being sent to New Orleans instead of Miami” and “they tell us that the NAVEIRO has no shipment of the box on it. Did you deliver the shipment personally to the ship or have you a receipt from the ship?”
In his second letter, Davis alerts the manager of the Strachan Shipping Co. that Pignataro's artwork has been misdirected to another city, as discovered by his customs agent. He demands that “the cargo be instituted at once”, underscoring the imminent exhibition.
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Chapter V: Navigating the Storm
After the initial shock, Pignataro and Davis promptly get to work locating the missing artwork case. Tension and frustration grow between them as they grapple with a very bewildering situation, facing the prospect of having to cancel the exhibition just days before its scheduled opening.
Apr 29, 1970
Pignataro receives the two alarming letters from Davis from April 22 and 24, learning for the first time that the artwork is lost. He immediately reports the incident to E.L.M.A., demanding a prompt resolution. He wires the $75 requested by Davis without delay.
May 1, 1970
On this day, Davis sends out two letters to Pignataro.
In his first letter, Davis softens his tone towards Pignataro:
“We cannot blame you for anything. Evidently you delivered the case, received proper documents, but the case was not loaded on the ship. It might still be in Buenos Aires for all we know.”
Note: Contrary to Davis’ assumption, the paintings did make it onto the cargo ship, as proven by Pignataro's photographic documentation.
In his second letter, Davis delivers more bad news to Pignataro:
”… according to Strachan Shipping Co., they have contacted the operator of the ship "Naveiro" and have been advised that the painting is not aboard the vessel. Strachan has also contacted various other ports that the paintings may have been discharged at but with no luck”
May 2, 1970
Pignataro telegrams E.L.M.A demanding an urgent solution and citing grave damages to his show.
Pignataro obtains the vessel’s full itinerary from E.L.M.A, revealing all the stops it made, with the last one being on May 4th at the port of Veracruz, Mexico. An interesting footnote on the itinerary indicates the Veracruz port was undergoing a worker strike.
May 5, 1970
May 5th was the intended opening day for the show. It was, unfortunately, thwarted by the disastrous circumstances with E.L.M.A.
Pignataro responds to Davis's distress letters from April 22nd and April 24th.
First, he questions Davis's choice of using post mail to alert him of the missing cargo instead of telegram, underscoring how nearly five working days were squandered that could otherwise have been spent resolving the issue (Davis's letters only reached him on April 29th).
Pignataro also defends himself, asserting that maritime shipping to New Orleans was not an arbitrary choice but was compelled by a series of constraining factors, which he outlines:
Contrary to Davis's claim, the artwork case was neither small nor light, making the cost of air shipping to Miami significantly more expensive.
Even if he had opted for air mail, ‘Aerolineas Argentinas’, the flag carrier airline of Argentina, was undergoing a worker strike, threatening to spread to other carriers. This made air a riskier option.
During his logistical planning, the United States was in the midst of the Great Postal Strike of 1970. This, coupled with an already dysfunctional postal service, dissuaded Pignataro from even seeking Davis’s advice, knowing post mail communications would only further delay time-sensitive decisions.
May 5, 1970
Davis informs Pignataro he is “postponing proceeding” with the brochure until the artwork is found. Davis begs Pignataro to “do his share” in locating the paintings, unaware that he was already moving heaven and earth.
May 6, 1970
Pignataro officially reports the cargo incident to his insurance company.
May 7, 1970
Davis scolds Pignataro on his May 5th review of the situation:
“You reviewed the situation of your shipment but it is all of no consequence whatsoever. They have received no shipment from you in New Orleans. Whether there are strikes or not in the United States has nothing to do with the fact the ship NAVEIRO, on which you are supposed to load your paintings, did not have the shipment on board.”
Note: Davis, understandably upset, is unaware that Pignataro did load the paintings onto the “Naviero” ship, as documented by his photographies.
Davis reports that, despite extensive checks by his custom broker, no evidence has been found of the artwork case being on the ship. Consequently, he decides to halt the brochure printing and cancel the exhibition.
He leaves the possibility open for a later show if the artwork is recovered and advises Pignataro of his potential legal case against the E.L.M.A.
May 8, 1970
Pignataro telegrams Davis some good news: the artwork has been found at the port of Veracruz in Mexico and it is now set to be redirected to Miami. Pignataro breathes in great relief.
•••
Now that the artwork case has been located, let’s conclude this chapter by addressing the most baffling question of this whole situation: how did it go missing in the first place?
Naviero's full itinerary, as obtained by Pignataro on May 2nd, 1970.
As it turns out, the Naviero's full itinerary holds the answer. This document revealed:
Naviero reached New Orleans on April 18th, which we knew from Pignataro’s communications with Davis
Its final stop was set for Veracruz, Mexico, with estimated arrival date of May 5th
The artwork was found in Veracruz around May 8th
From this information, we can reasonably infer that the box was never offloaded in New Orleans. Instead, it was inadvertently left onboard and continued traveling all the way to Mexico.
Additionally, the itinerary revealed another interesting fact: a worker strike was affecting the Veracruz port around the time Naviero arrived. This strike is well-documented online; it escalated quickly and continued until the end of May, possibly longer. This likely contributed to the delays Pignataro and Davis experienced in retrieving the box, a topic explored further in the next chapter.
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Chapter VI: Dealing with the Aftermath
With the artwork case safely located at the port of Veracruz, Pignataro and Davis struggle to have it forwarded to Miami. Customs bureaucracy and shipping delays derail any hope for a May exhibition, making legal action against E.L.M.A. inevitable. Amidst this ordeal, Pignataro welcomes his first newborn child.
May 12, 1970
With things seemingly back on track, Pignataro reaches out to the 'U.S.A Traveling Services' company, requesting information about Miami city, such as maps, tourist attractions, cultural hubs, and photographs. This signals his optimism that the May exhibition can still be salvaged, even if shortened by the artwork’s late arrival.
May 14, 1970
Pignataro’s first child Diana is born. While the baby was born healthy, Pignataro’s wife Alba experienced postpartum complications, necessitating a two-week recovery period at home. This added another layer of challenges to the situation, as Pignataro now had to balance the irksome demands from the artwork situation with the imperative need to support his family during this critical time.
May 22, 1970
Pignataro dispatched a telegram to Davis, inquiring whether the artwork has yet arrived at the Museum.
May 23, 1970
Davis acknowledges Pignataro’s telegrams from May 8th and 22nd, but regrets to inform him that the artwork has not yet arrived. With clear frustration, he extinguishes all hopes for a May exhibition. Davis encourages legal action against the artwork handlers:
“We wish to advise you to take legal steps to collect money for damages you sustained by the paintings not being delivered as per original bill of lading from Strachan Shipping Company. The fact is that the exhibit which was to be in our Museum in May has naturally been postponed.
The catalogue for which money had been sent from you has been wasted. The loss of publicity to you from the show being cancelled by the negligence of Strachan Shipping Company is a tremendous loss to you and whoever your friend is as an attorney should advise you that we from our end will give you our own itemized bill of what we consider the loss you sustained in prestige, of continuous publicity, in all our publications calling attention to your forthcoming exhibition, etc.
It is a serious calamity. Frankly speaking even if the paintings would arrive today we are at the end of the month and it would be impossible for us to have the brochure printed in time for the show even during the month of June and the show will naturally be postponed for the Fall. “
In a loable gesture, Davis manages to find words of sympathy amidst a highly stressful situation, giving Pignataro reassurances.
“…and regretting all the difficulties that you have had with the show, and assuring you that you personally [and] your show still hold high esteem with our Museum”
May 30, 1970
Pignataro telegrams "Gonzor-Veracruz", the cargo handlers at the Veracruz port, demanding urgent forwarding to Miami. He complains about the inexplicable delays, as 23 days have passed since the artwork was found with no signs of progress.
Jun 1, 1970
Pignataro reports the new developments to his insurance company.
Jun 3, 1970
Pignataro is met with an unexpected demand from the Veracruz customs, now requiring explicit authorization from the Argentine customs for cargo clearance. He promptly dispatches a telegram to Gonzor-Veracruz, urging them to liaise with the Argentine embassy to swiftly resolve the issue.
Jun 4, 1970
Pignataro gets the Vice-Director of Argentine Customs to intervene in the matter, who authorizes the Veracruz customs via telegram to air-ship the artwork box to Miami, immediately.
Jun 5, 1970
Gonzor-Veracruz confirms artwork is scheduled to ship by air on June 6th
Jun 6, 1970
On this day, Davis mails two letters to Pignataro
In his first letter, Davis includes a comprehensive 3-page letter bolstering their case against E.L.M.A. and Strachan. Davis recounts the sequence of events surrounding the incident, documenting all his interactions with Strachan as well as customs brokers. He seeks damages of $1800 for the museum, but reaffirms Pignataro as the primary victim in this ordeal. He even engages Mr. Marcos A. Morinigo, the Argentine Consul at the time, to assist with this case.
In his second letter, Davis informs Pignataro that the cargo hasn’t yet arrived, but he is coordinating delivery with someone from Strachan. He once more assures Pignataro that there are no ill feelings towards him:
“Of course you understand that we do not blame you for anything. You are an innocent victim and we finally got to the point that we insist that you should take action to recompense yourself for the losses sustained, both to your reputation and to your finances.”
Davis states the Argentine Consul is aiding with his actions against the shipping companies, and proposes October as the new exhibition date.
Jun 8, 1970
Pignataro updates Davis on the latest cargo developments.
Still unaware of Davis's latest two letters, he inquires about rescheduling the show and seeks additional information on damages suffered by the Museum, hinting he is ready for legal action.
He also inquires about the possibility of reusing the printed brochures for the new exhibition, aiming to save on costs.
Jun 9, 1970
Davis notifies Pignataro that the paintings finally made it to the museum in good condition. He insists Pignataro does everything in his power to collect the U$D1800 in damages from E.L.M.A. on behalf of the museum.
•••
Chapter VII: Righting a Wrong
During this timeframe, Bernard Davis gets serious about taking action against E.L.M.A. Facing a maze of bureaucracy and legal hurdles, Roberto Pignataro pulls through and secures compensation for the Museum, but not without bearing scars. Meanwhile, amidst all these challenges, Pignataro manages to inaugurate a separate solo exhibition at Galería Lirolay in Buenos Aires.
Current street view of the Customs building in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where Roberto Pignataro dealt with multiple issues regarding his artwork exportation to and from Miami.
Jun 11, 1970
On this day, Davis sends out three letters, two to Pignataro and one to the shipping company.
In his first letter, Davis dispatches a detailed 3-page missive to the Argentine Lines Cosmopolitan Shipping Company (E.L.M.A.’s subsidiary in New York), itemizing the Museum's losses and demanding swift compensatory payment of U$D1800 to fund a new show for Pignataro.
In his second letter, Davis refocuses on the exhibition, confirms the Museum received the 25 paintings in excellent condition.
He wants to revamp the brochure to include artwork titles, dimensions, and a foreword.
Davis compliments Pignataro on the originality of his collage technique: “Permit us to say that you are individual in your approach to the collage technique and it will undoubtedly be fully recognized as such”.
He asks Pignataro to provide selling prices for each painting in case inquires arise, mentions a 1/3 commission for the Museum. Additionally, he reintroduces the idea of including a foreword in the brochure.
He states that if the claim against Argentine Lines succeeds, Pignataro won't need to cover any further expenses, as the Museum will handle it from the settlement.
In his third letter, Davis proposes October/November for the new show, confirms they must print a new brochure.
In pursuit of expedience, he curbs his legal goals and advises Pignataro on the next steps:
“I will prepare all the necessary details for your attorney in Buenos Aires as soon as possible. However, if we can settle with the steamship company for actual loss sustained without asking them for any loss of prestige, your reputation, reputation of our own museum, there will be no necessity to engage an attorney. They probably have the insurance against such an emergency as losing the shipment. So let us wait until the reply comes from them as per copy of letter sent today.”
Jun 12, 1970
Pignataro realizes that a Fall show will push the artwork return over the 180-day limit established by the export permit, must now request an extension from the Argentine Customs to avoid penalties.
To support a permit extension, he demands a written statement of responsibility from E.L.M.A. regarding their role in the six-week cargo delay.
The company complies, provides statement as requested.
Jun 16, 1970
Pignataro provides his lawyer with a comprehensive 22-page document detailing the cargo incident day by day, leaving no room for doubt regarding the cargo handlers' gross negligence.
Note: As you may have noticed, Pignataro’s decision to engage his attorney runs counter to Davis’s advice from June 11th, where he recommended pursuing a settlement instead of a full-on lawsuit. It's important to point out that Pignataro had not yet received Davis’s letter at this time.
Jun 19, 1970
Pignataro informs the insurance company that the artwork case has been located and delivered intact to its intended destination.
Jun 22, 1970
Pignataro responds to Davis’ letters from June 6th, 9th, and 11th.
He agrees with Davis's advice that pursuing a settlement is the best course forward. However, the never-ending demands of this situation begins to take a toll on him; he opens up to Davis about the personal and financial circumstances weighing on him and his family:
Parenthood: Pignataro is dealing with the demands of a newborn baby.
Time constraints: His employment at the bank consumes 10 hours of his day, including commuting, which leave him with little personal time to deal with the constant stream of issues and complications coming at them since the cargo went missing.
Bureaucracy: He fears the shipping company might use delay tactics with the settlement, knowing that escalating to legal action would only create an attrition they cannot outlast. Given the international scope of the incident, any legal proceedings could take 4-5 years to resolve, which would impose unsustainable mental and financial burdens on Pignataro and his family.
Economic factors: Argentina had just undergone a significant currency devaluation against the US dollar, losing 1/8 of its value, leaving Pignataro in further financial disadvantage against all US-based actors in this situation.
Given this situation, Pignataro suggests that if a settlement doesn’t come through soon, he may consider canceling the exhibition
Jun 25, 1970
Davis acknowledges Pignataro's difficult circumstances and commends him for his personal sacrifices in pursuit of his passion for art. He relieves Pignataro of the responsibility of taking action and assures him that the Museum will handle the claim internally with Argentine Lines.
Jun 26, 1970
Despite Davis’s previous discharge, Pignataro continues to actively pursue settlement from his end.
In a letter to the Argentine Lines Cosmopolitan Shipping Co., Pignataro demands a prompt resolution to his claim, citing financial and reputational damages.
Jul 21, 1970
Pignataro sends a 4-page missive to some Alberto J. Oliver, a higher-up at E.L.M.A., chronicling incident and demanding U$S1800 compensation for damages.
Jul 27, 1970
Pignataro receives a response from The Argentine Lines Cosmopolitan Shipping Co., claiming their are actively investigating the issue.
Jul 29, 1970
With the artwork export permit set to expire on September 12th, Pignataro officially requests an extension with the Argentine Customs office, citing force majeure.
Aug 13, 1970
Pignataro sends another letter to E.L.M.A., urging for a swift resolution to the ongoing issue.
Aug 18, 1970
Pignataro inquires with the Argentine Customs authority about the status of his July 29th extension requests, only to be informed that the office handling his case has lost all the paperwork. Major frustration ensues.
Aug 19, 1970
Pignataro submits a new extension request, includes a copy of his original one for the record, and emphasizes the urgency for resolution.
Sep 24, 1970
Argentine Lines Cosmopolitan Shipping Co. counteroffers $900 in compensation, half of Davis’ask.
Sep 26, 1970
Informed of the $900 counteroffer, Davis writes to Pignataro, pointing out he’d been advised against placing a claim with the shipping company and let the Museum handle the matter.
Note: Davis is correct here. On June 25, he explicitly asked Pignataro to let him be in charge of the claim. However, as a person of integrity, Pignataro simply could not bring himself to delegate his share of responsibility. Therefore, he persisted in doing everything in his power to expedite the claim.
Davis and the Museum’s Board accept the $900 counteroffer. Davis advises Pignataro to have the company send the check directly to the Miami MoMA.
Sep 26-Oct 6th, 1970
During this timeframe, Pignataro holds a separate exhibition at Galería Lirolay in Buenos Aires, unveiling ten new paintings. The show had been planned months in advance and wasn’t originally meant to coincide with the Miami exhibition, but circumstances led to this unexpected overlap.
Roberto Pignataro at Galería Lirolay
Buenos Aires, Argentina, c. September 1970.
Oct 6, 1970
Pignataro writes to Davis, reassuring that he is doing everything possible to expedite the payment to the museum, emphasizing the exhausting bureaucratic labyrinths he's been navigating to ensure things move forward.
As compensation procedures get back on track, Pignataro seeks clarification from Davis regarding any lingering grievances the museum may harbor against him, either legally and morally, regarding the cargo incident. He states clarity on this matter is crucial before he can commit to a new exhibition.
Oct 6, 1970
As Davis faces expenses for the upcoming November show, he inquiries with Pignataro about the status of the $900 payment,
The printers ask us for money and there are other expenses attached to it and we wonder what you have done to help us to extradite the claim of which we have settled on a half amount of $900.00 with the Strachan Shipping
Oct 9, 1970
In a letter, Davis advises Pignataro that issuing a ‘Release of Liability’ letter to ELMA can help expedite the payment.
Also, recognizing Pignataro's own concerns regarding the incident, a separate letter was attached, absolving him of any responsibility:
Dear Mr. Pignataro:
On behalf of the Board of Trustees of Miami Museum of Modern Art we absolve you from any responsibility in connection with the shipment of your exhibition to Miami Museum of Modern Art, which is being held in the month of November 1970.
This statement is officially signed and affixed with the seal of our Corporation,
Oct 15, 1970
Following Davis’ advice, Pignataro sends his ‘Release of Liability’ letter to E.L.M.A.
Oct 15, 1970
Pignataro writes to Davis confirming that compensation payment is finally underway.
Oct 16th, 1970
With his eyes now on the show, Pignataro ships two rolls of Agfachrome film to the Museum and asks Davis to photograph the exhibition for him. This is a noteworthy occurrence that will soon lead to another subplot in the story.
Oct 20, 1970
E.L.M.A submits the $900 compensation check to the Miami MoMa.
Oct 20, 1970. E,L.M.A. Letter to Miami MoMA submitting damages compensation
•••
Interlude: A Picture Worth a Thousand (Bad) Words
I would like to take a momentary break from the timeline to examine the specific event of October 16, 1970. On that day, what began as a seemingly straightforward request from Roberto Pignataro to Bernard Davis would soon spiral into yet another baffling situation where, despite all careful planning, things never seem to go as intended.
After resolving the compensation issue between the shipping company and the museum, Roberto Pignataro was finally able to turn the page on the whole missing cargo quagmire and focus on what truly mattered: the upcoming November exhibition at the Miami MoMA.
A key priority for him was obtaining photographic documentation of the show, especially since he wouldn't be able to attend in person. This is why, on October 16th, he shipped two rolls of Agfachrome film to Bernard Davis.
Along with the film, Pignataro included a letter requesting Davis to please capture various aspects of the exhibition, including views of the museum's facade, the showroom, the artwork, and any other elements Davis deemed noteworthy.
In his letter, Pignataro also expressed how much these photos would mean to him, as they would allow him to visually experience this important career milestone and share the moment with loved ones. They would also serve as crucial additions to his career records.
Davis acknowledged Pignataro’s wishes on two separate occasions. First, in a letter dated October 21st:
We also note that you would like to have the photos of your exhibition in our Museum and we will follow all your suggestions and we will also see what can be done with the film rolls that you sent to us. We will do everything possible to make your exhibition an international success.”
Secondly, in a letter dated November 4th:
“First of all the most important ground floor has been assigned to your exhibition with special signs prepared for it. The vernissage or Opening will be on November 15th and we are working very hard to get a professional photographer to take the photos of your exhibit. We will mail to you the various photos of the museum for your files. Please be patient, they will be sent to you in due time”
Roberto Pignataro rejoiced in these replies. Not only did he secure professional coverage of his show, which surpassed his initial expectations, the photographs would serve as a visual reminder that the cargo incident was not the defining moment of this experience, but merely a footnote in a broader tale of artistic achievement.
Additionally, Davis had repeatedly boasted about promoting his show with reputable art circles both within the US and internationally, including mailing campaigns, newspapers and television advertisement. This suggested plenty of photo opportunities would arise to capture audiences interacting with the artwork, perhaps even notable attendees.
Despite the promising outlook, Pignataro's excitement quickly turned to disappointment when he finally received the photographic material from Davis. Contrary to all assurances, the envelope contained only a single photograph of the exhibition—and a rather lackluster one.
Inside Miami MoMA.
Photo by Bernard Davis, c. November 1970.
Pignataro found himself perplexed by this. They had discussed portraying the exhibition in a more meaningful and comprehensive way—why would Davis send him just this one uninspired shot? And what became of the professional photographer he had promised?
When I first saw the photo myself, I couldn't help but wonder if this could have been a veiled gesture of contempt from Davis, perhaps stemming from lingering ill-feelings over the cargo incident. But I then reconsidered; Davis certainly had moments in his exchanges with Pignataro where the stress of the circumstances got the best of him. However, he consistently came around, demonstrating himself to be a gentleman with unwavering support for Pignataro and his show. Therefore, I see no scenario where he would act in bad faith.
Yet, absolving Davis only serves to further mystify his actions:
Considering Pignataro had been open about the significance of documenting this moment, how did Davis come to the conclusion he would be pleased receiving a single photograph of the show, especially one that failed to meet all the specifications they had discussed?
Even if we extend the benefit of the doubt to Davis, assuming he couldn't find any professional photographer, he still had the two rolls of Agfachrome film Pignataro had sent him. Why did he produce only one photograph? Did something happen to the film? If so, why didn't he inform Pignataro, who would have readily provided replacements?
Lastly, in his Oct 16th letter, Pignataro asked Davis to return the Agfachrome film undeveloped, citing his desire to spare the museum from photo lab expenses. However, Davis never returned the film rolls (which remain missing to this day) and also proceeded to develop the film, at least partially, inexplicably disregarding every aspect of Pignataro's request.
The discrepancy between what Pignataro requested and what Davis delivered remains a source of puzzlement to me, especially considering Davis's initial commitment to help.
This left Pignataro understandably frustrated. After investing a fortune of time, money, and effort into realizing this exhibition—not to mention the ordeal with missing cargo—all he had to show for it was this one farcical photograph.
Interestingly, he never confronted Davis about it, although there might be some explanations for his silence:
First, by the time he received the photo, on December 21, 1970, the show had long concluded. His mind was already preoccupied with the logistics of returning the artwork.
Most importantly, he was greatly displeased with what the photo revealed about the showroom. Specifically, he was upset by Davis’s decision to cram four paintings into a corner with little regard for spacing, height, or backgrounds. A thoughtful artwork arrangement was paramount to the experience Pignataro wanted his shows to project; the absence of such basic curatorial considerations left him quite disillusioned, most likely unwilling to see anymore of it.
•••
Chapter VIII: The Exhibition
This timeframe represents Pignataro’s long-awaited exhibition at the Miami Museum of Modern Art. As the days progress, Davis shares some developments emerging from the show but remains largely uncommunicative about the event at large, leaving Pignataro with a sense of ambiguity and an unclear picture of its outcome.
Oct 21, 1970
With the show set to open on November 5th, Pignataro sends press releases to United Press and Associated Press announcing the event.
Davis writes to Pignataro thanking him for handling the compensation. He promises to assist with photographing the show and states:
"We will do everything possible to make your exhibition an international success."
Nov 4, 1970
Davis writes to Pignataro confirming that the compensation money has been settled.
In this letter, Davis also reveals a few details of the show organization:
“First of all the most important ground floor has been assigned to your exhibition with special signs prepared for it. The vernissage or Opening will be on November 15th and we are working very hard to get a professional photographer to take the photos of your exhibit.
(…)
The prestige of the exhibition is very important and you will find that it will be distributed throughout the whole United States and most of the countries of the world. We will send some to our friends in Buenos Aires.”
Davis also brings up the important question of a potential traveling show:
“One more question. should any other art gallery or museum want to borrow your exhibition and without any serious expense to you, would you consent to do so?”
Nov 5th, 1970
November 5th marks the opening of Pignataro’s show at the Miami MoMA. There are no recorded accounts of this day.
▲ Annex: Miami MoMA's promotional materials for its November 1970 exhibitions, featuring artists Roberto Pignataro and Dianne Nance.
Nov 11, 1970
Pignataro writes to Davis expressing his gratitude for everything he is doing to produce a successful show.
Having received copies of the exhibition brochure, he states he is very pleased with the design but wonders about the lack of a foreword, which Davis had offered to write for him.
Pignataro agrees to lend the artwork for a traveling show if the opportunity arises, but only if the offer comes from someone Davis personally trusts and can vouch for. He also notes that the export permit will need to be extended again.
In response to Davis’s request, Pignataro provides the selling prices for each of the 25 collages.
Nov 13, 1970
Davis explains the missing foreword:
“We are glad you like the catalogue. The reason we didn’t put a foreword in it was because we were very anxious to have as many photographs as possible and there was no room to do it and your biography practically includes the information that the foreword would have given and it would be repetitious.”
He informs Pignataro that there have been no inquiries yet about artwork sales or tours. However, he shares that John Baratte, the Director of the Lowe Museum at the University of Miami, has expressed interest in receiving a donation of one of his collages. Davis echoes this sentiment, also requesting a collage donation for the Miami MoMA.
Davis emphasizes that donating artwork to two prestigious museums would be a good career move, “a feather in his cap.”
Nov 15th, 1970
On this day, the Miami MoMA held a vernissage for members and guests. There are no recorded accounts of this event.
Nov 28th, 1970
November 28th marks the last day of the exhibition. There are no recorded accounts of this day.
If you've made it this far, you know the journey leading up to this moment was nothing short of eventful, marked by setbacks, drama and high expectations. Yet, the correspondence between Davis and Pignataro reveals very little about the event itself, what gives?. I will delve deeper into this in the following sections, including a brief interview with a first-hand witness to the show, Florida artist Dianne Nance.
•••
Annex: Interview with Artist Dianne Nance
While reviewing Roberto Pignataro’s Miami MoMA records, I came across a collection of promotional materials for the show—brochures, a magazine ad, and a printed invitation—which I included in the previous section.
I found these items particularly fascinating because of their 1970s vintage vibe, but also because they provided a more tangible connection to the show, which I had only known through the written exchanges between Pignataro and Davis.
Dianne Nance. c. 1970
They also revealed an unexpected detail: another artist had been showcasing her work at the Miami MoMA simultaneously with Pignataro. Her name was Dianne Lazenby Nance, a sheet-metal sculptor from Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
Oddly, Davis never mentioned Nance’s show in his communications with Pignataro. This was a head-scratcher to me; it would seem only natural for a museum to make its featured artists aware of one another. At the same time, such an omission seems very much in line with the all-business persona we've come to know from Davis throughout this story.
In any case, I never give this information much thought, other than noting how Dianne Nance’s neat geometrical structures would have stood as a great contrast to Pignataro’s more organic abstractions, and vice-versa.
In December 2019, while contemplating writing this article, it suddenly dawned on me that Dianne Nance might still be around. I decided to reach out, and she very graciously agreed to share some insights with me:
“It was an excellent occasion in a lovely setting. It was in an old two story "mansion" on Biscayne bay owned by an elderly gentleman with art credentials who turned it into a museum. My sculptures were on the first floor with your father's work upstairs as I recall. […] The opening was well attended and busy. By the end of the show I had no sales but two museums wanted donations of sculptures which I arranged. Every now and then I get a notice that they have been in an exhibition.”
While brief, there is a few noteworthy tidbits in Dianne’s account that are worth exploring:
The show opening was “well attended and busy.” This is crucial detail shedding light on the general success of the exhibitions. As the next chapter will reveal, Bernard Davis was oddly reticent about sharing such specifics, making Dianne’s observation particularly valuable.
In her recollection of events, Pignataro’s artwork was displayed ‘upstairs’. This presents a different picture from what Davis claimed in his November 4th, 1970 letter:
“First of all the most important ground floor has been assigned to your exhibition with special signs prepared for it.
I must confess, when I first noticed this discrepancy, it made me wondered if perhaps Davis hadn’t been fully transparent about the showroom arrangements. However, given that this event took place 50 years ago, it's more likely that Dianne simply misremembered this particular detail, so I laid the issue to rest.
Dianne described Bernard Davis as an ‘elderly gentleman,’ a seemingly trivial detail that caught my attention. We know Davis was in his mid-to-late 70s during this period. While age can manifest differently for different people, her characterization might suggest a perception of feebleness. This is an aspect I hadn't much considered before, but it could help explain some of Davis’s questionable actions as well as future events in the story.
Like Pignataro, Dianne also received requests from two museums to donate her sculptures. She successfully arranged for it, and her sculptures remain part of important collections to this day. In contrast, Pignataro’s donation faced significant headwinds due to the international nature of the transaction. I will elaborate on this further in the next section.
I wish Dianne had more to share, but I understood well going into this interview that a long time has passed. I'm still grateful for the new information she did provide, which revealed interesting details that would have otherwise remained forever unknown.
On a more personal note, hearing from Dianne was a magical moment. It felt as though I had been given this unique opportunity to time-travel to a long-gone moment in my father’s history and have one last interaction with it. I’ll always be grateful for it.
•••
Chapter IX: Missed Opportunities
Back on our timeline, this period represents a moment of relative calm following the conclusion of the show and before the artwork departs for Buenos Aires. Pignataro faces the difficult decision of whether to donate his collages to art museums under very constraining conditions. He also begins arranging the artwork’s return, all the while Davis starts to distance himself from the process, leaving some unfinished business behind.
Dec 9th, 1970
In preparation for the artwork's departure from Miami, Pignataro writes to E.L.M.A., seeking assurances for safe transportation and requesting a reduction in shipping costs to compensate for the damages experienced in May.
Dec 10th, 1970
Pignataro writes to Davis, eager to learn more about how the overall show went. He points out that, aside from a few remarks in his November 13th letter, Davis has not provided much insight into the event or its outcome.
In a noteworthy section of the letter, Pignataro addresses the donation requests from John Baratte and Bernard Davis himself, explaining why such transaction may not be as simple as it seems:
The primary obstacle facing him is that he is not allowed to leave the artwork in the United States. The export permit was strictly temporary, and the Argentine government expects its return under penalty. Pignataro had put his own apartment up as collateral against permit violations, and failing to comply could lead to severe consequences, including a potential ban on future exportations.
Given this constraint, if Pignataro agreed to donate, he would have to return the artwork to Argentina first, undergo all bureaucratic processes once again, and then ship it back to the US—a decidedly unappealing prospect, especially given his previous ordeals.
Pignataro also makes an interesting observation: he fears that the Argentine government could misinterpret an artwork donation to a US museum as a tax avoidance maneuver. This concern is rooted in the perception, common among Argentinians in the 1960s, that prestigious US museums had significant wealth and resources, therefore it would be hard for Argentine authorities to believe that such institutions lacked the funds to purchase the artwork outright.
Feeling conflicted, Pignataro weighed all factors and ultimately made a split decision: he agreed to donate a collage to the Miami MoMA but declined the request from the Lowe Museum.
Note: it must be clarified that Pignataro had nothing against the Lowe Museum; he simply found the circumstances too impractical and costly to justify donations to either museum, including the Miami MoMA’s. The only reason he accepted Davis’s request is because, deep down, he still felt indebted to him over the postponed May exhibition. He thought a donation would be a goodwill gesture acknowledging his unwavering support through the adverse circumstances.
In a consequential section of this letter, Pignataro concludes it by providing detailed instructions for delivering the artwork case to the port of Tampa. He provides:
The name of the freighter, ‘Vapor Rio Belgrano’
The departing date, January 18th
The contact information for Gulf Florida Terminal Co., the freight handler for E.L.M.A in Tampa.
He assures Davis that he will cover all transportation expenses, including insurance. This development will become very relevant in the story soon.
Dec 15th, 1970
Davis responds to Pignataro’s inquiry about the show’s outcome:
“We regret that there were many announcements about your show in the newspapers but there were no art critiques, but whenever you have another exhibition we think that your one man show in the United States is a recognition to you as an artist and we hope you will continue your career.”
Note: Similar to the blunder with the photography, I find this moment particularly perplexing: Davis’s answer centers on critiques and prestige, completely missing the point. All Pignataro wanted to hear was a more descriptive account of the event to make him feel present:
How many people attended?
How was the artwork received in general?
How did the vernissage go?
Were any noteworthy moments or remarks to be shared?
Were there any notable attendees other than John Baratte? (Davis had made grand promises about his publicity efforts)
Davis knew what this show meant to Pignataro, what it took to make it happen, as well as the personal circumstances that prevented him from attending. It's unfortunate that he still didn’t grasp why providing a more complete picture would have been so important. It wasn’t just the right thing to do, it could have also provided much-needed closure from the traumatic weeks they both endured during the cargo incident.
Notably, Davis fails to acknowledge Pignataro's December 10th instructions for delivering the artwork in Tampa. This oversight may explain subsequent events.
Dec 23, 1970
In a letter to Davis, Pignataro clarifies his position regarding the Lowe Museum’s request: while he would be honored to donate his artwork, he prefers to postpone the transaction due to the financial strains still weighing on him from the November show. At present, he cannot afford the additional expenses that such a donation would entail.
Pignataro also notes that the Davis has not yet acknowledged his acceptance to donate a collage to the Miami MoMA, wonders how to proceed.
Note: Unbeknown to Pignataro, he will not hear back from Davis regarding the collage donation. As we will soon learn, Davis experienced some health issues around this time, which may explain his sudden withdrawal from this transaction and other pending matters.
Pignataro confirms to Davis that the transportation insurance has been arranged and asks him to ensure all 25 collages are shipped back, warning that failure to do so could cost him serious troubles with the Argentine Customs.
•••
Chapter X: Through Hell and High Water, and Then Some
With the artwork set for return to Buenos Aires, a smooth journey is anticipated. However, Davis makes some critical mistakes with the transportation arrangements, creating a myriad of new problems for Pignataro. As Davis disengages from it all, Pignataro scrambles to deal with yet another debacle.
January 29th, 1971
In a letter to the Gulf Florida Terminal Company, Davis requests cargo delivery instructions and vessel schedules.
February 6, 1971
Davis sends a second letter to the Gulf Florida Terminal Company. expressing frustration over their lack of response to his previous inquiry.
In a separate letter, Davis informs Pignataro that they missed the January 18th freighter to Buenos Aires due to the shipping company's failure to provide delivery instructions.
“As a matter of fact we have followed your instructions and tried to contact all the shipping companies in Miami that would know something about Gulf Florida Terminal Co. to whom your paintings are to be sent. No one seemed to know anything about them so we finally got in contact with them, wrote them a letter and told them that we are ready to send your paintings to them which in turn will be sent to you via Vapor Rio Belgrano from Tampa(via Empresa Lineas Maritimas Argentinas).
We missed the boat of January l8th for the above reason and enclose another copy of the letter to them stating that they have not replied to our letter of January 29th, confirming the fact that they will accept the shipment and in turn will send it to your address in Argentina. Neither did they tell us when the next boat would sail so that we can forward to them in sufficient time, as it will not take very long for the box to go from Miami to Tampa.”
Note: By insisting on getting confirmation from Gulf Florida Terminal Co, Davis created a problem where there was none. While there is no doubt he was acting in good faith—he was simply trying to ensure safe receipt of the box—he overlooked the fact that Pignataro said he would handle all matters with E.L.M.A. himself, including payments. Davis just needed to send the box.
Letter from Pignataro to Davis, explaining all arrangements with E.L.M.A. had been made.
Dec 10th, 1970.
Obviously, Davis cannot be blamed for being extra cautious, or for the shipping companies being uncooperative and causing delays. However, Pignataro had sent him the instructions on December 10th, well in advance of the freighter’s January 18th departure. If had concerns, he had ample time to telegram Pignataro. He would have then been reminded not to worry and simply ship the box. Instead, he sat on the problem until February 6th, missing not one but three contiguous freighters and placing Pignataro in undue legal jeopardy with Argentine Customs.
Feb 12th, 1971
Pignataro submits payment to the ‘Capital’ insurance company for artwork transportation coverage.
Feb 15, 1971
In response to Davis’s February 6th letter, Pignataro expresses frustration over Davis missing three freighters in a row: the ‘Vapor Rio Belgrano’ on January 18th and January 30th, and the ‘Vapor Marinero’ on February 12th.
He scolds Davis for continually delaying the artwork shipment to Tampa, reminding him that all arrangements had already been made and no further instructions were needed.
He notes that his export permit expires on March 21st, and with these delays, it’s almost certain he will face penalties.
Pignataro is now forced to readjust logistics to make up for lost time. He instructs Davis to ships the artwork case to New Orleans instead, emphasizing urgency and that all arrangements have already been made with Strachan Shipping Co.
On this same day, Pignataro sends a separate letter to Strachan, giving them a heads-up about the incoming shipment from the Museum and requesting that the artwork case be placed on the earliest available vessel to Buenos Aires.
Feb 16th, 1971
Pignataro contacts his insurance company, reporting the delays and requesting his policy be updated to reflect the adjusted logistics.
March 2nd, 1971
Pignataro writes to Davis, noting he has not yet replied to his February 15th letter. He reminds Davis of the predicament he is in with the Argentine customs and urges him not to delay any further.
March 10th, 1971
Not having heard from the Davis yet, Pignataro grows increasingly anxious and contacts the Argentine Customs office. He requests another extension citing delays beyond his control. He attaches all pertinent documentation to support his case.
March 10th, 1971
The Museum finally replies to Pignataro’s February 15th letter. The response is signed by Elizabeth Burnap, Mr Davis’s secretary, who reveals that “Mr. Davis has not been well”.
Mrs. Burnap confirms the artwork case has already been dispatched to Stratcham and states that the express charges to New Orleans amount to $35, including insurance.
Lastly, Mrs. Burnap notes that they have insured Pignataro’s artwork for $550—significantly less than its actual value—citing that a higher amount would have resulted in additional paperwork, therefore further delays.
March 11th, 1971
Still unaware of Mrs. Burnap’s letter, Pignataro writes to Davis, wondering about his silence and once again explaining the pressure he is under and the financial and mental stress these delays are becoming for him. He demands prompt action.
March 19th, 1971
Pignataro receives Mrs. Burnap’s March 11th letter and immediately sends a $35 payment as requested, wishes Mr. Davis well.
March 19th, 1971
Pignataro writes to Strachan Shipping Co, wondering if they have yet received the artwork case, requests status update.
March 23rd, 1971
Pignataro writes to the Miami MoMA, scolding them for undervaluing the artwork with the insurance company. He states that if anything should happen to the artwork, the Museum will be asked to cover any difference in compensation.
March 26th, 1971
Pignataro sends a second letter to Strachan, once again asking if they received the artwork case, requests a status update ASAP.
April 6th, 1971
Pignataro sends a third letter to Strachan, wondering why they aren’t responding to his letters. He explains his predicament and demands a status update ASAP.
April 7th, 1971
Frustrated by the lack of response from Strachan, Pignataro escalates the case to E.L.M.A, sending them copies of all unanswered correspondence and demanding their intervention.
April 12th, 1971
Facing an inexplicable lack of cooperation from all parties, Pignataro writes a desperate three-page letter to the Argentine Consul in Miami, Mr. Juan Carlos Condesse.
He provides a detailed timeline of events, including copies of all pertinent documentation, and explains how the unresponsiveness from both the Miami MoMA and the shipping companies has placed him in a precarious situation with Argentine customs authority.
He hopes the consulate can step in to help resolve the situation.
April 14th, 1971
Pignataro receives a telegram from Strachan, finally confirming receipt of artwork case. In an ambiguous statement, they say that “documentation is required for import to Buenos Aires”.
May 12th, 1971
Pignataro writes to Strachan, informing them he has not yet received the bill of lading, which is required to clear the artwork from customs.
May 27th, 1971
Pignataro writes a second letter to Strachan, informing them that he has not yet received the bill of lading. He begs them to stop complicating things and express-mail the documentation at once.
He notes that if he can’t produce a bill of lading upon cargo arrival, the Argentine Customs will place his artwork in escrow, costing him extra money, time and undue hassles.
May 27th, 1971
On a visit to the local E.L.M.A. office, he learns that the artwork is en route to Buenos Aires, expected to arrive on June 2nd on the “Rio Belen” vessel. He reports this information to the Argentine Customs office.
On this day, Pignataro also visited the Argentine Customs main office where he obtained clarification on artwork collection procedures and fees.
Jun 1st, 1971
Strachan sends news to Pignataro: “The originals of this bill of lading have been sent to E.LM.A. in Buenos Aires via airmail on May 26th with the request that they so advise you. No doubt you will have received this information prior to actual receipt of this letter.”
Pignataro reports the latest updates to his insurance company (arrival date, vessel details, etc.)
Jun 2nd, 1971
The artwork case arrives to the port of Buenos Aires
Jun 7th, 1971
Pignataro notifies the Customs office that artwork case has arrived and requests authorization to collect.
Jun 17th, 1971
Pignataro collects the artwork.
Jun 22nd, 1971
Pignataro notifies the insurance company that the artwork arrived in good condition and has been safely collected.
Aug 4th, 1971
As in a cruel joke, Pignataro receives a reply letter from the Argentine Consulate in Miami addressing his plea for help from April 12th, 1971—almost four months ago. The letter states that the consulate has finally initiated contact with the Miami MoMA to assist with the artwork delays...
…because this story simply could not have ended in any other way.
•••
Final Conclusions
I must confess, when I began researching this exhibition, I was convinced I would be uncovering a classical tale of personal and artistic achievement. You know, the underdog artist from a little-known “third-world” country beating all odds to make it onto the international stage.
I’ll never forget the sense of sadness that crept over me as I read the letters and realized how things were unfolding in the opposite direction, evolving into a tragicomedy of errors rather than the triumphant narrative I had imagined.
It hit me particularly hard because I know what an exceptionally meticulous, responsible, and diligent individual Roberto Pignataro was—not just in his art but in every facet of his life, whether at work, in parenthood, pursuing personal hobbies, or helping others. It made no sense that this level of organizational failure would happen to him.
His correspondence with Davis shows how carefully he planned every step of the show, diligently complied with every museum request and bureaucratic demand, translated every single letter for Davis, self-funded every aspect of this endeavor, and when challenges arose, he worked his tail off not only to resolve them but to minimize the impact on the museum. Yet, things kept going awry for him, almost every step of the way.
In trying to understand why things unfolded as they did, I have come up with a couple theories:
Perhaps he was ahead of his time: while the modern life and technology of the late 1960s did allow him to develop and pursue global aspirations, the practical reality proved it wasn’t that simple: international telecommunications were still very costly and terribly unreliable, global shipping infrastructures existed, but were clearly not optimized to serve the needs of niche exporters like himself, and Argentine bureaucracy was nothing short of a dream-crushing machine utterly devoid of any framework to reasonably support independent entrepreneurship.
Perhaps it was just bad timing: the show was organized during a time notably characterized by worker strikes across the globe. His correspondence with Davis documents at least three such events: a nationwide postal strike in the U.S., a port workers strike in Veracruz, Mexico, and an airline workers strike in Argentina. Each one of these strikes had a tangible effect on the exhibition’s fate, disrupting crucial communications, forcing suboptimal logistical choices, and causing significant delays in the artwork's arrival in Miami.
However, despite the numerous complications and setbacks, the exhibition did ultimately come to fruition, providing Pignataro the coveted "feather in his cap", with an international exhibition now added to his portfolio, and capturing the interest of two prestigious museums looking to acquire his work. In this sense, the show can be considered a success, offering plenty to celebrate.
Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect of this story is how the turn of events soured things between him and Bernard Davis, a relationship that began as unlikely but held great promise in my view; I believe that, under better circumstances, their partnership could have been genuinely fruitful.
In the end, Roberto Pignataro always took great pride in the accomplishment of this show. Yes, there were many rough patches in its making, but having grown up during the Depression era, he knew all too well that nothing in life came easy; the journey is full of bumps, and frankly, this one wasn't so bad to have.
Roberto Pignataro continued producing art and hosting shows quite prolifically through the 1970s and early 1980s, when he finally retired from the art scene.
Mr. Bernard Davis passed away on December 18, 1973. His museum was then merged with the Metropolitan Museum and Art Center, which was in turn acquired by Florida International University in 1989.
Dianne Nance went on to becoming a well-regarded watercolor artists in Florida, with works in many collections including Disney, Lexus and the Miami Museum of Modern Art (currently held by the Florida Int. University.)
The original Miami MoMA building has been replaced by what appears to be an apartment building (map view).