Eriks Rudans died of a heart attack in late April. His work will be celebrated at a reception and monthlong silent auction. The proceeds will benefit his family.

Photos by Ron Medvescek / arizona daily star 2003

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Eriks Rudans lived for his art.

When he died of a heart attack in late April at age 74, he was surrounded by it in his crumbling Downtown adobe home.

"For Eriks, art was a lifestyle," said his one-time student and longtime friend, glass artist Tom Philabaum.

"He came from an era where people made art because they couldn't help themselves."

His devotion to art, combined with a keen sense of humor and a big heart, won him legions of fans since he settled in the Old Pueblo in the 1980s.

One of those, Etherton Gallery owner Terry Etherton, often had shows of his works, though Rudans' paintings and sculptures, naive art pieces made with bright colors and found objects, never sold well.

Tonight, Etherton will have a reception for a monthlong exhibit/silent auction of Rudans' works. All proceeds will benefit his family, which includes his sons John and Joe and daughter Marie-Claire Decker.

Rudans, who was born in Latvia and came to the States from a German refugee camp in 1949, was teaching at the University of Wisconsin when Philabaum first met him.

They became fast friends as they did glass art together. In the 1970s, Philabaum moved to Tucson, and Rudans stopped by often to visit.

"We always made art when he was here," recalled Philabaum.

Back then, Rudans had quit academia and "traveled around and collaborated with people," said Philabaum. "He was a beatnik, and he'd roll up on his motorcycle and say, 'Let's make art.' He was a real inspirational character."

Eventually, Rudans settled in Tucson, and committed himself to making art full time, which meant he often lived as a pauper.

"I make very little money," Rudans told the Star in 2003. "I've lived like a bum for a long time, and I know how to do it. My needs are very, very few."

That year, however, things changed, at least for a while. He won a $25,000 arts award from the Community Foundation of Southern Arizona. It was a staggering amount to him — the year before, he had made only $4,000.

That was the year, too, that now-Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was able to speed up paperwork so that Rudans could get the Social Security money due him, including back pay. He ended up with a fat check.

"He had a lot of money, and he spent it all on tools, his friends, and he took a trip to see his sister in Alaska," Philabaum said.

"He could squeeze $20 into two weeks."

Rudans didn't have to be struggling for money.

He had a master's in fine arts from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and had taught at the Art Institute of Chicago, St. Cloud State University in Minnesota and elsewhere.

But teaching wasn't for him, he said in that 2003 interview.

"I didn't fit into academia. There were a lot of slackers who talked a good game," he explained. "I never saw teaching as a permanent thing anyway."

As he spoke, he sat in the main room of his three-room home. The walls were crowded with paintings and the corners stuffed with sculptures. He made the furniture in his crowded house, all from salvaged wood. His narrow bed occupied a small space, and on it sat quilts his sister had made for him, in hopes that they would keep him warm.

"Eriks eschewed all comfort," said Philabaum. "Instead of spending money to build a canvas rack, he painted the bottom of paintings lying on the floor. He said the hardest part was getting up."

"He was an expert in what we call 'crudemanship.' He made things work," Philabaum continued. "If he needed power in one part of the house, he would unplug it in another part. He didn't want to compromise his time working for someone else."

All he wanted to do, said Philabaum, was make art.

"The last 10 to 15 years of his life, he lived exactly how he wanted to."