It was in 1957 that Ary Stillman again repaired to Mexico following a disastrous year of illness, an eye injury which threatened to become permanent, the loss of his New York studio, and a fruitless search for a suitable home in Paris.

It was early in May that Ary and I took a plane for Mexico City. It was the first time we had flown and I was frightened, but Ary was fascinated by the view from the window -- cities, stretches of country and finally cloud masses. I think he had imagined all this previously, but the actuality was a delight to him. In Mexico City we went to the Hotel Ontario, down in the old section not too far from the Zocalo --typically Mexican of the end of the last century. We discussed where we should locate ourselves, and had almost decided on San Miguel de Allende, when Ary met on the street an artist he knew from New York, Judson Briggs. Judson insisted that we come to Cuernavaca to look it over at least -- the climate was perfect, he said -- it was only about 46 miles from Mexico City and could be reached by bus, and it was ideal in tempo and surroundings for an artist. So off to Cuernavaca we went, and it proved to be the setting for us for five years and for summer vacations for several additional years.