Jimmy & The Demons

I first met Jimmy and Guzzy Grashow about eight years ago. A good friend who knew my passion for art and artists wanted to take me to his studio in CT. Stepping through the door of his studio, I thought I had landed in Oz! The army of cardboard monkeys hanging from the ceiling and swinging on the rafters took my breath away in a wave of awe and delight. Everywhere I looked was another bold treasure that ranged from incredibly intricate detail to larger-than-life figures and creatures. Was I in Oz or Wonderland? Most outstanding of all was the energized man who showed me around the studio like a six-year-old kid showing me the toys in his room. His amused wife, Guzzy, looked on like only a wife of 50 plus years can do. I was smitten by them both and we all became fast friends in no time. Since I lived a few short miles from their home, I loved to pop into Jimmy’s studio to see what he was working on. A few years ago, I was surprised to see Jimmy was obsessed with carving a daunting depiction of Heaven and Hell in wood. The process was very different from his work with cardboard and paper. It was fascinating to watch as his big hands tenderly chiseled clawed demons and tortured flame souls, with Jesus trudging among them, bearing the weight of a cathedral. Here was Jimmy, who has a strong Jewish faith, consumed with a Renaissance-like sculpture commissioned by a collector who was passionate about art and faith. Jimmy believed this to be his last monumental piece, his Magnum Opus. Inspired by the irony of Jimmy’s new obsession, I felt compelled to document this process of an artist following a calling to swerve radically away from his safety net of past and proven works. I wanted to listen to him all day philosophize about life and how his work gives him sanctuary. I believed that all who reflect on their own work and mission in life could relate to Jimmy’s unpredictable journey. As subjects, both Jimmy and Guzzy were exceptional. They were raw and funny and completely unencumbered by the presence of a film crew. Jimmy has an intoxicating ease and candor while expressing himself. He can be hysterically funny one moment and poetically muse over his insecurity and fear of mortality the next. After only a few days with a crew in the studio, I knew that the story of The Cathedral would be extraordinary. Toby Shimin, my “Buck” editor, was excited to come on board after watching 20 minutes of early footage. Her interest encouraged me to forge ahead, despite the anxiety that delving deeply into the lives of two cherished friends brought with it. In addition, at the start of this endeavor, I had just turned 65 and had a new appreciation of Jimmy’s fever to live life to the fullest with that awareness of “mortality looming.” I knew that this vivacious artist, in his eighth decade, and I are not alone in our evocative treks; there are 75 million Americans over the age of 60 who still have a lot to do! I started filming “Buck” in 2008 when the country was in a financial crisis and there was an unsettling darkness that made me think that Buck Brannaman’s sage cowboy wisdom was needed. Today we are living in what seems to be unprecedented anxiety, chaos and angry violence in our country and around the world. I have been transformed by Jimmy’s incredible devotion to his craft, his friends and family, and his faith. The world needs more kindness and love. The world needs Jimmy! – CINDY MEEHL, Director