The last thing of Margery’s I had framed this past fall of 2023.
I have written about Margery Niblock many times. I have even met people through my writing who also collected her work and knew her. Today I found out from my mother that she died on February 6th at her son Marc’s home in Bucks County. She was 86.
I sit here kind of sniffling, still not knowing what exactly to write and feeling quite sad and every one of my about to be 60 years.
I have so many memories of her.
Here is a photo from the Portland Police Department from her time in Maine:
Photo courtesy of Portland Maine Police Department Facebook
The Portland Police Department wrote a wonderful post about her on Facebook:
The Portland Police Department is saddened to announce the passing of Marge Niblock. Marge passed away on February 6, 2024, after a brief illness.
Marge was from Philadelphia, where she was an artist and court stenographer. In 1979, she ran for Sheriff of Philadelphia losing after garnering a solid 7,500 votes. While not earning the job, she made new lifelong friends, which she is best remembered for.
Marge came to Portland in 1989 and settled into her new home on Quebec Street on Munjoy Hill. She quickly made her way to the Portland Police Station to meet up with Chief Michael Chitwood, a friend from Philadelphia, and then proceeded to befriend all of us over the next 33 years.
Chief Chitwood had her sit on dozens of promotional panels and citizen groups during his tenure. She continued to be a sounding board for every chief that followed. Chief Sauschuck made her an official member of the department when he convinced her to run for Civil Service Commissioner. After her appointment, she sat on almost every interview panel for police officer candidates during her terms as a commissioner.
Marge also served as the crime reporter for the West End News. Marge would often be seen driving through the city in the Flame Mobile, looking for her next scoop. Most of her crime reporting was filled with questions, because Marge liked to understand why the crime was committed or why a certain victim was targeted. Her stories were filled with whimsical observations and often featured animals. Marge was more interested in the wayward opossum walking across the Million Dollar Bridge than a murder arrest. When a circus performer had their car broken into and his costume (including the bright red nose and colorful socks) stolen, her story questioned if the thief would use the stolen items or just discard them.
Several of us were fortunate to be on her Christmas card list, which would be a scratchboard print, usually with an animal theme, and always delivered in person. The lucky ones of us could convince her to do a scratchboard of our homes. The process included a long visit to take photographs. Only a few of us received a wood carving for our desks.
She was an incredible person with a huge heart. She would walk through any neighborhood in Portland, and someone would know her, or she would stop and talk with someone she had never met before.
In November of 2022, several of us saw Marge for the last time at the Portland International Jetport when she returned to Philadelphia to stay with her other family. She told all of us, “I’ll be back.”
I have memories of Margery lasting a lifetime. I loved her from the time I was a little girl. She was one of my parents’ friends who fed my imagination and love of art. She taught me and many other kids at St. Peter’s wood block and linoleum (and I still have a scar on my right arm to prove it) . She was my friend and a family friend. Her art will live forever on my walls. But I will really miss talking to her once in a while.
Even when I was a kid, Marge didn’t treat me like a kid. I remember her prints hanging on clothes lines at the Headhouse Craft Fair that she started along with my mother and others. I remember the giant Great Dane who I think was called Tiger (or that is just some random memory having to do with it’s brindle coat), and the little mutt thing named Fang (I swear I think that was the name.)
Other funny memories include being at their house when the Great Dane decided to nap underneath the coffee table in the living room. Then it stood up, taking a table full of cheese and stuff with it…until that all hit the floor.
I also have a memory of some dinner over at the Niblocks when Marge was making a leg of lamb. It was Dijon mustard encrusted. Maybe it was a Julia Child recipe?
And the art. So many memories of the art she created, including what she created for Unicef.
I remember when she moved to Maine. And then for a while she made the most beautiful jewelry out of silver and beach glass from Maine. They sold it at the Independence Seaport Museum. There is a necklace she made for sale on eBay now actually. I still wear my jewelry she made once in a while.
I remember a few years ago when she told me she wasn’t making any more art and wasn’t going to bother with her computer and that I could just keep calling. And call and talk to her I did until one day she stopped answering the phone in Maine. That was how I found out she had moved back to Pennsylvania.
Marge was incredibly bright and I loved speaking with her. Miles and years would just melt away. She was just a wonderful woman. I knew she was slowing down, and that is why she came back from Maine to be with her son. But life being life, I didn’t get to see her again after she arrived back in Pennsylvania in 2022. I wanted to, but I did not want to intrude on Marc and his wife.
So dear Margery, you and yet another piece of my growing up years are now completely my memories. But I will keep you in my heart and memories, and aren’t I lucky to have some of your art live with me.
Thanks for being one of the cool grown-ups in my life. We will all miss you and your infectious laugh still tinted with a New York accent after all of these years.
This is art history for me. The art history of my kid years. My friend Carolyn is selling her parents’ house in Philadelphia as her life is elsewhere. Both her late parents were heavily involved in the arts in Philadelphia. Her mother was “the quilt lady” of my childhood and I loved to watch her at the Head House Craft Fair. Recently, the lovely lady who was handling the disposition of things arrived with a box of treasures.
The first photo in this post is a wood block carving by Margery Niblock. I am thrilled this now lives with me. I think it’s so cool. Next is a poster from the Head House Crafts Fair.
The Head House Crafts Fair. It was such a wonderful event. Even though I was just a kid, i’ve never forgotten it. It’s kind of the thing I used to gauge I think subconsciously craft and community fairs. The artisans were amazing at this fair. And a lot of them were friends of my parents, and my mother is one of the key people who put it together after Margery Niblock said it would be a great idea. And my friend Carolyn’s mom was “the quilt lady.”
So these are amazing gifts and mean a lot. It’s funny how decades have gone by, and I can still see, feel, and hear the sounds of this craft fair in the Head House Shambles in my head. I remember that Margery Niblock, and some of the other artists had their work hung on clotheslines quite literally. And you were just see them a little bit in the breeze. It was very cool. And there weren’t just crafts people and artists there. There were antique dealers with treasures for all pocketbooks, and there were workshops for kids that were really cool and not dumb downed stuff with Play-Doh. And there was all sorts of food, representing many different cultures.
People undoubtedly think that all of us Society Hill kids of this mid-60s to mid-70s era are a little nutty because it was kind of cool to be a kid there then. It was a more innocent an era for kids, for sure. It’s not like life was perfect and that there weren’t kids dealing with crazy family stuff because that’s any era at any time, but there were truly good and fun things like this crafts fair. Or going to Old Swedes (Gloria Dei) for Santa Lucia…and back then they used real candles.
Also in the gift box of memories were a whole slew of unframed Margery Niblock prints, and a couple of the prints were framed. And there was a poster of the craft fair and the marvelous poster of a slightly later vintage designed for the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society in 1989. This was the year Margery also won a garden contest of theirs. A couple of years ago, the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society discontinued their home gardeners gardening contests, which I think it’s a pretty poor decision, and it kind of has made me lose interest in them along with some other factors.
This was a beloved time capsule entrusted to me as the next steward of it. I accept that responsibility with a glad heart. It’s art and memories I love and the work of an artist that means something to me.
Another amazing thing included with what was gifted to me was a small quilt made by Carolyn‘s mother. It’s a pattern similar to what I was photographed watching her make that day all those decades ago.
Also included? An amazing piece of an old quilt framed. I am sure this was a quilt that Carolyn‘s mother discovered somewhere that was too old to repair so she took the corner of the quilt that had the signature on it and framed it….from 1843.
In a time when people just throw good art away, I am both lucky and grateful that one of the former league of original Society Hill- St. Peter’s kids. And the thing about art is it doesn’t have to be priceless, it just has to resonate with you. If you go to charity sales, or flea markets, there is a lot of art that needs adopting. Adopt a piece today!
I have written about family friend and Philadelphia artist Margery Niblock a few times before. Her art is just something I have loved since I was a child. She was kind of my first artist.
She was a part of my childhood and I remember her home studio and her prints wafting in the breeze pinned to a clothesline with old fashioned wooden clothes pins at the Head House Craft Fair.
Margery also was one of my teachers back in the day. As a child she taught me to do woodblock and linoleum prints. I actually wasn’t that bad at it. It was a very fun process.
So recently, a very nice friend gave me some prints that he and his wife had collected while they lived not too far from where we lived when I was little. Prints I had literally not seen since I was a child! And three were owls! (I love owls!)
Receiving these prints was so exciting! They had literally never seen the light of day since they were purchased.
I took them over to Framers Market Gallery in Malvern to be framed. (Jayne and Dave the owners do all of my framing and re-framing at this point.) Jayne and I spent a good part of an afternoon about a month ago choosing the framing and mats. The store is so much fun because they have so many beautiful choices.
So here we are! The finished product!
Art makes me happy. And it doesn’t have to be outrageously expensive to have value to you. Buy what you like and hang what you like. Check thrift shops and flea markets and fairs and local art shows. Find your artist and enjoy them.
Today I picked up some things from a storage locker sale I had purchased. One thing was a limited edition book published in 1965 when I was a year old. Philadelphia: The Unexpected City by Laurence Lafore and Sara Lee Lippincott. The publisher was Doubleday. It was a copy of the “Philadelphia Edition.”
I don’t think too many people would be as excited to see this book as I was. But it was a book I remember people having in their homes when I was growing up, especially people that lived in Society Hill because there was so much of Society Hill in the book.
And there’s one thing that’s a picture of when they were raising the houses around Front Street to basically put in the highway. And I remember when they were doing all of that because it took a while to build and my mother’s friend Margery Niblock the artist had done a wood cut of it that I have the artist’s proof of.
So again, unless you live there during this time this probably wouldn’t mean anything to you. But it means something to me because there are so many pictures in this book of what Society Hill looks like when people like my parents came in and bought house is dirt cheap and started to restore them.
And the restoration of Society Hill is still a historic preservation triumph even with all of the houses that were in such bad condition they had to be demolished.
I guess that’s why sometimes I wonder why municipalities let people say “Oh we can’t possibly fix this, it has to be taken down!” I look at what happened then when I was a kid, and the technology wasn’t as advanced and so on and so forth, yet the historic preservation actually happened and restoration actually happened.
So I wish people would look at examples like this, and then look more towards preservation where they live. It is possible. Communities just have to want it. And if communities want it, they need to make that known to local government.
People have to realize you can save pieces of the past and people will love them and will live in them.
This section of Philadelphia when I was growing up was a sea of construction and scaffolding. I remember the contrast of going to neighborhoods where other people we knew lived and then coming back to our own. But it was exciting to see. Even then.
Hopefully someday when I am no longer around, someone else will happen upon what is now my copy of this book and love it as much as I do.
I found myself a small treasure today. “Society Hill” by Margery Niblock.
I have written before about family friend and artist Margery Niblock. She was a New York transplant who lived in Philadelphia for many, many years before heading north to Maine.
Margery has been a printmaker artist of woodcut and linoleum since 1958. The 1972 UNICEF Engagement Calendar had one of her woodcuts, “Fantasy,” chosen for inclusion, and her work was used as a cover and feature story in the then “Today Magazine” of the Philadelphia Inquirer She also taught private classes for both adults and children. (Yes, I was one of her students!)
Margery was commissioned by many organizations to do special pieces during her many years in Philadelphia — The Institute of Pennsylvania Hospital, Ars Moriendi, Atlantic Richfield Company (ARCO), American Friends Service Committee, Pearl S. Buck Foundation, Developmental Center for Autistic Children, and Support Center for Child Advocates.
In 1989 Margery moved to Maine, where she has had solo exhibits as well as illustrating quite a few books. In Maine, her drawings and woodcuts appeared in Greater Portland Magazine and the Maine Times. For a while she also produced beautiful jewelry made out of found beach objects – like shards of pottery and beach glass.
Margery, or Margie as I have grown up calling her, is a family friend. I have many memories of her and being in her home as a little girl which was across the street from St. Peter’s where I went to grade school. We are still connected today and I treasure her.
As I had already mentioned, she taught me how to do woodblock and linoleum cutting and printing. I still have the scar on my right wrist from when she warned me how to hold my tools when cutting and I did not listen. As a creative medium, I loved wood block and linoleum and I did some of it throughout high school.
To this day, Margery is still one of my favorite artists. If I see her work anywhere (and it’s affordable), I buy it. Her work represents very happy memories to me. (I see it and I smile.) I can still see her prints as well as the work of other artists fluttering on clotheslines held by clothes pins during the craft fairs of my childhood at Head House Square, known also as “the shambles”.
Circa 1974. That is me on the left watching a quilter at the Head House Square Craft Fair.
One time when we were little, Margie used my sister as a model. My sister was sitting on the beach in Avalon playing with my mother’s wide brimmed straw hat and playing in the sand.
And during the holidays, Margie would also create these fabulous Christmas-y wood cuts. I have several of those framed and hanging in my home now as an adult. My mother saved them for me and a few years ago I framed my favorites.
When I stumble across her work now, it is referred to as “mid-century modern” . This inexplicably makes me giggle and I wonder since a lot of what’s out there was created when I was growing up, I guess that make me mid-century modern too?
Art brokers and gallery owners alike probably wouldn’t like me saying art doesn’t have to be rare or priceless to hold value to us. But that is a very simple truth. Art should make us happy, evoke a memory, provoke a memory, cause a new memory to happen. Or when all else fails, you just like something. And no one else has to like it. Only you.
So many people love art yet live with blank walls. Sometimes I think it’s because they do not know what to buy. Or are afraid. To them I say: what do you like? What would make you happy?
Living in Chester County, we have so many amazing artists living here among us. And the art these artists create are at so many price points, so there is literally something for everyone’s budget.
In Chester County we not only have galleries and studio tours, we have the Chester County Art Association. Their gallery in West Chester and their outpost in the Exton Square Mall. (You can find some of my friend and artist Catherine Quillman’s work there, for example.)
Art is everywhere around us.
My friend Sherry Tillman who owns Past*Present*Future in Ardmore, PA started First Friday Main Line years ago to literally put art in unexpected places. The whole thing was about making art accessible to everyone, and to make the process less intimidating.
Sherry is so right. So many are intimidated to go into a traditional gallery setting even if they should not be. But because art is everywhere, you can find art at consignment boutiques, thrift stores, rummage sales, fairs, and so on.
Today I stumbled upon the wood block I opened the post with. It’s one right out of my childhood years and the location is also right out of my childhood years. It’s value is I like it. It made me smile as soon as I clapped eyes on it.
I am literally really lucky that I have quite a few friends who are artists. I feel connected to their work in part because I know them.
Yet on the flip side, there is art I feel connected to just for the subject matter. I don’t know the artists at all.
So here we are in the season of giving so why not something homemade? Like art? Buy a piece of art even if it’s just a little print for yourself. And if you need something framed I will gladly direct you to Framer’s Market Gallery in Malvern. (They also represent quite a few local artists, so make sure to check it all out!)
Thanks for stopping by.
My perfect Thanksgiving card from my friend and artist Catherine Quillman
I saw the notice of a house sale on a Facebook yard sale group page for West Chester. What caught my eye was the print above.
The subject is now a man not far from my age named Mark. They were done by his late father when we were all kids in Society Hill. It’s a set of four originally, there were three available.
The artist was Harry Niblock. He and his former wife also a tremendous artist, Margery Niblock, were dear friends of my parents and Margery is still a friend of mine. Our whole family has pieces of their art, and a lot of memories attached to the art especially because as a child I remember when a lot of it was actually created which is really cool.
So I went to the sale. What I wasn’t expecting is I would know the person whose house was having a house sale. She wasn’t there, but she was a woman I knew from the time I was a little girl.
This lady was widowed twice. Her first husband I knew as a little girl and her second husband I also knew for a lot longer, because he had been married to one of my mother’s closest and best friends and my mother had introduced the lady and this gentleman when they were both widowed. They subsequently married and he died.
So walking around the sale was a little emotionally loaded. I saw items from the households of two different couples, and their years together. I think what really upset me the most was the fact that there were items that belong to the second husband’s army career. Even a baby picture of the son, his namesake.
Seeing his various stages of career Army uniform is hanging on a rolling rack actually brought tears to my eyes and upset me. This man did some time in Vietnam. A couple of tours my mother said, and she also said she only ever remembers him talking about it twice. Ever. He was a great guy, a true soldier who loved his family too. I have really fond memories of him.
So I bought some things, namely Harry’s prints and one of Margery’s I didn’t have but remembered fondly. The Margery Niblock prints for sale or the series of prints her friends received every year in lieu of a Christmas card for years. I have quite a few framed and hanging on my own walls. I don’t know how valuable they are, but they are extraordinarily sentimental. Margery taught me as a girl to do linoleum and wood block.
Now I’m sitting in my car before I go home writing this down because it was almost a surreal experience. Flashback memories of two different families and my own childhood.
I hope the lady who is moving enjoys her new home. What a morning for memories.
Yes, in my garden menagerie inherited from previous owners are also a couple of pear trees. I am really frustrated right now because I need one of those picking poles (don’t knopw what else to call them). At the tippy top of the trees are the best pears. And I am in a race with birds and bugs to get to them…probably squirrels too.
One summer when I was growing up and I went to Strasbourg, I will never forget the visit to a pear orchard. There pears were growing into bottles placed at the ends of limbs when the pears were teeny-weeny. These pears later became an eau du vie Poire William.
Also, my parents had a friend when I was growing up named Harry Niblock. He was an artist (he passed away a few years ago) and he loved to paint and draw pears. Of course the amusing thing about Harry’s pears is they almost reminded you of people when he was finished. Some (like at left) were more traditional still lives. But some of those pears? Odd to say but they were downright sexual in nature.
His ex-wife Margery Niblock is also an artist. She taught me how to do woodblock and linoleum cutting and printing. I still have the scar on my wrist from when she warned me how to hold my tools when cutting and I did not listen. The mini photo of a woodcut of geraniums is one of her pieces that I actually have – found it at a flea market and it took me back to when I was a kid. To this day, she is still one of my favorite artists. If I see her work anywhere, I buy it. One time when we were little, she used my sister as a model. My sister was a little thing sitting on the beach playing with my mother’s wide brimmed straw hat and playing in the sand. And during the holidays, Margie would also create these fabulous Christmas-y wood cuts.
So I thought of both of them today as I was trying to get a few pears down to photograph and this is the result.
The other day I 
And there’s one thing that’s a picture of when they were raising the houses around Front Street to basically put in the highway. And I remember when they were doing all of that because it took a while to build and my mother’s friend Margery Niblock the artist had done a wood cut of it that I have the artist’s proof of.
This section of Philadelphia when I was growing up was a sea of construction and scaffolding. I remember the contrast of going to neighborhoods where other people we knew lived and then coming back to our own. But it was exciting to see. Even then.
As I had already mentioned, she taught me how to do woodblock and linoleum cutting and printing. I still have the scar on my right wrist from when she warned me how to hold my tools when cutting and I did not listen. As a creative medium, I loved wood block and linoleum and I did some of it throughout high school.
Art brokers and gallery owners alike probably wouldn’t like me saying art doesn’t have to be rare or priceless to hold value to us. But that is a very simple truth. Art should make us happy, evoke a memory, provoke a memory, cause a new memory to happen. Or when all else fails, you just like something. And no one else has to like it. Only you.
