Coming back home with Joe Finocchiaro

The day is November 22, 1963. A young Joe Finocchiaro is sent to see the priest at St. James High School in Penns Grove, NJ. He wants to drop out mid-year. Finocchiaro aspires to be an artist, and will not let some dinky, south Jersey high school hold him back. A brand new high school was near completion, somewhere where he would be able to learn about art. As he’s sitting in the office, news breaks that will change the course of history for the country, and subsequently, the rest of his life: John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Suddenly, the people around him do not care that he will be dropping out and transferring. 

Today, at 76 years old, Joe Finocchiaro thanks John F. Kennedy for his sacrifice. 

Finocchiaro’s life has been one that has played in circles; he has been brought back to many beginnings time and time again. He became a professor at the same school that his art teachers in Philadelphia learned their craft in Switzerland, and now lives in the same house on the same farm where he grew up. 

It was a brisk, fall morning on the farm. Finocchiaro stands before me, skin weathered by the sun and in simple jeans and a gray sweatshirt. He leads me through the farm, land that has always belonged to him in a way but was now in his name. He takes his time, walking slowly so as not to miss anything. He explains each and every part of the farm, what is grown where, how it grows, and the tasks done in order to take care of all of it. There is no sense that he does not want to do the hard work, or even really considers it that. It is just work that must be done.

“Do you have any help around the farm?” I ask. 

He looks at me bewildered.

Floundering, thinking he misunderstood my question, I rephrase. “Who does all the farm work?” 

Wordlessly, he points at himself. We keep walking. 

I follow him into the dining room where a large wooden table and a small kitchen greet us. Finocchiaro continues his tour, leading me through his home. The walls showcase some of his art, simple yet beautiful sketches. His home is fairly understated; put together, but humbly so.

The land has been in the Finocchiaro name since 1944. To keep their 13 kids under control, Mr. and Mrs. Finocchiaro made a lifestyle shift; they bought a farm. While all of the siblings eventually went their separate ways, child 6 of the 13 now owns the family farm and surrounding land in Sewell, NJ. 

From a young age Finocchiaro knew what it was that he wanted to do. He wanted to be an artist. He recalls being a child, watching a painter paint the sides of his father’s Swedesboro Produce Company truck in delicate, gold lettering. As he’s talking, he picks up an imaginary paintbrush and traces the words in the air. 

Graduating from the Philadelphia College of Art in 1969, Finocchiaro was ready to go out into the world and pursue his dreams. He had just spent four years being taught by artists from Switzerland. After his graduation, he got together with his parents to celebrate.

“My mother said, ‘There’s a letter for you.’ I handed her my diploma and opened the letter, and I was drafted in the marines, 1969 for the war in Vietnam,” Finocchiaro recalls. 

Doing all that he could to avoid going to Vietnam, Finocchiaro signed up for the Air Force because he believed it would be safer. This led him to Denver, Colorado, where he went to photo reconnaissance school. Having established skills in photography already, Finocchiaro became a master on the subject and took over teaching the class. He was lucky enough to never step foot in Vietnam; he was the only soldier out of his group to be assigned to Germany. Until he was released in 1974, Finocchiaro spent the rest of his time in the military working for the secret service, being among the first to analyze satellite images and develop film of missile sites. When given the choice of where he wanted to be released, Finocchiaro chose Europe over the states. This is where he spent the next 13 years of his life. 

“It was the best part of my life. It was like freedom. Being told what to do, how to dress, working on this stuff. I found that in the military the people were incredibly stupid. Everyone was following orders, no one could think for themselves, no one was resolving problems. For me it was just a nightmare because I was more of a freethinker in doing things,” Finocchiaro says. 

During his 13 years, Finocchiaro jumped around different parts of Europe but most notably lived in Milano, Italy and Basel, Switzerland, where he began his teaching career. While his talent and drive were important factors in landing him these teaching opportunities, Finocchiaro tells these stories as if they simply fell into his lap. With each story, he expresses a shy confession that some incredibly well-known designer in Europe casually offered him a job. The experience he reflects upon most fondly is working in the studio with Italian designer AG Frozoni, and teaching at the school he opened in Milano, Italy for three years. In talking about his life in Europe, Finocchiaro makes little mention to the friends he made or the relationships formed. He focuses solely on his career. 

In the 13 years that he was away, Finocchiaro came back to visit his family twice. As a foreigner, it was proving more difficult each year to support himself.

“I came back when I was 38 years old. I was living like a student. I wasn’t getting a career, I was just living a dream of being there,” Finocchiaro resigns. 

Repeatedly, Finocchiaro emphasizes that his time in Europe was the best time of his life. 

On one of his trips home, Finocchiaro had dinner with friends in Philadelphia, where once again someone offered him a teaching job. Although he admittedly did not want to take the position, he felt like it was the right thing to do. After his brief time in Philadelphia, Finocchiaro launched his graphic design career in New York, where he remained for 35 years. Finocchiaro has been a part of at least 233 projects, and that is just what is accounted for on his website. Sitting across from me, talking about his time living in New York, Finocchiaro explains how hyper focused he was on his work. He loved how dynamic Manhattan was, and the sheer amount of people around him at all times living their own lives. He does not describe the time he spent interacting with the city, but rather the passion he had for his work. 

Like all beautiful stories, Finocchiaro was brought back to where his started: the farm. On a weekend where he was able to escape the hustle and bustle of New York, he came home to visit his parents. He witnessed his father’s declining health, which he had no idea was something his parents were struggling with. Finocchiaro began to put his busy life on hold, returning home on weekends to take care of both his parents and the house. When living two lives was no longer a feasible option, Finocchiaro merged the two. He looks after the home and the farm, but continues to prioritize his graphic design projects and teaching career over anything else. Now, he is an adjunct professor at Rowan University. 

In 2019, Finocchiaro opened his home to his great nephews, Cain and Joe Nelson. Cain was in college, Joe in his senior year of high school. In a bit of a bind, they found themselves with nowhere to stay. Finocchiaro had a big, empty farmhouse and was happy to bring in the boys. 

“I remember my first Christmas on the farm,” Joe Nelson recalls. Finocchiaro had declared no presents were allowed. He is not a materialistic man, and does not understand the idea of people needing more stuff. Nelson, however, ignored this rule. And Finocchiaro proudly displays the present Nelson gave him nearly four years ago. Gleaming amongst neutral colored books and antiques on a dark wooden shelf sits a golden Spiderman figurine. 

“Me being me, I wrapped it up in a scarf and said, ‘Merry Christmas!’” Nelson says. 

Although Nelson and Finocchiaro admittedly did not know each other that well upon Nelson moving in, they quickly fell into a comfortable routine. They would cook dinner together every night at 5:00 on the dot. Finocchiaro mentions that although Nelson’s brother still lives with him, it is routine that they no longer have, and he cooks alone most nights. 

While they eventually found their groove, the initial stages were a little bumpy. 

“I moved in around 2019, so I was 19 years old. I remember -  this is probably one of the funniest earlier conversations we had, I didn’t think it was funny at the time - Uncle Joe says, ‘Why don’t you do something a little more? Why don’t you travel?’ I said, ‘Uncle Joe, I’m only 19!’ And Uncle Joe laughed at me! He said that was the most insane thing he had ever heard, ‘what do you mean you’re only 19?’” Nelson says, laughing as he tells the story. 

Standing on the farm that Joe Finocchiaro grew up on, we stood on solid earth, surrounded by growth. Crops grew, and crops died. A peaceful quiet filled the space. Ahead of us is a 300 year old oak tree. Standing in front of it, in all of its quiet glory, we are silent. It stands about 20 feet in front of us on the outer edges of the farm, creating a wall with the surrounding trees from the outside world. Everything around it pales in comparison. A sturdy, thick trunk leads to deep green leaves unaffected by the late October weather. We remain quietly, admiring something that has been on the earth long before all of us, and will be there long after. 

Passionately, Finocchiaro expresses, “When you’re young I think you should get in the car and just go. It doesn’t matter where you’re going, just go someplace. Because older, you can’t do it anymore. I can’t leave here because the porch is full of tropical plants that are gonna die, the chickens need to be fed, I have the farm and everything, I have roots. When I was young, I lived out of a suitcase for 13 years. You can’t own anything. I just moved from place to place with a suitcase. And it was the best time of my life. You are so free.”