Rotraut Uecker fled home at the age of 17 after finding herself in communist East Germany following Hitler’s defeat. Joining her older brother, artist Gunther Uecker, in Düsseldorf, she later secured ajob as an au pair for French artist Arman, which led to her fortuitous 1957 meeting with Yves Klein, the celebrated painter and conceptual artist whose signature blue had begun to seep through Europe. Uecker and Klein were married five years later at the Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs church in Paris, with the 34-year-old artist orchestrating every aspect of their wedding — choosing the blue tiara she wore, having his Monotone-Silence Symphony played in the nave, and ensuring that his fellow knights of the Order of Saint Sebastian would be on hand to greet guests and newlyweds after the ceremony.

The couple lived together during Klein’s most prolific period. From 1957 until 1962 Klein applied the notion of "the void" — a nirvana-like state where perception is liberated from materiality — to a range of experimental works including his "Anthropométries" (in which Klein used naked women to apply paint to canvas), his faux newspaper Dimanche, and his theory of "Architecture de l’air." Many of these pieces, or their remnants, are currently on view in "Yves Klein: With the Void, Full Powers," a major survey of the artist at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in Washington, D.C., through September 12. (It will travel to the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis later this year.)

In June of 1962, just five months after Klein and his wife were married, he suffered a third, fatal heart attack. Two months later, their son, also called Yves, was born. Rotraut Klein-Moquay, the artist's widow, spoke with ARTINFO about his life, his works, and legacy.

How did you and Yves Klein first meet?

I first came in contact with his blue monochromes at Galerie Schmela in Düsseldorf in 1957. I stood in front of the work contemplating it for a long time, and I immediately felt at home. Later, I was working as an au pair for Arman outside of Nice, where Yves is from, and he came by the house. I didn’t let him in, so we talked through the door. Knowing his work, I thought he would be this wise, older man, but instead he was so attractive, spiritual, young, and beautiful. The next day he came by and he was as vibrant as his painting.

You were Yves Klein’s assistant, model, and wife. What type of work did you do in the studio?

I never worked on the fire paintings, but I did model for the "Anthropométries." I had just come back from my exhibition in London in 1959 and he had begun experimenting with these, and of course I wanted to be in the work. I also worked as his assistant for the commission received from the Gelsenkirchen Opera House in Germany. I helped him in any way I could.

How did he inspire you as an artist?

Yves taught me about the freedom to pursue my interests. His mother was an artist and he was very supportive of women. He told [artist] Jean Tinguely that women need help in the male world of art, and he talked about how difficult it was for his own mother.

Klein was quite theatrical and staged elaborate presentations of his work. For his seminal exhibition at Galerie Iris Clert Gallery in 1958, he removed everything from the white-cube space except for a large empty cabinet, posted two Republican Guards in full regalia at the entrance, painted the windows blue, hung a blue curtain at the entrance, and served blue cocktails. Nearly 2,500 people showed up.

Yves participated in theater when he was young, and he was also very interested in magic. He created ceremonies as a way to share his work with others.

Unlike the stereotype of the bohemian artist, Klein often dressed in suits and ties, and famously even wore a black dinner jacket and white gloves during his 1960 exhibition "Anthropométries de l’Epoque bleue" in Paris. Would you say he was a dandy?

I think this is a misunderstanding of him. In fact, he felt honored to be a creator and this was his way of showing respect for art.

His pursuit of spirituality seems to run through his life and work. He was raised as a Catholic and later studied Rosicrucianism and Zen Buddhism. He was also a knight of the Order of St. Sebastian, and he earned a black belt in judo. How did these interests manifest themselves in his personal life?

He was a very spiritual person. He meditated and I think he believed in an afterlife. Maybe like the Buddha, he believed that we don’t really die. He has Javanese blood from his grandmother’s side, and was very open to different cultures and religions.

Do you believe that the devastation of the war may have led to his interest in spiritual matters?

I think he was much more worried about the future than the past. People were becoming consumed with buying and the importance of money, and  spirituality suffered.

In 1961, you traveled to New York for Klein’s solo exhibition at the Leo Castelli gallery and lived at the Chelsea Hotel for two months. The exhibition was not well-received and Klein wrote "The Chelsea Hotel Manifesto" in response. Why do you think he felt compelled to write the tract?

I think he wanted people to hear his own voice. He was respectful of different art forms and was not against art movements like Abstract Expressionism. He even loved artists like Vermeer, whom he saw as a spiritual artist.

How did New York artists receive his work?

The artists were very supportive. Larry Rivers was a wonderful friend. We had dinners with Barnett Newman and met Franz Kline, Robert Rauschenberg, and Jasper Johns. There was a strange incident with Mark Rothko where he approached Yves and then suddenly turned and walked away. We never found out why.

What would you say is Klein's greatest legacy?

He wanted to create something immaterial and to bring energy, love, and maybe even God to art. He did it because he loved art. He opened so many doors for a new generation.