James Church could put disparate objects together to make art, and disparate people together to make a community, playing a big part of what has been going right in Lawrenceville.

But the artist who could take discarded objects and arrange them beautifully in a peaceful permanence could not do likewise for himself. He died last month at 46 after a long struggle with alcoholism.

His legacy will be celebrated from 3 to 5 p.m. Saturday in the Fe Gallery at 4102 Butler St., where all the people who loved and admired Mr. Church will grapple with what they know and what they will never know.

More than 100 of Mr. Church's pieces will be displayed, work that is deceptively simple. Pieces that have no obvious relation -- baby doll heads, religious icons, bird's eggs, old photographs and snippets of type -- are reverently snuggled behind glass. Unlike so many other takings from Christian iconography, Mr. Church's pieces always seem respectful, inviting awe even at their most playful.

His widow, Paula, is aware of every irony as she prepares for this celebration of his work. She and James separated four years ago. She always tried to stay out of the art world that was "his mistress," and she remembers how the clutter of a roomful of his found objects could drive her crazy. But she is resolute in her desire to protect his legacy, both for him and for their 8-year-old daughter, Sophie.

The exhibition will represent but a fraction of his prolific output. Mr. Church produced at least 500 pieces and perhaps as many as 1,000, Ms. Church believes. But the most beautiful object I saw may have been a photograph of Mr. Church with his arms wrapped around Sophie. He went everywhere in Lawrenceville with her, and even had "Sophie" tattooed on his wrist, which he checked as often as other men do their watches.

"The people of Lawrenceville knew her almost as well as they knew James," Ms. Church said.

There probably aren't a dozen artists in greater Pittsburgh who can make a living from their work, and Mr. Church was not in that exclusive company. He'd barter a piece for eyeglasses -- he loved the barter system -- or trade with another artist for a piece he admired. So his work is coming to Jill Larson, owner of the Fe Gallery, from more than 30 homes.

"He was just so prolific," Ms. Larson said. "He always made me feel like I was not doing enough work."

Unlike most artists, however, Mr. Church could lift peers with praise. He opened the Penn Gallery in June 2000 with Mark Gualtieri, an abstract painter, because he wanted to help foster an arts community -- and did. Mr. Church kept that gallery at 37th and Penn only a couple of years, but about a half-dozen more galleries have opened in Lawrenceville since.

"He was passionate about art," Mr. Gualtieri said. "He loved it dearly. It meant everything to him."

Mr. Gualtieri was among more than 40 friends who walked through Allegheny Cemetery on New Year's Day to honor Mr. Church, who didn't drive and loved his long daily walks through the neighborhood.

Ron Donoughe, a painter of Western Pennsylvania landscapes, told me that afternoon that Mr. Church was the glue for many arts communities. Art was his calling, not a competition, and he selflessly encouraged other artists in ways that set him apart.

An art exhibition, like a mini-biography on page 2 of the morning paper, cannot capture a man in full. Mr. Church's work was deeply personal, and as defiant of easy analysis as his life. Claudia Brink, who owns several of Mr. Church's pieces, said a person must take them off the wall and look in the back because there are things there, too.

"He was a good, kind, talented, intelligent-beyond-belief person," Ms. Church said, and the outpouring of support she has gotten from his friends in the art world has overwhelmed her.

Nothing is for sale Saturday. A time will come when pieces will be sold to raise money to cover funeral, legal and medical expenses, but this weekend is not that time.