Month: July 2019

My Search For Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks Diner

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*unless otherwise credited).

Arnold Newman, Edward Hopper in his New York studio, November 1, 1941, Gelatin silver print, *Arnold Newman Collection/Getty Images.

You’re looking at Art history.

After the fact, this may be one of the most historic Photographs in American Art. I’m not only talking about it being a wonderful portrait of Edward Hopper. It’s much more. The date is November 1, 1941. On January 21, 1942, the Artist’s wife, Jo Hopper, would record the completion of the work her husband created on that blank canvas he is posing in front of in the Artist’s Ledger of his work.

A section of Edward Hopper’s Ledger page for Nighthawks, from the book, Edward Hopper: Paintings and Ledger Book Drawings. It wound up in the Art Institute of Chicago almost immediately. Its sale netted Edward Hopper about $1,700.00.

In the intervening 81 days, Edward Hopper Painted the incomparable Nighthawks on that very canvas. We don’t know if Arnold Newman had any clue as to what Edward Hopper’s intentions were for that canvas. But we know now. The odds are that he had finished his preliminary work- the inspiration, the sketches, the reference Drawings, the sizing calculations he usually did, and ordered the stretcher and canvas we see behind him on his famous easel. Most likely? At this very moment, this masterpiece was all in his mind, and possibly on it, as Arnold Newman pressed his shutter release.

Click.

For the following 77 1/2 years (exactly, as I write this), and counting, the world has been fascinated by Nighthawks like they have few other Paintings created in the 20th Century. Some of us, including myself, are borderline obsessed by it.

Written on my soul. The last time I stood in front of Nighthawks. August 28, 2013, at Hopper Drawing at the old Whitney Museum.

I’ve stood in front of it twice in my life. The first time at The Art Institute of Chicago in 2005, the second at the old Whitney Museum in 2013. In July, 2015, I named this site after it and wrote about why in the very first piece I Posted here, “Welcome To The Night,” To commemorate the 4th anniversary of NighthawkNYC.com, I present My Search for the Nighthawks Diner.

Edward Hopper posed for Arnold Newman, and Painted Nighthawks here, on the top floor of 3 Washington Square North, just east of the Arch in Washington Square Park, in Greenwich Village, that it looks out on, where the Hoppers lived for over 50 years, from 1913 until the Artist’s death in 1967. This is a key point for a variety of reasons, and an intriguing one because Edward Hopper was the furthest thing from “bohemian” one could imagine. Yet, living here he, like most New Yorkers, walked regularly, probably daily, and so the areas he was able to walk to may have become the sites of, or the inspirations for, his Paintings. And so, for almost all of the past 77 years viewers have been asking the question-

“WHERE is the diner Edward Hopper Painted in Nighthawks?”

I’ve been trying to find it for the better part of my life. Having lived in the area for 28 years and having frequented it before I lived here, the Village is an area I’m as familiar with as I am any anywhere. During that time, as during the Hopper’s time here, change has been the only constant. Change has also been a constant enemy in the attempts to locate, for once and for all, the diner we see in Nighthawks. My search has been carried out using only a few tools. First, the extensive Hopper literature. Though very little of it is directly relevant to this search, much of it is indirectly relevant, providing a framework for how, when and where he created his extensive oeuvre of Paintings, Watercolors and Drawings. The books by Gail Levin, (the Hopper’s biographer and the author of numerous other books on the Artist and his work, including the 4 volume Catalog Raisonne), particularly her Hopper’s Places, Second edition and the catalog for the 2013 Whitney Hopper Drawing show have been the most referred to for this quest. Outside of this, I have relied on my own two feet, my cameras and, yes, my gut.

Once that “Could this be IT?” bell goes off, I research the possibility, beginning with “What did this place look like around 1940?” Is any of that here to be seen now (i.e. when I was standing there)? What does common sense tell me? In the case of Edward Hopper, “common sense” comes from studying his work. Hopper’s Places provides part of the basis for some of that “common sense.” In it, Ms. Levin shows us contemporary Photographs she, herself, has taken at various sites Edward Hopper Painted around the world- though not Nighthawks, “…to show how he both recorded and transformed” these places, she says in her “Preface to the Second Edition,” P.vii. On P. x, she adds, “Research for the biography also revealed that in his later years Hopper relied upon observing specific sites more often than anyone had previously realized.” Even though much has changed over time, I still get a bit of a sense of Hopper’s approaches to rendering actual places. Much is, also, to be learned by looking at and studying historic and contemporary pictures of places under consideration. In the case of Nighthawks, I used all of these tools in my search.

Rooms for Tourists, 1945. About 40 years later, I found this actual Rooming House this Painting is based on in Cape Cod, Mass., and stayed there. *Photographer unknown.

My gut has already helped me find one of “Hopper’s Places.” In the 1980s, I was traveling through Cape Cod and looking for a place to stay in Provincetown, Mass. I came upon a small Rooming House and instantly recognized it from the Hopper Painting, Rooms for Tourists, and so I just had to stay there. Part of my belief that Edward Hopper based Nighthawks on a real diner was finding that actual Rooming House in the 1980s when I visited Cape Cod.

I’ve spent most of my time searching in the West Village. For two primary reasons. First, this was the neighborhood Edward Hopper lived in and walked through regularly and most often. Second, as soon as one walks south of West 14th Street (the Village’s northern border) on 7th Avenue South, you’re faced with this-

Standing in 7th Avenue South at the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and West 11th Street, facing south, July, 2019. It HAS to be somewhere in this picture, right? No. There are countless triangular corners in the West Village, but this view is the most likely to contain it, I think. Click for full size.

As I stood in the middle of 7th Avenue South (NOT recommended) there were no fewer than TWELVE triangular corners around me! Those familiar with Manhattan know that almost all of it north of 14th Street is a grid made up almost exclusively of rectangles. Below 14th Street, “old Manhattan” streets wind seemingly with minds of their own, interrupted here and there with a semblance of uptown’s rectangular regularity. The triangular corners we see in Nighthawks are everywhere. WHERE to begin?

The former Two Boots Pizzeria, #11 in the picture above, is from the right period, but its building goes straight up, so I ruled it out quickly. Nothing feels “right” to me about it.

Mulry Square (in the foreground), #3 in the picture.

Perhaps no site has gotten more “hype” about it over time in regards to Nighthawks than Mulry Square, #3 in the picture. In spite of what many have said, I have seen nothing to indicate to me that this was the site of the Nighthawks Diner.

I would guess this would be  the early 1980s from the Rita Marley ads and Miles Davis ads, on the remnants of the hamburger place, which may be the remnants of the actual hamburger place that stood here in the 1940’s, which I show later on. Miles Davis came out of retirement in 1981. Is that a covered window along the left side? I haven’t been able to find out. *Photographer unknown.

The historical archives show a gas station with a small burger place at the time, but it looks more like a White Castle precursor to me than anything resembling the Painting’s diner. If anything, it may have been an inspiration for the “fishbowl effect”- where we are looking in through the glass at the customers. More on this later.

This is seen on the other end of Mulry Square, #4 in the picture, on another triangular corner, today. No viable candidates have been reported on this, also triangular, side of the Square, which is occupied by this too modern edifice today. I’ve also ruled it out.

#9. Max Gordon Corner, named in honor of the long time owner of the Village Vanguard.

Directly across the street from #4 is this building, #9 in the picture, which has been home to the world’s greatest Music club, in my opinion, the Village Vanguard since 1927. There is a pizza place on the corner and the windows go through to the back street, but at 2 stories, I’ve long ago ruled it out. However, Art history will remember this spot because another great Painter, Richard Estes, wonderfully Painted it. (Which reminds me- In 2016, I visited the known site of one of Richard Estes’ latest Paintings in a piece I ironically called “Richard Estes’ Dayhawks At The Corner Cafe.”)

Village Cigars, 7th Avenue South and Christopher Street, Greenwich Village, NYC, June, 2019.

The site of Village Cigars is not numbered in the picture, being further down 7th Avenue on the right past #8. It’s garnered surprisingly little to no attention in the Nighthawks searches I’ve seen to this point. It has some things going for it- the shape and the cigar sign (Nighthawks has a Phillies cigar ad over the diner) but in speaking with the manager, I was told it’s been here for over 100 years, but it’s been a cigar store the whole time. Also, it doesn’t have the curved front window, those dual subway entrances were most likely also there in 1940 and are not in the Painting, and the buildings behind it are too far away. I’ve ruled it out. The Stonewall Inn is a few hundred feet to the left.

Some believe the inspiration lay in movies of the period, like this one, Stranger on the Third Floor, 1940. The suggested diner down the street on the right looks nothing like it, in my opinion. Possibly another “fishbowl effect” inspiration.

I remain completely unconvinced by any and all suggestions of movies I’ve seen. Yes, Edward Hopper was taken by a short story, “The Killers,” written by Ernest Hemingway in 1929, but I, for one, have not seen the evidence of that in the setting in the Painting. In the figures and the mood? Much more likely. “The Killers” was also made into a film, but, in 1946, too late to be considered. Maybe the Painting influenced it, as it has countless movies since.

That leaves the contenders. Speaking of movies, Edward Hopper reportedly frequented the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater (which stood where #12 is in the picture earlier, and is seen further below), and based a Painting inside of it. His walk to and from it is interesting to me and it has been suggested that a few locations along this route are candidates for the Nighthawks diner. I looked closely at these.

Yes, West Village Florist at 70 Greenwich Avenue is sort of triangular. The picture above was taken standing on the northern edge of Mulry Square, seen earlier. Yes, it was along one of Edward Hopper’s possible routes from his apartment to the Lowe’s Sheridan Theater, which was directly across 7th Avenue to the left of the picture.

This picture came to me dated 1938 and that would appear correct. Looking toward Mulry Square on the right shows the side of the White Castle-ish hamburger place seen earlier under the Esso sign. The place on the triangular corner, center, at the intersection of 7th Avenue South, Greenwich Avenue and West 11th Street, is now West Village Florist, shown here when it was a cigar/cigarette store. Whoever told this picture is standing on the curb outside of what was Too Boots Pizza, #11 in the panorama posted earlier, with the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater directly to his or her left. Photographer unknown to me.

Yes, it housed a deli 20 years ago before becoming a flower shop the manager told me, and my research added a cleaner/tailor shop circa 1914, and a cigar store in the period of Nighthawks as seen in historical pictures (including in 1938, above), but it’s too small inside, the prow is also too small, and the corner lot too big in my reading of the Painting. Nowhere have I seen reference to it being a diner or coffee shop at any point. The buildings in the background are wrong now, and were wrong then, according to historical pictures.

Inside West Village Florist, standing just inside the door. I had room to stretch my arms out, with maybe an extra foot on each side, but the space quickly narrows, as you can see. It’s just too small. Stop by and see what you think. They are very nice people who have a beautiful assortment of plants and flowers.

There is little doubt he saw it, but as I showed earlier, there are countless triangular corners in the area that could have been a partial inspiration. At best, that’s all this is, and I doubt it was a big influence. I’ve ruled it out.

West Village Florist’s building has this unique, strange, angled shape to it seen from head on, July, 2019.

The serious contenders.

The intersections of Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street with the Loew’s Sheridan Square Movie Theater, rear. Photograph by Percy Loomis Sperr (1890-1964), Manhattan: 12th Street – Greenwich Avenue, 1932, *NYPL Digital Archives.

In this 1932 picture of the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street, the low, triangular shaped building in front of the west side (the back) of the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater is Crawford Lunch. There are historic pictures taken from Greenwich (on the right) that show customers in Crawford Lunch with West 12th Street seen behind them- which I reproduce further below. I think it is entirely plausible that Edward Hopper saw this, too, and this inspired his conception of a sort of “fishbowl” like setting. Here was an actual working diner/restaurant of the time. Today’s West Village Florist building is about 3/4 of the way down to the right of this picture.

Change is the only constant in New York. The same scene, today! I stood as close as I could to the spot the 1932 picture above was taken to take this in July, 2019- 87 years later!

It’s so different, 87 years later, as to defy anyone to guess this site had anything to do with Nighthawks. Therein lies a good deal of the problem finding its sources. It’s now The NYC AIDS Memorial Park at St. Vincent’s Triangle. Note- the brown building on the very far left. It does not look like what’s in the background of the Painting. More on this follows. The Whitney’s Hopper Drawing catalog suggests that Edward Hopper may have looked through Crawford Lunch and seen the “fishbowl effect” we see in the Painting.

Subway construction photograph of 88-86 Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street, New York City, April 18, 1926. Identifier- 86446d_GreenwichAve_SubConst958. *Collection of the New York Historical Society.

Here, we see a revealing example of this “fishbowl effect” seen at Crawford Lunch in a picture taken on April 18, 1926. Notice how you can see into and through the restaurant, on the right, to West 12th Street behind the man in the dark hat under the word LUNCH on the window. The brown apartment building seen in the far left in the prior picture is about to be built seen straight ahead just across the 12th Street past Crawford. Note, also, the word “LUNCH” on the window for later. I believe this is the possible source of the effect given how close it is to the Lowe’s Sheridan Theater (next door). However, it could have as easily been something he saw somewhere else on his walks, in a place they, or anyone else I’ve come across has not considered. But, unlike most of the locations suggested to date, Crawford Lunch was an actual restaurant at the right time and in the, possibly, right place.

The almost identical view in the previous picture today at the former site of Crawford Lunch also approximates the view seen in Nighthawks. That brown brick apartment building, seen early in its construction above, has been here since the late 1920s, and hence, at the time of Nighthawks, making it wrong for the Painting. Seen in July, 2019.

That Crawford Lunch was an influence would seem to be confirmed by this-

Study for Nighthawks, 1941 or 1942. Fabricated chalk and charcoal on paper; 11 1/8 × 15 in. Given he finished Nighthawks on January 21, 1942, I doubt this was done in 1942. It seems he was still finalizing his ideas when this was done. *Whitney Museum collection & photo.

I can barely make out the word “LUNCH” on the widow above the man with his back to us in this study for the Painting. As we know, Edward Hopper did not include this in the final Painting, among other changes he made to what we see in this incredible and endlessly fascinating Drawing. It sure reminds me of the Crawford Lunch window and may be a give away of its source and, possibly, the source, once and for all, of this “fishbowl effect.”

Edward Hopper said little about the inspiration for Nighthawks and, frankly, I don’t know what to make of what he is reported to have said. In Katherine Kuh’s The Artist’s Voice, P.134, he says, the Painting “was suggested by a restaurant on Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet.” He adds, “I simplified the scene a great deal, and made the restaurant bigger.” Um, Ed? Could you be a bit more obtuse? “Greenwich Avenue where two street meet,” is said to mean West 12th Street & 7th Avenue South by Gail Levin (Hopper’s Places). Couldn’t “two streets meet” mean Greenwich & West 12th Street, where Crawford Lunch was? If it means Greenwich and two other streets, it has to be the triangles where West Village Florist and Mulry Square are. In any event, “…suggested…” I believe means a scene he saw at one of these places, the “fishbowl effect,” which I think he saw at Crawford Lunch, a confirmed restaurant at the time. But, Crawford Lunch doesn’t look like the diner in the Painting- even if he “…made the restaurant bigger.” Neither does the hamburger place on Mulry Square or West Village Florist. And that comment doesn’t specify it’s the same restaurant he mentions on Greenwich Avenue. It could mean “the restaurant we see in the Painting.” Intensely frustrated by this, I finally decided to continue on my own path. This meant looking a little further afield from the Greenwich Avenue vicinity. It turns out I didn’t have far to look.

Further down 7th Avenue South, not as far as Village Cigars, and still well within Edward Hopper’s walking neighborhood, I came across this-

“Oh. My. Gosh.”

The site of the now sadly defunct Riviera Cafe, which was open here for 48 years, from 1969 until August 31, 2017.

The former Riviera Cafe at 225 West 4th Street at 7th Avenue South.

When I came across this site, I had an “Oh. My. Gosh.” moment. Picture it without the modern “greenhouse” addition and it becomes much more like the diner in Nighthawks. Back in the day, I spent a few nights in this place, as I’m sure many reading this have, too, since it was centrally located right at the heart of the West Village. The building behind it to the left, while not exactly what we see in the Painting (I believe they are the same buildings that were standing on this site in 1940), at two stories, which fits all we can see in the Painting (they may go higher in Nighthawks, or they may be cut at two- we can’t tell), and they’re the right distance, though at a slightly different angle, from what we see in the Painting. If this is the location Edward Hopper used, why didn’t he use the buildings we see in the background? I believe it was because of the color. That long building which takes up a good portion of the back is too brightly colored to fit the mood he wanted in Nighthawks. So, possibly, he replaced them. More on this in a minute. I measured the depth of the greenhouse at 90 inches- 7.5 feet. If it were not there, it would have allowed me to stand closer to the building taking this shot. Thinking back to my visits here, there was a bar along the back wall then, and I believe there were tables behind the seats/stools facing the bar, approximately under where that brick wall would come down with the greenhouse gone. Would a horseshoe counter have fit here?

As I looked closer, I discovered this-

The front of The Riviera Cafe facing West 4th Street and giving it its address, 225 West 4th Street.

Lo and behold, there was something none of the other candidates I’ve discussed thus far have- a curved front window! And, it’s the same on both sides of that door! But, that door. Was it always there, or was the curve complete at one point, which would make The Riviera, minus the modern greenhouse addition, an almost perfect match for Nighthawks Diner?

The back of The Riviera Cafe on West 4th Street.

Stepping around to the back of The Riviera- more intrigue. What’s up with the right half of the wall, and what was there before they replaced it? A window? Also, that door to the left looks earily similar to the door in the Painting on the inside of the Nighthaks Diner. As I said, when I was here, I remember a long bar inside that wall and along it, meaning you’d probably be able to see the necks of liquor bottles in that rectangular window that’s still there, center. But, that’s now/more recently. What about in the past?

Intrigued, to say the least, searching further, I uncovered this-

1941! The year Nighthawks was Painted. Percy Loomis Sperr (1890-1964), Manhattan: 7th Avenue South – 4th Street (West), 1941, *NYPL Digital Archives.

In 1941, The Riviera was called Riker’s and it was a restaurant! It looks pretty new and shiny, too. Some encouraging things in this picture- there are retractable awnings instead of the permanent greenhouse, for one, but that troublesome front door is still there to the left, and it looks to be the same structure, with the curved windows on either side of it.

The Riviera Cafe occupies the biggest triangular space in this part of the West Village. It’s very accessible to the Hopper’s apartment (a few blocks to the east). Why has it never been properly considered as a candidate?

In 2013, during the Hopper Drawing show, the Whitney Museum came out and said the following-

“…has led art historians to cite the building’s prow as one of the influences…” What are the others? Seen in 2013.

They’re talking about the Flatiron Building, which is on West 23rd Street at the intersections of Broadway and 5th Avenue- no where near Greenwich Avenue, where that quote has caused most to look, and it’s not even in Greenwich Village! So, the museum has taken the same approach I did in this sense. Also, in the Hopper Drawing catalog they fail to publish the Kuh Hopper quote (above), only footnoting the page in her book it’s on (P.118, footnote 2)! Perhaps, they, too, find it as frustrating as I do? (I realized this only this past week, after my quest had been completed.) They state the Flatiron was “one of the influences,” but fails to name any others!?? “One of” means “more than one.” Well? I’m naming names here.

An installation of “Nighthawks” in the prow of the Flatiron Building by the Whitney Museum in 2013. The installation is 2D and only a few inches deep, as I show below. I shot it at this angle to show the problematic lining up of the buildings in the back on Broadway, across the plaza, which is not at all like what we see in the Painting. Seen on September 1, 2013.

Assessing the Flatiron’s candidacy, I discovered that at one point it was a cigar store (again, the Painting has a Phillies cigar ad on the top of the diner), but I did not find evidence of it having been a diner. Looking closer at the interior space, I discovered it ostensibly measures 10 feet wide, at its widest, to the right in the picture above, by 30 feet long. I’m no restauranteur, but that seems pretty narrow to me to get a horseshoe shaped counter inside, room for seating around it, room to navigate around those seats and room for the counterperson to work. Glare notwithstanding, here’s what the space looks like pressed against the front curved window-

A look at the installation of “Nighthawks” in the prow of the Flatiron Building on September 1, 2013.

Notice the radiator on the right, and how far it is from the window. There’s another one on the left which is hard to see in this picture. Both, and the room around them they require for safety and comfort, considerably cut into the amount of usable space here. Also notice the large column to the left rear of the photo, which serve to partially support the gigantic mass of the building above them, which also has a counterpart that’s hard to see because of the glare on the right side (see the picture of the whole prow, above it). The opening between them appears to be tight. How are people supposed to come and go here?

Then, there’s the site itself. It doesn’t feel to me like what we see in the Painting.

A panorama shows the distance between what would be the far side of the prow in the Painting and the buildings across the plaza and Broadway.

The buildings that would be in the background of the Painting are too far away and angled incorrectly- 23rd Street angles to the south east relative to the Flatiron at this point making the buildings begin too far back to be seen as they are in Nighthawks, in addition to being not at all like those seen in the Painting in the many existing historical pictures. Therefore, I believe the Flatiron’s prow isn’t what we see as the diner in the Painting, and this wasn’t the scene shown in the Painting. Of course, any Artist is completely free to do whatever they want, to make anything into anything else, whether it would fit in the “real” place, or not. (There is no such thing as “photorealism” in Painting, in my opinion, but that’s a battle for another day.) Edward Hopper, as per that quote, could have made West Village Florist or the Fatiron’s prow bigger, but their settings are still wrong, in my opinion, so I don’t believe he used either. However, like the Whitney, I believe the Flatiron’s prow was an influence.

Currently under renovation? Cleaning? Diner installation? Maybe I should wait and see what emerges before reaching a conclusion. (Just kidding.) July, 2019.

Looking at the Painting, one thing is undeniable- that curved window Edward Hopper includes. I’ve found it nowhere else besides on the Flatiron- either on existing buildings or in historical pictures. And, some of the ribs we see on the window in the Painting are present on the Flatiron’s prow today. In 1939, Edward Hopper exhibited at the World’s Fair1, and so he may have seen the Fair, but was certainly aware of it.

“Fishbowl effect” indeed. The history of glass making through the ages seen in glass bubbles at the Glass Incorporated Pavilion at 1939 World’s Fair, Queens, New York, New York, USA. Coincidence? Or influence? *Image by Peter Campbell/CORBIS

It was an Art Deco marvel. The Nighthawks diner has a decidedly Deco/Streamlined/Moderne feel to it. Though the Flatiron is a Beaux Arts building, the curved window of the prow has a decidedly Art Deco, streamlined, feel to it.

Early Sunday Morning, 1930, seen at the Whitney Museum, July, 2019. This looks uncannily similar to the background of Nighthawks to me.

Yet, what he depicts in the background of Nighthawks looks curiously not dissimilar to his Early Sunday Morning, 1930. It’s almost like he dropped those buildings into the background. But, 10 years after the earlier work a good many of those buildings were no doubt still everywhere around town, so they may as easily be generic. Whatever their origin, in this way he juxtaposes the old New York with the new world just seen in the 1939 World’s Fair, which showcased “modern” streamlining and the new flourescent lighting.

Early Sunday Morning is something of a “pendant” to Nighthawks as Carter E. Foster points out in the Hopper Drawing catalog (P.99). It’s the same size and shape and the two are bookends in some ways.

7th Avenue between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Streets, June 10, 1914. I’ve indicated the scene depicted in Early Sunday Morning, with a blue bounding line centering around 88 7th Avenue, seen in these two photos taken on June 10, 1914- 16 years before the Painting. The shutters on the windows are gone in 1930, so are the awnings, and there was only one barber pole. The hydrant was either to the left, or around the corner to the left. The center white line are the borders of the two photographs shown. All the buildings in these pictures have long ago been replaced. Subway Construction Photos modified from the Whitney Hopper Drawing website.

Interestingly, the inspiration for Early Sunday Morning were shops on 7th Avenue, but not in Greenwich Village. They have been located as being between 15th and 16th Streets in Chelsea, just north of the Village. Comparing the Painting to period pictures is fascinating. While it’s unlikely that Edward Hopper stood with a sketchbook and drew the scene, he did capture any number of correct details. But, he changed others- most notably the sunlight. The sun never shines on 7th Avenue at the angle he Paints it shining!

Mid-Sunday Afternoon. The site of Early Sunday Morning, seen in July, 2019. The original buildings have long ago been replaced. Notice how the shadows go in the opposite direction of those in the Painting.

7th Avenue runs North/South, not East/West, like the sun. In reality, the sun would be directly behind the viewer! So? Here’s a case of a found actual site and how Edward Hopper used creative license to mould it to his vision- even if that meant changing nature! What’s moving a curved window 20 blocks south compared to moving the sun?

My Conclusion-

I currently believe that Edward Hopper saw Riker’s about 1941 and those 2 curved windows in its front. I believe he, too, may have been frustrated by that front door and decided to “remodel” it. With a a paintbrush. So, he morphed the Flatiron’s prow’s curved window onto it and then created his own (though somewhat similar to the real) background on West 4th Street in the Painting.

Unless and until I find better candidates, THIS is what I believe Edward Hopper did.

Yes, I’ve used the original, 2015, NighthawkNYC.com banner, which removed the famous couple, leaving that figure I relate to in honor of NHNYC’s 4th Anniversary. On the same page she dated Nighthawks on in the Hopper Ledger, Jo Hopper refers to him as “sinister.” I love her, anyway. Before she died the year following Edward, she bestowed one of the greatest American Artistic Estates to the Whitney Museum (who promptly “rewarded” her incredible generosity by throwing out virtually all of her work, thereby denying Art historians and Art lovers a chance to assess her work on its own- forever2). And I used the banner because, yes- I once sat at The Riviera Cafe’s bar by myself, too.

But, beyond ALL of this, for me? Nighthawks is the first truly modern American Painting. It marks the beginning of all that came after. It captures the essence, the FEELING of living in a City- here, in New York, or anywhere, but even more, it captures the feeling of modern life, which has become more and more about isolation, and fleeting moments of connection- or not, since January, 1942. I always try and remember that Nighthawks, like many of Edward Hopper’s other works, is a voyeuristic moment seen by a pedestrian, who more than likely kept moving on, past this fleeting moment and this scene, wherever it was, and didn’t pause to ponder it indefinitely, like so many have since.

Moments exist as flashes of time.

Click.

Here right now, gone forever. Unless, you’re one of the great geniuses in American Art history, who has the vision, the power and the talent to make it last, and speak to us, indefinitely.

But, for me, at least, Nighthawks isn’t about capturing a fleeting moment magically, though it does.

The other reality that common sense dictates be mentioned is that 78 years later, a better explanation than mine, or a better real life candidate for the Nighthawks Diner may never be found. It may have existed only in his imagination, with a few pieces of real life thrown in- like the Flatiron prow’s window. And that, too, may be part of his point. Nighthawks, in one reading, may not be about place as much as it is the psychological, the inter-personal, and? 

Loneliness.  

Have two people in Art ever been closer together, yet further apart?

The woman in red is all dressed up to go HERE?, I can hear her mentally screaming. Her “companion” sits physically next to her, close to her, but, in my reading of it, their hands don’t quite seem to touch. Maybe you see it differently. For me? I can’t look at this and not think of God and Adam in Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel Ceiling. There is no life giving, or love giving touch here. He has a cigarette in his hand- not her (left) hand, which remains empty. There is a distance that belies how close together they sit. All of this is, somewhat humorously, mimicked by the twin silver coffee urns to the right of them, that are, also, immobilized and frozen in time. At least they’re together for a common purpose! The same can’t be said of the immortal duo sitting at the counter. 

The gent, who’s nose Jo Hopper called a “Night Hawk” after the beak of the bird seems to be in a conversation with the counterman. About what? Here, he has this lady dressed to kill next to him and he’s ignoring her? Every time I’ve seen this happen in a bar or nightclub, instantly my antennae went up. Something’s not right here. If she’s not getting attention? Something’s wrong. But this is December, 1941. Pearl Harbor happened right in the middle of work on this Painting! 36 days after Arnold Newman took that Photo of Edward Hopper up top. It’s very hard not to think about that when looking at it, though it’s probably easier for many now that World War II was over 75 years ago. Are they discussing the War? Being drafted? Enlisting? A friend who has already been killed? Possibly another denizen of the diner? There are all those empty stools at the counter, after all. “Where is he?” “Oh. You haven’t heard?…” 

The War brought many things. It also brought separation, life without love, life without women, for men, and without men for women, or partners for the LGBT communities. 

Then? There’s my alter-ego. Frozen in paint. Immobilized. Alone forever. Perhaps the most isolated figure in Western Art. What appears to be a rolled up newspaper is under his left elbow. No doubt he knows the score. At least he’s possibly not leaving anyone behind. 

But, for a moment? Let’s forget World War II is getting off to a raging start around the world at this very moment, if we can. Edward Hopper probably conceived this work before Pearl Harbor. What’s striking to me is that of all the loneliness I’ve just mentioned, there’s still more of it I haven’t. 

Let me ask you this- Who is more lonely in the scene in this Painting? 

Any of those 4 people in the diner?
Or?
The person viewing this scene from outside the diner?

For me? Nighthawks remains the ultimate parable of loneliness.  

Maybe then, I shouldn’t be on such a mission to find the “real” place it depicts. Maybe then, it doesn’t need a real place to inhabit. It exists as a permanent condition of being alive inside each one of us, as it did inside of Edward Hopper. Maybe I look for it in the hope of finding the end of it.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “I Saw You In A Dream” by Japanese House….

“I saw you in a dream
You had stayed the same
You were beckoning me
Said that I had changed”

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  1. Hopper Drawing footnote 33, P.119 ↩
  2. Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, P. xv-xvii ↩

Louie Palu’s Tools of Remembrance

Written by Kenn Sava. Photos as credited.

“Another day in Kandahar
I must focus now
Think of the frame
Think of each side of the rectangle


Focus on the frame
Stay calm under fire
Focus your mind
Acknowledge the danger
And work
Everything happens so fast
I must control my mind
Relax
and get the shot”
Louie Palu in the opening voiceover in his documentary film, with a screenshot from, Kandahar Journals, 2015

US Marine Lance Corporal Damon Connell, age 20, one of the series of soldier portrait cards included in Front Towards Enemy, by Louie Palu

A few years ago I met Rickey Rogers, as he was about to relocate to London to begin his new role as Global Photo Editor for Reuters. As we spoke, I was struck by his passion for what he called “conflict Photographers.” Though I’ve long had an interest in the work of Matthew Brady, Roger Fenton, Robert Capa, Don McCullin, Larry Burrows and Susan Meiselas among others, after meeting Mr. Rogers, I began looking closer at the work of  the contemporary Photographers who are putting their lives on the line to show us what’s going on in the world- even when it’s very hard to look at what they show us. It’s crucial we do.

Louie Palu is part of that rare breed.

A Canadian soldier walks up a narrow path in what is known as “Route Nightmare” in a village in Kandahar, Afghanistan. The mud paths allow for easy planting of mines and road side bombs by insurgents. This image appears in the newsprint publication included in Front Towards Enemy.

Today, at a time when it’s possibly never been harder to do this job, which has never been “easy,” I’m often reminded of the fact that these Photographers have often turned their lenses to other subjects. Basically, they’ve turned them everywhere their lives took them, capturing a very broad range of the human experience in the process. Robert Capa also Photographed Picasso frolicking on the beach, Susan Meiselas captured Carnival Strippers and the secret world of an NYC S&M club, Mr. Palu’s fellow Canadian, Larry Towell, Photographed the Mennonites, and so on. Yet, because they were, also, present in war, and somehow managed to capture remarkable Photographs in the heat of those moments, their conflict images have become part of history- they are the ones these great Photographers have, largely, become best known for.

The caption reads, “An Afghan police officer who was wounded by gunfire sings to birds at an outpost in Pashmul, Zhari District, Kandahar Province,” from Front Towards Enemy. There is a timeless quality to this image that, save for the arm badge, could have been taken in any war.

Though Louie Palu spent five grueling years in Afghanistan covering the war from 2006-10, which resulted in the thousands of Photographs and the award winning documentary, Kandahar Journals, he’s also created important work on a number of subjects away from war. That might be why Mr. Palu refers to himself, simply, as a “photographer.”

Front Towards Enemy is published in an edition of 750 copies by Yoffy Press, it contains about 60 Photographs and an essay by Rebecca Senf.

Still, I was unfamiliar with Mr. Palu until PhotoBook guru Jackson Charles pulled my coat to the Yoffy Press table in the PhotoBook Publisher’s area at AIPAD in April telling me I “HAD to see” Louie Palu’s latest two books, which Yoffy had just published. As usual, he was right. I was immediately engrossed in his Front Towards Enemy and A Field Guide to Asbestos.

A Field Guide to Asbestos

The design of each may gain your immediate attention (the former, which comes in a slip case/wrap that when opened reveals a variety of elements inside to be explored in any order the reader chooses, (a bit like Chris Ware’s Building Stories).

Front Towards Enemy’s slipcase opened to reveal its four components- a packet of soldier portraits, top,, an accordion fold image set, next, staple-bound zine and a newsprint publication, under. The entire publication can also exist as a pop-up exhibition. This copy is signed on upper left of the inside flap.

And the latter who’s front and back covers suddenly reappear in the center of a book that tells the rending story of two Canadian brothers who each died from mesothelioma after years of working in asbestos mines), but it is the depth of the dedication to the stories each contain that makes them unique & powerful. The first printing of A Field Guide to Asbestos almost immediately sold out.

In addition to being an extremely moving account of the lives of its two subjects, it’s, unfortunately, one of the very rare books (let alone PhotoBooks) about the epic and continuing Asbestos crisis.

Mr Palu happened to be sitting a few feet away at Yoffy’s table, so my first impression of his work was still flooding my brain as I spoke with him. In the succeeding weeks, he graciously found time in a very busy schedule and full life to answer some questions for me. Given that not nearly enough has appeared in the media about Front Towards Enemy and A Field Guide to Asbestos– two of the more compelling and important PhotoBooks of the past year in my view, I’m happy to be able to bring my Q&A with Louie Palu to you here.

Louie Palu, standing left, at the Yoffy Press table in the PhotoBook Publishers section of AIPAD, April, 2019.

Though I always do my own research, here is one time I find it hard to top Wikipedia’s first line as a succinct introduction to Louie Palu- “Louie Palu, RCA, (born 1968) is a Canadian documentary photographer and filmmaker known for covering social-political issues, including war and human rights,” it reads. The RCA is Royal Canadian Academy of Arts, to which Mr. Palu was inducted in 2014. His work has appeared extensively in publications throughout North America and Europe including The Globe and Mail, Toronto (where he was on staff for 6 years) to The New Yorker, The Wall Street Journal, USA Today, The Washington Post, The New York Times, Newsweek and The Atlantic.

A screen shot of the “In Print” tab on Louie Paul’s site shows only a few of Mr. Palu’s images in print. As you scroll down the page, the powerful images just keep loading…

So, it’s highly likely his work is familiar to you even if his name is not. He’s been  exhibited by the Canadian War Museum and was included in the important show War/Photography: Images of Armed Conflict and Its Aftermath at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston that travelled to Los Angeles, Washington and the Brooklyn Museum in 2012. He’s been honored with the Hasselblad Masters Award and Canadian Photojournalist of the Year Awards, both in 2008, a 2013 Pictures of the Year International Award and has received a Pulitzer Center for Crisis Reporting grant and a 2016 Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship.

The front cover of Cage Call by Louie Palu and Charlie Angus

His dedication and commitment to the issues he’s covered can be seen in the fact that a number of the projects he’s undertaken have lasted over a decade. To date, he’s focused on five- The Canadian Hard Rock Mining Belt, Guantanamo Bay, the Mexican Drug War, Kandahar, Afghanistan, and Asbestos. Counting the two new releases I mentioned, he has now released five PhotoBooks, with, first, Industrial Cathedrals of the North; second, Mirrors of Stone: Fragments from the Porcupine Frontier, and third, Cage Call: Life and Death in the Hard Rock Mining Belt (all three with Charlie Angus), preceding his two new books. In 2015, after a very successful kickstarter campaign, he released the documentary Kandahar Journals, in which he is featured, as well as co-directed and produced.

That’s not blood. The caption on this photo when it appeared in Front Towards Enemy reads, “An Afghan soldier warming his henna stained hands…” The poster for Kandahar Journals, 2015, featuring, co-directed by and produced by Louie Palu.

In Kandahar Journals, Louie spoke about what inspired him to cover war. “My reason for covering the war is related to my family history,” he said. “As a child my parents told me many stories about the war (in Italy in World War II) around the kitchen table. Their traumatic experiences have shaped who I am. One of the stories my father told me was watching his own father being taken away by soldiers at gunpoint. I needed to understand what he understood.” Louie went to Afghanistan, following US, Canadian and Afghan troops and American Medics (including going on 150 medevac missions with the 101st Airborne in 2010). He decided to take a different approach than those reporters who spent short periods there. Instead, he spent five years.

From Kandahar Journals.

Why did he chose this approach, and stay that long? He explained in an interview last year-

“I think there probably isn’t a single person in this room who wasn’t effected by 9/11 and I think that that was sort of the foundation of it, but it didn’t drive me to want to go there yet. When I got there I realized I couldn’t cover the war in the way I thought it should be covered (staying there for a short period)…I wanted to do a long term study. I wanted to keep looking at something over and over and over and over again because I think that things reveal themselves if you look at them over time.” He decided to leave his staff job, go out on his own, and return there. “I’m gonna stay here,” he continued. “When I figure out the story, then I’ll report it. I did sell stuff sort of on a per story basis. But over the years as the pictures started coming together, they started telling a new story, they started explaining things more than just the bombings and the bodies, they started explaining the culture, the place, its history, and I really think it became a unique story, a unique dialog about the place.”

From Kandahar Journals.

The pictures and the story did come together, in Kandahar Journals, and in the PhotoBook, Front Towards Enemy, released last fall, after many of his images from the war had appeared in numerous news outlets. Kandahar Journals is described as “the story of a photojournalist who reflects on the events behind his psychological transformation,” according to its site. It won the Dziga Vertov Award for Best Documentary Feature, 2017. When I saw it, I was struck by stylistic echoes of Apocalpyse Now. Mr. Palu’s voiceover, often reading from his journals, are reminiscent of Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard’s voice in the Francis Ford Coppola epic, but the whole effect of Mr. Palu’s documentary is also a journey into “the heart of darkness” not unlike that taken by Sheen’s Captain Willard, though here also we see him return from the war. Whereas Francis Ford Coppola was showing us a drama based on Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Mr. Palu’s doesn’t have a fictional moment in it. The film wonderfully alternates Mr. Palu’s still Photographs, often seen in montage, with moving images, many taken in active combat situations. Known to this point for his still work, his and his team’s filmmaking show a flair for editing that is both taught and spontaneous. It deserves the kudos it’s received, and more viewers.

Seen at work in Kandahar Journals.

This fall, his work on the Arctic will appear in National Geographic, and his work has been selected to be included in the upcoming PhotoBook, On Death, by Jon Feinstein, Roula Seikaly in collaboration with the Humble Arts Foundation and published by Kris Graves Projects.

Kenn Sava (KS)- You’ve been involved in books about Canadian Mining and Miners, a book about the horrors of asbestos- a deadly product that just won’t go away, and, more recently, a film and book about your experiences in Afghanistan covering the war. What drives you? Where does it come from?

Louie Palu (LP)- All my drive comes from my emotional reaction to hearing my parents oral histories about the Second World War, poverty, workers and the experience of immigrants and refugees. My entire childhood neighborhood in the West side of Toronto is filled with a rich mix of migrant workers from the West Indies (mostly Jamaica), Italian, Bosnian, Crotian, Serbian, Indian, Irish and many more nationalities who came to Canada for a new start.

Louie Palu signs Front Towards Enemy, AIPAD, April, 2019.

KS- The public sees the books and the films- the end results of mountains of long, hard effort. The tip of the iceberg. What’s it like being you? Can you give us a bit of a sense of what goes in to being able to make these projects and then make them into a book or film?

LP- I don’t look at what I do as a job. There are conventional work and job-like tasks, but I take it on as a way of living, thinking and feeling about the world and the people around me. These projects are all very hard, no matter how long I have done this (28 years since college). When I start them it’s a real challenge, like the Cage Call project on the mines, that was like being out of breath non-stop because I was young and did not know what I was doing. I failed so many times, but that is how I got to where I am now, that helped me set the bar higher and higher. The difference from my first 20 years at this, and now, is I have the experience and confidence to clearly understand my process and not be afraid of failure now. I enjoy the process more. I was also lucky to have a few mentors come along and show me the way. I can’t say enough postive things about everyone finding a mentor.

On being me… I like being alone. Though work can be very consuming at times, I have found the places I fit in and exist in when I am not doing photography are usually places and events that have nothing to do with photography. Some of these actitvities involve extreme music like hard core punk and death metal. Additionally, alternative versions of theater, music and art are also therapeutic. I love cruising used book stores, actually I love books and places that sell vinyl, comic books and seeing art house films. I am also very active, I run bike, bike and fish. I like being in the woods alot alone and camping.

From Kandahar Journals.

KS- Was it hard to get the permissions you needed to be at the front documenting the war in Afghanistan for five years? Once you were there, was it hard to gain the acceptance of you and your cameras from the soldiers?

LP- It is hard to get access anywhere and always has been. My first project when I was 16-years old was on homelssness in the 1980’s in the East end of Toronto. I recall getting hit in the face by someone who did not want to be photographed on my first day on the street, I got some hard lessons early on. It can be hard to get access to politicians. Actually, that’s probably harder than getting access to a war zone. I have always figured out access and built relationships well with who I was photographing. Many of my indirect teachers for my values, after my parents, were the work of photographers like Peter Hujar, Mary Ellen Mark, Don McCullin, Susan Meiselas, Eugene Smith and many more.

Louie Palu on his way home. From Kandahar Journals.

KS- How did your years in Afghanistan change you? Did you suffer any of what many soldiers have coming back to Canada and United States in adjusting?

LP- Afghanistan was life changing. Everyday I wake up I am pretty positive. Afghanistan set a bar for me, which is if there are no suicide bombings, land mines to step on and I still have my legs I have nothing to complain about. I certainly struggled hard when I got home, but I rallied because I had good friends who made me go to therapy. Helping people can give you a sense of purpose, being a good person can help you help yourself.

KS- Front Towards Enemy is certainly a unique concept for a “photobook.” Why did you decide to make it this set of multiple parts, in different formats and on different papers, so the reader could put it together however they wished? 

LP- FTE is a deconstructed book, it can be taken apart and re-edited by the viewer. I think its good for readers of the news to understand process and editing. Photo editing is a key part of what we see and don’t see, thats what FTE is after, which is participation of the reader. FTE came out in the wake of and is part of a series of self published newspapers on the same concept. They are Mira Mexico (Mexican drug war) 2013, Guantanamo Operational Security Review 2014, Federal City (political identity in Washington DC) 2017. They can all be seen on the Photoeye website.

KS- With Kandahar Journals, released in 2015, you’ve added film to your photographs. Images from the film appear, also, in Front Towards Enemy. When did your film work begin? It seems like it must be hard to know in advance which camera to pick up since you can only guess what is about to happen, and the unexpected certainly happens all the time. Is this where your experience comes in, or do you prefer to stick with still photography for some things and film for others? 

Louie Palu at work on Capitol Hill, Washington, DC. From Kandahar Journals.

LP- I have always been interested in the moving image. I obssessed over several films as a child and felt that cinematography has an experiential quality that still photos do not, neither is better than the other. I think I watched Apocalypse Now fifty times (the original version is still the best), mostly because Vittorio Storaro and the soundtrack created this psychological space for Francis Ford Coppola’s directing that was rare in films. I never have a problem with which camera to use, I go by what I feel I should use. I have since made a short film on Ukraine and am now making a feature version of it among 3 films in development.

From A Field Guide to Asbestos.

KS- A Field Guide to Asbestos is one of the most grimly intense, and, unfortunately, still timely books I’ve seen recently. With reports this month in the NY Times and elsewhere about asbestos possibly making a comeback, it’s a book more people need to know about right now. How did it come about? What’s it going to take for the world to finally get rid of it, once and for all? 

LP- Sadly asbestos still exists and is used in homes and many other materials around the world. If you all only knew what I know, you would be horrified how this material is still very much everywhere. I think bans can be overturned, because they are usually writing. But photos of horrors are tools of remembrance. If we have books, photos and documents that are artifacts and evidence of what it does and people see them enough it will be hard to forget. This book came about because I began to hear the talk amongst some US policy makers that asbestos could be something that could be used again in construction.

The caption, which reads in part, “U.S.soldiers under rocket and small arms fire from insurgents…” neglects to mention that the Photographer, Louie Palu was, as well. From the newsprint publication in Front Towards Enemy.

KS- We live in a time where the truth is under attack, as the essay in Front Towards Enemy points out, and it’s, also, increasingly hard to do what you do- be a journalist/photojournalist/documentarian. What can readers do to help you and the others?

LS- Go to the website for the Commmittee to Protect Journalists and read the stories of journalists being jailed, murdered or attacked just for reporting the news. Help yourself understand and imagine what your mind would be like without a free press so that you could be informed on everyting from vaccinations to human rights or simply even a warning that some of the food you purchased has a serious health related issue or there is a rapist in your community. We would all be blind and worse off.

I met a person at a film festival recently who did not know what D-Day was, imagine if we start forgetting about the Bill of Rights and the Constitution? We would be a nation with no moral compass. The press is a key tool of oversight and a platform so that we don’t lose our way entirely, or at all.

Q&A Ends.

Can a PhotoBook change the world? It seems to me that Photographers like Louie Palu can make the pictures, get them published, and once in a while make PhotoBooks of them. It’s up to those who see them to take things from there.

BookMarks-

From Front Towards Enemy– the soldier portrait cards, the accordion fold image set and exhibition suggestion card, left to right. Photos by Yoffy Press.

Front Towards Enemy, was published by Yoffy Press in October, 2017 in an edition of  750 copies. Inside it’s cardboard slipcase are four components- a set of soldier portrait cards, an accordion fold image set, a newsprint publication, and a staple-bound zine. The entire publication can also exist as a pop-up exhibition, per the enclosed “exhibition suggestions.” It includes about 60 images and an essay by Rebecca Senf. It may be purchased here.

The first edition of A Field Guide to Asbestos sold out after its publication in April, 2019. A second edition is currently available. It’s a softcover of 72 pages, and is available here. You can get a $15 discount if you buy both, as I did, here.

Kandahar Journals is a first hand look at Louie Palu’s experiences in Afghanistan. What more need I say about it?

Lesser known (and not counted in the five books I mentioned earlier) are two additional newsprint publications self-published by Louie Palu, Mira Mexico, 2012, and Federal City, 2017, both 32 pages. The former consists of a group of his Photographs on the Mexican drug war, while Federal City, a haunting publication that looks at the “other Washington,” those who have no direct connection with the Federal government. Since they are not bound or stapled, both publications may be pulled apart and perused in any order the viewer chooses. Personally, I find both compelling and Federal City exceptional. As I write this, both are available through Photo-eye.

For further reading, Photojournalists on War: The Untold Stories from Iraq, by Michael Kamber, though about the war in Iraq, not Afghanistan, is an unprecedented collection of interviews with some of the other leading Photojournalists of our time, including two who were killed in conflicts after being interviewed. It’s a book I find impossible to put down after I pick it up, and its large size brings the words home with full size photographs reproduced throughout. An extraordinary, highly recommended book. I bought mine from Quinn and Tom of Housing Works Bookstore, who I thank.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “I Believe In Miracles” by The Ramones from Brain Drain, 1989-

 

My thanks to Louie Palu and Jackson Charles.

My previous pieces on AIPAD 2019 are here, and on Photography are You can

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Studio K.O.S. Carries On After Tim Rollins

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

I’ll always miss my late friend Tim Rollins who left us at just 62 years of age in January of last year1, but I can’t imagine how his “Kids” feel.

Tim Rollins & K.O.S.: A History. Published in 2009 to accompany the traveling retrospective of 25 years of their work. I’ll never forget seeing Tim with the phone book sized “draft” of this book in 2009, which he let me thumb through, in awe, while it was in preparation.

His Kids, better known as “Kids of Survival,” or K.O.S., a group of at-risk public school students, some barely in their teens, (as you can see in the Photo taken of them, above, by Lisa Kahane in the 1980s that appears on the cover of the retrospective on them), that Tim taught Art to that became the group “Kids of Survival” in 1984. When they began, he told them, “Today, we’re going to make art. We’re also going to make history.” With work in over 87 museums and public institutions (and counting)2, they’ve succeeded on both counts. In 2010, a terrific documentary film on Tim and K.O.S. was released entitled Kids of Survival: The Art and Life of Tim Rollins and K.O.S., which details the unprecedented journey both Tim and the members of K.O.S. took as they forged their own way into Art history. “History” is a word that keeps coming up in discussing Tim and K.O.S. in 2019, which is fitting because this year marks the 35th Anniversary of the founding of K.O.S..

Boys to men. Together, they made history. Tim Rollins & K.O.S. in 2016. Steven Vega, Ricardo Savinon, Robert Branch, Tim Rollins, and brothers Angel & Jorge Abreu, left to right, at Lehmann Maupin Gallery, West 22nd Street. Lehmann Maupin Photo

“To dare to make history when you are young, when you are a minority, when you are working, or nonworking class, when you are voiceless in society, takes courage. Where we came from, just surviving is ‘making history.’
So many others, in the same situations, have not survived, physically, psychologically, spiritually, or socially. We were making our own history. We weren’t going to accept history as something given to us.” Tim Rollins.

Tim even added “and K.O.S.” to his signature. Angel Abreu signed under it. From my collection.

While he taught them Art in school, with the goal of having them get into college, he also began naming everything he and the they created as being by “Tim Rollins & K.O.S.” Giving the students/apprentices equal status with the Artist as collaborators was unprecedented in the history of visual Art, as far as I know, as so much of what he did was unprecedented in Art education. Now, a year after Tim’s passing, K.O.S. have announced that they are going to continue as Studio K.O.S.. “History” becomes “living history.”

Curator Ian Berry, “Thinking about the increasingly important role of what Tim and K.O.S. did together over 30 plus years is so important for us to see now.” Installation view of Tim Rollins and K.O.S.: Workshop at Lehmann Maupin in May.

The past, the present and the future were the subjects of the show Tim Rollins and K.O.S.: Workshop at Lehmann Maupin in May and June, the first by Studio K.O.S. It included a “mini-retrospective” of their work curated by Ian Berry, who said of his selection, “The show’s called Workshop. I was thinking of works that really exemplified the idea of a group of artists sitting together around a table making work together. Sharing ideas. Thinking, reading, talking, seeing together. So each of the works is a very overt example of their hands and the imagery of the individual members on each of the works.”

Amerika (For Karl), 1989, Watercolor on paper mounted on canvas, 97 x 132 inches

He continued, “And then, I’m thinking about the guys being in Studio K.O.S. without Tim, and I’m thinking about the crazy politics that we’re living in, and thinking about the increasingly important role of what Tim and K.O.S. did together over 30 plus years is so important for us to see now. I really value the idea of this show now. It’s so important to see education leading to justice. It’s so important seeing different versions of identity and self-empowerment and speech, that is so needed now. It’s great seeing these images of Pinocchio logs potentially waiting for birth. It’s great to see this really intense room of all black works, which I hope moves you to be engaged, and be active in thinking about what’s going on around you. It’s a history, but it’s also a workshop that we’re all hopefully invited to join in.”

“It’s great to see this really intense room of all black works…” Two works from I see the promised land (after the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.), both 2008, Matte acrylic and book pages on canvas, 108 x 72 inches each.

Walking through the show with as unbiased eyes as I could possibly muster, given my personal connection, I found myself in complete agreement with Mr. Berry when he spoke of “the increasingly important role of what Tim and K.O.S. did together over 30 plus years.” When I’ve seen their work over the years, it’s generally been a piece here or there, as in MoMA’s 2007 show What is Painting: Contemporary Art from the Collection, where the group’s Amerika VIII, 1986-7, was on view.

Installation view of MoMA’s 2007 show, What is Painting: Contemporary Art from the Collection, with Amerika VIII, 1985-6, left. MoMA Photo.

I remember standing in front of it and feeling overcome with joy- the joy of a beautiful work and my sense of all that had gone into, and all that had been overcome, achieving it- let alone having it wind up in the Permanent Collection of the Museum of Modern Art (An aside- To this day, MoMA owns NO Paintings by Jean-Michel Basquiat. That’s another story). Then, I walked over to the label you can barely see to the right of the work in the Photo. My jaw hit the floor. Here’s exactly what it said-

If you know of another Artist in Art history who included the names of his students or apprentices on his work, let me know. MoMA Photo.

I remembered standing there thinking- “Can you imagine being them, having overcome all they did, then seeing not just your work, but YOUR NAME on the wall at the Museum of Modern Art?” Angel Abreu was about 12 years old(!), Ricardo Savinon was about 15(!) when this was made.

Seeing a wonderfully chosen selection of their work today, it looks remarkably prescient. Beyond it being a landmark collaboration that marks fresh paths for Art education, their work doesn’t feel one bit dated, and, even more? I think it’s going to hold up; it’s going to continue to speak indefinitely to viewers, regardless of age. My recommendation is that the other museums & institutions not included in the current list of 87 above step up and acquire a work while they can.

The “Kids” are adults now who have forged their own successful careers in Art, and Tim lived to see it happen, something I’m sure gave him as much joy as anything else he experienced in his life. You can see just that on his face in the Photo of he and K.O.S. from 2016 I showed earlier. While each now has a successful career of their own, the legacy they embody and share is still every bit a vital part of their lives, and it sounds like it will continue to be going forward. There remains much to be done.

The legacy continues. Ricardo Savinon, Robert Branch, Jorge and Angel Abreu, members of Studio K.O.S., joined by curator Ian Berry, from left to right. Lehmann-Maupin Gallery, West 22nd Street, May 3, 2019.

During the run of the show, a panel discussion was held on May 3rd in which Ian Berry was joined by four long standing members of K.O.S.- Ricardo Savinon, Robert Branch, and brothers Angel & Jorge Abreu, men that were very young men when they first met Tim and became members of K.O.S.. Surrounded by Art they created with Tim, each proceeded to tell his story- how he came to be part of the group and the journey they’ve taken over the years, that I’m sure felt like they passed way too quickly. Over the course of 90 minutes, the stories were powerful and joyful, each one a remarkable tale of perseverance and single-minded dedication on the part of students and teacher. Nary a tear was shed, instead laughter was free flowing throughout.

Ricardo Savinon is someone I’ve known for well over a decade. During that time, he was the person I saw most often with Tim. They struck me as having a closeness that truly was on that fine line between family members and close friends along with a very strong level of mutual respect. Rick, as he’s known, was extremely ill, hospitalized, and was reportedly near death himself, when Tim passed away. Thankfully, he recovered, but when I last saw Rick, at Tim’s Public Memorial Service last April, he looked very thin and gaunt. So, I was extremely relieved to see him now back to his usual full of life self, with his ever present sharp wit and even sharper mind in full effect. Rick joined K.O.S. in 1985 at about 14. He went on to study at the School of Visual Arts before becoming the interior designer, Art installer and curator he is today. Angel Abreu, who is about 3 years younger than Rick, met Tim and joined K.O.S. in 1986. He has worked on every major K.O.S. project and exhibition since he joined. Today, he’s a Painter and is on the faculty of the School of Visual Arts, where Tim, himself, studied between 1975 and 1977 and more recently was an SVA faculty member when he passed. His brother, Jorge, joined K.O.S. at age 12 about 1991, as he related in an unforgettable story I relay below. Today, he’s working on a poetry collection around growing up in the golden age of hip-hop. Robert Branch joined Tim and K.O.S. at 16, circa 1993. Today, he holds a BFA from Cooper Union and a masters from Teacher’s College, Columbia University. I had met both Angel and Robert in passing with Tim over the years.

Angel Abreu speaking about participating in a show at Saatchi Gallery in London at age 13, rubbing elbows with Ashley Bickerton and Jeff Koons.

Angel Abreu- “What I’d like to say before we get into this, is that if you can imagine, at 12, 13, 14, or 15 years old, we really didn’t know what was going on. But what we did know, at least I can speak for myself, is that I could not stay away. This was before cellphones, right. And there were many moments when we had, and again, Tim would tell us, ‘There’s no greater motivator than a deadline.’ We are so thankful that we had so many amazing deadlines.”

By any means necessary (Trapped/Caught), 1985-7, Black gesso on book pages mounted on canvas, 21 x 28 inches. From The Autobiography of Malcolm X.

“But we had no idea. It wasn’t really until later until I think we got into high school and into college where we realized how extraordinary this was that we were doing. But, really it was the day to day we’d go into the studio. And he’d say, ‘Ok, by the way, we just got included in the next Whitney Biennial.’ Alright, that’s cool, Tim. I have no idea what that is. Yeah, that’s good.”

Ricardo Savinon, “Tim was Professor X…”

Rick Savinon- “Also, I want to chime in. How impactful that us being part of the group and realizing that we were kind of outsiders with our families joining an outsider group. So, it was almost like the X Men where Tim was Professor X and he got together this group of mutants who didn’t know how to hone in their skills.”

X-Men/Malcolm X (after Marvel Comics and Malcolm X), 1997, Comic book covers on rag board. 1 of 12 parts.

“But in the studio he taught us how. But, in doing so, we impacted so many people, Our peers, our families, our friends. I mean I remember probably after 15 years of being in the group, I have a friend of mine who was walking down the street and said, ‘I was taking Art History class and I saw a picture of you. What the hell’s going on? What are you up to?’ I just said well very calmly, ‘I’m glad that you’re pursuing art. I’m part of this art group for the past 20 years, and this is what we’ve been doing. And he was so proud because we managed to come from a situation where there’s a lot of poverty, violence and we together, we decided to do what was necessary for ourselves. And a lot of others, our peers, our friends that are still friends of mine. I’m very modest. ‘What are you doing right now?’ I’ll say ‘Well, I’m an artist.’ ‘Well, what kind of art, maybe graffiti?’ ‘No, no…’ And so, they’ve always been proud, my family’s been proud. That’s part of the reason my niece is studying engineering at this point because I’ve influenced her. In some subtle way, in the things that I’ve done. Not sitting her down and lecturing her. But just because she’s acknowledging what I’ve been doing. I’m sure that Angel and Jorge and Robert their family does the same…their kids.”

Jorge Abreu, “So, this was a tragedy for my family…”

Jorge Abreu- “Alright, so I’ve got a story to tell. So, just imagine seeing your older brother he’s going off to London (at age 12) and doing all these great things, and you’re home playing Nintendo 64, except it wasn’t Nintendo 64. No. We still had the Commodore. So, obviously this was ground breaking. The way I sort of came into the group was sort of an S.O.S. kind of thing. We had a summer vacation with my dad down to the D.R. We had a terrible car accident, the day before we were supposed to fly back to New York. I was unconscious for 2 weeks. Woke up. Before then I was a kind of straight A student. But, I woke up. Lost my memory. Didn’t recognize who my family was. Ended up staying in the Dominican Republic for a couple months after that rehabbing and recuperating.”

“So, this was a tragedy for my family. We lost my dad at that point, through the accident. Finally get back to New York. I couldn’t walk. One day I woke up. Had to do a whole lot of rehab. My memory was shot. So I went back to school. I believe it was the sixth grade. Really lost. Really intimidated. Really insecure. My mom had some concerns. But, I’d always been a writer as a younger child. I don’t know what happened, sort of a transformation. Now, I wanted to draw. I started drawing and doodling. Obviously my mom was a little concerned for me, so she sort of approached Tim. ‘He’s starting to draw. try to get him involved in the group.'”

Amerika, The Hotel Occidental, 2006, Acrylic and graphite on book pages on canvas, 72 x 59 inches.

“I remember the first day. I had known of Tim. When I went into the studio, I had my portfolio. Alright. And this portfolio consisted of many MLB team logos. Right? So, top notch stuff. So, Tim sort of laughed it off but he gave me a shot. I’m a true believer that this you can take from one of Tim’s great quotes from Amerika when Karl joined the utopian group that took him in right before he was going to leave America. That everyone is an artist. This skill can be developed. If you stick with it. It’s all about just doing it. So, I’m pretty sure Tim was kinda like, ‘This kid’s alright, but he’s not the best.’ But, I continued to come and kept coming and kept coming. I earned my spot. I’m definitely thankful for that. I didn’t know what I was joining. But hey, if it took this guy to London (indicating Angel), I want to be part of it. Next time I want to go, too. “

Robert Branch, “This was my one opportunity and I wasn’t going to let it go.”

Robert Branch- “So, I joined the group later on, I was 16 years old, I was at a High School in the Bronx. JFK. That doesn’t stand for ‘jail for kids.’ The only reason I was going to school was that I had these Dominican working parents. Listen, you either go to school or you get a job or dad’s going to kick your ass. My dad’s bigger than me, so…I was real lucky in that there was a dean who was real tough and he wouldn’t let me skip class.  I really wanted to be a comic book artist. Waiting to be the right age where I could bring my portfolio down to Stan Lee. Luckily, the Art teacher would make sure I attended school, he would call my dad. So, I had this kinda thing where they were really on me and they didn’t want me to fail.”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (After Shakespeare and Mendelssohn), 2014

“I was really fortunate that the Art teacher brought me to the studio on a trip, walked past the Pinocchio on a freezing cold day, I come all the way down there to the Bronx and I’m like, ‘This is it.’ I’m coming to study here. I’m going to ask as many questions as I can. This is my one shot to figure out what it’s like to be an artist. Because, up to that point, I had not been able to take an art class until my junior year in high school. Think about that. New York City, one of the wealthiest cities in the world, and it had no opportunities to take art classes, and I was in a high school that had some resources, so you know I made the most of it. I was in the studio and I was like ‘What’s this? What do you do with this?’ I asked at least a dozen questions and Tim said, ‘Oh my god, he’s either really into art, or he’s going to come back and rob me.'”

In each work a seed is included- somewhere. In, this detail of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (After Shakespeare and Mendelssohn), as seen above, it’s a a mustard seed visible right in the center of this picture. A beautiful and fitting metaphor.

“So, it was just a wonderful experience because this was my one opportunity and I wasn’t going to let it go. Tim was deeply intuitive and he knew that I had this interest in making art. And that was the beginning of a journey that took me from…my dad…I ended up going to college and I would never have crossed that threshold  if it weren’t for the support and mentorship that Tim gave me. And you know what a college experience can mean to a person’s life. I wouldn’t have gone down that path.”

“Tim wasn’t just my friend, my first white friend, he was an authority figure. I remember dropping something off at his apartment. I had my nephew in the back. My dad drove us. I’m a real city kid- I don’t drive. So, my nephew asks, ‘Who’s that guy?’ My dad said, ‘Well, next to me, that’s the most important man in Robert’s life.’ And that’s the gift that Tim gave me with his friendship and consummate mentorship.”

Believe it or not, out of everything Tim & K.O.S. created thus far, this work, what appears to be simple logs laying on a gallery floor, speaks to me, personally, as much as anything they’ve created.

“Recognize the creative glimmer in others,” Tim said.

When you look closer…Detail of Pinocchio (after Carlo Collodi), as seen above, 1991, Wood, plastic, wax, tung oil, 43 x 6 x 6 inches.

As their work, Pinocchio shows, brilliantly in my opinion, locked inside each of us are whole untapped worlds of possibilities. Tim Rollins even saw mine.

*My thanks to Rick Savinon, Studio K.O.S., and Twice Sold Tales, Seattle, WA. 

BookMarks-

Tim Rollins and K.O.S.: A History by the aforementioned Ian Berry is the standard reference on the group’s work and history, as I mentioned published to accompany the traveling 25th Anniversary Retrospective. 220 pages, full of illustrations, stories and an interview with Tim. Highly recommended to anyone interested in exploring their amazing accomplishments and the even more amazing story of how it all came to be.

Kids of Survival: The Art and Life of Tim Rollins + K.O.S.. is an unforgettable documentary on Tim and the group, a must see for everyone- Art lover or not, in my view. It’s, also, an invaluable look at teaching Art today. Having known Tim and a few members around the time of it’s release, it gave me a “you are there” look at their incredible backstory, into them before I knew them, and even much, much younger. It’s somewhat miraculous that this story exists on film as much as it does, and it leaves me praying that there will be an updated version, given this was released in 2010.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is the X-Men Theme from the 1996 Television show.

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  1. My Remembrance of Tim Rollins is here. ↩
  2. Per the list, here. ↩