Artists

Gerhard Richter’s Met Blockbuster: Open For Just 9 Days!

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

UPDATE- July 16, 2020- The Met now lists Gerhard Richter: Painting After All on its “Past Exhibitions” page1, meaning it will NOT reopen!

After checking every day, the show appeared on the “Past Exhibitions” page on July 17th. I’ve enlarged the date section for legibility and added the red text…My original look at the show follows-

What if they mounted a blockbuster and nobody got to see it? 

Ahhhh….A major show covering TWO whole museum floors with about 100 Paintings? My idea of heaven…

As I write this in early June, 2020 what is known is that Gerhard Richter: Painting After All will be remembered as the last major show to be mounted at The Met Breuer (TMB) before The Met’s lease on the Marcel Breuer’s Madison Ave at East 75th Street building ends in July and The Frick Collection moves in while the renovations of their 1 East 70th Street home take place. What’s still unknown is how long the show ran for. It opened on March 4th, then “temporarily closed” after I saw it on March 12th, due to the coronavirus shutdown. That’s all of NINE days! The Met’s site says “Closing Date To Be Announced” on its listing, but what are their options for reopening it? With The Met’s lease on the Breuer Building ending in July, reopening it there would seem to have to come in June, which we are half-way through. On May 19th, Met CEO Daniel Weiss said that The Met “hoped” to reopen on August 15th, “or a few weeks later.” His announcement made no mention of TMB, but that timeframe would seem to rule out a TMB reopening. Moving it to 1000 Fifth Avenue might seem to be an option, terms of loans and space requirements for shows previously planned permitting. That might also put any number of employees at risk of the virus, though. Then, there’s this-

The X Factor. The show’s listing in the coming attractions section of MOCA’s site with a start date of August 15th.

This show was scheduled to open at MOCA, LA, on August 15th. So, there remains a chance Gerhard Richter: Painting After All (GR:PAA, henceforth) won’t reopen in NYC. IF that does come to pass, its 9 day run will be the shortest for a major show at a major museum here in my memory. That would be a shame considering the last major Gerhard Richter show in NYC was 20 years ago, a chance missed to assess how his older work looks now and see his more recent work. I started looking closely at Mr. Richter shortly after that NYC show, so in the past 20 years I’ve seen his gallery shows (of mostly new and recent work), but I’ve never seen 100 of his Paintings in one place. Being that Mr. Richter is 88, this may be the last major show of his work during his lifetime. The Artist did not attend the opening, though members of his family did, I was told by Met staffers.

Installation view, showing part of Strip, 2013, in the final gallery, seen on March 12th- hours before the show “temporarily closed.”

SPOILER ALERT! Since The Met’s site still says “Closing Date to be Announced” for this show, my hunch is that they will find a way to reopen it, especially because The Met originated GR:PAA (which is co-curated by Met Modern & Contemporary Art Chairman Sheena Wagstaff), and so has a sizable investment in it. My bet is that they will get an extension on the Breuer lease and use that to give this show a proper run, and The Met Breuer the fitting end I think it deserves. So, if you don’t want a peek at it yet, you may want to wait before proceeding. This piece will still be here when it doesn’t reopen! In which case, you’ll have to go to L.A. to see it, and I will be among the very few to have seen it here.

Installation view of the lobby on the 3rd floor, the concluding floor of the show. Surprisingly for a show called “Painting After All,”  works in glass greet the visitor on both floors. Mirror, 1986, shown here, right.

Installed on the 3rd and 4th floors of the Breuer, and beginning on 4, GR:PAA is not a retrospective and not a “greatest hits.” It lies somewhere between the two. It covers the whole of his career and juxtaposes many very familiar works, alongside some that are barely known to many here. I can’t help but wonder about the Artist’s involvement in GR:PAA, because the selection and arrangement of it has a bold feel to it. For a show that covers such a long period of time, it also has a bit of a sparseness, the work is not crowded together. Each piece has space to breathe. In the documentary Gerhard Richter: Painting, the Artist and his staff are shown using mockups of exhibition spaces and miniatures of each Painting as they work out and assess the placement of each. It’s hard for me to think that something similar didn’t take place with GR:PAA, though Ms. Wagstaff and her staff have repeatedly shown they are more than capable of mounting extraordinary shows without the Artist’s involvement, so in wondering, I mean to take nothing away from their achievement here, which is yet another Met Breuer show that will live on in memory and in discussion. Here, you have a major, living Artist. If you can get his involvement in your show, why wouldn’t you use it2? Whatever the case is, the selection and arrangement of the work take GR:PAA to another level.

“Art requires freedom…in dictatorships there is no art, not even bad art.” Gerhard Richter.

He would know. Gerhard Richter has lived in two countries where there was no freedom. He was born in Dresden in 1932, 11 months BEFORE Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany. His father was drafted into the Wehrmacht in 1938 and sent to the horror of the Eastern Front. The elder Richter didn’t return to Germany until 1946. Gerhard finished growing up in East Germany before managing a crafty defection to West Germany in 1961. He’s lived in Nazi Germany, Communist East Germany, West Germany and (the Federal Republic of) Germany in his lifetime.

Table, item #1 in the Gerhard Richter Catalogue Raisonne, though not his first work. In the Catalogue, this is listed under “Household Icons” in the “Photo Paintings” section of his site, yet, with its abstract elements it seems to straddle the fence between the two categories of Paintings his work is broken down into there.

These experiences have continually informed his work3 be it in the people, places and things he’s encountered in them, or in things that went on while he was living there that he didn’t personally encounter (like the Holocaust) in a career that is closing in on 60 years. Officially, the first work listed in his Catalogue Raisonne (CR 1), Table, is dated 1962, 58 years ago. Among works that pre-date Table are a Mural he Painted in 1955, and the work Elbe, included in this show in a Print version, was created in 1957.

September, 2005, Oil on canvas, 20 1/2 x 28 3/8 inches. Painted four years after 9/11, it’s one of the more haunting works done relating to the tragedy I’ve seen, perhaps because it mimics the view I had of 9/11 from my window. Placed in the show’s first gallery, it greeted this viewer like a cold smack in the face. It’s also the only work that references NYC in the show. Mounted on the same wall with Table, it’s another work that abstracts reality, from 40+ years later, reinforcing the fact that Photographs have been one source of Mr. Richter’s Paintings for at least 5o years.

In the intervening years, Gerhard Richter’s work has been marked by a variety in output that has ranged from Prints, Drawings, Artist’s Books, Sculptures, Films and Paintings. On his website, his Paintings are broken down into two main groups- “Photo Paintings” (further broken down to 36 categories!), and “Abstracts” (in 8 groups by date and 6 other groups).

Self-Portrait, 1996, Oil on linen, 20 1/16 x 18 1/8 inches. It’s been a while since I’ve looked at Gerhard Richter’s work. Now, his Photo-Paintings, to use his term, like this one, look fresher to me than I had remembered and fresher than a number of his Abstracts.

“To talk about painting is not only difficult but perhaps pointless, too. You can only express in words what words are capable of expressing, what language can communicate.
Painting has nothing to do with that.” Gerhard Richter, 1966, quoted in the Documentary Gerhard Richter Painting.

Eight Student Nurses, 1966, Oil on canvas, refers to the mass murder of 8 young women by Richard Speck in Chicago, 1966. These are from his Grays, which evoke the effect of black & white Photographs.

As I walked through Painting After All, I was struck by how fresh the Photo Paintings looked…

S. with Child, 1995, (both)

which I didn’t get from a number of the Abstracts.

Seven Abstract Paintings, 2016, Oil on wood, each 15 3/4 x 11 13/16 inches. In these later abstractions, it looks like the Artist is using other techniques besides only the “squeegee” to modify the paint he had applied.

Part of the latter feeling may stem from the discovery that the late Jack Whitten had been extensively mining the squeegee technique Mr. Richter’s Abstracts are known for a full decade before he did. I’ve seen reference to Mr. Whitten using a squeegee in 19694, but he may have started before that5. The earliest Gerhard Richter squeegee work I seem to be able to find is from the mid 1980s.

Jack Whitten, Siberian Salt Grinder, 1974, Synthetic polymer paint on canvas, seen at MoMA in 2019.

Still, some of the Abstracts did stand out.

Three of the six Cage Paintings, 2006, each Oil on canvas, 9 1/2 feet square, which get their own room, the other three facing these.

The legendary Cage Paintings were much more stunning in person than in the book of the same name, especially in a group of all six of them, set off in a central gallery of their own on the 4th floor. Seeing them, and being able to be able to walk right up to them and see the details of their layers was one of the highlights of the show.

Four Birkenau Paintings, 2014, Oil on canvas, each 8′ 6 3/8 x 78 3/4 inches faced four Prints made from them in the next to last room of the show.

The other highlight, among the Abstracts, and of the whole exhibition, was the chance to see his recent Birkenau series of Paintings and the Prints he made after them. Installed in the show’s penultimate room along with the only four existing Photographs taken by Sondernkommandos surreptitiously in the titular Nazi Birkenau death camp, Gerhard Richter had wanted for decades to do something regarding the Holocaust. He originally started by using the Photographs as the basis for his work, but soon started over from scratch, abstractly. The results are remarkable and unforgettable. They, literally, drip with pain, bloodshed and horror.

4,900 Colors, 2007, Enamel paint on aluminum.

And there were other “kinds” of abstractions, like 4,900 Colors…

Strip, 2013, Inkget print on fine art paper between acrylic and aluminum.

And Strip, 2013.

Strip began here. Abstract Painting, 1990, seen on the 4th floor, was digitally manipulated in Photoshop hundreds, maybe thousands of times until the thin bands of color we see in Strip are achieved. These would have to be magnified to see an actual image.

This version of Strip, seen in the show’s last gallery on the 3rd floor, began life as Abstract Painting, 1990, seen on the 4th floor. The process Mr. Richter used to create the works in his Strip series is outlined in the Artist’s book, Patterns, in which he took his Abstract Painting (CR: 724-4) and manipulated it in Photoshop, using a mirroring process, he then repeated over and over until the results were reduced to the fine lines of color seen in Strip.

My results after Step 1.

Using his process, I took Abstract Painting, 1990, which I just showed, and began to create my own Strip from it.

My results after Step 2.

I got to the third stage.

My results after Step 3.

Already you can see where this is going, given a few hundred, or more, steps. Even these preliminary results made me feel that this exercise was fascinatingly making some sort of order out of the seeming “chaos” of abstraction.

Installation view of the 4th floor, with the lobby, where the show begins to the right.

Or course, it will be a long time before the final assessment of Gerhard Richter’s work is done, and hopefully, a long time before he stops creating it.

Early, and recent work. Here, early, Four Panes of Glass, 1967 in front of Elbe, 1957/2012, along the back wall, Originally paint roller on paper, 1957, eprinted as inkjet prints in 2012.

“In 2020, art can be made from literally anything. So why still paint?” Met Museum Primer for GR:PAA

Recent. Installation view showing House of Cards (5 Panes), 2020, Glass and steel, the most recent work in the show. That’s the view across Madison Avenue coming in through Marcel Breuer’s window to the left, reflected in the glass.

Though works in other medium are included, as seen above, even with these forays, his Painting have continued, and continued to be the main focus of his work. Highlights from many of the major categories of Painting that Mr. Richter has worked in are included, including his hugely influential landscapes, like Seascape, 1975.

Seascape, 1975, Oil on canvas, 78 3/4 inches by 9 feet 10 1/8 inches. I was stopped by this work when I came across it.  It spoke to me of so much going on at that moment- the looming covid shutdown, which would begin for Art in NYC a few hours later, and along with it, the status of this show. How the world would be different after…Are the clouds clearing, or is a storm coming? Is that light a dawn, or a sunset?

For me, the title Gerhard Richter: Painting After All  has multiple meanings. It can be read as a statement that Gerhard Richter has continued to Paint, or gone back to Painting, after exploring other mediums, his entire career. It can also be read as a statement about all the tumult that has gone on in the Arts over his lifetime, during which time Painting has received unprecedented challenges from Photography and other mediums which have attempted to take it’s prime place among the visual Arts. Regardless of how I, or anyone, feels about a work here or there, the one thing that remains is that Gerhard Richter has consistently shown what Painting can do, what it’s capable of giving us, that other mediums can’t- including Photography, to this point. In doing so, he has set signposts for other Painters to follow to continue to mine what Painting is uniquely capable of.

It can, also, be read as a statement about the survival, and ongoing importance of Painting. After all.

Particularly after my 3+ year immersion in Modern & Contemporary Photography, I’ll go with that one.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is the album Richter 858 by Bill Frisell, that was originally released along with a volume of Gerhard Richter’s Abstract Pictures 858-1 through 858-8. In 2005, then rereleased on Soundlines.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
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  1. Here ↩
  2. This is probably discussed and clarified in the show’s catalog. Due to the shutdown, which has closed all bookstores, I have not seen the catalog. I may update/correct this when I do. ↩
  3. In works in the show, like Uncle Rudi and others, and work that are not here, like the intriguing October 18, 1977 series. ↩
  4. Here ↩
  5. In his remarkable book, Notes From The Woodshed, Mr. Whitten, a master woodworker, writes about  the making of the tools he used to make them- “The Developer” he called a large one. ↩

“Best” Doesn’t Exist In The Arts

For The Record #3. 

Third- I don’t believe in qualitatively comparing Artist or works of Art. There is no such thing as “Best” in the Arts. Qualitatively comparing Artists or Artworks is pointless. Whatever criteria you use are subjective. In my view, awards and “halls of fame” are pointless. Turn those halls of fames into museums.

Stanley Kubrick, seen here in his 1946 Photograph with “showgirl” Rosemary Williams, at the entrance to the Museum of New York show of his Look Magazine Photographs  never won a “best director” oscar. Neither did Charlie Chaplin. Neither did Alfred Hitchcock. Neither did Orson Welles. Neither has every black, female, Hispanic, or Asian director, ever.

For every award “winner” there are countless others who can also be said to “deserve” to have “won.” I wish all awards would cease. For every “hall of fame” member there are countless others who could have been included. I think they should all be closed and museums opened in their place. All of this being said, I have no problem with those who win awards enjoying them. As contradictory as that may sound, acknowledgement of Artists in any form in this country, particularly, is very hard to come by. It’s not their “fault” they “won.” History shows that all of these awards have missed many others as deserving, and also shows that some of the most important Artists in their fields never won any award- until someone decided late in their career that they better try and “fix” their oversight. The hype and marketing surrounding awards and award winners is meant to make you feel theirs is the final word on the subject. There is NO such thing!

Experience the work for yourself and make up your own mind. See if it speaks to you, or not. At the end of the day, or of the year? That’s ALL that matters.

So, I’ve preferred to use the term “NoteWorthy,” to refer to Art, shows, and books that have lingered with me, have had the most impact, and which I think others should know about so they can make up their own minds about. I also use the term “favorite,” which does not mean “best,” to connote something I personally like, whether or not I think it’s “important” or “NoteWorthy.” We all have what I call “guilty pleasures”- like a song we know is going to be forgotten as soon as we can get it out of our heads!

Screencap from The Metropolitan Opera’s broadcast of Alban Berg’s Lulu, with production design by the great William Kentridge, in 2015.

If something doesn’t speak to you…? Well, if something doesn’t speak to me I try and keep an open mind about it and revisit it one day, sometimes years later. I try and not say “I don’t like it.” I just let it lie with me, continue to think about it, and revisit it later, even years later. At that time, it still may not speak to me, but sometimes it does. In some of those cases the work and the Artist became very important to me. Like Alban Berg and his opera Lulu, which on first hearing may sound completely chaotic. As I listened to more and more Music in more and more styles, my ears opened up. Now, I only hear Mozartean beauty in Lulu, which has become my favorite opera. At other times, I’ve wrestled with Art or Music I just didn’t get. This involved digging deeper into the background of the work and looking or listening harder. Yes, harder. So, I try and always keep an open mind. That being said, there are some things I admit I will NEVER like or appreciate. Hitler was a painter (small ”p” intended), remember? It’s too bad he wasn’t able to get into school, become an Artist, and make a good contribution to the world, instead.

Instead of awards, perhaps give an Artist a grant, a commission, or buy their work, if you want to help them.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Award Tour” by A Tribe Called Quest from their immortal Midnight Marauders, 1993.

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here. The first two parts are here. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

Vida Americana: Revolutionizing American Art

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

The museums and galleries will reopen.

The revolution comes north. The first major work by one of Los Tres Grandes in the USA. José Clemente Orozco, Reproduction of Prometheus, 1930. Jackson Pollock made a trip to see it, then called it “The best painting in the contemporary world.” He  kept a picture of it on the wall in his studio throughout the 1930s1.

Exactly when that will be in NYC is unknown at moment. Near the end of the voluminous list of unfortunate and tragic occurrences resulting from the pandemic in NYC is that the Year in Art shows, 2020, had gotten off to an exceptionally strong start here. A number of very good and important shows were forced to close early in their run, meaning relatively few got to see them. Unfortunate, not tragic. I’ve already looked at the most NoteWorthy, as I’m fond of saying, gallery show I’ve seen thus far this year- Noah Davis at David Zwirner. The most NoteWorthy museum show I’ve seen in 2020 is the landmark Vida Americana: Mexican Muralists Remake American Art, 1925-1945 at the Whitney Museum, which opened on February 17th and “temporarily closed” on March 12th.

The entrance of Vida Americana (“American Life”), seen on March 11, 2020, the day before it “temporarily closed” for the coronavirus pandemic.

With over 200 works by 60 Artists, Vida Americana makes the heretofore overlooked case for the influence the Mexican Muralists, particularly Los Tres Grandes (“The Big Three”), Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, had on American Artists & American Art between 1925 to 1945. It does so convincingly in side by side installations and bringing to the fore little studied connections a number of major American Artists had with their Mexican counterparts. 10 years in its planning and 4 in creation, Vida Americana succeeds in making its case in resounding fashion with wonders seen now and likely never again according to the show’s curator, the inimitable Barbara Haskell, who’s been at the Whitney since 1975 2.

Times are hard everywhere as I write this as April, 2020 comes to a close. In researching Vida Americana, I was reminded that a little over 100 years ago, in 1918, the “deadliest pandemic in history” (according to John M. Barry’s book The Great Influenza) left 100 million people dead worldwide. A sobering thought at this moment.

Things can always be worse.

300,000 Mexicans died. Luckily, the three Artists at the center of Vida Americana, Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, were not among them.

The first work in the show. Diego Rivera, Dance in Tehuantepec, 1928, Oil on canvas. Rightly famous for his incredible Murals, he was also a terrific easel Painter for his entire career, work that has yet to receive the attention on the level of his Murals. Are those some remnants of his passion for Cezanne, particularly in the clothes worn by the lead gentleman?

Though the decade-long Mexican Revolution ended 100 years ago in 1920, the final death toll may never be known. Today, estimates range between one million and three million, (not including that 300,000 who died in the 1918 pandemic). Diego Rivera spent the entirety of the Mexican Revolution studying in Europe on a grant from the governor of Veracruz to further his Art education. He precociously devoured the work of the great European Painters of the time, as can be seen in his easel Paintings that wonderfully echo El Greco and Cezanne, around 1913, and his adoption of Cubism, from 1914-18 or so. He knew Picasso and Georges Braque and was something of a competitor of theirs as he tried to make his own name, before finding his own style. In 1919, towards the end of his European period, Diego Rivera met David Alfaro Siqueiros, who was also in Europe on an Art scholarship. Vida Americana (American Life) takes its name from the sole issue of the journal Vida Americana that contained a manifesto of sorts written by Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros.

José Vasconcelos, date unknown. As minister of education, he commissioned Artists, including Los Tres Grandes, to Paint Murals. And so, he had a major influence on Mexican history, and unintentionally, American Art history,

Meanwhile, back in Mexico, after the Revolution ended in 1920,  a profound change swept across Mexican society. New president Alvaro Obregon’s government enacted progressive social reforms that empowered workers and farmers. This transformative project wasn’t so simple. “There was no shared culture. No sense of a Mexican national identity,” Barbara Haskell said3. “The Mexican Revolution led to the need for Art that depicted the history and everyday life of the people.” President Obregon appointed José Vasconcelos as director of the Universidad Nacional de Mexico (National University of Mexico). He reached out to Diego Rivera in Europe in hopes of recruiting him for the campaign to create a new national culture. Backed by a Mexican government stipend, Diego Rivera, took a trip to Italy to study the great Italian Renaissance frescoes during the winter of 1920 in Verona, Padua, Venice, Ravenna, Florence, and Rome, where he saw Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. After he was sworn in as Mexico’s minister of education in the fall of 1921, José Vasconcelos commissioned Artists, including Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, to create grand public Murals depicting the history and everyday life of the nation’s people, and “Los Tres Grandes” were born. They rose to the challenge, and in the process, reintroduced the Mural to Western Art.

Installation View. My mission? Get this shot without people in front of the Art, which includes two rarely seen works by Frida Kahlo.

Vida Americana is so big, with so many pieces drawing one’s attention, so many connections leaving much to study and ponder, in the one visit I was able to make I had to focus on, first, seeing it all, and second, on how the Mexican Muralists directly influenced Jackson Pollock and Philip Guston, two Americans who’s paths have long intrigued me.

One example of how extraordinarily this show was hung throughout. Jackson Pollock, Untitled, c1938-41, Oil on linen, 22 1/4 x 50 1/4 inches, David Alfaro Siqueiros, War, 1939, Nitrocellulose on composition board, 48 5/8 x 63 7/8 inches, Jackson Pollock, Composition with Flames, 1936, 26 1/2 x 21 1/2 inches, David Alfaro Siqueiros, Our Present Image, 1947, 87 3/8 x 68 11/16 inches, Pyroxylin on fiberglass, 87 3/8 x 68 11/16 inches, left to right.

Fast forwarding from 1920 to my own teen years, Jackson Pollock and Edward Hopper were the two Artists who planted stakes in my mind for modern American Art, after centuries of European domination that culminated at the time with the all-encompassing brilliance of Picasso. Of course, they had come on the backs of almost 200 years of earlier American Artists before my time, yet American Art seemed to be playing second fiddle the Europeans until the post-Second World War years. It was easy to get lost in the Americanism of Messers Pollock and Hopper and easy for me to relate to them particularly since both spent most of their career in NYC. Greenwich Village was home for Edward Hopper for about 50 years, and Jackson Pollock legendarily frequented the Cedar Tavern and other bars in the area, while living with his wife, Lee Krasner, in Springs, Long Island, where I indelibly visited his studio in 1999. In looking through his career, it was well-known that he came here to study at the Art Student’s League with Thomas Hart Benton. “He drove his kind of realism at me so hard I bounced right into non-objective painting,” Jackson Pollock later said reflecting on studying with Thomas Hart Benton4.

Jackson Pollock, Untitled, 1938-41. This “pre-drip” period fo the Artist’s work remains understudied and under-appreciated in my view. Whereas the journey Mark Rothko took from figuration to abstraction is interesting, Jackson Pollock’s is downright fascinating. Here, in this stunning work, the figures break up with such intense rigor and stunning color, it really does make you wonder where it was all going to lead. It also makes me wonder how many other Artists would have been content to continue Painting just like this, a very brief period in Jackson Pollock’s brief career.

After leaving Thomas Hart Benton, what always mystified me was how Jackson Pollock became “POLLOCK” to quote the title of the film made some years back- the Artist who burst on the scene, with a never before seen style that revolutionized what Painting could be in the late 1940s and early 1950s before his tragic death on August 11, 1956 at 44. I even wrote a piece with that title after the most recent MoMA Jackson Pollock show in 2016, Jackson Pollock: A Collection Survey 1934-54. Truth be told, looking back on it, though there were some clues in that show, I remained puzzled at how the Artist came up with his style, which has been called everything from “dripping,” to “splash and dash” to fill in your own, here. We know now that all of these terms sell Jackson Pollock’s formidable technique very short, as is demonstrated here.

“I simply paint the life that is going on at the present—what we are and what the world is at this moment. That is what modern art is.” José Clemente Orozco

Jackson Pollock, The Flame, 1934-38, Oil on canvas mounted on fiberboard, left, and José Clemente Orozco, The Fire, 1938, Oil on canvas, right. Seeing these works side by side was an eye-opening revelation for me.

José Clemente Orozco was the first of Los Tres Grandes to visit the USA in 1917-19, living in NYC and San Francisco. In 1930, he was commissioned by Pomona College in Claremont, California to paint a mural in the student cafeteria. Prometheus became the first true fresco ever painted in the USA.  Jackson Pollock made a special trip to see it. He called it, “The best painting in the contemporary world5,” and kept a picture of it on the wall in his studio throughout the 1930s. At the Whitney, there is a large, though reduced, reproduction of Prometheus (see the first picture in this piece), along with a few other, smaller, works by José Clemente Orozco that are hung next to early works by Jackson Pollock. HERE was the long-awaited first eureka moment in my quest for insights into Mr. Pollock’s work. The similarities in elements, even styles, between  them when seen side by side were beyond compelling. They were revelatory.

Jacob Lawrence, Selections from The Migration Series, 1940-1, Casein tempera on hardboard. On the wall card, it says, “Lawrence credited Orozco in particular with inspiring his ambition and his use of bold colors and architectonic forms.”

On an adjacent wall was an installation of selections of the work by Jacob Lawrence that seemed to take Mr. Siqueiros’ ideas in different and unique directions. I looked up to see if there was a now lit lightbulb hanging over my head. It wouldn’t be the last time.

David Alfaro Siqueiros, center, and Jackson Pollock, right, in Union Square, NYC, 1936, Archives of American Art/Smithsonian Institution Photo.

David Alfaro Siqueiros was the last to arrive in the USA. While each of Los Tres Grandes were on the cutting edge, if not the edge, socially and politically, he took it further. He believed that revolutionary ideas required revolutionary materials and techniques. In 1936 he established the Siqueiros Experimental Workshop in Union Square, a stone’s throw from where I sit writing this, which he referred to as a “Laboratory of Modern Techniques in Art.” Some 30 years later another Artist would explore “new materials and techniques” when Andy Warhol moved his Factory to Union Square. Among the students at the Siqueiros Experimental Workshop was Jackson Pollock, who was about 24, and who had been without a teacher since Thomas Hart Benton moved from New York to Missouri in 1935. “One anecdote recalls Siqueiros constructing something resembling a Lazy Susan, filling it with paint, and spinning it atop a horizontal canvas ”a predecessor to Pollock’s later drip technique6.”

David Alfaro Siqueiros, The Electric Forest, 1939, Nitrocellulose on cardboard, 28 x 35 inches, left, Jackson Pollock, Landscape with Steer, c.1936-7, Lithograph with airbrushed lacquered additions, 15 7/8 x 22 7/8 inches.  It’s interesting that while David Alfaro Siqueiros’s works are often political, Jackson Pollock’s don’t appear to be.

Later in the show, Gallery 11 is devoted to the Siqueiros Experimental Workshop. Here, a David Alfaro Siqueiros was hung next to a Jackson Pollock, and now I could feel the figure breaking down even more. Complete abstraction is not far away. The technique was getting wilder and more experimental. Now, it wasn’t that big a jump at all in my mind from works like Landscape with Steer to a work like his 20 foot long Mural, 1943, in a genre that itself would appear to be a nod to the influence of Los Tres Grandes. For me, this was the biggest takeaway among many, from Vida Americana. But, the joys of the show weren’t solely technical or historical.

Finally! The scene shown earlier, sans viewers. Frida Kahlo, Me and My Parrots, 1941, 32 5/16 x 24 3/4, left, Alfredo Ramos Martinez, Calla Lily Vendor, 1929, 45 13/16 x 36 inches, center, and Frida’s Two Women, 1928, 27 3/8 x 21 inches, right. All three are Oil on canvas.

Walking through the show, all three Artists are well represented, as are a number of other lesser-known Mexican Artists of the period. Frida Kahlo is not one of them. Perhaps as popular, if not more popular, than any other Artist represented in the show, her possible influence on American Artists from 1925-45 is curiously not touched on. Perhaps, it’s taken for granted that her example and influence have never stopped influencing Artists and the general public?

Out of focus shot of the installation showing the 2 Fridas, far right, facing 2 works by Diego Rivera.

Even not as well known is that it was an American who was Frida Kahlo’s first important collector. In 1938, when she was still an unknown in the US, the actor and Art collector Edward G. Robinson visited Diego Rivera in Mexico City. After selecting some works by Mr. Rivera, the Artist led him into Frida’s workspace. He bought 4 Paintings from her for $200.00, each(!), her first major sale7. To that point she had often given her work away. After Edward G’s purchases she said, “This way I am going to be free.” She didn’t have to ask Diego for money. This American had had a real influence on this great Mexican Artist. 

Frida is represented here by two beautiful examples of her work, including the stunning Self Portrait Me and My Parrots, 1941, beautifully installed facing two large works by the husband she married twice, Diego Rivera.

In looking at the work of Diego Rivera, it’s interesting to me that his figures seem to vary between the stereotyped and the specific and you’re likely to encounter either as you move from work to work of his. In both of these works, depicting specific people doesn’t seem to be his point. In many other works, including Man at the Crossroads, 1933, which he Painted for Rockefeller Centers, his inclusion of a portrait of Lenin, and his refusal to remove it, led to the work’s destruction. Elsewhere, he includes a number of his lovers, his wife, Frida Kahlo, and numerous other known persons, including Charlie Chaplin, and self-portraits.

Diego Rivera, Man Controller of the Universe, 1934, reproduction of the Mural at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, Mexico City.

None of the three members of Los Tres Grandes were strangers to controversy, with, perhaps, Diego Rivera’s Man at the Crossroads, 1933, Rockefeller Center commission being the most legendary incident. Man at the Crossroads was produced in a revised version as Man Controller of the Universe or Man in the Time Machine, at the Palacio de Bellas Artes (Palace of Fine Arts), Mexico City, in 1934. A stunning reproduction of it occupies the entire wall, and windows, that face the High Line, and is accompanied by a huge study.

In Gallery 3, titled “Siqueiros in Los Angeles,” another of the highlights for me were two loans of major works by the great Philip Guston.

Philip Guston, Bombardment, 1937-8, Oil on canvas, 42 inches.

Bombardment, 1937-8, one of the Artist’s masterpieces, from the Philadelphia Museum It’s as near to a “perfect Painting” as one can imagine, unique in Art history, and a work that deserves even more attention than it already has, if one can say that about a masterpiece. Securing the loan of it for this show was a major coup. My look at Philip Guston: Painter at Hauser & Wirth a few years back proved a bit controversial, but I make no bones of my admiration for his work before and after his “abstract period,” which I have continued to try find a way in to. It’s gotten easier. But here, in Bombardment, we have a work that is a one of a kind. A rare modern circular Painting (harkening back to the Tondo in the Renaissance, one of Philip Guston’s favorite periods of Art) in which motion, energy, death and destruction find no resting place in a brilliantly orchestrated “explosion” of paint. A work like this would be impossible in a Photograph. It’s also hard for me to look at and not think of Picasso’s Guernica, a mural, also from 1937, and both inspired by the Spanish Civil War, though they couldn’t be more stylistically different. Stylistically, it does make one think about the possible influence of David Alfaro Siqueiros, who Philip Guston had served as an assistant for. Looking at it closely, though it’s “only” 42 inches in diameter it feels a bit like a mural, not unlike another major work by the Artist nearby. 

Philip Guston, Reuben Kadish, Jules Langsner, Reproduction of The Inquisition also known as The Struggle Against Terrorism, 1934-5, Dimenseions and materials not stated.

Here was an amazing model for Philip Guston’s legendary early Mural collaboration with Reuben Kadish and Jules Langsner, The Inquisition also known as The Struggle Against Terrorism, 1934-5, something I never even knew existed. Murals on walls are not tranportable. Yet, throughout this show the curators continually find innovative ways of “bringing” them here and making them a part of the show- like this, and like Prometheus, shown up top, and the study for one of Diego Rivera’s “Portable Murals” for MoMA seen further below. Amazing. 

Detail. I would guesstimate this space is about 12-14 inches tall. The real one is over 1,000 square feet.

Philip Guston and Reuben Kadish were both about 23 when David Alfaro Siqueiros called them “the most promising young painters in either the US or Mexico.” He urged them to come to Mexico where he helped them secure a 1,000 square foot wall where they Painted The Inquisition also known as The Struggle Against Terrorism in the courtyard of the University of Michoacan, Morelia. Due to controversy over its depiction of the catholic church, the Mural was hidden from view for 40 years until it was accidentally discovered in 1973, yet it languished for a further 30 years until efforts began to restore it. Though very small, the model gives the viewer a sense of wonder that the Artists could envision the daring and monumental composition they created.

Thomas Hart Benton, Six Panels from American Historical Epic, 1920-28, Oil on canvas mounted on wood, varying sizes. Though panels, these terrific works were begun before Los Tres Grandes created their Murals, yet they share much in common, particularly its depiction of history. On the wall card it states, “Believing that art’s role was to tell the truth, Benton refused to sanitize history. Thus this mural cycle celebrates American history while also drawing attention its environmental and social injustices.” Exactly what we see in the work of the Mexican Muralists.

Diego Rivera, with his wife Frida Kahlo arrived in the US in November, 1930 to open a retrospective of his work in San Francisco, which was followed by one at the newly opened MoMA, NYC the following year. By that point, he was considered “the hero of the Western world, who embodies the spirit of the Mexican revolution8.” “His idea about creating a national epic (in his Murals) was something that would also be very influential on American artists,” Barbara Haskell added9.

Diego Rivera, Pneumatic Drilling, 1931-2, Charcoal on paper, 97 1/4 x 76 7/8 inches. Apparently a full size Drawing for one of the Portable Murals the Artist did for MoMA in 1931. About this work, MoMA said in 2012, “The day after Rivera arrived in New York City, the New York Herald Tribune reported on his plans to “paint the rhythm of American workers.” Rivera later identified this scene as depicting preparations for the construction of Rockefeller Center, which was still in its early stages when he arrived in New York10.” These are the kinds of scenes many American Muralists would do in their WPA FAP Projects, commencing a few years later.

The influence of the Mexican Muralists on the WPA Federal Art Project, 1935-43 is another revelation of Vida Americana. Reintroducing the Mural in Western Art brought it out of the church and into the realm of Public Art. At its peak in 1936, the Federal Art Project employed 5,000 Artists, possibly double that over the 8 years it existed, producing 2,566 Murals and more than 100,000 easel Paintings. It’s obvious, to me, that in looking at the Murals they produced many of them seem to follow in the footsteps of their Mexican counterparts, stylistically, and in their content, many of the Murals belied the influence of the Mexican Artists who’s works were steeped in history and the life of everyday people and workers.

Michael Lenson, Mining (Mural Study for Mount Hope, West Virginia Post Office), c. 1933-34, Tempera on wood, top, Xavier Gonzalez, Tung Oil Industry (Mural Study for Covington, Louisiana Post Office), 1939, Gouache, pen and ink, on pencil on paper mounted on cardboard.

Once you start looking for the influence of the Mexican Artists included in Vida Americana, particularly that of Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros, you begin to find it turning up all over and in surprising places. Add to this the incalculable influence of Frida Kahlo, as an Artist, as a woman, and as an unconquerable human being, it turns out, as Vida Americana finally demonstrates, the influence of Mexican Art on American Artists from 1925-45 rivals that of any other.

March 11, 2020. A Whitney staff member speaks about “Siqueiros in Los Angeles.” It might be a while before we see this again.

It will be very interesting to see how the Whitney, and all the museums, handle their schedules, and the virus, when they reopen. Will shows that were up when they temporarily closed be extended? What will that do to their future exhibitions and loans? It all remains to be seen.

The curtains have been drawn. For how long? A view of the Hudson River from the fifth floor behind the show. The former Department of Sanitation complex directly across the West Side Highway, which I mentioned in my piece on the Whitney building, has now been dismantled in preparation of…? What will the future bring?

As I write this in early May, it looks like Vida Americana will reopen giving others a chance to see this landmark show, in my view, the first one mounted in the Whitney’s new building (Thus far, I’ve written about their new building, Andy Warhol, Frank Stella, Stuart Davis, Grant Wood, Laura Poitras, the 2017 Whitney Biennial, and other smaller shows). In the meantime, having the chance to see it once has given me much to think about during this pause. While the world on the other side of the pandemic will be different, so too will be the way I henceforth look at 20th century American Art history.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Mexico” by Morrissey from You Are The Quarry.

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  1. Whitney Museum introductory video ↩
  2. Comments from Ms. Haskell in this piece are excerpted from her remarks at the Press Preview, unless otherwise noted. ↩
  3. Here. ↩
  4. Here ↩
  5. per Barbara Haskell ↩
  6. Here ↩
  7. Here. ↩
  8. Whitney Museum video ↩
  9. Here ↩
  10. Here. ↩

Death To Boxes!

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

For The Record #2.

Boxes Must Die!

In the Arts, that is.

Doing my part.

Artists are people. Like anyone else, you can’t put an Artist in a box (i.e. a so-called “style”,“school” or “movement”) UNLESS he or she puts themself in one, and that distinction is critical. No one else can, in my opinion, and that includes Art historians, gallerists, or yes, writers. Over the years I’ve spent studying and researching Art history, it seems the vast majority of the time, these labels get stuck on Artists by someone else, often someone with something to sell or someone attempting to write about the Artist. Whoever else does it, I believe they do more harm than good. It seems to me that all these terms serve to do is to keep you from looking at the Art for yourself and making up your own mind. They’re a kind of shorthand for “this is that.” They want you to think- “Oh. I already know what ‘this’ is, so I ‘know’ what that is.”

Really?

Now, press a little harder.

How many “schools” or “movements” have there really been in Art history among museum level Artists? Both imply the Artists were organized around shared beliefs. Most Artists I’ve met tend to be solitary beings who work alone (or, with their assistants, if they have them). The Renaissance is often listed as a “movement.” This brings an upside down smile to my face. While there were a number of Artists and others who turned their attention to the work of the ancients, which they “revived” in their own way, the term implies a unity that might not have been the case. Many of the leading Artists of the 15th century (particularly Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael) were rivals who competed for jobs and, as far as is known, never “got together around shared beliefs.”

 

My copy of Rona Goffen’s Renaissance Rivals. Check this out if you want to get a taste to what life for these Artists may have really been like.

Raphael is reported visiting Leonardo’s studio, but there is no report that Leonardo was actually there at the time. Perhaps, the only time we may surmise that Leonardo and Michelangelo may have been in the same place at the same time was they were both commissioned to create frescoes on opposite walls of the same building. I wonder what they would think of being lumped together by posterity. It seems to me that what is known as “the Renaissance” in Art may be also be characterized as “the optical revolution,” since, as David Hockney’s Secret Knowledge points out, the fifteenth century seems to be the period when optics were introduced into Painting, “The Romantics?” While images of a period of group love pre-dating the hippies by 200 years might be a nice thought, there was no banding together among Artists, only others who see common threads in their work. In fact, the actual 1960s hippies were more of an actual “movement,” though they are not thought of as an “Art movement”…yet. “The Impressionists?” In 1874 thirty Artists showed their work in the space formerly occupied by the Photographer Nadar in a show titled The Anonymous Society of Painters, Sculptors, Engravers, etc. This show included work by Monet, Degas, Renoir, Pissarro, Cezanne, Berthe Morisot among others. It wasn’t until their third show in 1877 that the term “Impressionists,” which had been coined by a critic, after the work Impression, Sunrise, 1873, by Monet, was “accepted” by the group. They held a total of eight shows through 1886. Not one bore the word “Impressionist” in its title. It seems to me a “bad habit” had begun. Ever since, dealers, critics and historians have continually fallen all over themselves trying to put names (i.e. boxes) on whatever has been done since, in a criminally short sighted “rush to judgment” naming competition. Very rarely since, however, have the Artists involved agreed to have their work so “boxed.”

It’s one thing to have a lack of imagination yourself, but to foist it on others, including possibly, many who have not seen the Art under discussion is doing them, and the Art, a real disservice.

I’m this close to agreeing with this sentiment, in the Arts, though I’m sure there must be at least one “ism” that’s “ok,” right?

Beyond this, the practice speaks of a terrible lack of responsibility on the part of those naming and using boxes to speak about Art. Do these people who come up with these boxes ever stop to think about the ramifications of putting someone in a box? Short term? Long term? Longer term? Once in such a box, getting out is extremely hard, if not impossible. In many (if not most) cases, living Artists in such a situation would be risking their financial survival and their careers to fight back. I’ve spoken with a number of Artists who have expressed their frustration with this to me. As a result, I’ve come to feel they represent the tip of the proverbial iceberg in the high seas of the Art world. Unlike some others, this iceberg isn’t melting nearly fast enough.

When you come across one of these terms, take a quick look back into what the Artist has said about his or her work and see if he or she ever used the term themself in speaking about their Art, or if they really aligned themselves with others in the broader sense of a “school” or “movement.” My bet is that if you do this often you’ll become unsurprised to find that 90% of the time, or more, no such arrangement ever existed. IF it did, most of the time it didn’t last for more than a decade of their career. As far as “styles” go, I laugh when I see someone other than the Artist try and name an Artist’s style. For me, it’s like “naming” a wave in the ocean. “That wave seems angry. That’s the ‘expressionist’ wave. The wave that hit me in the face when I waded in was the ‘hyper-realistic’ wave…”

The common sense thing to do, in my opinion, when looking at Art is to let the Artist have some. Let him or her “speak” for themselves through their work. Look at it through your own eyes.

Being human beings, Artists, like the rest of the universe, are subject to change. Along with death and taxes, change is one of the universal laws of the universe, right? Many Artist’s styles change or evolve over time, some, like Picasso or Miles Davis, changed frequently, over the course of their careers. Then, whatever “box” the powers that be had put them in no longer applied. Now what? People coming to their work with one box in their head are now confronted with work nothing like it! Oops. Instead of coming to realize the obvious, scholars, critics and dealers struggle to put him or her in a new box.

“Blue Period,” “Rose Period,””Cubism,” “Late Period,” and on and on. In the end, Picasso, is simply Picasso- a talent so broad it burst any and all categories in almost as many mediums. Unfortunately, his example wasn’t apparently enough for the practice to cease once and for all. Here, his The Charnel House, 1944-5, is seen at MoMA. While Guernica is world-famous as a work that was Painted in 1937, during the pre-WW II Spanish Revolution, The Charnel House bookends it from the end of the War after the discovery of the horror of the death camps.

Why didn’t they just take the “easy way” out? If you insist on using boxes, Picasso, Miles, EVERY Artist, in my view, belongs in one box- the one with their name on it. Aren’t people unique? So are Artists. So, WHY do some insist on lumping them together in a box?

People tried to put Miles Davis in a box his whole life. FIFTY YEARS AGO, on March 30th, 1970, he permanently messed up their minds when he released this masterpiece. With a cast of Musicians who are now each legends in their own rite, it couldn’t have been more aptly titled. The cover art is perfect, too. *Sony picture.

It seems to me that Miles Davis eventually “answered” those trying hopelessly to pigeonhole him. Later in his career, he started labelling his albums “DIRECTIONS IN MUSIC BY MILES DAVIS.”

Word. Put it right up top, in CAPS before anyone else can call it something else. Enough said. *Crop of the previous Sony picture.

Speaking of human beings, “women Artists”, “transgendered Artists,””disabled Artists,””Asian Artists,””black Artists”- these are boxes too! People are people and Artists are Artists. Let’s leave it at that.

Whatever the short term “gain” someone got from boxing an Artist, little thought appears to be given to the fact that Art is this Artist’s career, and so, something they’re going to have to deal with for the rest of it. Some, like Chuck Close and Todd Hido have been able to break out of the boxes they were initially put in and gone on to show other sides of their creativity. How did they do it? It seems to me that both of them were and are frequent interview subjects, and this allowed them to frame the conversation around their own work to the point that they “drowned out” any other voices about it. If you look around, you’ll find they are in the vast minority. It’s very hard to do. Both achieved enough popularity to garner frequent interviews where they were free to speak about their work on their own terms. I can’t help but wonder how many others have given up, or worse, possibly even ended their careers…or their lives.

Seriously.

When Art is your life, what else matters?

Perusing the new book Genealogies of Art, which has 448 other pages that try to trace the “lineage” of Art down through the centuries. Hmmm….Yes, most Artists have influences, but who’s to say how much anyone has been influenced by someone else? What about multiple influence? It seems to me drawing direct lines between and “connecting” them (which is on the other 448 pages) is pointless and meaningless. So far, these are the only two pages I agree with. Personally? I would have left it at this.

It’s way past time for this practice to end. STOP teaching this in Art history classes! Stop using boxes, “schools,” “movements” that Artists never joined, or bogus, imagined, “styles” that mislead and pigeonhole!

It’s time to look at the Art for what it is and for what it says to you (if anything), without prejudice or boxes, labels, imaginary “schools,” or “styles.” So, when you hear a meaningless marketing term like say, “photorealism,” do what I do. Ignore it!

Save a career. Maybe even save a life. Stop the insanity- NOW!

Of course, NighthawkNYC asks that you please dispose of boxes responsibly. Put them where they belong.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Bitches Brew” by Miles Davis from the aforementioned album of the same name. Here, Miles and most of the Musicians on the record including legendary Saxophonist Wayne Shorter, perform it in Copenhagen, 1969, shortly before the album’s March, 1970 release-

This Post in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the release of Bitches Brew, one of the great box-busting moments in 20th century Art, is dedicated to all those Artists I’ve spoken with who suffer with being stuck in boxes, and all of those who are that I haven’t. 

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here. The first part is here. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

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Noah Davis: The Art of Vision

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Art & Artists can come from anywhere at any time. Even from unexpected places, like a housing project. Pueblo del Rio: Arabesque, 2014, Oil on canvas, 48 x 72 inches. Pueblo del Rio, 1941-2,  is a housing project designed by Paul Williams at 52nd Street and Long Beach Avenue, Los Angeles, one of two works in the show set there. African-American Architect Paul Williams was a big influence on Noah Davis, according to his chosen curator Helen Molesworth, and he set other Paintings among Paul Williams buildings.

There is, sadly, no shortage of brilliant younger masters who left us far before their time. The tragedy endures but their Art prevails, and in the end, assumes a life of its own. In Contemporary Art, perhaps no one known to me seemed to do more as an Artist, curator, and visionary in as short a time as the late Noah Davis did before he passed from a rare soft tissue cancer at just 32 on August 29, 2015. Now thirteen years out from my own cancer treatment, the variety of cancers I hear and read about never ceases to astound me. One thing my journey through it taught me was that no two journeys are alike. Unlike mine, in Noah Davis’ case, cancer ran in his family, claiming his dad a few years before it took him. For some perspective (no comparisons intended)- Mozart died at 35. Raphael was 37. More recently, Jean-Michel Basquiat was 27. Music has Jeff Buckley, at 30, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, both 27, among a long list of others. Photography has Francesca Woodman, at 22. Literature, and humanity, has Anne Frank, at just 15, and on and on…

Untitled, 2015, Oil on canvas, 32 x 50 inches. Of this late work, show curator Helen Molesworth spoke about the line between the two women on the couch in her gallery talk. The separation and isolation between two so close together on barely half of the couch is compelling in a Hopperesque way, yet, I haven’t been able to summarize everything this fascinating piece says to me because every time I look at it, I see something else. I see some of what I see in Deana Lawson’s work, some of what I see in Kerry James Marshall’s, Francis Bacon, and there’s a Rothko-with-a-difference in the background, yet what strikes me most is that in this work, as in any number of other works on view Noah Davis is entirely on his own. He has studied, learned, assimilated, and then staked out his own turf as a wholly formed Artist to be reckoned with does. In the moment I shot this picture, the feeling that I was standing in front of a masterpiece was undeniable.

I’ve been blessed with knowing some, and working with some others, who left far too soon. I met the incandescent Jaco Pastorius in 1976 at the release of his now classic debut solo album at Peaches Records Store in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I watched as he put his hands in wet cement on the store’s “walk of fame” outside along Sunrise Boulevard (which I believe is still there) that evening never imaging he would leave us a scant 11 years later. I spoke to him a number of times over those years and we both wound up (independently) in NYC shortly before his tragic murder at just 35. I worked with the late, brilliantly talented, Mark Ledford, and worked with the equally brilliant Thomas Chapin, on three albums, both of who passed at, or before, 40 in the early stages of the prime of their careers, and their lives. I think of all three of them every single day. Though the passage of time eases some of the pain, in my experience, loss is something that does not go away.

Waiting Room, 2008, Oil and acrylic on canvas, 80 x 65 inches. In many of his works, a space opens up that sometimes seems to be an abyss. Here, the abyss is above us and two figures in the upper distance appear to be looking down on the scene below. Is the Waiting Room an “abyss,” where the outcome (possibly to be revealed  behind those large white doors) is unknown as is the effect it might thave on life to come? It can also have that surreal, “Is this really happening?” feel to it. Like any work of Art, it’s open to whatever the viewer may see in it. This was, however, Painted at about the time Noah Davis was diagnosed with cancer, after his father was.

But, thank goodness we have what they created- their Art, their Music, their words, and what they taught us. Us. Everyone whose lives were touched by all of these Artists are part of their legacy.

I never had the good fortune to meet Noah Davis, who was born in Seattle, and studied at Cooper Union in Greenwich Village, becoming something of a sensation here about a decade ago before leaving without graduating around 2004 (because he felt that his education was no longer pushing him, it is said), and moving to L.A.. I was only casually familiar with his work until I walked into David Zwirner on 19th Street, where his Art and his legacy filled no less than three entire galleries.

Imaginary Enemy, 2009, Oil on wood panel, 84 x 98 inches. Does the figure in white on the right, with what appears to be a cup on his head, have one foot on a portal? Or? The figure approaching on the left appears to be n flames. The strange, angular plane behind him has the effect of another dimension, as in Cubism. I’m still enjoying wrestling with this one, too, but I will say there are elements that remind me of Neo Rauch.

My mind was blown by all I saw. Noah Davis was, and is, a major figure in the Art of our time- in more ways than one.

Untitled (Birch Trees), 2010, Oil on canvas, 54 1/2 x 36 1/2 inches. Many of Noah Davis’ Paintings include nebulous, mysterious faces and heads. Maybe I’ve been looking at too much Francis Bacon this past year, but I find them unique and surprisingly compelling, given their frequent lack of features.

My perception had been that at 32 he was still developing, pursuing his own style- as most Artists in their early 30’s are. Ha! As I moved from work to work, I saw an Artist who was completely in control of a full range of styles, which he could dip into at will and which only hinted at influences in tantalizing and intriguing ways, while being wholly his own. Work after different work. How is this possible? The range. The depth. The power. It was all there in the service of his vision.

The Last Barbecue, 2008, Oil on canvas, 60 x 52 inches. Here, the faces are more defined. The group portrait on the left in countered by the odd triple portrait on the right behind the lid of the barbecue, and the scene in the center is surreal, disturbing and puzzling. It is an explosion, or? Looking at it, it was hard not to think of Kerry James Marshall’s Bang, 1994, a 4th of July barbecue scene.

Flashback- November 12,2016 at Kerry James Marshall: Mastry at The Met Breuer. KJM’s Bang, 1994, Acrylic and oil on unstretched canvas(! Notice that it’s tacked to the wall.), 103 x 114 inches.

Before he passed, Mr. Davis asked Helen Molesworth (who, a few years ago gave us the landmark Kerry James Marshall: Mastry Retrospective that I wrote about after its Met Breuer stop) to be his curator. The Zwirner show, which Ms. Molesworth has brilliantly selected and installed, is not arranged chronologically, which I am thankful for. It serves to downplay the “end” and the tragedy of Mr. Davis’ early loss and put the focus squarely on his Art and his accomplishment, where it belongs. (By my count, only 3 of the works did not have owners listed on the checklist.) Each work dialogs with other pieces from a few years later or earlier in ways only someone intimately familiar with the Artist and the work could bring us, which, by itself, sets this apart from most gallery shows of deceased Artists. Her work hasn’t ended here. Ms. Molesworth, who was controversially fired from her post at MOCA in 2018, has also been busy creating an upcoming monograph on Noah Davis, interviewing those who knew the Artist, due to be published this fall, which should be a slam dunk candidate for one of the most important Art books of the year, if not the decade.

1975 (8), 2013, Oil on canvas in artist’s frame, 49 q/w x 73 1/2 inches.

The show featured “fantastical” work, like Imaginary Enemy, alternated with domestic and family scenes. 1975 (8), 2013, was based on a Photograph from the 1970s Davis Family Photo Archives. It reminds me of the mural his mentor and friend Henry Taylor did a few years ago for NYC’s High Line.

Single Mother with Father Out of the Picture, Date unknown, Oil, acrylic, and graphite on canvas, 40 x 30 1/4 inches. There’s an elegance and a timeless, haunting, beauty to this work, which though all too common in our world, I can’t recall having been the subject of a Painting before.

Mr. Taylor has written eloquently about his friend who was 30 years his junior and the effect and influence Noah had on him, his work and his career. One of the more important Painters of our time, reading his words is eye opening, an important testament to Noah Davis’ legacy.

Untitled (Moses), 2010, Oil on linen on wood panel, 8 x 10 1/4 inches.

Perhaps none of these familial works is more poignant than the smallest Painting in the show, Untitled (Moses), 2010, 8 x 10 1/4 inches, showing his son, which may be based on another Photo from his family archives. In this remarkable, small, work, unique among Artist’s portraits of their children known to me, His son Moses has one foot in the water in the sink and one out, as if already leaving. The world shown in the window is dark.

But, as the remarkable, both precocious and fully formed mature works his Paintings are, there was more. Much more.

The Underground Museum is an ongoing Monument to the legacy of Noah Davis. Here, a model of it, showing its facade, with a mockup of the show ARTISTS OF COLOR, 2017-8, curated by Noah Davis. Mr. Davis left the plans for 18 shows for the UM, as it’s known, when he passed. After finding the space, Noah, his wife, Karon, and their baby, Moses, lived in the UM while it was under construction.

Having dealt with galleries early on, Noah Davis was one of those who came to feel the gallery model doesn’t work for them (something I’ve heard in innumerable conversations). Not an “established” Artist with big resources by any means, he nonetheless then dared to set out to forge his own path. With his wife, Sculptor Karon Davis, he took over 3 storefronts at 3508 West Washington Boulevard in the West Adams section of L.A., and opened what they christened the “Underground Museum” to bring museum quality Art, for free, to an area that was “underserved” by existing institutions.

“Noah wanted a space where he could show the work of himself and his friends. He wanted a space that could exist outside of the gallery/museum matrix,” Helen Molesworth said in a talk she gave at the opening.

The daring of that is only topped by his vision.

Noah Davis speaking in front of LA Nights, 2008, Oil on wood panel, 25 1/2 x 19 1/2 inches, which was also in this show. Photo by Alberto E. Rodriquez/WireImage.

In the first show he mounted at the Underground Museum, Imitation of Wealth, Noah recreated well-known works of Art by Marcel Duchamp, Jeff Koons, On Kawara, Robert Smithson and others that he wasn’t able to borrow the originals of so that the people in this underserved area could experience them. For me, it’s another indication of wide-ranging his knowledge of Art history and his taste was. Robert Rauschenberg famously erased a De Kooning Drawing, but I can’t think of any other Artist who has done such a thing and created an entire show of “pseudo reproductions.” As a first show, Imitation of Wealth was both an auspicious “Hello,” and a shot across the bow of the Art world.

Noah Davis’ first Underground Museum show, Imitation of Wealth, reinstalled at MOCA’s Storefront space in 2015.  The imitation of a “date” Painting, Imitation of Om Kawara. Oct 7, 1957, left, happens to be his father’s birthday. Noah Davis’ Imitation of Marcel Duchamp, 2014 (Bottle Rack) is in front of it, Imitation of Don Flavin (lamp) behind the door, and on the far right, behind his Imitation of Jeff Koons (vacuum on a vitrine), and his Imitation of Robert Smithson with sand and mirrors to the far right LACMA Photo by Fredrick Nilsen.

Helen Molesworth, at the time, Chief Curator of MOCA was impressed enough with his idea to make a three year arrangement with UM to collaborate! An arrangement like this is unheard of. Tell me the other case where a world class museum has made an arrangement like this with an Artist in his early 30s to lend Art and work together to present shows in THEIR space. MOCA reinstalled Imitation of Wealth in their Storefront space in 2015, where it opened the day he passed away. He did live to see works from MOCA lent to the Underground Museum.

Noah Davis knew what was “right” for his Art, and as part of that he also had a vision of the future, of bringing Art to the people, for free. But even by 32, he moved past the vision to create the reality. Today, the UM is an important venue, one that has featured the work of Kerry James Marshall, William Kentridge, Henry Taylor, Kara Walker, and Deana Lawson, Kahlil Joseph, Noah Davis’ brother, among others.

Of all the works in the show, Painting for My Dad, 2011, is the most haunting for me- perhaps the most unforgettable Painting I’ve seen in years. It was Painted while his father was in hospice with terminal cancer. We see his Dad about to embark into an unknown, dark, land with a lantern. The landscape, which strikes me as being distantly descended from Cezanne (which I also felt in Imaginary Enemy, shown earlier) in Noah Davis’ own way, is typical of how Mr. Davis took influences from across Art history and made them his own.

It’s fascinating (and something you can’t help but notice) to spot the possible influences from Art history in Noah Davis’ Paintings, and where he’s taken them. Kerry James Marshall’s Paintings set in projects, Henry Taylor’s way with figures, Francis Bacon’s nebulous portraits, Surrealism, and on and on. Every time I look at his work I see more of them, but in each and every instance he has made them his own. He’s not showing off a copious knowledge of Art history, he’s building on what others have done in the service of expressing himself with his own voice. Henry Taylor, Kerry James Marshall, Francis Bacon- these aren’t mentioned by way of comparison- I don’t believe in qualitatively comparing Artists, but just the fact that you can mention Noah Davis in the same sentence with those older masters says quite a bit about the man’s work. Walking through these rooms and looking at his work, even the selection of it shown here, I see someone who was, already, a master Painter, who’s work is going to remain important, in my view. Not only that, Noah Davis hung their work in his shows! In fact, he was one of those who take credit for “discovering” the now renowned Photographer Deana Lawson in 2009, when Mr. Davis served on a jury for a prize that Ms. Lawson submitted for. Ms. Lawson was subsequently featured in the show Deana Lawson: Planes at the UM.
The world not only lost a great Artist when he passed, it lost a budding brilliant curator, one who might have help fill the huge gap that exists in bringing Art out of the galleries and museums to the people. It also lost someone who broke the mould of the Artist/gallery matrix and found his own way. Whatever you think of his Paintings, his example is an enduring, important model for Artists today and in the future. That he was able to make his own way at such a young age has got to inspire countless people who come after him- maybe not to establish their own museum, but to find what works for them1. In the end, that on its own is an amazing, and major, legacy.

February 22, 2020. Closing day in the third gallery, designed to look a bit like the office at the UM, visitors watch videos and films by Kahlil Joseph, Noah’s brother, and others. I’m holding the camera above my head. Such were the crowds, it took me five minutes to navigate from this spot to the door to the right.

As I sit here now that this unforgettable show has closed, I’m left to wonder. What will last longer…what will have the bigger impact on the future- Noah Davis’ Art, or his example, manifested in the Underground Museum? His vision is their common thread. In the example he set, it seems to me that there is much for Artists to learn-now and in the future.

Letting the UM flag “fly high,” as Jimi Hendrix once said on the closing day in gallery 3. Long may it wave.

You can support the Underground Museum here, or by visiting it. The Noah Davis show is scheduled to open there “soon.”

*- Soundtrack for this post is “Bold As Love,” From Axis: Bold As Love, by Jimi Hendrix.

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  1. As many are, and have been doing in their own ways, all around the world. ↩

NYC’s Museums Are “Temporarily Closed”- UPDATED

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Tonite, as I write, all of Manhattan’s “Big Five” Art Museums and the Brooklyn Museum are “temporarily closed” due to concerns over the coronavirus, marking the first time this has happened since 9/11.

Gerhard Richter, September, 2005, Oil on canvas. The Artist created this four years after 9/11. Seen at Gerhard Richter: Painting After All on March 12, 2020, the final day The Met Breuer was open before its “temporary closing.”

Extraordinary measures for extraordinary times. 

Unfortunately, this comes at a moment when there are a number of important shows going on including-

Vida Americana: Mexican Muralists Remake American Art, 1925-1945 at the Whitney Museum

Dorothea Lange and Donald Judd at MoMA

Jordan Casteel and Peter Saul at the New Museum

Gerhard Richter: Painting After All at The Met Breuer

each of which only recently opened. 

I was able to see both Vida Americana and the Gerhard Richter this week before their sudden closings, which came without notice, and while I mull them over, I will say it would be a real shame if the closures turn out to be extended and prevent more people from seeing both of these shows, though of course, the health and wellbeing of visitors and staff must come first. In particular, Vida Americana is, perhaps, the most important Painting show I’ve seen in an NYC museum since Kerry James Marshall: Mastry graced The Met Breuer in late 2016 to 2017. 

The Gerhard Richter show, while a terrific feat of curating by Sheena Wagstaff and her team in bringing in major works from all over which are very handsomely hung, offers an opportunity to see his work through the eyes of our time and in light of both what has come since, as well as what has been discovered about what was done before and during his time by Artists who were in eclipse for too long. In my opinion, Mr. Richter, perhaps a bit like Andy Warhol, winds up with quite a few works that don’t seem to have aged all that well and it will be interesting to see if the future finds these works speak to them. There are other works who’s gravitas is plain- like the exceptional Birkenau series, (unforgettably installed adjacent to 4 incredibly rare surviving Photos taking inside Auschwitz II Birkenau by a member of the Sonderkommandos), the beautiful Forest series, and a number of fine works that seem to have been overlooked thus far. This show is a great opportunity for each viewer to assess, or reassess, for themself.

5pm, March 12, 2020. Minutes before closing at The Met Breuer, a staff member is still busy cleaning the doors. When they’ll get opened again to the public is anyone’s guess. I heard one guard say to another, “See you May 1st.” Was that his guess? The Gerhard Richter show is scheduled to open at MOCA, L.A. on August 15th, making it unlikely to be extended in NYC.

Here’s hoping the closings will be brief. But, if they are not, and, with the postponing of a number of Art & Photography shows this past week around the country, how long will it be before the galleries follow suit? In addition to any and all of the other effects it may have, all of this makes me wonder what the effect of the coronavirus may wind up being on the Art world, and the Art market, which has seen an unabated, meteoric, rise over the past three decades. 

In the meantime, stay healthy out there.

Mid Tuesday afternoon, March 17, 2020. Normally, West 24th Street in the gallery district of Chelsea would see a steady stream of foot and vehicular traffic going to the galleries lining both sides of the street from end to end. Today? I could have safely laid down to take this shot.

UPDATE- March 13th, one day later. Many, even most, of the NYC galleries have announced either closures or “open by appointment only.”

Gagosian on West 24th Street, scene of Jonas Wood’s latest NYC show, would normally be open.

While I expect many other non-Art businesses to close temporarily in the near future, a good many, especially smaller, businesses would be in extreme financial peril if they were to close for an extended time, particularly in the never more expensive NYC business environment.

The scene over on West 21st Street. The terrific Sarah Sze show was here late last year. Today, that jogger doesn’t have to worry about running into anyone, and the street looks like it did before the galleries came here.

It’s hard not to think about how that reflects on the “Art business.” It also makes me wonder how these “appointment only” galleries know the health status of whoever they are choosing to let in, among other things.

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Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
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Harry Gruyaert- In Living Color

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

Freemont Street, Las Vegas. Nevada, USA., 1982. From West in the two-volume set East/West. *Photo by Harry Gruyaert, Magnum Photos.

Harry Gruyaert is one of any number of very fine European Photographers who are much better known at home than they are here. A good many of them have had long, accomplished, careers, and achieved substantial recognition on the other side of the pond. Here, in the USA, not so much. Last year, when I published my conversation with Harry Gruyaert, I was shocked to receive emails that said, “Thanks for introducing me to him.”

In 2017, 174 Harry Gruyaert Photographs were on view in eleven stations of the Paris Metro at the invitation of RATP, the Paris public transport operator. *Seen here in a still from the Harry Gruyaert: Photographer Documentary. Both of these Photographs may be seen in his recent book, Edges.

Really? Harry Gruyaert, who was born in Antwerp, Belgium in 1941, is one of the Photographers responsible for bringing color Photography to the mainstream Fine Art world, along with William Eggleston, Stephen Shore, Constantine Manos and others, after the early, pioneering though not as well known color work of Edward Steichen (going back to 1909!), Keld Helmer-Petersen, (in the 1940s), Saul Leiter and Fred Herzog (from the 1950s, on), and others. Harry was the subject of the recent Harry Gruyaert – Retrospective at FOMU Foto Museum in Antwerp, and the documentary film Harry Gruyaert: Photographer. He’s an Artist who’s work has appeared in eleven Paris Metro Stations and intriguing crops of his work have appeared on the cover of 68 Penguin Books Inspector Maigret detective novels by Georges Simenon. All of this is over and above the fact that he’s been a member of Magnum Photos since 1981 and is a former Vice President of the world’s foremost collective of Photographers.

What’s it going to take for some of these very accomplished Photographers to gain similar acclaim and following here?

The show’s entrance with Antwerp, Belgium, 1988, 13 1/8 x 19 3/4 inches. All prints in the show are Archival pigment prints; printed later.

Perhaps, in his case at least, the tide is beginning to change. Part of the reason Mr. Gruyaert hasn’t been better known here to this point may be that almost all of the PhotoBooks he released earlier in his career are long out of print making it very hard for anyone new to him to discover his work. Though I have had an interest in Mr. Gruyaert’s work, I’ve never seen any of his older books, like the legendary Morocco– even in rare book stores.

Blue, yellow and red- the colors of the covers of three of the most recent Harry Gruyaert monographs.

More recently, Thames & Hudson has released 4 new books over the past 5 years (Harry Gruyaert, 2015, a retrospective with the red cover, and best place to start exploring his work, the also excellent two-volume set East/West, 2107, Edges, 2019, and the just released Last Call, 2020), which are helping to bring his work back to the eyes of the PhotoBook world.

Harry Gruyaert at the Howard Greenberg Gallery, installation view. On the wall or in a book, Harry Gruyaert’s work tends to grab viewers at first sight.

With Harry Gruyaert at the Howard Greenberg Gallery, his first show in the USA in decades, the next step has been taken. After our conversation  last year from Paris, I finally had the chance to meet Harry at the opening. There he was, with Roger Szmulewicz, Director of Gallery51, his European dealer, on January 23rd. Harry told me this was his first USA show since the release of Morocco, which was published in 1990! Then, in keeping with the spirit of Last Call, which he shot in airports, Mr. Gruyaert, still a frequent traveler, told me he was off to Japan in two days.

Harry Gruyaert, left, chatting with Roger Szmulewicz, Director of Gallery51 at the opening.

As I learned in our conversation last year, Mr. Gruyaert is a fascinating, multi-dimensional, man, who has had a remarkable career and life, which has been characterized by being in the right place at the right time, in the right light, as was to be seen in spades on the walls of Howard Greenberg.

Gao, Mali, 1988, 13 1/8 x 19 5/8 inches, left and the haunting Quarzata, Morocco, 1986, 13 1/8 x 19 3/4 inches, right.

Here and now, in the moment, a good many of Harry Gruyaert’s most familiar, and beautiful, pieces were on view.

Province of Brabant, near Wavre, Belgium, 1981, 13 1/8 x 19 5/8 inches

For me, the show felt like reuniting with old friends. Province of Brabant, near Wavre, Belgium, 1981, in particular has long been among my favorites. There’s so many levels to this composition- the colors and their interaction, the distant landscape, the play of geometric shapes and shadows, the jarring angle the VW Beetle sits at, and then you get to the woman sitting in the car. It’s like a still from a movie, an outtake from a Michelangelo Antonioni Film he never made. Mr. Gruyaert, a long-time fan of Michelangelo Antonioni, and a former TV Director early in his career, produced a film that showed clips from Antonioni Films interspersed with some of his Photographs in the show The Image to Come at Cinémathèque Française in 2009.

Installation view. To the right of center works from his East/West series hang next to each other. LA, USA, 1982, the larger piece and Ostend, Belgium, 1982, to its left.

A little known chapter in his distinguished career also saw him in the right place to document the work of the legendary Artist Gordon Matta-Clark during some of the semial years of that Artist’s career. Most of those shots, which are seen frequently when Mr. Matta-Clark’s work is discussed, don’t bear his name, since they now belong to Mr. Matta-Clark’s estate, but the fact that Harry was there at the right time, taking remarkable (black & white) Photos are yet another part of his legend.

National Road #1, Boom, Province of Antwerp, Belgium, 1988, 20 7/8 x 31 1/2 inches

With such a long and distinguished career to dip into to mount shows from, here’s hoping there will be cause for many more Harry Gruyaert sightings on this side of Planet Earth.

 

Harry Gruyaert, far right, at the opening.

In person, in living color.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “East West” by Morrissey from Kill Uncle.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
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Art- With A Capital “A”

For The Record #1. First part of a series.

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Back at The Met, May 6, 2018. The Museum, as it’s referred to, is one of the world’s great repositories of Art with a capital “A” with collections covering 5,000 years of it from all cultures in all its forms. It’s also one of the very best things about living in NYC. No. It’s THE best thing in my opinion. 1,700+ visits in since August 1, 2002, every time I turn the corner and see the building looming in front of me, I still get a chill down my spine. I touch the corner as I go in each time as a way of saying “Hello” to an old friend and to give thanks for each and every opportunity I get to do so.

To mark the 4 and a half year Anniversary of NighthawkNYC, during which I’ve published 225 pieces in 240 weeks (Phew…), I thought I’d take the opportunity to set the record straight on a few things that I feel are at the core of what I believe, and what I’ve written here. Perhaps I should have “explained” them at the beginning instead of letting those who’ve read these pieces (for which I Thank You) wonder, “What the heck?” Well, better late than never. Herewith the first installment in a brief series called For The Record. Consider them “footnotes” or “addendums” to every piece I’ve written.

Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel Ceiling reproduced as part of The Met’s staggering Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer, 2017-8, one of the sublime experiences of my life.

First- Art is of one of man and womankind’s supreme accomplishments in my view. I believe there should be some distinction between the Art of someone like Michelangelo and, say, the art of someone learning (said with all due respect).

Various young artists, unknown titles. A display of children’s art beautifying an NYC public school under renovation.

That’s why I capitalize Art and its associated terms (Artist, Painter, Sculptor, Musician, Painter, Photographer, et al.). It’s my way of showing these people the respect I think they’ve earned and deserve. I’ve done this here since Day 1- July 15, 2015, and I’m sure there are some who frown at me for doing it, and some who disagree with me for doing it. Along the way, I’ve seen a few others doing it this way and frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t become more widely adopted. I hope it does soon.

The terrific, and terrifically overlooked, Honore Sharrer’s, Workers and Paintings, 1943, Oil on board, seen at MoMA. Some of the Art she includes are Grant Wood’s American Gothic, Picasso’s Girl before a Mirror, and others by Jean-Francois Millet and Diego Rivera. Though this work and the originals of most of what she includes in it are 100 years old, +/-, for me, this and all of them are Art. Will the future agree? Time will tell…

“What makes a work of art? I don’t know. There are lots of people who tell you they are making art. Maybe some of them are, but I’m not sure that’s true for all of them. Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but that’s not a phrase I would use. I’d prefer to say I’m making pictures – depictions.” David Hockney, A History of Pictures, with his capitalization, eBook P.2.

I’ve held David Hockney’s writings, and ideas, in the highest regard since his revolutionary, and eternally controversial, book Secret Knowledge came out in 2001, but I find it cumbersome to use the word “pictures” here in place of “Art.” Regarding what “makes a work of art?,” as he asks, it seems to me that it takes hundreds of years for the dust to settle on what’s being created in our time and for something, a “picture,” as Mr. Hockney says, to be considered “Art” (IF it continues to speak to people). None of us will be around when that bell rings. So, in the meantime, I’ve opted to use the term Art, capital “A,” respectfully, applying it to all working Artists, present or past.

Thanks, Twyla. I couldn’t have said it better. And so, this scene has appeared in my Banner, sans moving truck, for the past year. If that truck is waiting for me, it may have a long wait. I haven’t been out of Manhattan overnight since February 4, 2012. The Joyce Theater, December, 2019.

The other reason I do it is because Art is my religion. Frank Lloyd Wright, who I consider to be an “ultimate Artist,” capitalized Nature since it was his religion. Art is mine.

Reach out and touch faith. For me, going to The Met is going to church, as I said early on. At this point in my life, it feels like Home. Back Home, again, late on December 22, 2018. Weather be damned. It’s always beautiful inside.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is ”Personal Jesus” by Martin L. Gore of Depeche Mode, from their 1990 album Violator. They perform it here on Letterman–

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

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A Year of Art: 2019

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Detail of Leonardo Drew’s Public Art project, City in the Grass, 2019, seen in August in Madison Square Park, where it was on view from June through December. In conversation, Mr. Drew spoke of the influence of Indian Stupas, though the Empire State Building 10 blocks behind, might be one as well.

A strange year in Art in NYC ended a few weeks ago. A year that saw one of Manhattan’s “Big 5” museums (MoMA) close for four months, including the entire summer, while it remodeled, then reopen to mixed reviews (mine among them), while another one (The Whitney) faced an Artist revolt mid-Biennial, another (The Met) had what seemed to me to be a fairly “quiet” year on the show front as it adapted to the first full year under its new Director, Max Hollein, while the other two, the New Museum and particularly the Guggenheim, chugged along presenting top notch show after top notch show. Meanwhile, no less than 5 shows of the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat were mounted around town, and though I wrote a series of pieces on them I still don’t know “Why now?” While I’ve written about a number of other shows I found particularly NoteWorthy in 2019, already, there were some other excellent shows that linger in my mind, in the space freed up by the plenty of others that do not. If I were to sum of the year in Art seen, I will remember it as a year where Sculpture, long a very overlooked medium, though not here, struck back and broke through.

NoteWorthy Sculpture Shows-

Lingering closest to the front of my mind is the incredible Sarah Sze at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, which I just wrote about, along with Jean-Michel Basquiat at The Brant Foundation, the most unforgettable shows I saw in 2019.

Leonardo Drew poses in front of Number 217, 2019, Wood, plaster and paint, on the last day of his show at Galerie Lelong, August 2, 2019

Leonardo Drew at Galerie Lelong and City in the Grass at Madison Square Park. Mr. Drew has achieved substantial success around the world, with work in the Permanent Collections of any number of museums, including The Met’s, yet he still seems to be something of a “well-kept secret” to the larger Art public. One of the most original, interesting and visionary Sculptors working today, I thought his show at Galerie Lelong was close to perfect.

Number 215, 2019, Wood, paint and sand.

As with Sarah Sze, the show marked the introduction of Painting by the Artist, though not in the “traditional” sense. The Artist told me Number 215 began as a Painting (his), which he then deconstructed as if it had exploded.

Detail. The show also introduced color into Leonardo Drew’s work.

One monumental work in the large gallery accompanied by five others in the remaining space, each one selected with supreme taste to provide a wonderful group. While his show was up, Mr. Drew also debuted his first Public Art piece, a work commissioned for Madison Square Park.

City in the Grass seen on a day when the lawn was closed to be rested from the non-stop traffic it had been receiving. At the base of each of the three “Stupa”-like structures were wooden “cities” rendered in Mr. Drew’s typically extensive detail to the point that, up close, you could literally spend hours moving through them with your eyes.

In all my years of living in the City, and living here with Public Art, I’ve never seen a piece that was so quickly adopted by the public. Kids endlessly climbed all over it while their parents and other adults languished on other parts of the gigantic piece, as can be seen in the first picture above. Mr. Drew appeared in the Park at least twice to speak about the work and proved to be an extremely thoughtful speaker.

Such was the public acceptance of City in the Grass that even one of the Park’s permanent residents came by to hear the Artist speak about it in a public talk, with renowned writer (and Miles Davis Autobiography co-author) Quincy Troupe, right, on September 11, 2019.

In terms of precedents or influences, Thornton Dial and Jack Whitten (who rented space to Mr. Drew early on the Artist told me) come to mind, but not really. Leonardo Drew is an original. Before he’s done, many decades hence, I believe his work is going to wind up in as many museum as just about any other Sculptor of his generation. 

Nari Ward, Homeland Sweet Homeland, 2012, Cloth, plastic, megaphones, razor wire, feathers, chains and silver spoons, 96 x 60 inches. Along with everything else going on in this, the detail is incredible.

Nari Ward: We The People at the New Museum- Since the 1990s Nari Ward has been repurposing a very wide range of mundane, even humble, materials, often in staggering amounts, in new, surprising and exciting ways. We The People was another long overdue retrospective of the work of this exceedingly creative Artist.

Installation view of part of one of the three floors the show filled.

Occupying multiple floors of the building each work was strong, different from the one before, and shared an uncommon ability to linger in the mind. Another blockbuster show mounted by the terrific team of Massimiliano Gioni and Gary Carrion-Murayari for the New Museum, which continues to rise in stature in my eyes.

Installation view of the 2nd of 3 galleries.

John Chamberlain: Baby Tycoons (with Eva Hesse Drawings) at Hauser & Wirth, East 69th Street- Lesser known work by two ground breaking, unique Artists/Sculptors, both no longer with us were paired in a beautifully installed show at Hauser & Wirth’s uptown outpost. While Ms. Hesse’s Drawings provided a fascinating insight into her career and process, Mr. Chamberlain’s gorgeous small works completely enthralled me.

While his classic larger pieces can look completely “accidental,” his smaller work shows the incredible attention to detail that he brought to bear in all of them. 

Wangechi Mutu, The NewOnes, will free Us, The Facade Commission outside The Met, 5th Avenue- The 5th Avenue Richard Morris Hunt Facade has long been a sore point for me. We’ve been living with it as it is for so many of its 117 years that most visitors fail to realize it remains unfinished! Being Landmarked, having neighbors and being in Central Park has kept TM from finishing what was started back 150 years ago and reached this form in 1902. I pray that one day they’ll be allowed to. It’s not like sticking a brand new pyramid in front of it! It’s just completing the existing facade. So, this year I was pleasantly shocked to see they found an extremely creative and Artful partial workaround. The Facade Commission as they call it bring us 4 terrific bronze Sculptures by Wangechi Mutu titled The NewOnes, will free Us that look superb in the heretofore empty niches outside facing 5th Avenue. On view 24/7 through this June 8th, don’t miss them on your next visit. 

As the year ended, all of this left me wondering- Are we in a “Golden Age of Contemporary Sculpture”?

Elsewhere, among the shows I haven’t written about-

NoteWorthy Painting Shows-

Lorna Simpson, Darkening, 2018, Ink and screen print on gessoed wood, 108 x 96 inches.

Lorna Simpson: Darkening at Hauser & Wirth, West 22nd Street- To this point I’ve been familiar with Ms. Simpson’s Photographs, works on paper and collages, but these Paintings came as a shock. Innovative, fresh, haunting, beautiful, the show felt like it came out of the blue, but I’m sure it didn’t. It struck me as a breakthrough. I returned to see it a few times and when it was over I was surprised it hadn’t received more attention than it got, and left me very much looking forward to see where she’s taking this next.

Jasper Johns, After Larry Burrows, 2014, India ink and water-soluble encaustic on plastic, 32 x 24 inches, one of a series of terrific works by the Artist based on this Photograph.

Jasper Johns: Recent Paintings & Works on Paper at Matthew Marks- Though he turns 90 in May, and a Retrospective is on the Whitney calendar, don’t begin to think Jasper Johns is done. One of the last Artists left to us (along with Susan Weil) from his group that included Robert Rauschenberg, Cy Twombly, Merce Cunningham, John Cage, Willem deKooning, et al, I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into Matthew Marks to see this show of recent works. I left determined to return as often as I could before it closed. I’ll admit that I haven’t followed Mr. Johns career as closely as I followed his one time close associate Robert Rauschenberg, who has had a major influence on the way I see the world, but it sure seems his work has continued to evolve and I, for one, found new surprises in this remarkable show. Too old to be drafted for the Vietnam War he was nonetheless deeply effected by it, as everyone living in this country at the time couldn’t help but be. A number of the works Mr. Johns showed were based on an extraordinary Photograph taken by Larry Burrows in Vietnam, a war that tragically produced too many indelible images, called Farley Breaks Down. Among countless others, Larry Burrows, also, lost his life in the war in 1971. While Photography has been the basis of countless Paintings, in these it was most subtle, almost like a memory, complete with the “haze” of camouflage-like coloring, yet its power was undiminished. Seeing these brought to my mind that one of the things that brought Mr. Johns wide attention early on were his Flag Paintings in the late 1950s.

Henry Taylor’s Mural at Blum & Poe, September 24th- before he modified it.

Henry Taylor: NIECE COUSIN KIN LOOK WHO LONG IT’S BEEN at Blum & Poe- It’s been 2 years since Mr. Taylor’s “New York Moment,” as I called it, when his mural debuted on the High Line concurrently with his being one of the “stars” of the 2017 Whitney Biennial, given both his prominent placement with a large work in the lobby on the 6th floor and an entire gallery he shared with his friend, Deana Lawson. His first solo show since showed that not even hip trouble, which sounded serious, could keep the Artist from traveling and continuing to work.

Henry Taylor uses my pen to modify his mural seen above, September 24, 2019.

The opening was highlighted, for me, by meeting Mr. Taylor, who proceeded to borrow my pen to modify the largest works in the show right in front of my eyes, and later proceeded to inscribe a message on the wall in the garden. Mr. Taylor seemed in fine form, not showing any lingering effects of his ailment and the work on view was classic Henry Taylor. A number of visitors approached Mr. Taylor asking for him to sign his recent monograph. I couldn’t help notice that he seemed to Draw in each book, something that indicated to me he’s another Artist who can’t stop Drawing. Of course, in my copy, he appended a sketch of my pen.

The social revolution… Installation view.

Meleko Mokgosi The social revolution of our time cannot take its poetry from the past but only from the poetry of the future and Pan-African Pulp at Jack Shainman Gallery, West 20th, West 24th Street, and The School, Kinderhook, NY- The now Brooklyn-based Artist is so prolific his latest work occupies no less than THREE of Jack Shainman’s spaces, including the entirety of The School in Kinderhook, NY, out of reach for this writer.

Pan-African Pulp installation view. In this series, Mr. Mokgosi uses source images from the 1960s South African photo-novel Lance Spearman “to examine the history of pan-Africanism.”

The two Chelsea shows I was able to see are marked by remarkable, continued, growth leading me to feel that Mr. Mokgosi is yet another Jack Shainman Artist, like Kerry James Marshall before him, on his way to museum collections. 

Lucian Freud: Monumental at Acquavella Gallery and Francis Bacon’s Women at Ordovas- Two shows that barely made the cut, with both ending in early January, served as a reminder that I didn’t really need of the fact that both Painters, one time friends, are towering figures in 20th century Art who’s influence remains strong. I couldn’t help wonder how the Freud show benefitted by the presence of legendary former Metropolitan Museum Director, Philippe de Montebello, now a Director of Acquavella Gallery, right across the street from his former and long-time 1000 Fifth Avenue home.

The show featured Mr. Freud’s nudes, emphasizing his extraordinary way of Painting flesh, the aspect of his work that has long fascinated me as much as any other. Here, the only clothed figure in the show.

Regardless, it was an exemplary, concise, museum quality gallery show of the work of an Artist who hasn’t had a show here in too long.

Among many other things, Francis Bacon reintroduced the Triptych to Painting.

Nearby, Bacon’s Women, a subject I can’t say I’ve ever heard broached before, was a revelation. The surprising concept was beautifully executed and mounted in Ordovas’ classic East 77th Street townhouse. Francis Bacon has proved to be an Artist who’s accomplishment has only grown more and more interesting and relevant as time has passed, and so, the rare chance to see some of his lesser seen work was not to be missed.

NoteWorthy Drawings Shows-

Installation view.

William Kentridge: Second-hand Reading at Marian Goodman- The legendary South African Artist returned to NYC with what seemed to me to be more innovations in his unique and powerful Drawings, along with a selection of his equally unique Sculpture, and Film, shown in the room behind his Projector Sculpture, above.

Installation view of 3 of the 7 monumental charcoal Drawings, yes Drawings, in the show by a contemporary master of the medium. Mr. Longo  told me it took 6 months to create the one on the right, 8 months for the one on the left.

Robert Longo: Fugitive Images at Metro Pictures- During his Artist’s talk in the gallery on January 11th, Mr. Longo broke down discussing one of his pieces with Nancy Spector, Artistic Director of the Guggenheim Museum. I came away even more impressed with the Artist, who’s work I already hold in high esteem.

Robert Longo in conversation with Nancy Spector, Artistic Director of the Guggenheim Museum in front of a Drawing of North Korean soldiers.

Not one to miss a perfect segue…If I had to single out one person who had a great year in NYC Art in 2019, it would be Nancy Spector, who, along with her team, produced a steady string of very good shows at the Guggenheim, continuing their run these past few years, a number of which I’ve written about.

NoteWorthy Photography Show

Vik Muniz: Surfaces Installation View. These are called multimedia. A close look reveals the numerous layers of each work in which Mr. Muniz reinterprets 20th century abstract Paintings to fascinating effect. Garden Design, after Roberto Burle Marx, Pierrot, after Willys de Castro, Composition/Space, after Cicero Dias, Surfaces, 2019, Multimedia, left to right.

Vik Muniz: Surfaces and Museum of Ashes at Sikkema Jenkins & Co- Looking through the two volume Vik Muniz Catalogue Raisonne, the first thing that strikes me is that it’s arranged in sections according to the technique he used, something I can’t say I’ve seen before, and something even more remarkable when you consider that a good number of these techniques he invented. Along the way, he’s already created a substantial body of memorable pieces, which have gained him worldwide recognition.

Detail of the layers of Garden Design, after Roberto Burle Marx. As a result, each piece is unique.

He was at it, again, adding yet two more innovations, in his remarkable two part show at Sikkema Jenkins & Co. Beyond his endless inventiveness, technique being a means to an end, the results have continued to resound. No mean feat when you consider that one part of his show was based on famous masterpieces of Painting, above, in the Surfaces section of the show, the other based on “resurrecting” Art works lost in a fire, turning their very ashes into recreations, in the Museum of Ashes section. Surfaces was based on Paintings by Arthur Dove, Hans Hoffman, Stuart Davis, Carmen Herrera, Ellsworth Kelly, Marsden Hartley and Romare Bearden, among others, adding a new dimension to the perception of each of these works. Daring!

Vik Muniz recreated works from the Museu Nacional from their very ashes! Here he recreates its facade. Museu Nacional, Museum of Ashes, 2019, Archival inkjet print.

On September 2, 2018, the entire Museu Nacional in Rio de Janeiro burned to the ground, including all its collections amassed over the past 200 years. The museum was Muniz’ favorite cultural institution in the city, a place he visited often with his children. On the wall card to this section, Mr. Muniz said, “I cried upon learning of the fire as if I had lost something personal, some kind of string that held the insanity of my present together.”  The Artist proceeded to work with the archeologists sifting the ashes of the building and its contents and was provided with ashes and the exact location they were found.

Beetle, Museum of Ashes, 2019, Archival inset print.

He proceeded to reconstruct some of the objects that had been lost- in ash, which he then Photographed. The results speak for themself, and, amazingly, echo what has been lost.

As 2020 gets underway, there would seem to be a bit more stability on the horizon, but not entirely. Change, after all, is the only constant in the universe. The protests at the Whitney resulted in board resignations, and MoMA plans to be open for the full year, as far as I know now. Art in NYC, 2020, however, will already be remembered for two memorable events. The Met marks the 150th Anniversary of the opening of its iconic 5th Avenue location this year- with a closing. 2020 will also be remembered as the year the short-lived Met Breuer closed.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “Restless Farewell” by Bob Dylan from the timeless The Times They Are A-changin’, 1964.

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Sarah Sze: Creativity, Unbounded

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

“I bring together the materials I find around me. I gather them to try and create immersive experiences that occupy rooms, that occupy walls, landscapes, buildings, but ultimately I want them to occupy memory.” Sarah Sze, TED Talk.

Crescent (Timekeeper), 2019, Mixed media

In the 4 1/2 years of NHNYC I’ve never yet called a Contemporary Artist a genius. Until now. [Drum roll]

Sarah Sze is a genius in my opinion.

As I take stock of the Art I saw in 2019, along with Jean-Michel Basquiat at The Brant Foundation (which I looked at here), the most unforgettable show I saw this past year was Sarah Sze at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery. As I write this three months after it closed, it’s at the front of my memory of everything I saw last year.

Overflowing. Sarah Sze began on the outside(!) of the gallery’s doors and windows.

Detail of part of Images in Refraction (West) on the western part of the facade of Tanya Bonakdar Gallery (to the left in the previous picture) reveals the multimedia nature of what’s on view inside, and the multi-dimensional talent of the Artist. Painting, Sculpture, Collage, Engineering & Architecture, Photography, Film, Installation- you name it. You get it. And then some.

I’ve seen her gallery shows over the past decade, and each time, I left shaking my head. Part sculpture, part installation, part construction project, part hardware store free-for-all, they were always impossible to fully take in at one look. You saw their shape from a distance and admired the overall composition, and then learned the devil was in the detail, and the detail, and the seemingly endless detail. Still, I wasn’t prepared for her expansion into multi-media, including the debut of her Paintings, she presented on West 21st Street this fall where not even two floors, the reception area, the ancillary walls, both sides of the galleries windows, doors, or the space under the stairs were enough to contain her seemingly boundless creativity.

 

Looking out at the view seen previously of Images in Refraction (West), with installation on the wall, right, leading to the first gallery.

Not to mention 4 galleries filled with her trademark seemingly infinite detail.

Detail of the ever-changing projection that filled the walls surrounding Crescent/Timekeeper.

After the lead-in provided by entering the gallery and passing through the prelude in the reception area, Crescent (Timekeeper), 2019, turned the large gallery into a fully immersive experience from the moment you entered the space and tried to take it all in from about 25 feet away, as may be seen in the very first image above, like some alien craft in a pre-2001:A Space Odyssey 1960s sci-fi movie. “Yes. Something landed…and…it’s glowing! Moving in for a closer look. Tell Lana I love her…” Situated near one far corner allowed embedded rotating projectors to have much of the surrounding walls to themselves engulfing you as you enter the space.

Close up/Details of the center section of Crescent (Timekeeper). Stepladders are a recurring motif in Sarah Sze’s work. As she’s said, “Everything you need to make the piece is in the piece.”

As you approach between two “arms” extending out on the floor, you realize that the center section contains about 50 screens of varying size. Standing there for a few moments reveals each one of those screens contains projected images moving independently of each other. Yet, tracing them back, you find only a few overhead projectors. ? On one visit the work struck me as an almost nostalgic look at life on earth. Suffice it to say, you need to experience it for yourself.

To the stars…Gazing at the top of the “superstructure” of Crescent (Timekeeper), 2019, Mixed media.

With so much to see in just this work, I was somewhat shocked when I realized Crescent (Timekeeper) wasn’t the only “monumental” work on view!

Detail, part of one of 4 walls that makes up After Studio, 2019, with the work Surround Sound (After Studio), 2019, Oil paint, acrylic paint, acrylic polymers, ink, aluminum, archival paper, disband and wood, 103 1/4 x 130 inches, center. No Photo can begin to covey what it was like to be in this work, which is what visitors to this space were, but looking at the piece on the wall, center, the first “Painting” by Sarah Sze I’ve seen, might begin to.

In a smaller, rear, gallery on the first floor, I encountered one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in an Art show- what looked to be a complete (re)construction of one of her studios down to the last detail. A work titled After Studio, 2019. It appeared to me to center around a series of Paintings by Sarah Sze, the first I’ve ever seen, though they are as much Collage as Painting. ”In the age of the image, a painting is a sculpture,” Sarah Sze said in 2019.

Details of details from the right of center section of Surround Sound (After Studio) seen above.

That sentiment puts her in the direct line of Picasso & Braque’s Cubism, Marcel Duchamp, Joseph Cornell, Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Jack Whitten, Frank Stella and, more recently, Mark Bradford and Julie Mehertu. With everything Sarah Sze includes in her Paintings, two things struck me as particularly interesting- her use of Photography (apparently her own), and her “use” of words. They’re there, if you look closely, but they almost exclusively appear to be “notes to self” rather than to others on “post-it” like notes. I was told that the Artist went back and replaced each one with archival equivalents as she completed the work. Yes Surround Sound (After Studio) is complete, and some very astute museum bought it.

The corner of the opposite and adjacent walls. Remind yourself- You’re in a gallery.

I returned to experience After Studio again and again and it felt to me like I was walking around in the Artist’s mind. Often when I see Art, especially landscapes, I close my eyes to feel the presence of place in the piece in my mind’s eye. Here was one “landscape,” I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to drink in. Nary a foot of After Studio, save for the center space to move around it, lacked vision or wonder. When I left if for the last time on October 17th, I was fully in awe1.

Another detail, this one interesting for showing some of the Photographs the Artist may, or may not, use, along with what may happen to them on the way.

On the 2nd floor, the large back gallery contained more Paintings, and a Painted floor. All told, nine Paintings were in the show. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the appearance of her Paintings, after all Sarah Sze studied to be a Painter for a decade before turning her attention to “make meaning of the things around us through materials2.” For me, as amazing as the installations are, the Paintings linger with me every bit as much. No small feat.

I am thrilled to see her interest in Painting return in stunning works like this. 12 Landscapes (After Object), 2019, Oil paint, acrylic paint, acrylic polymers, ink, aluminum, archival paper, disband and wood (triptych), 73 1/2 x 110 1/4 inches.

Detail of 12 Landscapes (After Object).

I was told the show took 2 1/2 weeks to install- for a show that only ran for 6 weeks!

Images in Translation, 2019, Mixed media.

Finally, upstairs in the Project Room, Images in Translation, 2019, was installed in the dark, making it very hard to get a shot of that comes close to doing it justice.

Detail.

Time to head downstairs and back outside.

Looking down from 2 flights above at Images in Refraction(East) under the stairs.

I then immediately started scrambling down West 21st Street to find the pieces of my exploded mind that had wound up on the ground. On September 21st, the opening day of the “New” MoMA, two days after Sarah Sze ended, I discovered this installed on the 6th floor-

Sarah Size, Triple Point (Pendulum), 2013, seen at MoMA, Opening day, September 21, 2019

Sarah Sze’s Triple Point (Pendulum), a work that was originally shown at the 2013 Venice Biennale when the Artist represented the USA, was on display, front and center, in the exhibition Surrounds: 11 Installations.

The immersive experience Sarah Sze gives us in Blueprint for a Landscape in the 96th Street 2nd Avenue Station is based on a fantasy of the construction of Hudson Yards, which is no where near it.

Though that show, too, has now ended, New Yorkers are able to see Sarah Sze’s work anytime- 24/7/365. Ms. Sze created the Art in the 96th Street Subway Station on the new 2nd Avenue line, which opened in 2017, making her one of a handful of Artists who’s work was installed during the creation of the brand new Subway Station it will be seen in permanently. I’ve lauded before the taste of those charged with selecting Art for the Subway, and here’s yet another instance of brilliant vision, in my opinion. Here’s a look for readers without a MetroCard. I can’t help thinking that in 100 years, people will treasure this remarkable video of both the construction of the Station and the Artist actually there, giving a walkthrough-

Sarah Sze is moving between Sculpture, Painting, Photography, Film, Installation and collage in new ways, creating results that have never been seen before. Her work is like the city, like the forest, like a home, and filled with elements, reminders, and the detritus of each. And, in a work like Crescent (Timekeeper), it’s full of what will be memories and associations in the form of images. To what end? As in all great Art, that’s left to each viewer to decide.

More details of After Studio

In my view, though the show marks something of a new “period” in her work, it’s seamless with what’s come before. Already a world famous Artist, could it be that she’s only scratched the surface of her talent? A year ago I’d be shocked to have said that about her work. Now? I’m ready to bet on it.

I have no idea how she conceives her pieces, but in each one of Sarah‘s shows- literally, never more than in her most recent show, I felt like I was walking around inside of her brain.

Ah…so this is what it’s like to be a genius…

*Soundtrack for this Post is “Aurora” by Bjork from Vespertine.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
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  1. I returned on October 19th, the show’s closing day, but there was a line to get into After Studio. I passed and left feeling fortunate to have spent a few hours in it by myself over the run of the show. ↩
  2. Ted Talk ↩