Museums

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.

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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  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. ↩

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.

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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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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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.

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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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.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

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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 ↩

The “New” MoMA, And The Gorillas In The Room

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

MoMA, 1st floor lobby sign, October 19, 2019. I’ve been through this before. The last time, it was a nightmare. How would this “new” MoMA be?

MoMA and I go a long way back. It’ll be 40 years next year. 

I can remember this like it was yesterday…The entrance to Pablo Picasso: A Retrospective at MoMA, 1980. My Art show attending career began when I walked through that entrance. *MoMA Photo.

I first went to The Museum of Modern Art in 1980 for their incomparable Pablo Picasso: A Retrospective that took over the whole museum. I was on the road with a band at the time and I flew back to NYC twice to see it. Though it was not my first trip to a museum to see Art, it began my career of seeing Art shows and is burned indelibly in my mind since. While I came away feeling the late works were underappreciated, the earliest works which were new to me, like Science and Charity, 1897, Painted at age 15, seen through the entrance, above, particularly astounded me, and it never let up from there. An almost impossibly high bar had been set. I wasn’t able to attend MoMA regularly until after the 1984 renovation, which I call MoMA, 1984. Looking back on that MoMA now, I have quite fond memories of the building. I’ll never forget being in the gallery the museum dedicated to Claude Monet’s Water Lilies, 1914-26, long a very important bridge between representational Art and abstraction for me. As I recall, it was a small room, with a bench along the window overlooking West 53rd Street. You entered the room where panel 1 met panel 2, at about 10 o’clock as you faced it. You sat there and the three huge panels surrounded  you, making you feel like you were inside it. It was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever had looking at Art. I didn’t think MoMA, 1984 was anything special at the time, but given how lacking MoMA, 2006, the most recent MoMA was, which of course, is still with us in the partially new MoMA, 2019, I now feel quite nostalgic for a building that was “adequate” at best, overall.

The heart of Art darkness. Construction for MoMA, 2019 in progress at the famous main entrance, behind the arrows pointing visitors to the temporary entrance, December 20, 2018.

I saw Matisse-Picasso at MoMA Qns in 2003, where MoMA was temporarily as MoMA, 1984 became MoMA, 2006, which I went to innumerable times (and have written about a number of its shows here on NYNYC), from it’s earliest days. MoMA, 2006, which opened that November, was terrible, in my opinion (I replaced a stronger negative). I remember standing in utter shock looking at Monet’s Water Lilies installed around the base of the huge, open space, they called the “atrium,” where they had no sense of their compositional continuity or unity. Barnett Newman’s Broken Obelisk, 1963-9, installed in the center of the space looked better there than anything I’ve seen there that came after it, which is not really saying anything all that positive.

The newly renovated main entrance. Opening day, October 21, 2019.

“The Shopping Mall of Modern Art,” I took to calling MoMA, 2006, the one we’ve been living with these past 13 years. I don’t live in the suburbs partially because I hate malls, yet, here we were given one. The Architect, Yoshio Taniguchi, said1 “The model for MoMA is Manhattan itself.“ He spoke about how Central Park is like MoMA’s Sculpture Garden in his concept. Apparently he felt the rest of Manhattan is one giant shopping mall, cause that’s the design we got- a department store, nothing more, nothing less, who’s floors/departments are connected by an escalator, as they always are. If MoMA had decided to move to an entirely new location instead of turning MoMA, 2006 into MoMA, 2019, whoever would have come into the building would have a virtual turnkey Macy’s II ready to go. “Contemporary on 2,” “This way to the Permanent Collection, and home fixtures…I mean Design”…

That brings me to the Gorillas in the room…Both of them.

“There’s a hole
In my life
There’s a hole
In my life”*

The “atrium,” Member’s Preview” for the “new” MoMA, October 19, 2019.

The first is that 110 foot tall gorilla in the building officially or unofficially called the “atrium.“ For some reason that I have not for the life of me been able to figure out over a few hundred visits these past 13 years, the Architect decided to drop a 110 foot tall atrium, (the “hole” I call it), smack dab in the middle of the building that, apparently, even some of the world’s great curators haven’t found a defining use for in almost one and a half decades2. I don’t blame them. I blame the Architect and whoever else thought this space was a good idea. I’ve never seen them use any more than the first 20 feet or so of its 110 until they mounted a decal-like iridescent work, seen above, on one of its walls for the opening of MoMA, 2019. And, I blame those who decided not to remove it in MoMA, 2019.  MoMA created MoMA, 2019, partially, because they “needed more space.” Well, guess what? You’ve got 7,700 square feet, or so, of completely useless space right smack dab in the middle of the building3, right in the middle of some of the most expensive real estate on earth. Instead of extending each of the floors as they should have been originally and filling that hole, they tore down an existing, good, museum, The American Folk Art Museum, formerly at 45 West 53rd Street next door!

Construction of the new building for MoMA, 2019, where the American Folk Art Museum stood, seen on December 20, 2018.

“Shadow in my heart
Is tearing me apart
Or maybe it’s just something
In my stars”*

Frankly, all of this galls me.

“Soaring…””Majestic…””One of NYC’s great interior spaces…” Oh, sorry. I was reading about the Guggenheim. I can’t find anyone saying that about this.

Because of the atrium, the flow of every floor in MoMA, 2006 is broken up, causing headaches for visitors and curators. This goes right to the heart of the museum’s purpose- showing Art. A good number of the galleries in MoMA, 2006 felt strangely shaped, small, or lost. In this case, small doesn’t add “intimacy.” Instead, it serves to actually minimize the effect of the Art being shown in them, in my experience. The Brancusi show mounted before the summer, 2019 closure, and the new Betye Saar show both suffer from this, in my opinion, both being mounted in the same 2nd floor gallery, tucked off to the south side of the hole, behind sliding glass doors (which I also think are an annoying idea and an energy drain), unchanged between Moma, 20o6 and MoMA, 2019.

Apparently, given it’s still here in MoMA, 2019, MoMA is in denial that the atrium is a problem. For me, visiting MoMA, 2006 gives me the unmistakable feeling that I’m continually walking around, and working my way around, the hole, instead of the whole experience just flowing.

MoMA’s floor plan for part of the “new” 2nd floor. I’ve added notations in dark blue- a label for the atrium to point out where it is and how it needs to be navigated around. I’ve also labelled where MoMA, 2006 was (below the added blue line) and labelled where MoMA, 2019 is now (above the blue line) in the margin. Not shown- the other galleries on this floor, located in what MoMA now calls the “South” section (to the left and lower left.). All are effected by the “atrium.” Bear in mind- this is only ONE floor!

In fact, in MoMA, 2019, they’ve decided to double down. Keeping the hole, they’ve opted to extend the existing 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th floors the other way- to the west. I take this as an admission that the floors needed to be extended. We differ on how. You can see this in the 2nd floor floor plan, above. I’ve drawn a blue line to the left from gallery 205 and everything above that is the new building, what I call MoMA, 2019, below is what I call MoMA, 2006. It almost works. It does serve to minimize the “interference”/inconvenience of the hole, unless you’re in a section where you have to navigate around it. Alas, as soon as you are back in the “old” building, the MoMA, 2006 part, there it is, rearing its ugly head again, sending you to a floor plan trying to find your way. But, it also dramatically effects MoMA’s curators, and no doubt, every single show they mount in these spaces. WHY they just didn’t remove the atrium and extend the floors and make the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th floors full floors? (The 6th floor is a different matter, I believe due to the heights of the buildings. It already is a full, raw, space in the MoMA, 2006 building and a cafe has been installed on 6 on the MoMA, 2019 side (which I have not seen as yet. You can walk through from MoMA 2006 to MoMA 2019 on 2, 3, 4 and the 5th floor, but you can’t on 6. If you’re on 6 in MoMA 2006, you have to go down to 5, walk over to MoMA, 2019, and then go up to 6 on that side, or vice versa). That they didn’t remove the atrium is another, huge, mistake in my view. Alas, it’s too late for tears. And having been sad about MoMA’s building since MoMA, 2006 opened, I’m about cried out. Yes, MoMA, 2006 was so bad it actually kept me from going at times.

Where the heck am I going? Before going anywhere, it’s a good idea to check the “central scoreboard,” as I call it. West? North? South? What? Look quick! Those listings next to each floor change to show other things going on on that floor. Seen on the official opening day, October 21, 2019.

Another question for me is HOW do you redesign the building into MoMA, 2006, spending over 850 million dollars doing so, and not early on in the game ask, “WHERE are we going to put our most popular works?” Apparently, no one asked. Over the subsequent 13 years of the building, Monet’s Water Lilies and Van Gogh’s Starry Night, to name two, were continually moved, and never once looked to have found THE place for them. I lost count of how many places I saw the Water Lilies in MoMA, 2006, all the while with that indelible memory I recalled earlier in my mind.

The brand new elevator doors open on my first visit to MoMA, 2019’s 2nd floor, October 19, 2019.

SURELY someone would ask that question when it came to designing MoMA, 2019! Two visits in? The answer is a decided…I’m not sure.

Home? At last? Monet’s Water Lilies, 1914-26, in a gallery devoted to his Water Lily Paintings (yes, they have others). We’ll see how long these stay here.

The Water Lilies seem to have been given some thought. They are decently situated in a gallery that contains only Monet Water Liliy works on an angled wall, similar to one of the installations they had in MoMA, 2006. You can scan the whole work continuously but it doesn’t give you a “wrap around” feeling. Starry Night fares far less well. It’s stuck in a corner(!?) at the end of a long gallery. I was shocked when I walked in and saw this. It’s just terrible.

Cornered! Vincent van Gogh’s beloved Starry Night, 1889 can be barely seen (as usual), though it’s now stuck in a corner. Seen on the official opening day, October 21, 2019

In this large gallery one other Van Gogh is installed half way down the wall to the left. I didn’t get the feeling of connection with the other works shown near Starry Night. Munch, who I greatly admire, is seen on the left hand wall, and while many pair him with Vincent, he gives me a completely different feeling, though l’ve wondered if Vincent may have been an influence on the Artist who was a decade younger. MoMA may have felt that putting other Van Goghs next to Starry Night might have created too big a crowd. I can live with seeing Munch next to Van Gogh’s. As seen in this gallery, due to the new arrangement of the galleries, multiple works by the same Artist are spread out, often across galleries.

Picasso, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, 1907.

That means that if you want to see, say, the Picassos, you have to plot a path to a number of rooms, where you might see one, or you might see 3 or 4. If you have multiple Artists on your hit list of pieces to see? You’re going to need a good chunk of time- just to plan your routes. Especially if they’re installed over multiple floors. I have mixed feelings so far about this arrangement, but I’ve been living with this collection for decades, and while I prefer seeing it chronologically so you can see how Art has evolved over time, mixing it up can be a nice change of pace and reveal new synergies. This “theme” strategy, which is more like that of a special exhibition, feels geared to people like me who have lived with the collection for a while and might welcome being surprised (if that’s what they feel). First time visitors, or those here with limited time, may feel differently.

Picasso, The Charnel House, 1944-5. The iconic Guernica is a work Picasso Painted in 1937, in the early days of World War II. The Charnel House was Painted at the end of the War, bookending Guernica, though far less well-known. Guernica was part of MoMA’s collection until Picasso died. He stipulated in his will it be returned to Spain. So, including it in the 1980 Picasso Retrospective, where I was able to see both of them, was something of a farewell before Guernica went to Spain.

Picasso seems to fare better than Starry Night. At least three of his major works (Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, 1907, Three Musicians, 1921, and The Charnel House, 1944-5) get walls all to themselves- in different galleries.

The upper left corner of Dali’s, The Persistence of Memory, 1931 (aka the “Soft Watches”). Picasso watch- Girl before a Mirror, 1932, is partially seen in the rear to the right.

As for other works on the most popular list, one was easier to find. Dali’s The Persistence of Memory, 1931 (aka the “Soft Watches”) gets a pillar to itself front and center in gallery 517. And on the opposite side of the same wall is Frida Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair, 1940. That was easy. I only had to ask once to find it. (The Water Lilies? I asked 3 times. I saw another visitor seeking them ask twice.)

I found the galleries to be well lit, as readers well know, lighting is one of my long standing peeves in most spaces I see Art. One gallery of 2 Hopper Paintings accompanied by a good many Photographs was a bit dark, I presume this was intentional for conservation purposes. The consistency of the lighting across the museum that I’ve seen thus far is to be commended.

Lower level gift & book shop. One of at least 2 in the museum.

The first floor lobby felt like being in any of the faceless, large Times Square hotels nearby. It felt that a lot of money was spent here. Yet, I can never recall asking someone “How was your visit to such and such museum?” and getting the response, “Oh, the lobby was amazing!” I believe “sinking” the gift shop/book store is a mistake. Getting anywhere in MoMA, 2019 requires taking stairs and elevators. The last thing people may feel like doing is taking MORE stairs just to visit a shop. We shall see.

Not listed on the floor plan, the previous cafe has been replaced by a Brancusi gallery on 5 (gallery #500). Behind it, we now get free access to the outside patio overlooking the Sculpture Garden.

“There’s something missing from my life
Cuts me open like a knife
It leaves me vulnerable
I have this disease
I shake like an incurable
God help me please”*

Jean-Michel Basquiat, Glenn, 1985, left, Keith Haring, Untitled, 1982, right.

Then there’s the other gorilla in the room at the “new” MoMA, 2019. My feeling is that MoMA, The Museum of Modern Art, is dangerously close (if it hasn’t happened already) to remaining just that, indefinitely. It’s not THE Museum of Modern & Contemporary Art many think it is. Their collection of the most important Contemporary Art is nowhere to the level of it’s preeminent collection of Modern Art (the period I consider to be approximately from Edouard Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe, 1862, through 1979), or the collections of important Contemporary Art in LA, SF or Chicago, in the US. MoMA (and all the NYC museums) have fallen hopelessly behind in collecting important Contemporary Art. Jean-Michel Basquiat (J-MB) is a classic case, but he’s not alone. As they admitted, they didn’t collect his work early on and now it’s too late. I recently recounted MoMA’s history (or lack thereof) with J-MB in my series on the J-MB shows going on in NYC this year. Revealingly, only one of the 5 shows in NYC was mounted in a museum- The Guggenheim. Then, when I walked into the member’s preview for MoMA, 2019 on October 19th, low and behold there was a Basquiat front and center in the second gallery, above. It turns out they borrowed it from a private collection. This seemed to me to be a classic case of “smoke and mirrors,” of trying to hide this large hole in their Contemporary Art collection- and, after all these years (40 next year), possibly an admission they were “wrong” about Jean-Michel Basquiat.

Louise Lawler’s Does Andy Warhol Make  Your Cry?, 1988, above, and a group of 24 Untitled Film Stills, by Cindy Sherman.

Elsewhere on the 2nd floor, the entire first gallery, titled “Public Images,” was made up of work by women Artists, as if to immediately counter the oft mentioned fact that a very small number of women Artists have been given retrospectives by MoMA. They have also installed a Betye Saar show, The Legends of Black Girl’s Window, across the atrium, centered around a recent acquisition by the museum of earlier work by Ms. Saar. It doesn’t include any of her more recent, powerful, work, some of which were presented in Washboards, 1997-2017, presented earlier this year at the New York Historical Society. While nothing will detract from her overdue appearance in a substantial show in another NYC museum, I was left wondering why they didn’t mount the long overdue full Betye Saar Retrospective, who is still going strong at 93, while she’s alive to enjoy it. Looking at MoMA’s permanent collection online, time and again, I found either a lack of any works by important Contemporary Artists (Ai Weiwei? Robert Frank’s Photographs? Leonardo Drew? Rod Penner? Gregory Halpern? Petra Collins?…None by any of them. The most recent work by Betye Saar, who was born in 1926, is from 1972- 47 years ago!), a lack of their important work, or a lack of depth of these works (2 works, each, by Henry Taylor, Francesca Woodman, 1 Painting and 10 Prints by Richard Estes, 2 Paintings, 2 Studies and 22 Drawings by Kerry James Marshall and Jean-Michel Basquiat– 0 Paintings, 2 Prints, 10 Drawings). A close look at what is installed in the Contemporary galleries on 2, which makes a point of being inclusive, strikes me as an attempt to rewrite MoMA’s perception in the face of criticism, and, some smoke and mirrors- how much will require more than 2 visits. In the meantime, go and make your own study.

Before the crowds. Parts of 4 galleries, Contemporary Art, 2nd floor. Member’s preview, October 19, 2019.

Tourism is a big deal for MoMA, the other NYC museums, and NYC. If the Art going public begins to perceive the reality that NYC is not the place to go see important Contemporary Art, one of the most popular periods of Art there is at the moment, this would be a disaster, especially after having just spent over 450 million dollars on MoMA, 2019. Smoke and mirrors might buy them some time, but whether they can overcome the self-inflicted damage they’ve already done remains to be seen. MoMA was incalculably helped to become THE Museum of Modern Art by a visionary curator, Alfred Barr, during its formative years. More recently, those in charge didn’t believe in the work of these Contemporary Artists at the time, didn’t have the vision and foresight Mr. Barr did, and so they missed the boat.

Mark Bradford, James Brown is Dead, 2007, Torn-and-pasted printed paper, 47 3/4 x 267 inches. I’ve made no secret of my admiration for Mr. Bradford, who I consider one of today’s most important Artists. In fairness, since I’ve mentioned some of the Artists omitted from their collection, MoMA owns 4 of Mr. Bradford’s larger works, 1 Sculpture, 1 Video and about 17 Multiples. So, I find it interesting they chose this work for display.

They, and their counterparts at the other NYC museums, may well have cost NYC it’s world leading status as THE Art capital of the world, we shall see. It’s too late now. Only mass, and massive, donations will help to close that gap now.

Though I am a paying member, I dreaded going to see the “new” MoMA, 2019. Such is the level of disdain I have for MoMA, 2006, which I consider to be the worst major museum building I’ve ever been in, it actually keeps me from going to see the Art! Maybe I’m just too used to MoMA, 2006 that MoMA, 2019 actually feels “not so bad.” Well Let’s see. MoMA, 2006 cost 858 million dollars according to The Times. I’ve seen 450 million as the cost of MoMA, 2019. That’s at least 1.3 BILLION dollars to make something I just said was “not so bad.”

Well, in 10 years, when MoMA decides that they “need more space,” which you know they will, I know where they can get 7,700 square feet of it, without tearing down anyone else’s building. Let’s say by then it will cost another 500 million to create MoMA, 2029. Then, they’ll have a chance at actually making the building “decent.”

Gee…Wait a minute. Between MoMA, 2006 and MoMa, 2019, they’ve spent 1.3 billion dollars? If they spent that on Art back when MoMA decided to build MoMA, 2006? You might actually have a collection of important Contemporary Art on the level with MoMA’s collection of Modern Art.

Instead? We got one of the biggest Architectural design mistake in NYC in my lifetime, right up there with not allowing the world’s greatest Architects, beginning with Frank Lloyd Wright, who’ve tried to build here a chance to build more than one building each. More? That the powers that be at MoMA thought putting a gigantic hole in the middle of the most expensive real estate on earth was a good idea, and then less than 10 years later tear down an actually good museum saying they “need more space” is plain hubris.

On second thought, maybe that hole does signify something about Manhattan after all. It signifies the hole in the collections of Contemporary Art at MoMA, and the other Big 4 NYC Museums. Smoke and mirrors aren’t going to be able to cloud that realization from many for very much longer.

“Be a happy man
I try the best I can
Or maybe I’m just looking for too much?”*

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Hole In My Life” from Outlandos d’Amour by The Police, performed live in Paris in 1979, here-

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  1. In the same New York Magazine piece, the author, Alexandra Lange, concluded that MoMA, 2006, “…is a question, sublimely unanswered.” 13 years later, I’ve still got a few questions, which I ask in this piece. Living with them has been painful, not “sublime.” ↩
  2. Yes, the Tate Modern in London did something a little similar, but dissimilar enough to make the difference, and they’ve continually found good uses for it since it opened around the same time as MoMA, 2006. ↩
  3. Where did I get 7,700 square feet from as the size of this space? I’ve been unable to find out the official square footage of the atrium (interesting, no?). It hasn’t been published anywhere and those I asked at the museum didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me. So? I took it upon myself to calculate it. 110 feet is the published (known) height. I stepped off 35 paces from wall to wall and each of my paces is 24 inches. That’s 70 feet, and 7,700 square feet in total by my guesstimation. ↩

Jean-Michel Basquiat, At 59

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

Part 3 of a series…

In January, 1983, Henry Geldzahler asked Jean-Michel Basquiat- “Is there anger in your work now?
He replied, “It’s about 80% anger1.”

Jean-Michel Basquiat, at about age 20, walks with his clarinet at the intersection of East 88th Street and 5th Avenue across from the Guggenheim Museum, circa 1980-81 in a screenshot from the movie, Downtown ’81, directed by Edo Bertoglio and written by Glenn O’Brien. 39 years later the Guggenheim has mounted a show of work the Artist would create over the next few years. *

The Brant Foundation’s Jean-Michel Basquiat was the largest show of the five going on in NYC this year featuring the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat (J-MB, henceforth), or about him. Though it provided a rare opportunity to see a broad range of his Paintings through most of his career, there was no context to the show, beyond it being an exceptional, diverse, collection of his Paintings. My impression was the attention paid to presenting groups of work by theme consisted of a group of portraits in the rear gallery on the 4th floor, a room half full of Paintings of Boxers and a wall of Paintings with unusual stretchers, both on the second floor. The lack of a theme or themes is mitigated by the fact that in many of his works there are multiple themes present allowing viewers to piece together their own narratives in, and between, pieces. Yet, as time goes on, and the focus of J-MB studies turns away from the well-worn biography and more and more to the “less discovered land,” i.e. his work, some of the themes lying just beneath the surface are starting to finally get the attention they deserve.

In that same interview with Henry Geldzahler, J-MB said that “royalty, heroism and the streets” were his favorite subjects. Over on the sixth floor of the Guggenheim Museum, in Basquiat’s Defacement: The Untold Story, the only museum show of the five J-MB and J-MB related shows going on in NYC this year, all three of those themes were featured, with “the streets” perhaps most front and center. The show’s overriding focus was the death of Michael Stewart, a 26 year old Artist who died of injuries he received “on the streets,” after being arrested by the Port Authority Police on September 25th, 1983, for allegedly drawing or writing in the 14th Street L subway station two weeks earlier on September 15th.

The scene of a crime. The 1st Avenue Brooklyn bound L Subway Station, currently under construction. It’s a narrow platform as subway platforms go with nothing obstructing the view from one end to the other. The only entrance/exit, the one Michael Stewart must have entered and been removed through, is just to my right rear. Seen in October, 2019.

A public outcry and numerous protests ensued. The effect was immediate, deep and lasting, as the show reminds us, bringing us right back to the moment. The downtown community of Artists that Michael Stewart, J-MB, Keith Haring, and many others, were a part of, also responded with their creativity. In his “Chronology” in the Whitney Retrospective catalog, Franklin Sirmans writes, “Basquiat always conscious of racial realities is deeply effected by the death of Michael Stewart on September 15th…Basquiat, perhaps in fear, practices a form of denial. He consciously distances himself from the situation. No matter what his art world status might have been, incidents such as this were a constant part of his life2.” He continues, quoting Keith Haring, “One thing that affected Jean-Michel greatly was the Michael Stewart story…He was completely freaked out. It was like it could have been him. It showed him how vulnerable he was.” He then quotes J-MB as saying, “It could have been me. It could have been me3.” Michael Stewart died 8 months or so after J-MB said his work is “about 80% anger.”

Keith Haring’s Cable Building studio after Defacement was cut from the wall to the right of center, where he created it, 1985. *Keith Haring Foundation Photograph.

The show’s centerpiece is a work that has come to be called Defacement (The Death of Michael Stewart), 1983, that J-MB created on a wall of Keith Haring’s Cable Building studio at some point between September 29th and October 5th, 19834.

Keith Haring’s Bedroom, Greenwich Village, 1989. *Photograph by Nancy Elizabeth Hill, Keith Haring Foundation.

When he moved out of the Cable Building, Mr. Haring had it cut out of the wall and framed. In an indication of how he felt about the work, it hung over his bed, where it remained, apparently, until he died, in February, 1990, almost exactly a year and a half after J-MB.

Along with it, in the first gallery were 6 other Paintings and two limited edition prints by J-MB. In the second gallery, the rest of the show recounts the tragic story highlighted by vintage posters announcing protests, newspaper articles and ephemera, accompanied by Art by Keith Haring, David Hammons, George Condo, Lyle Ashton Harris and Andy Warhol. A moving highlight of the show is the inclusion of very rare examples of Michael Stewart’s work, which I have never seen before, from his family’s collection. At the time of his death, Mr. Stewart was planning his first show. Seeing these works now, the sense of lost possibilities remains undimmed 36 years later. Of him, Fred Brathwaite (aka Fab5Freddy) says- “Michael Stewart was a new artist making moves on the scene and one of the few people of color in the mix downtown at that time. He came from an intellectual educated family and wanted to find a place where he could express himself in a cool way around like-minded people….When he was killed and the police claimed he was writing his name on the wall in the subway-which was surprising and seemed unlikely to us- the media jumped all over the idea that he was a graffiti artist. …It was like a chill going through you, realizing that it could be me- it could be any of a number of people I knew. Even though we all knew that Michael Stewart was not the graffiti artist they were portraying him to be, it could clearly have been any person of color, particularly myself and the numerous others I knew who were making art and would occasionally tag a wall, or had that background. That was frightening5.”

Andy Warhol, Daily News (Gimbels Anniversary Sale), ca. 1983, Synthetic polymer paint on canvas, 24 x 16 inches.

Mr. Brathwaite’s testimonial is excerpted from an interview he gave for the show’s exceptional catalog, which deserves special mention. Informative new essays by curators are followed by almost 60 pages of recollections by Artists, journalists, and other figures were were part of this period in NYC history, each based on new interviews conducted by curator Chaédria LaBouvier in 2018 and 2019 that were edited into concise statements for this publication- an amazing list that includes Mr. Brathwaite (Fab5Freddy), Dianne Brill, Michelle Shocked, Kenny Scharf, Eric Drooker, Lyle Ashton Harris, Jeffrey Deitch, Annina Nosei, George Condo, Tony Shafrazi, ABC-TV reporter Lou Young (who did over 60 pieces on the Michael Stewart story), Ronald Fields (a member of the first grand jury in 1983) and Carrie Stewart, mother of Michael Stewart. Their contributions bring the reader, as the show does, right back to the place and time in the kind of detailed recollections only those who lived it on the front lines could relate. When I’ve spoken in Parts 1 & 2 about the need for those who knew the Artist to step up and speak, this is a shining example of what those with first hand knowledge to bring to the table. Anyone interested in Jean-Michel Basquiat, Michael Stewart and/or his tragic end should find their way to the catalog before it goes out of print. Many exhibition catalogs have a notoriously short shelf life after shows end.

Defacement (The Death of Michael Stewart), 1983, Acrylic and marker on plasterboard, 25 x 30 1/2 inches.

In the first gallery, a long, rectangular space leading to Defacement (The Death of Michael Stewart), 1983, as the work is now known, due to the fact the Artist has written “¿Defacement©? ” in the upper center, are other works by J-MB that revolve around the themes of the police, royalty and the death of kings. Defacement feels like a dream, or nightmare, due to the presence of “clouds” of blue, pinkish and black paint. Painted on a white background, the blue figures, with pink/red skin, of the police frame and tower over the central black figure, apparently seen from the back. There are parts of what appears to be two circles in black around the head of the center figure, who’s hands and feet are not visible. Apparently, some of the marks on the work may have been added by others, like the letters on the right side that appear to be (“ZERLOL”), but it appears these circles are under the blue paint and so may have been done by J-MB. One of the policemen appear to be looking out at the viewer.

Francisco Goya, The Third of May, 1808, Oil on canvas, *Prado Museum.

One thing that stands out to me is the composition in context of Art History, particularly, in works of Goya and Picasso. In Goya’s legendary The Third of May, 1808, the soldiers stand decidedly to the right- the same side as the viewer.

Picasso, Massacre in Korea, 1951, Oil on canvas, *Picasso Museum, Paris.

In Picasso’s Massacre in Korea, 1951, the viewer is placed right in the center, with the soldiers on the right, and the victims on the left, one or two of who look out at the viewer. In Defacement, J-MB has also placed the viewer in the center, between the policemen, and directly behind the black figure/Michael Stewart, who appears without hands or feet. The effect made me feel like being in line to run the gauntlet- like you’re next in line, in line with his reported feeling “It could have been me. It could have been me.” It’s hard not to take the Painted “¿Defacement©?” as a double entendre. Did Michael Stewart really deface the subway station? And, why are the police “defacing” him, removing his face from the world?

La Hara, 1981, Irony of a Negro Policeman, 1981, both Acrylic and oilstick on wood panel, both 72 x 48 inches, Untitled (Sheriff), 1981, Acrylic and oilstick on canvas, 51 1/2 x 74 inches, from left to right.

On the right hand wall are three Paintings featuring policemen. All three are different. One has a white officer, one a black officer, one a grey officer (the two in Defacement appear to be pink-ish red). Two have white backgrounds, one red. All three are extremely nebulous (at least to me), even in the nebulous work of J-MB. All three are terrifying, and so perfectly set the stage for, and compliment Defacement.

The prints Back of the Neck, 1983, 50 1/4 x 102 inches, which I saw 14 years ago at the Brooklyn Museum (See Part 1Part 1), who is is on loan from, and Tuxedo (1982-3), 102 1/4 x 60 inches, both prints are editions of 10.

On a wall facing it are the limited edition print, Back of the Neck, also from 1983, my old friend from the 2005 Brooklyn Museum Retrospective on loan from the museum, and another print, Tuxedo, 1982-3, a work that references kings. As others have pointed out, Back of the Neck could be a reference to the injuries sustained by Mr. Stewart.

CPRKR, 1982, Acrylic, oil stick, and paper collage on canvas, mounted on tied-wood support, 60 x 40 inches, Self-Portrait, 1983, Oil, acrylic and oil stick on two wood doors and wood panel, with graphite and ink on paper, 96 3/4 x 63 3/4 inches, and Charles the First, 1982, Acrylic and oil stick on canvas, three panels, 78 x 65 inches, left to right.

On the 4th wall are a stunning trio centered around the Self-Portrait, 1983, and two works that pay homage to another of J-MB’s “Kings,” Charlie Parker. Both of those relate to (his) death, and the death of kings. To the left is, perhaps, the most poignant work the Artist did referencing Bird, CPRKR. In it, he memorializes his death, listing the place and date, under a crown, with the moniker, “Charles The First” written below. And so, it fits with Defacement. Right next to it is the Self-Portrait, 1983, which in this show is impossible to think about without considering the year it was Painted, particularly since on its right-hand panel, the words “To Repel Ghosts” are Painted. To the right of these is Charles the First, 1982, with it’s equally haunting words “Most Young Kings Get Their Heads Cut Off” written along the bottom. Of the “young kings” referenced in this room, Michael Stewart died at 26, J-MB at 27 and Bird at 34. Charlie Parker turns 100 on August 29, 2020. Michael Stewart would be 61 today. As I pointed out in Part 2, J-MB should be 59 years old RIGHT NOW, in mid-career as the museums call it. Both should be living, vibrant, forces. Not ghosts.

Jean-Michel Basquiat, Untitled, 1987, Andy Warhol, Daly News (Gimbels Anniversary Sale), 1983, Keith Haring, Michael Stewart- USA for Africa, 1985, left to right.

Not mentioned anywhere that I’ve seen, this is the only time Jean-Michel Basquiat, Andy Warhol and Keith Haring, the three figureheads of the Art of their time in NYC ever addressed the same event, (as far as I know). I’m not saying Untitled, 1987, shown in the group above, seen in the second gallery, is a reference to Michael Stewart- I don’t know, but Defacement is. Describing the amazing Keith Haring work, the defunct website basquiatdefacement.com said, “It depicts a black man being strangled while handcuffed to a skeleton holding a key. People from all nations drown in a river of blood below, while others shield their eyes from the scene, and the green hand of big money oversees the scene6.”

Michael Stewart poses for Dianne Brill Menswear, 1983, from the show’s catalog. “Michael was buried in a suit I designed,” Dianne Brill writes in her piece in the catalog (P.107).*

Basquiat’s Defacement: The Untold Story is one of the most powerful, smaller shows I’ve seen in years. Though it depicts events that took place 36 years ago, its relevance was, I’m sure, not lost on a good number of its viewers.

Alexis Adler, Jean-Michel Basquiat (the exact title is unknown to me).

Two other shows, the last two I saw in the group of five7, document little seen sides of J-MB. In The 12th Street Experiment: Photographs of Jean-Michel Basquiat, the Photographs in question are by embryologist and former J-MB girlfriend and roommate, Alexis Adler, who lived with the Artist from 1979-80.

Alexis Adler speaks about Jean-Michel Basquiat and her Photographs of the Artist at The Bishop on Bedford Gallery, Brooklyn, May 18, 2019.

A veritable Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, this was a show that, along with the items in Ms. Adler’s archive J-MB left behind in, and on, her apartment (on tour in museums shows elsewhere at the time, most recently at the Cranbrook Museum, The Museum of Contemporary Art, Denver and in Europe), form an important and unique collection. In my research, I’ve come to see that J-MB’s formative period after he left home for good has gone largely overlooked and understudied. Alexis Adler has stepped forward, sharing her experiences and her knowledge, in books, essays and traveling around the world speaking about her time with Jean-Michel Basquiat from 1979-80 and his Art, in addition to sharing her collection in the shows I mentioned. As she walked me through the show of her Photographs at The Bishop Gallery on Bedford, Brooklyn, I was amazed at both the J-MB work that Alexis has documented in Photographs and the range of experimentation the young Artist was undertaking- extending down to his continually evolving hairstyles! Lacking funds, he worked with whatever he found, whatever was at hand- including the doors, walls, and floor of the apartment, and whatever he found on the street, making him part of the line that includes Duchamp, Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, among others.

A Performance piece that involved installing a television set in a refrigerator. J-MB wears one of his hand Painted helmets here in one of a series of Photographs documenting the performance.

There is an element of performance in a number of these Photographs and in the work, which took place at the time he was performing with his band, Grey (and he is seen practicing his clarinet). Personally, I find this work fascinating and remarkable- on its own and for what it anticipates. A good deal of it might surprise many only familiar with his Paintings and Drawings.  This period seems to me to be more than only “early experimentation,” as it contains the roots and beginnings of much that came after, including his Painting. That he was Painting on everything he could find (out of a lack of funds for traditional Art materials, no doubt), presages his later Paintings executed on doors, like Self-Portrait, 1983 in the Guggenheim show, to fence slats, like Gold Griot, seen at The Brant in Part 2, among others.

Alexis Adler, Basquiat in the apartment, 1981. Note the work by Bacon right behind his head. In another of Alexis Adler’s Photos, Burroughs’ Naked Lunch is seen attached to the wall. More evidence of J-MB’s Beat connection I mentioned in Part 1.

In addition, Ms. Adler said that J-MB studied her Art textbooks from the classes she was taking at the time. I found fascinating evidence of this in this Photo of hers, where a work by Francis Bacon is mounted on the wall. I wondered in Part 2 what Francis Bacon would think of J-MB’s Untitled, 1981. Here is the proof that J-MB knew of Francis Bacon’s work that very year.

Alexis Adler, Painted television in the apartment, c.-1979–1980. It’s amazing this Photo of the work exists, but I would love to see it in color because there’s nothing else like this in his subsequent Paintings!

Ms. Adler, who spoke about having her ear to the ground and priding herself on being aware of what was coming next, said she “knew” J-MB was an important Artist almost immediately. “He said he would. I was definitely the first one to believe him. Everyone else was like, ‘Sure Jean.’ He was brilliant. I could tell. His spirit — everything about him. He was an amazing person, a very deep-thinking individual.” It’s only because she acted on that feeling and bought a camera that we have a record of these works which would otherwise be lost to history.

Alexis Adler, Refrigerator in the apartment, ca. 1979-80, Untitled (Famous Negro Athletes), 1980-81, left to right.

Seeing the show, I came to feel that this early period of J-MB should be appreciated as a “period” of his work every bit as much as his later work has been broken down into periods. It stands apart. While it’s formative and precocious and different from what he’s “famous” for, it’s a part of the whole. It has the same spirit of freedom, of experimentation, the unexpected, of seeing new possibilities that characterize all his work.

Lee Jaffe was a Musician at the time who had just recorded and performed with Bob Marley when he met J-MB. The two struck up a friendship and traveled extensively together. In the fifth and last show I saw, Lee Jaffe’s Photographs of J-MB at Eva Presenhuber Gallery, show him in relaxed settings, where the Artist is just being himself. He’s seen as just another tourist, mugging with other tourists, and looking extremely at ease.

Lee Jaffe, Jean-Michel Painting in St. Moritz, 1983-2019, Dye sublimation on aluminum, 60 x 209 inches.

The highlight of Mr. Jaffe’s show for me was this fascinating montage showing J-MB creating a work in St. Moritz, virtually from start to finish, something I don’t recall seeing anywhere else.

Four Untitled works, 1985, far left, with three black & white works from 1984-2019. J-MB, as a real person. About two hundred feet behind that wall on the right, Jean-Michel Basquiat lived from 1983, until he died, on August 12th, 1988.

Somehow, these images felt jarring to me after reading so much drama-soaked biography and anecdote. Compounding this “reality,” ironically, the show was installed at 39 Great Jones Street, just a few doors west of 57 Great Jones Street, where J-MB lived, and died, which I showed at the very beginning of Part 1 of this series, bringing this five-month journey full circle.

Coincidentally, right around the corner from The Brant, on B and East 10th Street, is Charlie Parker Place, where Bird lived from 1950 to 1954, in the building to the right with the woman in white on the stairs. May, 2019.

A few weeks after seeing The Brant show, I took a trip to “Charlie Parker Place,” on Avenue B where Bird lived from 1950 to 1954. Taking stock of everything I’d seen, I sat across the street in Tompkins Square Park and listened to Bird, trying to hear him through J-MB’s ears. The soaring, unexpected majesty, the spontaneous “flights” of imagination, the beauty (much of it created in the sordid world of 1940s nightclubs, rife with drugs, crime and of course alcohol), the daring, the guts to be different, to be yourself…to be free, inside yourself, and then outside. I was sitting a mere 4 blocks from The Brant Foundation, and around the corner from where J-MB lived with Alexis Adler. As such, ironically, I was at a sort of center of this whole journey I’d been on, right across the street from Bird’s former residence, a man who’s been a part of my evolution, too.

I kept thinking back to the fact that J-MB lost his spleen, his (blood) filter, when he was hit by a car at age 6. That’s what his work looks like. It includes everything, everything around him, at the time, or in his experience. So much is going on in modern life, how else can you really depict it? The only “filter” in the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat is that of his unique eye and sensibility.

The Artist @OR1EL poses with his work which includes what appears to be a Portrait of Jean-Michel Basquiat next to his left knee. I note a J-MB Crown on his left shoe. Seen at the 8th Avenue L Station- 4 stations west of the L station Michael Stewart was arrested in, May 28, 2019.

Alas, Jean-Michel Basquiat isn’t 59 right now. He’s a ghost, a spirit. His Art is only 31 to 40 years old. It remains very much alive- speaking to, and moving, an extraordinary number of people. In the 31 years since his own tragic end his influence seems to still be increasing.

Charlie Parker Place, June 7, 2019.

As I left Charlie Parker Place that June day, I was startled to see what someone had written on a newspaper box right on the corner. Downtown 81 is the film that J-MB starred in made in 1980-81, a still from which I showed at the beginning of this piece. In the same style as the Film’s logo, someone had appended “DOWNTOWN 18.” Jean-Michel Basquiat learned from those who came before him, and today others are learning from him.

Portraits of Jean-Michel Basquiat and his associates Keith Haring and Andy Warhol flank Frida Kahlo at 22nd Street & 10th Avenue in Chelsea, looming over the Chelsea Art galleries behind me.

Art history is a continuum. Pass it on.

To answer that question I asked in Part 1– Over these past five months, five shows, all the books, and now three long pieces on his Art, I have come to side with the believers. I’ve come to believe that Jean-Michel Basquiat was, perhaps, the most important Painter known to me to emerge in the 1980s. His work is here to stay.

Postscript-
It turns out I’m not the only one who’s come around to the Art of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Tonight, I went the Preview for the “New MoMA.” And, lo and behold in one of the very first galleries on the 2nd floor, I saw this-

Well? They borrowed it from a “Private Collection.” But, that it’s here is a big statement, and possibly a reversal of their assessment I wrote about way back in Part 1. Now? It appears they feel it’s not only “worth the storage space,” his work is worth giving pride of place to, too. By the way? It’s clear that MoMA’s researchers need to take heed from J-MB’s own words that he was “not a graffiti artist,” which I quoted in Part 1. They also left out that Glenn O’Brien wrote the screenplay for Downtown ’81, which I showed a still from up top. He cast him in the Film after featuring J-MB regularly on his cable access show…which brings this piece full circle, too.

– Soundtrack for this Post is “Donna Lee’ by Charlie Parker as performed by the Charlie Parker All Stars featuring the legendary Bud Powell on piano and that other immortal of Music, Miles Davis, on trumpet. Miles was 21(!) when this recording was made, live, on August 5, 1947. In 1976, when I was coming up as a bassist, another genius, Jaco Pastorius, (to my mind, the “Jimi Hendrix of the bass), blew everyone’s minds by beginning his debut solo album with a performance of “Donna Lee” on his bass. Jaco, who I met and spoke with over the years, was tragically killed in September, 1987 at at 35, less than a year before J-MB’s death. Both performances are pillars of the Art of Music. Here’s Bird & Miles-

*My thanks to to Alexis Adler, May Yeung of the Guggenheim Museum, and to Lisa for pulling my coat to Alexis Adler’s talk.

This is Part 3 of my series on the five Jean-Michel Basquiat and related shows going on in NYC this year. Parts 1 & 2 are under this one, or here and here. 

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  1. Henry Geldzahler was the former Curator for American Art at The Met, later Commissioner of Cultural Affairs for NYC. He interviewed J-MB in January 1983, for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine, as reprinted in Jean-Michel Basquiat, published by Charta, 1999, P.LIX, ↩
  2. Whitney Retrospective Catalog, P.243 ↩
  3. from an interview with Suzanne Mallouk. ↩
  4. Defacement Exhibition catalog, P.19 ↩
  5. Defacement Exhibition catalog, P.104 ↩
  6. Here, footnote 22. ↩
  7. I wasn’t able to get to the sixth show, Basquiat x Warhol, which was 3 hours outside of NYC. ↩

My Search For Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks Diner

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

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

You’re looking at Art history.

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The serious contenders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. My. Gosh.”

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

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

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

As I looked closer, I discovered this-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Conclusion-

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

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

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

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

Moments exist as flashes of time.

Click.

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

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

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

Loneliness.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For me? Nighthawks remains the ultimate parable of loneliness.  

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

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

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

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

Andy Warhol: Business Artist

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

“So you should always have a product that’s not just ‘you.’ An actress should count up her plays and movies and a model should count up her photographs and a writer should count up his words and an artist should count up his pictures so you always know exactly what you’re worth, and you don’t get stuck thinking your product is you and your fame, and your aura.” Andy Warhol1.

Andy shopping for products. *Bob Adelman, Andy Warhol at Gristede’s Market near 47th Street. New York City, 1965, near where he lived with his mother. Countless millions went shopping in American grocery stores in the 1960s. Very few made Art out of it before he did. Click any picture for full size. 

That being said, leaving the Whitney Museum’s Andy Warhol- From A to B and Back Again, the first Retrospective in NYC since MoMA’s in 1989, I was left believing Andy Warhol’s greatest creation was himself.

The use of gold here, and on the exhibition catalog’s cover, is interesting. It mimics Gold Marilyn, at MoMA, and also reminds of the background color of icons from the Eastern Orthodox and other churches. And? It’s a color often associated with money and “value,” so could it be a veiled reference to the high prices paid for his Art? Which of these is the intended meaning?

But, no matter how I feel about his Art, even I can’t deny that today, it can be said that we are living in his world to a greater extent than we realize. Look around you. His influence is everywhere. His innovations are now used by countless other Artists and businesses.

“A friend of mine named Ingrid from New Jersey came up with a new last name, just right for her new, loosely defined show-business career. She called herself ‘Ingrid Superstar.’ I’m positive Ingrid invented that word2.”

The everyday people he made into “superstars” presaged today’s television “reality stars.” His square portraits are now instantly recognizable as the Instagram standard. Andy Warhol came to define the Contemporary Artist working with a team of assistants at his Factory and his example is to be seen being followed by Artists all over the world today. How often do you see one of his color variated group of (4) portraits or flowers emulated by someone else? And on and on. These are only a few examples. Andy Warhol’s influence is incalculable. If it could be totaled, it might well rival that of Steve Jobs among THE most influential people of the past 75 years on our lives today.

Commodore Amiga computer equipment used by Andy Warhol in 1985-86. Andy’s interesting computer Art was extracted from this machine by a team led by the Andy Warhol Museum in 2014! *Photo by The Andy Warhol Museum.

But, it was Andy Warhol, not Steve, who said,  “A computer would be a very qualified boss3” decades before the time when many people’s lives seem to be run by their devices. A-hem. Sometimes I wonder if the internet is nothing but a cyber projection of Andy Warhol’s brain.

Artistically, I respect him as an Artist who was continually innovative in so many mediums during his surprisingly short career. Yes, short. It feels like he was around forever, but he was just 58 when he passed away on February 22, 1987. This insatiable creativity now strikes me as a function of his innate ability to see the world in his own way, which led him, continually, in different directions, to try new things, and explore new ways of doing old things.

It seems to me, however, that THIS may be the peak moment of Andy Warhol’s influence- the influence of Warhol, the Artist and his Art.

Warhol books, and ONLY Warhol books, seen in the Whitney Shop, March 27, 2019.

I wonder if the level of his fame may, in fact, work against its longevity from here. Virtually everything he did has been shown, written about, analyzed and assimilated. If you don’t think that’s true, take a look at this picture I took of part of the book shelves in the Whitney Museum’s Shop during the run on Andy Warhol- From A to B. I used a 28mm lens and even though I stood more than 20 feet away, backing into the middle of the admissions cue, I still wasn’t able to get ALL the Andy Warhol books on sale in the shot. There are books on his pre-Pop work, his newspaper-like work, his portraits, his posters, his prints, his record covers, his career as a publisher, his films, books on the Factory (including one of Photos taken by a teenaged Stephen Shore), a few about his Photography and polaroids, including a collection of Photos of him in drag, AND a multi-volume Catalogue Raisonne of his Paintings (on the far left of the bottom shelf). Oh, and Andy Warhol: Knives. ? This is not to mention all the books, by the Artist, and others, about his life, including the infamous, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again), published in 1977, which seems to have inspired the name of this show. My copy, bought from the display, is the 46th printing of the paperback. In all my many years of looking at Art books, I have to say the only other Artist who has as many books written about him and his Art is Picasso. 

Start here. In the first gallery, which contains early Pop work, like Dance Steps, 1961, and a wall of Campbell’s Soup Cans in the back.

As I headed to the 5th floor for the main part of the show, I wondered- What’s left for the future to learn about Andy Warhol’s Art? Given his popularity, I’m sure people will find things for yet more books.

Andy’s mother fixed him Campbell’s Soup everyday for lunch, including after he became famous, until she passed. The family was poor. Beyond the comfort of the warmth of soup, having a lot of food around represents something of an ideal, a dream, even cheap food, like this soup was at the time, at 15 cents a can. Originally, these Paintings sold for $100 a piece at his first show at Ferus Gallery in LA, where Dennis Hopper bought one.

As I looked at his Art, it also raised questions. Questions that the passage of time has only intensified.

Brillo Boxes, 1969 (version of the 1964 original). Yes, a copy of a copy. The interesting thing about this work for me is that this “Art is everywhere around us” work of so-called “Pop Art,” which helped to mark the end of Abstract Art’s hold on the Art world, is based on the Brillo Box design of James Harvey, a moonlighting Abstract Expressionist Painter! Beyond that, and wondering if  Sol LeWitt was influenced by it, it’s lost on me.

First, and most importantly, Andy Warhol’s Art is accessible. This has been the most important factor in his achieving success and fame and it may be the most important factor in the longevity of both. Popularity doesn’t necessarily equate with quality. Since the future is unwritten, as Joe Strummer reminded us, it’s impossible to know what posterity will value, if anything. To this point quality has definitely been a factor. I wonder- Where does that leave Andy Warhol’s Art?

Arising at a time (the late 1950s) when the Art world had been fed a steady diet of extreme abstraction by the Abstract Expressionists, Andy Warhol’s Art burst on the world with images featuring things, yes, things, that everyone living in the country recognized. Brillo boxes, Campbell’sl soup cans, dollar bills. His work was instantly accessible in an Art world dominated by Art that was becoming more and more obtuse and remote. I’m not saying Andy Warhol’s work was “understandable,” or even “more understandable” than that of the Abstractionists, only relatable. Even in today’s world where fewer and fewer living beings remember S&H Green Stamps, walking through this show, this seems to still be the case.

Marilyn & Elvis. Andy Warhol was always drawn to stars, and beautiful men. Personally, and in his Art.

But, the world has changed in the, now, 60 years since Andy Warhol’s career first took off. A lot of Artists have grown up with what he did and it’s become part of their work, even if it’s only unconsciously.

129 Dollar Bills, 1962, among the very first uses of silkscreening in Modern & Contemporary Art.

How many Artists have created with silkscreens since Andy Warhol introduced the possibilities of the ancient technique to the modern world in 1962? Even one of the other innovators and endlessly creative pillars of American Art in the late 1950s and 1960s (and after), Robert Rauschenberg, picked up the technique from Warhol. Since, silkscreening went from creating edgy Art to being used to create the large majority of the world’s T-Shirts, among countless other uses.

“I had by that time decided that ‘business’ was the best art. Business art is the step that comes after Art. I started as a commercial artist, and I want to finish as a business artist. After I did the thing called ‘art’ or whatever it’s called, I went into business art. I wanted to be an Art Businessman or a Business Artist. Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. During the hippie era people put down the idea of business—they’d say, ‘Money is bad,’ and ‘Working is bad,’ but making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art,” Andy Warhol. (Note- Not to be confused with my capitalization, caps and lowercase usage are Warhol’s own, reproduced exactly as the quote appears in TPoAW P.92.)

Ethel Scull 36 Times, 1963, jointly owned by The Whitney & The Met, was the first work commissioned from Andy Warhol. It’s a work that, in my view, has outlived its cachet as “Art,” and one that I don’t think posterity will look kindly upon.

Looking at the show, a takeaway for me was the distinct feeling I got was that there was his work, and then there is the work he did on commission (i.e. “Business Art,” a term he mentions in The Philosophy of, quoted above, but doesn’t define). After a while, I thought I could tell even before reading the card or researching the work, which was which- which were the work he did “for himself,” which were the works he did on commission, and I came away feeling there is a world of difference between the two. Wait! There’s a subject for a book I don’t think anyone’s written yet! For Andy Warhol, the business of Art was an Art in itself. Few before (maybe Rembrandt, Picasso and Dali in their ways) understood this and used it, but no one before him mastered it to the degree that Andy Warhol did. Its testament to how well he did it that a good many of his commissions, which detract from his other work when seen along side them as Ethel Scull 36 Times does in my opinion, hang in museums around the world, at least for now.

The American Man (Portrait of Watson Powell), 1964, a pseudo-companion piece to the Ethel Scull piece, above, and another commission, has aged better and still manages to speak to 2019 viewers.

To be fair, looking at some of his commissions now, we might well see in them a “commentary” by the Artist on matters beyond the mere representation of a given subject. The American Man, 1964, commissioned after seeing Warhol’s Ethel Scull piece, struck me that way. I’m still looking for that in a good many others, though.

After a couple visits, I was able to choose a few works in the great guessing game I like to play, and encourage everyone else to play- “Which works will be considered Art in the future- if any?” I came up with eight including the Campbell’s Soupcans and the 129 Dollar Bills already shown. 8 out of the 350 works the Museum says were on view. Personally, I don’t believe the passage of the centuries is going to be kind to most of Andy Warhol’s Art. Part of the reason for that is his pervasive influence. History doesn’t often look back favorably on who was first, particularly in Art. (Quick- Who “invented” oil painting? When I was growing up, I believed what Vasari wrote in The Lives of the Most Excellent Artists, 1550,  that it was the great van Eyck brothers, Jan and Hubert, who happened to be my first favorite Artists.) More recently there is no consensus and evidence of oil paint may have been found going back to 650AD.) Given the overheated state of his prices (still, in spite of a recent leveling off), his Art is definitely not where I’d put my money now. That ship has sailed. NOTHING goes up forever! Look elsewhere in 2019. (See my Post On Buying Art for additional considerations, all of which apply to the Art of Andy Warhol.)

Marilyn Diptych, 1962

Let’s look at numbers 3 to 7 on my list for the ages (in no particular order). Next, Marilyn Diptych, 1962 – The duality of this work painted shortly after Marilyn Monroe’s suicide is revolutionary. On the one hand, Warhol shows Marilyn the idealized, beautiful, glamorous movie star, repeated radiantly in a sea of gold not unlike that of the religious icons of the Eastern Orthodox and other churches. On the right hand, the work seems to reference the darker side of both Marilyn’s life and death. This work is striking when one also considers that Andy was someone who sought autographs of movie stars as a child. Here, all the illusions of the silver screen are gone.

Thirty Are Better Than One, 1963

Thirty Are Better Than One, 1963, The multiple Mona Lisa as a commentary on the original’s visit to the USA at the time present an interesting counterpoint to the da Vinci- even in black & white. This one barely made my list, but given the precedent of other Artist’s commenting on or reinterpreting the Mona Lisa, like Duchamp, I think it will be of interest indefinitely.

Nine Jackies, 1964

Nine Jackies, 1964. Something revolutionary in portraiture, the Artist captures the beauty of the Kennedy “Camelot,” and the horror and disbelief of what took place on November 22, 1963, as I remember it. A work that relies on the power of the Photograph, it’s one of the strongest uses of it in a medium outside of its own.

Mao, 1972

Mao, 1972- Created during the year of Nixon’s breakthrough visit to China, Andy Warhol’s image takes the portrait of Mao from the infamous Little Red Book of sayings and statements by the Chairman, which may have been the most reproduced image in the world at the time. Here, over 14 feet high, it symbolizes the Charman’s looming over all things in China, a different kind of manifestation of fame. Andy would make a brief trip, himself, to China in 1982, where he posed for a few pictures looking very stiff and uncomfortable.

Mustard Race Riot, 1963.

Mustard Race Riot, 1963- Without a doubt, the most powerful work in the show, in my opinion, it sold for only $15,127,500.00 in 2004. “Only,” when you consider the current record price for a Warhol is $100 million (Eight Elvises), and when you consider another Warhol Race Riot, one that had been owned by Sam Wagstaff and Robert Mapplethorpe, sold for almost $63 million in 2014. As Artist Hank Willis Thomas, and others, have pointed out, this work looks as prescient as almost anything else in the show. Standing in front of it (which means standing a ways distant since it’s  114 by 82 inches), pondering it over multiple visits, I came away feeling that it may be one of the most important works of the 1960s, and for 1963, certainly gave those putting Andy Warhol in the “Pop Art” box pause for thought,  pointing out yet again the pointlessness of such terms.

Then? Something occurred to me to sleep top me dead in my tracks. ALL FIVE of these works involve the use of appropriated Photographs taken by others. Did Andy Warhol pay the Photographers for using them?

Gene Kornman, Photograph (Marilyn Monroe ), 1953. *Publicity Photo of Marilyn Monroe for the Film, Niagara.

This subject was not brought up anywhere that I saw in the show. They did mention (and exhibit) the Gene Kornman Photo Andy Warhol used, perhaps more than any other, was originally a publicity shot of Marilyn from her classic 1953 Film, Niagara. Also exhibited were the source Photos he used in Nine Jackies, which I subsequently learned Andy Warhol was sued over his use of. Charles Moore’s 1963 Life Magazine Photos were the source for Warhol’s Race Riot works, including Mustard Race Riot. Frankly? For an Artist who was so endlessly creative? That he did this, and did it for so long and so often surprises me. It took lawsuits for Andy and Robert Rauschenberg, who was also doing it, to decide to exclusively use their own Photographs henceforth, which, I think, improved the results for both. Yes, at the time, this was new territory for Artists. Copyright infringement was not a term that was not as common in Art in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and he had made his name using copyrighted names and trademarks for Campbell’s Soup, Brillo, etc., without issue- the companies involved, no doubt, relished the free advertising and attention, so giving his restless creativity the benefit of the doubt might apply here, I think (easy for me to say, I’m not Gene Kornman, who’s Photo of Marilyn wound up in Art that’s, no doubt, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, if not more, today).

I still think these are powerful works, among the best Warhols I’ve seen, but this does tarnish them a bit. It’s hard to ignore today. But, let’s move on.

Self-Portrait, 1950s

I’m always interested to see any Artist’s Drawings, and I made a point of spending a considerable amount of time with the Drawings, mostly early, of Andy Warhol displayed here. It’s interesting that they reveal a wonderful sense of, and control of, line, which I’ve long thought to be the most technically difficult part of Drawing. So confident is the young Artist in his line that he dispenses with almost everything else- even parts of the composition! Shading is only hinted at once in a while. Throughout, it’s his line that carries the work. This style is reminiscent of one Picasso used in the early 1900s to create works like this. In addition, he shows an economy that makes it fascinating to consider what he’s left out, a uniqe way of using what Artists call “negative space.” This Drawing is markedly different from the “scratchy” drawings with halting lines seen in some of his commercial work of the period. He changed his style to fit the subject, and it always worked. He was a very successful illustrator and store window designer. But? Shoes and shoe design held a special place in his heart.

A wall of shoes. In each of the works in gold, Andy created a shoe as a caricature of a person.

It turns out that Andy Warhol had a shoe fetish. A real one, that surpasses the most shoe obsessed of my female friends, which John Giorno describes in graphic detail in the Documentary Andy Warhol: The Complete Picture! At 24:30, Mr. Giorno says, “There was Andy Warhol on his hands and knees kissing my shoes…”

Andy’s Truman Capote Shoe, with calligraphy by his mom, is seen over his The B.J. Shoe. Given his shoe obsession, it’s interesting that there are no works after this period that feature shoes, as far as I know. Also interesting is that Andy, himself, wore the same pair of paint splattered shoes for 25 years, which are also shown in The Complete Picture.

Even in the midst of his intensive period of Drawing for his commercial illustration clients, he was always looking for ways to create multiples of his Drawings. This led to his use of silkscreens. But yes, he Painted. This early Painting is the one work in included that would meet the definition of a Painting for most of Art History- prior to Warhol.

The charming Living Room, 1948.

From there, his Painting skills were used to modify and enhance works in other medium, like silkscreens, in works that were multi-media Paintings.

Self-Portrait, 1966, Acrylic, silkscreen ink, and graphite on linen.

It seemed to me walking through the show that Warhol’s Self-Portraits are stronger than just about any of his other portraits. Downstairs on the first floor, an entire gallery was devoted to his square portraits, which alternated between the famous and the already forgotten with a fascinating portrait of his mom almost hidden among them.

Julia Warhola, 1974, upper right, a year or so after she passed away in 1972. Interestingly, it’s in the collection of Roy Lichtenstein, and that’s Dorothy Lichtenstein, Roy’s wife, below her. To her left is Met Curator Henry Geldzhaler, who was also painted by David Hockney.

Along with fame, Andy Warhol’s other big theme was death. It’s a subject that makes an appearance early on in his Fine Art career, in works like 129 Die in Jet, 1962

129 Die in Jet, 1962

It carries on in his Electric Chair Paintings, and is an element in his Marilyn and Jackie pieces, both created shortly after deaths- Marilyn’s and JFK’s. The hold death has on visitors struck me on one visit while I was considering Mustard Race Riot. Given its large size, I had to stand a good distance away from it to take it all in.

I couldn’t help noticing a steady stream of visitors who entered the gallery and stood in front of me, facing to my left. They were looking at this-

 

Lavender Disaster, 1963.

I heard someone say, it takes away the power of the electric chair as an image of fear. I don’t get that. I, for one, don’t get the point of multiplying the electric chair. I prefer these, individually-

Both, Big Electric Chair, 1967-8, top, 1967, bottom.

And, of course, there were the car wrecks, also featuring repeated Photos, which led into the next gallery, where the equally death-soaked Nine Jackies awaited, facing a wall of Most Wanted Men, 1964, Andy Warhol’s works based on wanted posters that hung at the New York Pavillion at the 1964 World’s Fair, and works from Flash-November 22, 1963, also about the JFK Assassination. But, of all the works related to death in this show, the eighth and final work on my “Art” list is Self-Portrait with Skull, 1978, in which the Artist brings his obsession with death home.

Self-Portrait with Skull, 1978

On the left, the red is hard to miss as the color of blood, and therefore, of life, while the grey/black image on the right recalls those in the Marilyn Diptych, which speaks to her demise and death. This work is based on one of Warhol’s own Photographs.

Andy Warhol- From A to B and Back Again was a good, but not a landmark show, in my opinion. In NYC, MoMA’s Warhol: A Retrospective remains the benchmark Warhol show. Part of the reason it’s not better is possibly due to the popularity and value of his work making loans very hard to get. After the silkscreen gallery with Mustard Race Riot, I felt the rest of the show continually declined, with isolated examples of better work. In much of the rest of it, I felt lost, adrift in galleries of work that either hadn’t held up to the passage of time (if they ever did stand out) or that contained ideas manifested on a gigantic scale, like the “piss paintings,” that were probably either left in the studio or done on a smaller scale. At this late date in his life and career, to suddenly go fully abstract smacked of running out of ideas, which is something that seems impossible for Andy Warhol.

A camouflaged visitor scrutizies the left half of Camouflage Last Supper.

The culminating gallery with the also gigantic Camouflage Last Supper also struck me as a poor choice. Here, Warhol reprises the idea of the multiple Leonardo da Vinci’s, this time with 2 huge Last Supper reproductions side by side, which makes a point that escapes me, and then covers them with camouflage, perhaps to try and add some interest to his idea. Camouflage is, in keeping with Andy Warhol’s instantly recognizable images, a military artifact and symbol. What that has to do with the Last Supper is, also, lost on me.

Andy famously collaborated with Jean Michel Basquiat, as seen here in Third Eye, 1985.

And then there were two of his collaborations with Jean Michel Basquiat. Though extremely colorful, looking at them I have as yet to see them as more than each bringing what they do to the work. The feeling of a true collaboration bringing the work to someplace else escapes me…so far, but I know people who love them.

If these walls could talk. The site of Andy Warhol’s Factory when it was on Union Square, seen in Winter, 2018. Ironically, the scaffolding seems to be making an “A” for Andy.

Andy Warhol opened the doors to whole worlds of possibilities in the world of Art, and, indeed, the world. In doing so, he taught all of us how to see new possibilities in our work, and our lives. (And I am not speaking about his life or lifestyle in any of this.) There are very few Artists who even open one new door. For this, the world owes him a debt. A debt that might be best repaid by following his example of seeking new possibilities. He sought out, encouraged, and worked with, young, even beginning Artists, and so played a role in the creation of world renowned Artists including Stephen Shore, Robert Mapplethorpe, and  Jean Michel Basquiat, and treated them every bit the same as he did established Artists.

Regardless of what the world comes to think of his Art, these are the contributions of Andy Warhol I choose to remember and celebrate.

BookMarks-

As I showed earlier, a list of books written on and about Andy Warhol could fill a book itself. I have only seen a minuscule number of this vast library. Of those, a few stand out to me, particularly for those looking to keep from having a wall of Andy Warhol books that rivals that in the Whitney’s Shop!

The best overviews of his Art I’ve seen are these two-

Andy Warhol “Giant” Size: Gift Format has been issued in a few sizes over the years since it’s first release 10 years ago. Whatever size works for you, this “visual biography,”which includes over 2,000 images, remains the best one-volume survey of Andy Warhol’s Life & Work.

Andy Warhol: A Retrospective– The catalog for MoMA’s 1989 Retrospective. Out of print, it’s reasonably priced in hard or softcover on the aftermarket. It remains the most comprehensive overview of his Art, and serves as the catalog for the most exhaustive show of his work yet mounted.

Factory: Andy Warhol by Stephen Shore is a fascinating book for Photography lovers. It preserves, both, the earliest body of work yet published by one of the most important American Photographers of his generation, and the most comprehensive look at Andy Warhol’s legendary Factory we have. Wasn’t it Andy who said, “It’s like an auto wreck you can’t take your eyes off of”? If not, he should have.

Finally, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again) is a must read, as much for its entertainment value as for its life experience advice, which is given on almost every page, though it’s light on Art and technique for Artists looking for a “how I did it.” Rumor has it a team “helped” Andy write it, but it’s hard to tell from the distant outside if that’s true or who did what. It’s something of a classic among pseudo-autobiographies, and plays a seminal role in the creation of Andy Warhol, as a work of Art in himself.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is, what else? “Andy Warhol” by David Bowie, who memorably played Andy in Julian Schnabel’s Film, Basquiat, looking for all the world like he was having a blast doing it.

Oh! PS- Andy? 4,627 words.

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  1. The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, henceforth TPoAW, P.86 ↩
  2.  TPoAW, P.26 ↩
  3. TPoAW, P.96 ↩

Charles White- Now

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

“Drawing is [a] particularly exciting medium for me. I just like the feel of it. My whole body is into it when I draw and I think black and white is as effective a medium [as any].” Charles White1

Charles White, Detail of Study for Nat Turner, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, 1968, Charcoal and oil wash over pencil on board. Click any Photo for full size.

Ah…the majesty of excellent draftsmanship… Just when you thought it was dead as a doornail, with Photography destroying all previous Artforms in its world dominating wake, along comes a Retrospective of one of the Masters of the craft of Drawing in the 20th Century, the late Charles White (1918-1979), who’s centenary is celebrated in the first major museum survey devoted to his Art in over 30 years. Charles White: A Retrospective, made its second stop at MoMA after debuting at the Art Institute of Chicago and now heads to LACMA beginning February 16th, thus tracing the 3 cities Mr. White lived in- in order. Its magisterial, full of wonders, and long overdue. The only possible caveat could be- MORE!…even bigger, please.

The entrance, divided by a sliding glass door, of one of the great shows of recent years.

By no means a small show, clocking in at 114 items (many of them quite large), over 13 section, the takeaway is that, henceforth, it will be impossible to deny Charles White his place in the pantheon of great Artists of the century. Again.

Charles White was a very successful Artist during his lifetime. He had gallery representation in each city he lived in and his work was collected by museums, nationally and internationally. He was also sought out as a teacher, particularly at Otis College of Art & Design in Los Angeles, from 1965 until his passing in 1979 at only 61. After his death, he fell into something of an eclipse. But, his influence has lived on through the work of his students including Richard Wyatt, Jr, Kent Twitchell (both muralists), and most prominently, Kerry James Marshall (a “representational” Painter) and David Hammons (who has worked in a wide range of media). Mr. Marshall never seems to miss an opportunity to laud Charles White- as a teacher and as an Artist, frequently speaking of him in the highest terms, as he has, again, writing the preface for the excellent Exhibition Catalog. He led me to take a deeper look at Charles White a few years ago. Mr. Hammons paid tribute to Charles White in October, 2017 when he curated the remarkable Leonardo da Vinci-Charles White show at MoMA, that I wrote about here. Judging by the crowds that attended this show, as the MoMA stop of the Charles White Retrospective “tour” ends and Los Angeles prepares to welcome it, I think it’s already safe to say, the Charles White “eclipse” is over.  The other take away, for me, is that Charles White’s influence deserves to be even greater than it already is. With all due respect to his students, Charles White’s Art more than speaks for itself.

Study for Nat Turner, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, 1968, Charcoal and oil wash over pencil on board.

When I was a kid, everyone drew. Some, eventually, took lessons and studied Drawing seriously, which is something you can devote your life to and learn something new each and every day. Even for those that didn’t study it, Drawing became a part of many of their lives, whether making doodles, notes, caricatures, or, what have you. That seems to be changing and I think it’s tragic. Drawing is another language, one that is every bit as effective at communicating as writing. I think it’s an essential life skill. Unfortunately, it’s one that I don’t see as many doing as they were 15 or 20 years ago. One look at the work of Charles White will show you what’s possible with Drawing. 

The final Drawing.Nat Turner, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, 1968, Drybrush and ink on board, 51 x 78 inches.

As beautiful and technically masterful as it is, Charles White’s work is about expressing ideas. “An artist must bear a social responsibility. He must be accountable for the content of his work. And that work should reflect a deep, abiding concern for humanity. He has that responsibility whether he wants it or not because he’s dealing with ideas. And ideas are power. They must be used one way or the other,” Charles White2. He was speaking in 1978. He could have been speaking yesterday.

Back cover of the Exhibition Catalog.

Those ideas revolved, largely, around his efforts to set the record straight on black history in America in response to the way it was taught when he was growing up. He did this through depicting both the famous and those not so famous in powerful and unique ways that seen over the course of my 4 visits seemed to resonate with visitors in ways I don’t often see. Time and again, I encountered whole families moving slowly from work to work, with the parents patiently explaining fine details of a subject’s life, or very little known cultural details Mr. White had depicted, from what I could gather when they were next to me.

Charles White hit the ground running. He received a scholarship to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago at 13. He drew this at 17-

Self-Portrait, 1935, Black crayon on cardboard.

He then began exploring a wide range of styles over the next few decades, some showing the influence of abstraction, cubism and mannerism, but, remarkably, always remaining his. I found it interesting to trace them in his early murals, for which only studies remain. The first one, Five Great American Negroes was done 4 years after the Self-Portrait, when Charles White was 21.

Charles White, Five Great Americans Negroes, 1939, Oil on canvas. From left to right- Sojourner Truth, Booker T. Washington, Frederick Douglass, George Washington Carver, and Marian Anderson

Here we see Charles White depicting famous figures- living and dead (these were selected by the readers of the newspaper who sponsored the mural), something he would do for much of the rest of his career. The enlarged arms and hands that begin to be seen here remind me of passages in Michelangelo and the Mannerists, like Hendrick Goltzius.  The Mexican Muralists- Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros, who he met on a later trip to Mexico, were an obvious big influence. Artistically and philosophically.

Study for Struggle for Liberation (Chaotic Stage of the Negro, Past and Present), 1940, Tempera on illustration board.

One year later, his Struggle for Liberation (Chaotic Stage of the Negro, Past and Present), a 1940 project for a Chicago Library that was never completed, is known today only through this study and some Photographs taken by Gordon Parks. In this incredibly complex composition, the left side speaks to the past, the right to the present. Both scenes appear to be filled with everyday people, except for John Brown, apparently holding a gun,  in the lower left. According to curator Sarah Kelly Oehler in the Exhibition Catalog, this work can be seen as indication that his ideas were leaning left and towards putting more faith in everyday people to bring change. In the right side, “He depicted capitalism, politics, institutional power, and violence as responsible for the ongoing injustices faced by African Americans as they demanded their rights3.” The work was deemed “inappropriate” for a library, even one that served a black community. Charles White, apparently, finished the left side of it, then moved to New York.

Study for The Contribution of the Negro to Democracy in America, 1943. Tempera on board. Note the row of Civil War soldiers, near the center. Painted during World War II, these were possibly included in support of a campaign to gain equal rights at home and abroad for African American soldiers as a reminder of their contributions during the Civil War.

In the last of Charles White’s three early murals, The Contribution of the Negro to Democracy in America, 1943, the Artist includes at least 14 identified historical figures, in a circular composition. His style, again, is unique and fascinating. Note the hands of the guitar player, possibly Lead Belly (playing a guitar with no strings), in the lower right and the planar nature of the portraits. Again, there seems to be the influence of Diego Rivera, with the machinery in the center echoing his Detroit Industry Murals.

Five portraits, in five styles. Clockwise from top left- Worker, 1944, John Brown, 1949, Gideon, 1951, Untitled (Bearded Man), c. 1949, and Frederick Douglas, 1950.

This wall shows 5 portraits, each in a different style, that includes at least one study for a mural portrait.

 

Worker, 1944, Linocut on paper. From the Exhibition Catalog. .

When I look at these, and in particular the portraits of the Worker, John Brown, Untitled (Bearded Man) and Frederick Douglas, I’m reminded of the prints of the German Expressionist, Kathe Kollwitz (1967-1945), an Artist who was, also, passionately involved in social causes, increasingly after losing her son, Peter, in World War 1 in 1914. Kathe Kollwitz was influenced by Expressionist Ernst Barlach’s prints, but further stripped them down to their essentials, in stark works like this Frontal Self-Portrait, 1922-23.

Kathe Kollwitz, Frontal Self-Portrait, 1922-23, Woodcut. MoMA Photograph.

Charles White was both an avid Photographer and a collector of Photographs in books and in the media (like Francis Bacon). Charles White’s own Photography is only touched on in the show with this case of 17 Photographs. It’s a subject that warrants closer study.

A selection of Photographs taken by Charles White range from portraits to street scenes to shots of a protest in NYC.

Both his Photos and his collection of media provided him with reference material that he created many of his works from (also like Mr. Bacon). I find this interesting since Charles White was a master of life drawing which he also taught.

As his career went on, and his mature style appeared, particularly in his work after his move to California to help with the lingering side effects of the tuberculosis he got in the Army in 1944, his images are more and more open to interpretation.

Birmingham Totem, 1964, Ink and charcoal on paper, 71 x 40 inches.

Birmingham Totem, 1964, is an amazing work on many levels. First, it stands one inch shy of 6 feet tall, unheard of for a Drawing, except in this show. Second, it’s an “elegy” (per the wall card) to the four girls (one, aged 11, three age 14) that were killed in a KKK bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama on September 15, 1963. In it, a young man sits atop of pile of rubble, rendered in incredible detail. Even more remarkable, the young man holds a plumb line in his right hand, the weight of which is seen about half way down. He would appear to symbolize rebuilding.

J’Accuse #1, 1965, Charcoal and Wolff crayon on illustration board. This series marks the debut of Charles White’s mature style, based in realism. The hands and arms are no longer exaggerated. While the style is more direct, the composition is more open to interpretation, and so, more abstract, which would continue for the rest of his career. According to Ilene Susan Fort in the Exhibition Catalog, the 12 powerful and stunning works in the J’Accuse series “constitute a thematic indictment of the systemic, ongoing disenfranchisement of African Americans4.”

Charles White, master of Drawing, master of depicting the black form (per Kerry James Marshall- “Nobody else has drawn the black body with more elegance and authority.” Exhibition Catalog P.15), is someone who had a strong agenda he manifested in his work. He championed the struggle of African Americans, women (witness his 1951 solo show, Negro Women, where all 15 works on view included a woman), and workers, in Artworks that included both historical figures and every day people. Along the way, he created a body of work that adds another powerful voice telling another side of African American history with unique compositions featuring exquisite execution. Charles White’s compositions were always complex. From the earliest work shown, Kitchenette Debutantes, 1939,

General Moses (Harriet Tubman), 1965, Ink on paper.

Among the women that reappear in Charles White’s work, none is his subject more often than the activist and abolitionist Harriet Tubman (1822-1913). This later work, General Moses (Harriet Tubman), is a striking portrait of her. Then, so is this-

Harriet, 1972, Oil on board.

In what is, perhaps, his finest series, in my eyes, the late Wanted Poster Series, Charles White reimagines “Wanted” posters issued for runaway slaves.

Wanted Poster Series #17, 1971, Oil and pencil on poster board.

A series of 14 works he began in 1969, the images are powerfully direct, yet still retain a fascinating mystery as one ponders the details. The background textures and the stenciled text remind me of Contemporary Art techniques found in the work of, say, Jasper Johns.

Banner for Willie J., 1976, Oil on canvas, memorializes Charles White’s cousin, Willie J., an innocent bystander who was killed in a bar robbery.

Black Pope is the already classic example of late Charles White. Featured in the 2 piece MoMA show in 2017 opposite a Drawing by Leonardo da Vinci, it was also the subject of a fine MoMA book released at the time. It perfectly sums up the experience of looking at it, and late Charles White when it concludes on its final page, “If we today find the work difficult to define, the drawing demands that we try5.” It is this enigmatic approach to realism that may be of lasting influence to those who have come after Charles White, particularly Kerry James Marshall, though it seems to me it may be there in the work of Abstract Artists Jack Whitten and Mark Bradford as well.

Black Pope (Sandwich Board Man), 1973, Oil wash on board.

” I find, in tracing the course of the portrayal  of the Negro subject in art, a plague of distortions, stereotyped and superficial caricatures of ‘uncles’ ‘mammies,’ , and pickaninnies’,” he said6. Charles White is an important Artist because his work accomplished exactly what he set out to do. It does so most artfully, it seems to me. It’s full of life, depth and mystery. Yet, his work has an immediate directness that speaks to everyone as soon as they see it.

Now. And forever. Detail of just one part of the enigma of this endlessly fascinating work.

When I look at that “NOW” in Black Pope, I, too, wonder what the Artist was trying to tell us. Then, I quickly begin wondering what his reaction would be to living in this “NOW” and finding so little has changed. It’s terribly sad on one hand. On the other? It makes Charles White’s Art as relevant as its ever been.

UPDATE- My look at the two satellite Charles White shows concurrently at David Zwirner is here. One show is centered on the mural for Mary McLeod Bethune, Charles White’s last major work.

BookMarks- If you like what you find on NighthawkNYC, I hope you’ll consider supporting it so that I can continue to spend the countless hours and pay the expenses it takes to keep it going these past 3+ years-without ads.  To do so, you can make a donation through PayPal by clicking on the box to the right of the banner at the top of the page that will take you to the Donation button. Your support is VERY much appreciated. Thank you!

Charles White, A Retrospective, 2018

Charles White: A Retrospective, by Sarah Kelly Oehler, Esther Adler and with a preface by Kerry James Marshall, published in 2018 by the Art Institute of Chicago, is the finest book yet published on Charles White and easily the best one in print. It’s a terrific introduction to the Artist that will also serve as a go-to reference for years to come thanks to the depth it goes into on such little-known areas like Charles White’s Photography as well as the inclusion of a full and detailed chronology and exhibition history. The reproductions are gorgeous. Easily recommended.

Fun fact- The inside of the dust jacket folds out to reveal this beautiful detail from Wanted Poster #12, 1970, suitable for hanging.

Charles White: Black Pope by Esther Adler and published by MoMA in 2017, is the other recommended, in print, Charles White book. MoMA curator Esther Adler does a very good job of analyzing Black Pope and relating it’s history, in the process looking at a number of other works from Mr. White’s career. While A Retrospective is the first choice for an introduction, for those looking to go deeper into one of Charles White’s greatest and most mysterious works, this book has the most information we are likely to get anytime soon.

Charles White, Black Pope, MoMA, 2018

* -Soundtrack for this Post is this video of Lead Belly, frequent subject of Charles White, performing. Purportedly the only film ever made of him-

My thanks to Stephanie Katsias of MoMA. 

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Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
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  1. Exhibition Catalog, P.39 ↩
  2. Black Pope Exhibition Catalog P.8 ↩
  3. Sarah Kelly Oehler, Exhibition Catalog, P. 32 ↩
  4. Exhibition Catalog, P. 131 ↩
  5. P.51 ↩
  6. Exhibition Catalog P.24 ↩