Behind Closed Doors With Saul Leiter

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

One of the few good things about being out on a rainy day is that I use the opportunity to look around and see if I can see a “Saul Leiter.” Maybe the rain is being reflected off the pavement glistening in some unusual shade of neon, or a bright red umbrella will slice through the grey air unexpectedly, or I’ll see shapes abstracted through a misty cab window and try to figure out what they are…the possibilities are seemingly endless…

Outside the galleries…July, 2018.

Given how popular Saul Leiter has become, I doubt I’m the only one who does this.

Street Scene, 1959, by Saul Leiter, seen at the Howard Greenberg Gallery Viewing Room. Saul Leiter started out to be a Painter. To my eyes, works like these brilliantly walk the line between abstraction and realism, showing how abstraction is all around us in the “real world,” in ways, perhaps, only Ernst Haas was doing at the time, among Photographers. Meanwhile the “New York School” of Abstract Expressionists, including his friend, Richard Pousette-Dart, was revolutionizing Painting.

Of course, Saul Leiter (1923-2013) was able to make great Photos in any light, and included among them, he struck me as having a unique way with inclemency. It’s just one way that he’s impacted the way I see the world. For those who love Saul Leiter’s work, too much of it is never enough. So, the chance to see more is an event. Recently, two such chances appeared- a show at Howard Greenberg Gallery, which was accompanied by the release of a new Steidl book, both titled In My Room.

Self-Portrait with Inez. The first Photo in the book and the only time the Artist appears in it. *- Photo courtesy the Saul Leiter Foundation and Steidl.

They center around a body of work that almost no one saw during the Artist’s lifetime, a collection of “intimate” Photographs taken of his female friends, often in various stages of dressing/undress. The show adds a second body of seldom seen work, Saul Leiter’s “Painted Nudes,” works that consist of black & white prints from the “intimate” series that he then hand Painted. First shown in the U.S. in 2014, to date they are the only body of Saul Leiter’s Paintings we’ve gotten to see. Having only seen them in the book “Saul Leiter: Painted Nudes,” which was released in 2015, this was my first time seeing some of them in person.

Inez, c.1947. One of the earlier works in this show.

Saul Leiter took thousands of nude Photographs of his friends and lovers between about 1947 through the early 1970s. Perhaps the first thing that’s interesting about them is they’re in black & white, though he worked exclusively in color during most of that period. Why are these then in black & white? The best theory I’ve heard is that he was able to develop and print them in his home darkroom, and could, therefore, keep them private. As a result, almost no one saw them. One of the few who did was his former art director at Harper’s Bazaar, Henry Wolf, who wanted to publish a selection of them as a book in the 1970’s. It didn’t come to pass then. By this point, Saul Leiter had fallen into eclipse. A total eclipse that had him completely out of the view of the public.

“I spent a great deal of my life being ignored. I was always very happy that way. Being ignored is a great privilege. That is how I think I learned to see what others do not see and to react to situations differently. I simply looked at the world, not really prepared for anything1.”

He got his wish, but It wasn’t always so.

The great Photographer Edward Steichen, then Director of Photography at MoMA2, included 5 works by Saul Leiter in his 1953 group show, Always the Young Stranger, the title a line borrowed from Carl Sandburg, who the show was intended as a 75th Birthday tribute to. He subsequently went on to a long career in fashion working for some of the most renowned publications of the time, until one day, he walked away, fed up with the micro-management that had crept into his shoots. He was rarely seen again until Steidl released the instant classic, Saul Leiter: Early Color, in 2006, launching the Saul Leiter renaissance. Now in its 8th edition, Early Color was followed by Early Black & White, in 2014, a year after Saul Leiter passed away, a week short of his 90th birthday. Now, In My Room brings Henry Wolf’s idea full circle. It’s dedicated to him.

Saul Leiter: In My Room, just published by Steidl. 148 pages, 81 images.

Saul Leiter is often referred to as “a pioneer of color Photography.” What, exactly, do they mean? Apparently he, too, was puzzled. “I’m supposed to be a pioneer in color. I didn’t know I was a pioneer….,” he told Time Magazine, in 2013. Fascinated by the history of color in Photography, I’ve spent most of this year researching it, which may help me understand what they mean. The story of color in Fine Art Photography is one that has only gradually, and relatively recently, been coming more to light. So entrenched has black & white Photography been in the Art world, that it seems that many Photographers kept their color work to themselves, when it wasn’t commissioned for magazines. It makes me wonder- if color film had been invented first, would black & white still have dominated? Maybe in media where color printing/reproducing technology hadn’t yet been invented, but in the world of Art? I wonder. In the world of Painting, even going back to ancient times, the Artist was working in color. Interestingly, Drawings (which are most often in pencil, and hence, in black & white) are often seen and still treated as “preliminary works” to something more “finished,” even when they ARE the final work. A preference for black & white imagery exists nowhere else in the world of Art besides the place it held in Photography until the 1970s.

New York City, USA, 1953. It’s got to be by Saul Leiter…right?

Meanwhile, Steichen in Color Portraits, Fashion & Experiments by Edward Steichen shows the aforementioned Edward Steichen’s color images from 1908!, on. Jacques-Henri Lartigue began making color images in 1912. Ansel Adams was making color images in the 1940’s, as was Keld Helmer-Petersen, who’s book Keld Helmer-Petersen: 122 Colour Photographs: Books on Books No. 14, released in 1948, will astound lovers of William Eggleston and Stephen Shore. Eliot Porter was making them in the 1950’s…And then there is Ernst Haas. It was Ernst Haas, and NOT William Eggleston who was given the FIRST show of color Photographs ever at MoMA in 1962, a full 14 years before Photographs by William Eggleston!, and its classic accompanying catalog William Eggleston’s Guide, finally marked the beginning of the acceptance of color Photography into the world of Fine Art Photography. Haas’ abstract works of the 1950’s on were seen in the terrific Steidl book, Ernst Haas: Color Correction: 1952–1986, that reveals another side of the Artist, one who loved abstraction, that stands in contrast to the somewhat staid image many had, and still have, of Ernst Haas. In fact, the image just above is not by Saul Leiter. It’s New York City, USA, 1953, by Ernst Haas, from Color Correction! There are, no doubt, others who will still come to light, as Fred Herzog, who also took color Photos of Vancouver in the 1950’s, has more recently (Mr. Herzog is an admirer of Saul Leiter’s). Helen Levitt Photographed NYC in color in 1958-9, but, unfortunately, most of those images were lost in a fire. She later went back out and shot the images included in the terrific book, Slide Show: The Color Photographs of Helen Levitt.” So? Saul Leiter was one of the first Photographers to take color Photographs on the streets in NYC, and so, he is a pioneer, though he is not a “street Photographer” like Robert Frank or Garry Winogrand3. His was an Artist’s eye, and that’s on view in all of his work, inside and outside of his Apartment, in Photography and in Painting, and, in my view, has a difference effect than street Photography does.

“They’re people who are driven by the notion…they sacrifice everything for success. I didn’t feel that way. I attached more importance to the idea that there might be someone who might love me and who I might love4.”

Both works are titled Soames, c.1960 featuring his long time lover and partner, the Artist Soames Bantry. Perhaps as close as Saul Leiter got to finding that person. A number of these images take advantage of furnishings, windows, or items in the apartment. Here both shots feature the same mirror.

I had those words in my mind as I walked through “In My Room” at Howard Greenberg. I’m not sure there’s really any other way to look at these images. Yes, we see them as “Fine Art” now, but back then they were among the most personal images Saul Leiter ever created, and his statement, above, speaks as much to what may have been one his mind in creating them as anything else I’ve read does. In the new Steidl book, the images are not captioned or dated, and the subject is not identified. And so, the book becomes a sort of scrapbook of intimate moments Saul Leiter shared with these women- lovers, and friends who felt comfortable being nude with him.

Installation view of In My Room.

As such, they’re intimate beyond the nudity. The women, obviously, feel free to be themselves while the Artist approaches taking their pictures in ways that will look familiar to those who know his color work, where it often feels like he is almost eavesdropping on his subject. Here, and in the book, it feels as if he is always watching them. But, it’s not mutual. by my count of the images in the book, out of 81, only in 14 do the women make eye contact with him, in 18 they appear to be asleep, and in a further 11 they’re awake but lying down. In 44 they are nude or topless. Abstraction plays a lesser role here compared with his more familiar color work, but it’s here in the unusual camera angles he uses, and in seeing his subject through doors, furniture, or in mirrors. But posing is never going on here. The natural postures are striking, completely unlike anything you’d find in texts about Drawing or Painting from live models. This is particularly fascinating given that Saul Leiter was, also, a Painter who revered Vermeer5.

Pierre Bonnard, Mirror on the Wash Stand, 1908, Oil on canvas. Early on, Bonnard was a founding member of the avant-garde group Les Nabis. *- Unknown Photographer.

Roger Szmulewicz, Director of Gallery Fifty-One, Antwerp, who have represented Saul Leiter, and now his Foundation, since at least 2008 (Howard Greenberg Gallery, who have been showing Saul Leiter since at least 2006, is the other representative of the Saul Leiter Foundation), said, “The influence of his Painting on his Photographs is made apparent when the two are present side by side6.” As they are in this show, though the Paintings are not his “pure” Paintings, but created on existing Photographs. When I look at these works side by side (the Photos and the “Painted Nudes”), it is possible to see the influence of another of his favorite Painters, Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947). Saul Leiter was 24 when Bonnard passed away. There was a posthumous exhibition of Bonnard’s work at MoMA in 1948 with over 150 items, 2 years after Saul Leiter moved to NYC from Pittsburgh to become a Painter, so it’s possible he saw it. Interestingly, these “intimate works” seem to begin around 1947, shortly after he began taking Photographs.

Snow Scene, 1960

Saul Leiter’s color work is renowned for the astonishing way he uses color, but it seems to me that it’s equally impressive for his breaking of the “rules of composition.” His subject will be seen off center, or not complying with the “rule of thirds,” or be in shadows (even partially obscured as above), behind or visible through an object, window or mirror in the foreground. Sometimes, these foreground hindrances act as “curtains,” perhaps, a distant echo of Vermeer’s use of curtains.

Kathy, 1952.. Inscribed on the back- “In the collection of the Museum of Modern Art.”

Most intriguingly for me, Saul Leiter, like William Eggleston, Henri-Cartier Bresson and others, is another great Photographer who was also a Painter. My opinion is that being a Painter played an important role in the impact of their Photography, and is very possibly a reason why their work “looks different” from many other Photographers. When I see a Leiter or an Eggleston, it often feels to me that they are doing things they don’t do with Paint. Focusing on a detail that would seem to be too slight or unimportant for a whole Painting, or capturing a fleeting moment when light, setting and people are aligned for a split second. Or, in his “intimate” indoor work, capturing postures that are rarely seen in Paintings, perhaps, because they can’t be held long enough.

Barbara, 1950, left, Soames, c. 1960, top right, Untitled, 1950s, bottom right.

Saul Leiter is not often thought of as a portraitist, but he did them over his long career7. The portraits included here are beautiful, typically different but wonderfully evocative.

Inez, c.1947.

The lighting in these works is the natural light coming in through the large windows or the electrical lights in his apartment. No flash or extra lights.

All in all, the “intimate” series presents a remarkable tour de force of possibilities, of living in the moment, and of working creatively with whatever that moment presents to you, which is, of course, exactly what we see him capturing outside on the street in Early Color, but minus the personal element, which is entirely absent there. Those subjects are not connected, either to each other or to the Photographer. Here they are.

Barbara and Bettina, c.1950.

We’re told going in that these women are lovers and friends of Saul Leiter, though it might be hard to see that in these works. The Artist appears with one of the women in only two Photos (one in the show, and one in the book). There is no interaction beyond an occasional glance. There is comfort, obviously, but nothing is being done together. There is affection, but no romance or anything more. And so, when all is said and done, the overriding feeling I come away with is a sense of isolation on the part of the subject and the Photographer.

Inez, c.1947, left. Inez c.1947 above, right, and Self Portrait with Inez, c.1947, bottom right.

To outsiders, these Photos show the relaxed, natural beauty of his friends, in studies and portraits of them in the moment, and moment to moment.  Though they are “intimate,” no love or physical intimacy is taking place in them. Maybe it already has, or is about to, and what we’re seeing in a number of these works is the moments after, or before. A number of the Photos in the show are not in the book. Whatever the case may be, since he knew these women, they are momentos of intimacy, and possibly, momentos of moments where that search for “someone who could love me” was close at hand, proof that it WAS possible to find.

Then, there were the “Painted Nudes.”

A selection of works from the “Painted Nudes” group. All of these works are gouache, casein and watercolor on silver gelatin paper.

The “Painted Nudes” are often revelations. They look like nothing else I’ve seen. Here and there one might spot a passage reminiscent of Degas, but the brushwork, and the choice of color, is daring…free and exciting, at times reminiscent of his beloved Pierre Bonnard (particularly his lateSelf Portrait, 1939-42), but always wholly in his own style. The paint bursts with energy…motion…even when the woman is lying at rest. Seeing some of them for the first time, I wondered why the great Richard Pousette-Dart steered Saul Leiter to Photography. Not that I’m questioning the judgement of the most overlooked Abstract Expressionist, not enough of Saul Leiter’s Painting has been placed before the public to form any full sense of his talent and the scope of his achievement.

Untitled, 1970s-90s

Of Painting, Saul Leiter said, “I sometimes thought that maybe I would have been a better photographer if I were not a painter. And then sometimes I thought that maybe if I were not wasting my time doing photography maybe I’d be a better painter. But, in the end, I did both. I enjoy taking a brush and making a mark. Then making another mark. It’s a little bit almost like jazz, you know? You don’t know what you’re going to do8.”

Untitled, 1987. Unprecedented. About as abstract as anything the Abstract Expressionists were doing, but with a Photo added.

Of the group on view at Howard Greenberg, I find the best of these works to be terrific and they left me longing to see Saul Leiter’s “other” Paintings that are not done on top of Photographs. They may well be yet another body of Saul Leiter’s work that has gone under-appreciated for too long. Wouldn’t that be something if Saul Leiter turned out to be a great Photographer AND a great Painter?

Untitled, 1970s-90s.

At the moment, Saul Leiter has rapidly been ascending to his rightful place as one of the Master Photographers of the 20th Century. Having been forgotten for decades of his life, it now seems highly unlikely the world will forget Saul Leiter again.


BookMarks-

Steidl’s series of books share the same book design as Early Color, which was done by Martin Harrison. If it ain’t broke…

“Saul Leiter: Early Color” is the place to start exploring the work of Saul Leiter. Just reissued in its 8th edition, in my view, it is one of the “must have” PhotoBooks released thus far this century. For a wider view of his work, pairing “Early Color,” with Steidl’s “Saul Leiter: Early Black and White” provides a good overview of his non-commercial Photography- at least as far as his large body of his work has been reintroduced to us thus far, especially while the latter is still in print. To supplement these, “Saul Leiter – All About Saul Leiter (Japanese and English Edition),” the catalog for a Retrospective in Japan last year, is a gorgeous, small, 300 page volume. Rumor has it that it is to be released in the USA later this year, but the original edition was named one of the 3 best PhotoBooks of the year by no less than Photographer Todd Hido. Two other retrospectives of note are much harder to find, especially at cheaper prices- Saul Leiter (Retrospektive/Retrospective published in 2012 by Kehrer Verlag is a 300 page volume that’s a full 9 by 10 inches. Second, there is the catalog for the show at the Henri Cartier-Bresson Foundation they co-published with Steidl in 2008, simply titled Saul Leiter. At 150 pages it’s a smaller retrospective, but benefits from a beautiful Steidl production. Finally, Saul Leiter: In My Room offers the best look we’re likely to get at Saul Leiter’s “intimate” work and nudes. Just published by Steidl, it includes 81 Photos, with only a few previously seen in Early Black & White. It’s far and away the most intimate and personal collection of Saul Leiter’s work. For the rest of us, who didn’t know these women, it’s something of a classic of the unguarded moment, filled with marvelously unconventional poses and compositions. It fills out our picture of Saul Leiter’s accomplishment, adding a very personal group of works that held a very special place in his life to those, largely impersonal work seen previously. It is another book that will surprise and enthrall his growing number of fans. Finally, Painted Nudes, published by Sylph Editions in 2015 is something of a sleeper. To date, it is the only book length collection of his Painting thus far released. Consisting of  black & white prints of nudes from the “intimate” series the Artist then hand Painted, as I said above, it leaves me yearning to see more of his Painting.

Regarding Ernst Haas, Color Correction is out of print and fine copies are trading for hundreds of dollars on the secondary market. However, if you look hard, there’s a little known French edition that’s still in print and available for about $60. I’ve compared them and they contain the same images, the same number of pages, but the introduction and the essay are in French. Steidl is about to release a new book, Ernst Haas: Abstrakt, which will include 118 of his abstract images and so is certainly a book anyone interested in Mr. Haas should check out.

*-Soundtrack for this piece is “In My Room,” by the Beach Boys, which they wrote during the time Saul Leiter was taking his “intimate” Photos, as performed by the amazing Jacob Collier -an Artist who created this entire recording in his room!

My thanks to Monika Condrea and Steidl.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free since 2015! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate securely by PayPal below to allow me to continue. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art books & Music from my collection!
Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

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

  1. “Saul Leiter,” 2008 Co-published by Steidl and the Foundation Henri-Cartier Bresson ↩
  2. from 1947-61, when he was succeeded by John Szarkowski, who went on to be a major shaper of the world of modern Fine Art Photography, and who he selected for the post. ↩
  3. Saul Leiter is barely mentioned in Joel Meyerowitz & Colin Westerbeck’s Bystander: A History of Street Photography,” Joel Meyerowitz is, also, a Photographer who worked with color early on, beginning in 1962. ↩
  4. Saul Leiter quoted in the introductory video on saulleiterfoundation.org ↩
  5. “My favorite Painter is Vermeer,” Saul Leiter: I just want to be left alone, Published 2015, Interview with Sebastian Piras in 2009 ↩
  6. “Saul Leiter Photographs and Works on Paper, Gallery Fifty-One, P.3 ↩
  7. Including a fascinating series of Diane Arbus in 1970, in her own space, that (not nude) have an intimacy akin to that seen in these works. ↩
  8. School of Visual Arts interview, 2013 ↩

What The Met Is Wearing To It’s Gala

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava.

“I would go out tonight
But I haven’t got a stitch to wear”*

Sorry. I care not one iota for “celebrities,” but I do care deeply about my second home, 1000 Fifth Avenue, NYC, aka The Metropolitan Museum of Art. So, while the rest of the world is ooohhhhinng and ahhhhhing over who’s wearing what (or not wearing what), I’m much more interested in what the building is “wearing” to tonite’s “Met Gala,” formally called the “Costume Institute Gala.” So? I thought I’d give you a look at it during the last moments the public was allowed in late Sunday, May 6th, as preparations for what is still widely called “the fashion event of the year” were winding up. The Met was closed today to allow for finishing touches…you know…nails and hair…

My Cathedral of Art looking more like a regular Cathedral. I don’t plan on covering this year’s Met Fashion Show, Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and The Catholic Imagination. I’ll leave that to my friend, the incomparable Magda. But, wow, the signage sure strikes me as being “loaded.”

After 1,600 visits these past 15 years, I still get goose bumps when I turn the corner and see this in front of me. Oh, look! They finally built me an apartment out front! Yes, the satellite trucks were there 24 hours before “opening step off.”

The view of the world famous stairs under the tent.

The view in Gallery 300, just south of the Grand Staircase, (aka Byzantium South). Yes, the “real” outfits are being hidden, but I do love how carefully so many of them are draped. Well? It’s The Met.

Gallery 304- Medieval Europe, with the figures going all the way back into the next galleries.

Gallery 305- Medieval Sculpture Hall. The Met’s famous Christmas Tree is installed right in front of the Spanish Choir Screen. The figures go all the way back, almost to the Robert Lehman Collection.

Alexander McQueen, partially seen in Gallery 306- Medieval Treasury.

The American Wing Courtyard seems to be the focal point of the evening’s festivities.

The riser with the chairs is over what is now the American Wing Courtyard Cafe. Before that, it used to be a Sculpture Court. I spent countless hours Drawing here in the ever-changing light, with Central Park to the immediate right, often spending Friday nights, Saturday and Sunday here. The Sculpture has been moved to the center of the Courtyard, or upstairs in the remodeled American Wing.

Looking towards the center of the Courtyard from the American Wing.

Gallery 305 Medieval Sculpture Hall

Gallery 300 now closed.

Gallery 301- Late Roman

As always, watch out for the fashion police! Even the concrete blocks were protected with shrink-wrap.

I wonder how many Gala attendees will opt to head to “Bar & Grille,” instead.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “This Charming Man,” by Morrissey and Johnny Marr from “The Smiths,” 1984.

“On The Fence, #19 . The Met Gala Edition”

This Post is dedicated to MQD and NSS.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free since 2015! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate securely by PayPal below to allow me to continue. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art books & Music from my collection!
Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

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

Danh Vo: Awakening From The Nightmare

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If you find this piece worthwhile, please donate via PayPal to support it & independent Art writing.
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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

“‘History,’ Stephen said, ‘is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.’”
James Joyce, Ulysses, Episode 2.

Museum Mile, late winter, 2018. Guggenheim Museum ahead on the right.

A typewriter sits almost alone on the floor of a gallery on the Guggenheim Museum’s 5th floor.

I stood opposite it for a few minutes over multiple visits, considering the installation of this gallery and watching other visitors pass by.

Only a few stopped to read the wall card, above it to the right. For those that didn’t, I couldn’t help wonder what they were thinking. “A typewriter? What? Why? Is this “Art?”

The wall card.

A few days later, about 50 blocks south, I saw another typewriter sitting alone on display.

Tennessee Williams’ Olivetti Typewriter seen at Tennessee Williams: No Refuge but Writing, at The Morgan Library, April, 2018.

This one was one of the great Tennessee Willams’ two most cherished possessions, along with a copy of Hart Crane’s Poems. A typewriter can be a weapon of murder, of Art, and now in both cases, an “Art object,” with completely opposite impacts. At the Guggenheim, Danh Vo’s placing of the Unabomber’s typewriter, (with it’s keyboard turned towards the side, and so, not an invitation to the viewer to use it, but to look at it as an object), is rife with irony, and very subtle power. Seeing both machines reminded me that a typewriter is a typewriter is a typewriter- it’s the person using it that makes it a tool for timeless beauty, or for catastrophic destruction. 

Therein lies the crux of Danh Vo: Take My Breath Away, which fills Frank Lloyd Wright’s iconic rotunda. Along with Art that he (or his calligrapher father) makes by hand, to a large extent Danh Vo’s Art relies on carefully selected actual historical items who’s significance fit the three primary threads that run through his Art- the history of Vietnam (dating back to it’s colonial past), American history, and his personal & family history. The Artist chooses objects for their ongoing power to speak to us through the history they witnessed or participated in. They are now mute witnesses, but like possessions in one’s home, their sum a portrait of where the Artist “lives,” so to speak. Combined, and seen over a large show, these three histories (Vietnamese, American and personal) interweave and dialogue with each other. The national and global becomes personal. For viewers, they are pieces of histories that speak to us still, like events that happened before our birth are “pieces” that have real and lasting effects on our lives many years after.

Then, I moved to the right, and saw what was installed along the intervening gallery wall in the next gallery.

On the wall behind the Unablomber’s Typewriter, left, is part of We The People, 2011-16, Copper, right. Installed (ironically, or coincidentally) so they mirror each other.

It’s a work called We The People,. Well, it’s part of the work called We The People, which totals over 300 pieces in all, each one part of a full size replica of the Statue of Liberty!

Every American “knows” the Statue of Liberty. How many would recognize one of her hands if seen by itself? The front of her left hand, minus her thumb (which is lying on the floor just behind me).

Vo’s parents idolized the U.S. as a land of political freedom and economic power, values their son couldn’t help but pick up, though later he suffered from disenchantment. Danh Vo was inspired after finally visiting the Statue in person to have it painstakingly replicated in copper. Press two pennies together between your fingers. That’s how thick the skin is on both sculptures! He and his team used the same techniques used to craft the original (though in China, instead of France), each of it’s 300 body fragment parts serving as both a reminder of the whole and an autonomous sculpture on it’s own. “In taking the Statue of Liberty as subject, Vo appropriated the definitive symbol of not just America but of the abstract notion of freedom itself. The metaphoric fracturing of the American body politic in the literal body of Liberty not only suggests the fragility of the philosophy she enshrines, it also enacts a profound violence on the fabric of the national consciousness1.”  In the catalog for the show, curator Katherine Brinson speaks of the damage to the American psyche that would be done seeing the actual Statue in pieces, referring to nerve the 1986 campaign to restore the Statue struck in the American public. Showing a replica of it is brings none of that trauma and instead allows the viewer to see it anew.

“I thought it would be interesting to make something that people felt so familiar with, in all the different ways that people project on the sculpture, and try to destabilize your own thinking of it,” the Artist said in 2013.

From the start, Danh Vo never intended to assemble the pieces he made, but rather to distribute them around the world, so it’s effect would be international, allowing no single person or entity to own more than 8 pieces of it. While about 50 parts of We The People, were previously seen locally in a 2014 Public Art Fund show in Brooklyn Bridge Park and City Hall Park, having seen only 6 pieces of it I still found it utterly remarkable- A remarkable concept. Remarkable that someone could do it and do it so well. Remarkable that he or she would choose to recreate all of it and not assemble it. Remarkable that this Artist, Danh Vo, is not now and has never been, an American2.

Two pieces from We The People,, another view of the works seen adjacent to the gallery with Kaczyinski’s Typewriter.

Danh Vo (pronounced yon voh) was born in Ba Rja, Vietnam, 4 months after the Vietnam War ended. Nonetheless, as it does with countless others in innumerable ways, the War casts it’s long shadow over Danh Vo’s life and Art, directly and indirectly. As seen in Danh Vo: Take My Breath Away, the War, which ended 43 years ago this April 30th, occupies the center, a defining event in his life though he wasn’t even alive during it. After he was born, his family was among 20,000 resettled to Phu Quoc in far southwest Vietnam, and then to Ho Chi Minh City, as part of a government “reeducation” program. In 1979, when Vo was 4, his family fled Vietnam in a homemade boat with 117 others, and were rescued at sea by a Danish freighter.

After escaping Vietnam in a homemade boat and being rescued at sea, Vo, age 4, left, and his family were taken to a refugee camp in Singapore. Having left everything behind, they were gifted the items seen in this Photo by Christian missionaries, which the Artist has turned into a “Christmas card” long after the fact. “Untitled,” 2007, Photogravure.

After a winter in a camp in Singapore, the family was eventually resettled in Denmark, where Vo was raised. Today he lives in Berlin and Mexico City. “I don’t really believe in my own story, not as a singular thing, anyway. It weaves in and out of other people’s private stories of local history and geopolitical history. I see myself, like any other person, as a container that has inherited these infinite traces of history without inheriting any direction. I try to compensate for this, I’m trying to make sense of it and give it a direction for myself,” the Artist has said3.

Two pieces of “We The People-

In 2012, he won the Hugo Boss Prize, which resulted in his first show at the Guggenheim Museum, the remarkable I.M.U.U.R.2, (I am you and you are too), which consisted of about 4,000 Artworks and items that belonged to the late Painter, Martin Wong. It says quite a bit that Danh Vo would take his first opportunity of a show in one of NYC’s “Big Five” Museums and devote it to the work of another Artist. Martin Wong is someone who’s work Danh Vo has championed, as he owns at least one his Paintings. In that sense, it’s part of the thread of his personal history that his work continues to explore. It was also  a unique opportunity to walk around in the mind and life of the late Artist while it created an effect not unlike one of Martin Wong’s Paintings.  It also served to expose visitors (including myself) to the work of a terrific Painter, who died in 1999 at age 53. (For further information, I recommend “Martin Wong: Human Instamatic,” which was produced for a 2016 Bronx Museum of Arts show.)

Another piece of We The People, one of the last pieces fabricated. The hand that holds the tablet.

The exhibition catalog for Danh Vo: Take My Breath Away, surprisingly lacks any direct information about it. Instead, it provides excellent background and analysis of the individual Art works, with the bulk of the book consisting of an extensive, complete catalog of Danh Vo’s exhibition history prior to Take My Breath Away, with numerous, fascinating installation views of each show that allows the viewer to this show to consider most of the Art on view here in different combinations and in different installations. This served to heighten my respect for his gift of installation. At almost 350 pages, it’s the first full-length monograph on Danh Vo, and now stands as the go-to reference on the Artist and his work over the first part of his career.

Untitled, 2018. Adds “Fabulous Muscles” to the show’s title, Take My Breath Away, yes, the theme from the 1980’s film “Top Gun,” was etched on the glass window in the Museum’s rotunda floor by the Artist’s father, Phung Vo. It was almost impossible to get a full shot of it. This was as close as I got over innumerable attempts.

As for Take My Breath Away, it’s rare (and wonderful, I find) to walk into a large show and almost all of it feels “different,” unlike almost anything I’ve seen before. A classic case of this was Matthew Barney’s The Cremaster Cycle, in 2003, also, at the Guggenheim, where almost every single object felt like it had been created by beings from another world. Danh Vo uses, mostly, recognizable objects, but he often deconstructs them or combines them in new and totally unexpected ways and then displays them brilliantly in ways that are Zen-like, daringly unexpected, and fresh.

In another gallery, a different “statue” is seen. “Oma Totem,” 2009, consists of items that belonged to the Artist’s grandmother. After deciding to emigrate to Germany in 1980, upon her arrival, she was gifted a washing machine, a television and a refrigerator, by an immigrant relief program, along with a crucifix, gifted by the Catholic Church. Vo has turned them into his work, “Oma Totem.” At the Guggenheim, it/they also sit virtually alone in a gallery, turned sideways. They’re a monument to being a refugee, of leaving one culture behind, while another now stands before you. As the wall card says, “…the sculpture reduces its subject’s harrowing experience of war and exile to the set of archetypes- refugee, convert, and consumer- that were assigned to Vo’s grandmother by her new society.”

Oma Totem, 2009, Philips television set, Gorenje washing machine, Bomann refrigerator, wooden crucifix, and personal casino entrance card, with “Uro,” 2009, Keys on a chain, behind on the wall.

Partially hidden on the wall behind them, is Uro, 2009, which consists of keys left over from a past relationship. The chain that connects them is all that remains of the connection they once shared. 

“If you were to climb the Himalayas tomorrow,” 2006, Rolex watch, Dupont lighter, American military class ring. Three items his father, Phung Vo, cherished as signs of his “success” in his new country. The Artist hd to negotiate with him to get him to give these to him for this work. Displayed in a lit vitrine behind glass, like they would be in a fine jewelry store, the work’s title was taken from a Rolex ad campagin.

 

Beyond the image of America his parents had while he was growing up, it’s interesting how much American history is in his work. As with the typewriter seen earlier, not all of it pertains to Vietnam.

“She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene,” 2009, Brass bugle, felt cap with velvet, bayonet sheath, field radio with wood and leather case, sashes, wooden drumsticks, fife, leather sword belt with gold and silver details, and 13-star American flag. The Artist purchased this at auction, exactly as it appears now, adding only the title. It was created to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. It would seem to also stand for America in it’s ascendency to the country Vo’s parents idolized.

Taking his place in the now long line of Artists working with found objects, (primarily, though Danh Vo also makes Art by hand), with Marcel Duchamp appearing to be particularly inspiring for him, he brings new dimensions to this now 100 year old (at least) genre through the use of historic and personal items, his choice to disassemble them or leave them, and in the breathtaking way, in my opinion, that he installs them. .

A chandelier from the Grand Ballroom of the Hotel Majestic, Paris, where the Paris Peace Accords were signed, ending the Vietnam War.

Photo from the Exhibition Catalog, P.XXXIII

Even when these items are literally in pieces their parts are shown in surprising ways.

Untitled, 2009, Carry-on bag, fruitwood St. Joseph (Germany, late 16th century). Danh Vo acquired a wooden sculpture that was too big to transport by plane. So? He cut it into sections and put each into a bag so he could carry them on. At the Guggenheim, they were distributed, in their bags, with at least one also on a handcart.

At other times, the pieces are recombined in extraordinary new ways, as in these sculptures.

(Unpronounceable title uttered by the demon in The Exorcist), Poplar Virgin of the Annunciation, 2nd century, with Greek marble sarcophagus, ca 1350, left. Throughout the show, Vo displays sculpture that has either been broken up into parts (by the Artist or found that way), and displayed them either alone or with parts of a totally different sculpture, as seen here on the left, the lower half of which shows a lion devouring an antelope, “juxtaposing the sacred and the profane4,” though it’s also visually striking and unprecedented to my eyes, the effect only enhanced by it’s installation.

Untitled, 2018, Marble Eros (Western Europe, 2nd century CE) and sandstone eagle (Germany late 19th century). Notice the wooden shims left unpainted underneath it. Museum staff told me that the Artist stopped them from Painting them, something they would always do.

At the Guggenheim, the staff regaled me with stories of how the Artist laid out this show with almost Zen-like techniques. He left shims unpainted, chandeliers uncrated, and left other pieces where the handlers left them. I was told it was “unprecedented.”

16:32, 26.05  Late 19th-century chandelier. “Leave it just like that,” the Artist must have said to the Art handlers. Because they did. Open shipping crate on unpainted blocks and all.

I found the installation completely captivating, a model of taste and restraint, a breath of fresh air. Looking through the catalog (where those responsible for the display of the work in prior shows are not credited), I see a similar brilliance in the design of each show. Whatever one thinks of Danh Vo’s Art, he has a mastery of display that borders on showmanship.

Lady Gaga, live at Radio City Music Hall, January 20, 2010, her first major NYC Concert, in a show designed by the brilliant stage designer, Es Devlin. The stage was set inside a “frame” that goes all the way around it, with a screen in front of it that was never removed. Many of the designs for songs reminded me of Art works. It became obvious to me that either Ms. Devlin, Lady G, or both, were channeling Art history. This one, with the singer’s hair fastened to rings threaded through the pole the dancers hold on each side of her, and then moved around the stage, reminded me of Joseph Cornell.

I said “showmanship,” meant with respect, because the only other instance I can think of where I saw such amazing, beautiful display was at Lady Gaga’s first “big” NYC concert at Radio City Music Hall in January, 2010, in a show designed by the brilliant stage designer, Es Devlin5. At the time, I was completely floored by what I saw, though I immediately knew that whoever was responsible for it had gone to school on Art history. There were elements of Dali, Magritte, and especially Joseph Cornell throughout. Danh Vo, is adding display to the accomplishments of Duchamp, and Rauschenberg, making it an inherent and critical part of his Art.

Lot 20, Two Kennedy Administration Cabinet Room Chairs, 2013, right, and 08:43, 26.05, 2009, Late-19th century chandelier, left, behind Painted screen. At the Guggenheim, Danh Vo turned the museum’s “bays” into stage sets of a sort, some, like this one, behind transparent screens. Vo acquired 2 chairs from John F. Kennedy’s Administration that he proceeded to dismantle. The parts, and the fabric, are shown on their own elsewhere in the show. Here the frame of one chair is juxtaposed with parts of a chandelier, from the room the Vietnam War Paris Peace Accords were signed in a beautiful, haunting display. Like a memory, it’s both there and not there. In front of both is a thin curtain on which a beast, possibly a lion, is shown with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. A reference to Kennedy being short down in 1963?

Frank Lloyd Wright designed the Guggenheim Museum to be seen from the top, down. He intended for viewers to take the elevator to the top and walk down the gently sloping ramp, something I always do. Yet, I have never seen a show laid out this way. Instead, each one insists visitors walk up the 6 ramps. Well, it is a small elevator. So, this gallery, above and below, was among the first I saw in this show, and created a powerful effect.

Detail showing part of the JFK Administration chair and the transparent screen in front of it.

Danh Vo is an Artist who’s also something of a cultural anthropologist, someone who’s attuned to the deeper significance of historic objects as part of history and histories. Like Ai Weiwei, he’s not bashful about deconstructing them to mine even deeper significance. It helps that he’s also blessed with a terrific sense of reconfiguring these objects and pieces of objects in stunning and fascinating installations that he varies greatly from show to show, creating unique experiences each time. Seen in pieces, they are often completely new experiences which cause the viewer to see them in new ways. From looking at the catalog’s compilation of these past shows, Danh Vo: Take My Breath Away is both a high watermark in the young Artist’s career and a “beacon” of a calling card that he is an Artist to watch. The Guggenheim took a chance with this show, and then took another chance in giving Danh Vo so much leeway in it’s installation. They, and he, have succeeded in creating a show that is rich in layers of meaning and relevance for the moment. The Guggenheim’s commitment to Danh Vo’s Art, going back to I.M.U.U.R.2, is something I believe NYC’s Big Museums should be doing, and doing more of.

At a time when the Vietnam War seems prime to slip from the consciousness of America and the world as it’s survivors age, pass on, and the world moves on, Danh Vo serves to show that the legacy of Vietnam is multi-generational in it’s effect and impact on the world. Something that is not news to anyone who was involved in it.

It also shows us that even Art can come from something so horrific. Art that has much to tell us now, lest we find our selves in another “nightmare of history” one day.

An unexpected Postscript-

It turns out that Danh Vo and I have someone in common. Or, we had.

Danh Vo speaks about his experiences with Tim Rollins at the Tim Rollins Memorial Celebration, SVA Theater, NYC, April 30, 2018, which also happened to be the 43rd Anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War, on April 30, 1975.

On April 30th, I went to the Memorial Celebration at the SVA Theater on West 23rd Street for my late friend, the Artist and educator Tim Rollins. Much to my surprise, Danh Vo was there, and was one of a number of well-known Artists, and friends, who spoke about Tim Rollins during the service! He also generously donated the flowers. Sitting way in the back, in the jam packed auditorium, I was taken by a group of them to the left of the stage.

One group of flowers donated by Danh Vo at the Tim Rollins Memorial Celebration, April 30th, 2018, at the SVA Theater.

The way they were half in the light, and half in shadow perfectly summed up the experience of the evening for me. Was Danh Vo responsible for the lighting? I tend to doubt it because the lights were for what was going on onstage. Such is my respect for his installations, he had me wondering.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “I Want To Come Home For Christmas,” by Marvin Gaye and Forest Hairston in 1972.

My thanks to Kristina Parker and May of the Guggenheim Museum.

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  1. Exhibition Catalog, P. XLII ↩
  2. As far as I know. He has lived here, though he does not now. ↩
  3. Exhibition Catalog, P. XXIII ↩
  4. Ibid P.39 ↩
  5. Seen in concert 6 months later, at MSG, all of the avant garde stage design had been replaced by a more traditional, over the top, arena extravaganza documented in an HBO Special. Unfortunately, as far as I know, the Es Devlin production, one of the most amazing concert productions I have ever seen, has not appeared on video. ↩

The Photography Show, AIPAD 2018- Coverage Page

Let the show begin! Just after opening, Noon on Thursday, April 5th, 2018. Click for full size.

Once again in 2018, for the second year in a row, I’m proud to bring you THE most extensive coverage of The Photography Show, aka AIPAD, available anywhere. This page summarizes my coverage and contains links to the 4 Posts I’ve written on it in order-

#1-
The Photography Show- AIPAD, 2018

#2-
The Photography Show: Memorable Meetings, 2018

#3-
The Photography Show Discoveries: Jeanine Michna-Bales

#4-
The Photography Show Discoveries: Kris Graves

The Photography Show/AIPAD, 2018 is my NoteWorthy show for April.

My coverage of The Photography Show, AIPAD, 2017 may be found here.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free since 2015! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate securely by PayPal below to allow me to continue. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art books & Music from my collection!
Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

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

The Photography Show- AIPAD, 2018

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

There’s no “swim suit” for this vast sea of images. Just dive right in. Arthur Elgort, Stella Diving, Watermill, Long Island, 1995, seen at Staley Wise Gallery at The Photography Show.

The 2018 edition of The Photography Show. (commonly called “AIPAD,” the acronym of The Association of International Photography Dealers, the organization that presents it), was a week later than last year’s blockbuster, though much else was the same. I’m not surprised. As I said in the last of the 4 pieces I devoted to 2017’s show, there was little to complain about from this visitor’s perspective, so I very much anticipated this year’s model.

It did not disappoint.

The highlight of the NYC Photo Year beckons. Don’t let the small entrance fool you. A vast show awaits inside.

It returned to the same familiar, cavernous, space known as Pier 94, on the Hudson River, and it reprised many of last year’s popular features, including a Publisher, PhotoBook Dealer & Photography Organizations area, a dedicated “AIPAD Talks” area, a “PhotoBook Spotlight” area, and new this year, an AIPAD Screening Room featured films by Photographers, or relating to Photography.

“Say Cheese.” The view from above right before the opening bell on Thursday at noon. Even a panorama can’t capture the whole of AIPAD.

Though, by my count, there were about 20 fewer dealers than last year (103 vs 123 comparing this year’s guide to 2017’s. AIPAD, itself, reported 96 this year1), given the enormous size of the show, it’s highly unlikely that anyone who didn’t make a count would have realized it- there was still too much to see in one visit. I made four, spending all of Thursday, Friday, Saturday & Sunday exploring it. Still, I’m sure I missed something. 

The Floor Plan.

What I did see impressed me quite a bit. In the next piece, I’ll take a look at highlights. First, here’s an overview.

“Something for everyone,” the show’s Press Release said.

The best thing about AIPAD for me is that nowhere else in NYC all year long can so many very good, great, and even classic Photographs be seen in one place. You would have to spend weeks walking around the city’s galleries and Big Five Museums to come close. But? Even then, you wouldn’t come close. AIPAD provides the opportunity to see what Artists from around the world are doing; to discover new Artists, and to see beautiful examples of classic Photographs, both familiar and known only through books or legend.

f64. Robert Mann, left, stands outside his renowned gallery’s booth, left, Catherine Edelman Gallery, equally renowned Chicago dealer, right, with Gallery f5.6, Germany, Gallery 19/21 from Conn., further on the left, and the fascinating Legacy of the Black Panthers 50th Anniversary Exhibition further back on the right.

While Aaron Siskind, Alfred Steiglitz, Edward Weston, Berenice Abbott, Ansel Adams, Atget and Kertesz were among the classic Artists being shown at the most booths (per the guide), there was a very impressive amount of lesser known Artists who presented quite strong work, in an extremely wide range of styles and genres– from the literally unknown, like these-

Unknown Artist, Selection from a Speedway Photograph Portfolio on display at Harper’s Books booth.

To some of the most famous Photographs ever taken-

Well? Almost. Ansel Adams, Moonrise Over Hernandez (Cancelled), 1941, printed circa 1969. This print was created in Ansel Adams’ darkroom on what turned out to be defective Ilfobrom paper. As a result, they were marked “Cancelled” with a machine used in banking and then sent to Ilford to demonstrate the flaws in the paper. Seen at Scott Nichols Gallery.

Great works by revered names…

Henri Cartier-Bresson, Rue De Bassano, 8th Arrondissement, Paris, 1953 seen at Contemporary Works/Vintage Works.

Sally Mann, Naptime, 1989, seen at Edwynn Houk Gallery is the subject of a current retrospective at the National Gallery of Art, Washington.

Robert Frank, US 285, New Mexico, 1955, from his enduring classic PhotoBook, The Americans. Seen at Howard Greenberg Gallery.

The Photographs in Painter Ed Ruscha’sEd Ruscha’s Gasoline Stations Portfolio, 1962, weren’t even taken as “serious Photography” by the Artist when he took them. 56 years later, they’re some of the most influential Photographs taken since. Seen at Bruce Silverstein.

To surprises from Artists previously seen, like this wonderful wall of work by Jeff Brouws which channels the classic work of Bernd & Hilla Becher…

Jeff Brouws, Coaling Tower Series, 2013-17, seen at Robert Mann Gallery. Apologies for the glare. Like the Becher’s classic series, Mr. Brouws has Photographed in the same weather and lighting conditions they always used.

To work previously not known to me that impressed…

Gohar Dashti, Home (series), 2017, at Robert Klein Gallery

Or…

Omar Imam, Untitled, 2017 (serene place), from his powerful Syrialism series at Catherine Edelman Gallery.

This year’s show also included special exhibitions, including this one, curated by Sir Elton John, titled A Time For Reflection–

Sir Elton John curated this selection from AIPAD member galleries titled A Time For Reflection. Included is Gordon Parks’ American Gothic, near the right corner, which can be seen in my recent piece about Mr. Parks just concluded shows.

Another special exhibition was All Power: Visual Legacies of the Black Panther Party, from the book of the same name, presented by the Photographic Center Northwest, in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the founding of the Black Panther Party’s Seattle chapter.

Installation view of one corner of All Power. Work by Robert Wade, Gill Baker, Deborah Willis, and Lewis Watts among those seen here. The words are from Point 7 of the Black Panther Party Platform and Program, 1972.

It featured a very impressive roster of Artists, and I was particularly impressed by the work of LaToya Ruby Frazier, including 2 pieces from her poignant The Grey Area, about the demolition of the hospital in her home town in spite of efforts, that she was involved in and Photographed, to save it. The work “UPMC Global Corporation, 2011” from her series The Grey Area, especially struck me as I have been looking at a lot of work by the so called New Topographics Artists Lewis Baltz and Stephen Shore2. This work seems like a culmination of what those Artists were depicting in series like Lewis Baltz’ New Industrial Parks Near Irving, California, and The Tract Houses, in the 1970s.

LaToya Ruby Frazier, UPMC Global Corporation, 2011 from her series The Grey Area, 2010-12, that documents the demolition of Braddock Hospital in her Pennsylvania home town, which she had been involved in trying to save.

One of the things I look forward to most about AIPAD is the chance to see what galleries from elsewhere in the world bring and display.

see + gallery, Beijing, China, left, Atlas Gallery, London, right, with Laurence Miller Gallery, NYC behind them, and Les filles du calvaire, Paris, France behind on the left.

As they did last year, many showed work completely new to me, and possibly a good many other show goers, like this-

Alfredo Jarr, The Power of Words, 1984, at Jean-Kenta Gauthier, Paris, France

Detail.

and this…

Raghu Rai, A Photographer, The Wall Series, Delhi, 1973, seen at TASVEER from Karnataka, India

and for the lover of modern vintage prints-

Two gorgeous examples by Eikoh Hosoe, Ordeal by Roses, #29, 1962, left and #16, 1961, right. Seen at IBASHO, Japan.

Making the rounds, the first thing that strikes you is the level of seriousness of the work on view. Almost nothing here is frivilous. Given the very significant cost of being here, the travel (some came from down the street, some from, literally, the other side of the world), the logistics, the hours involved in being at AIPAD- every single thing here is something someone significant in the Photography business believes is worthy of being here and being seen along side what everyone else feels should be seen here. So, the show provides fascinating insights into, and a barometer of, what so many leading dealers think about the Photography market and what’s selling, while balancing that with making a statement about the overall identity of their gallery. I find all of this endlessly fascinating. This year there was a distinct absence of the encroachment of “video,” or moving elements incorporated in Photography, which, to my eyes, has thus far come across as gimmicky. I much prefer seeing this-

Made using brand new “technology”… of the 16th century. Abelardo Morell, “Camera Obscura: The Philadelphia Museum of Art East Entrance in Gallery with a de Chirico Painting,” 2005. Light from outside (the exterior of the building) enters the darkened gallery seen above through a small hole, and is “projected” on the opposite wall, where the de Chirico hangs, upside down. At Edwynn Houk Gallery.

As you walk through AIPAD, you’ll find the work that doesn’t hold up to such “company” is in the extreme minority. to the contrary, you’re virtually guaranteed to discover a new Artist of interest you previously didn’t know.

Jean Pagliuso, 4 works from her “Owl” series, at Mary Ryan Gallery. Of course, anyone showing Owls, the Official Bird of NighthawkNYC, let alone these 4 beauties, was bound to catch my eye.

Then, there is the area devoted to Book Dealers, Publishers and Photography based Organizations, including Aperture, which held a steady stream of PhotoBook talks (in the area to the far right, below, with AIPAD Screenings just behind it in the far right corner) throughout the weekend. This area also hosted a steady stream of Booksignings and Book Launches, while also giving book collectors a chance to talk to a number of the world’s leading PhotoBook publishers, from bigger (Steidl, ArtBook DAP, Mack, Damiani, and Nazraeli), to specialty publishers TBW Books and Minor Matters, to Japanese Publishers, Akio Nagasawa and SUPER LABO among a number of others. The organizations also included Light Works, the Photography Collections Preservation Project, and the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts, who told me that their striking home doesn’t have plumbing!

The front of the Publishing and PhotoBook area. The show is so big, this large section of it isn’t even seen to the left of the panorama posted earlier.

Books have long ago secured their place as essential to Photographers and the world of Photography. In many, even most cases, they are the only way to see the work of the vast majority of Artists. Over time, they have become an “Art-form” unto themselves. For both reasons, it’s only natural, and in my opinion, critical, that they be included in AIPAD. The best PhotoBooks publishers (Gerhard Steidl, Chris Pichler of Nazraeli, Michael Mack of MACK, Paul Schiek of TBW Books, among them) are Artists themselves, either literally, or as bookmakers. The beauty and craft they bring to their work enhances the experience exponentially to the point that it’s an essential part of the experience of the work. In addition to these world-class publishers, intrepid book sellers, like Harper’s Books (who showed a spectacular collection of rare books and collectibles, seen in the center glass case in the Photo above) and Photo-eye (who featured the MASSIVE new Taschen book, Murals of Tibet, hand-signed by H.H. The Dalai Lama, which starts at $12,000.00) were highlights. But, the “stars” of this area were many of the book booths offered exceedingly rare chances to meet, and have a book signed by, Artists including Susan Meiselas, Elliott Erwitt, Paul Graham, Ralph Gibson, Jungjin Lee, Gregory Halpern, Jason Fulford, and Dayanita Singh, among others.

In assessing the “world of Photography,” since AIPAD is so international in scope- in all of it’s dimensions, I’d be remiss if I didn’t make special mention of the renowned, non-profit, Aperture Foundation, who’s founders include Ansel Adams and Dorothea Lange, and who celebrated their 65th anniversary in 2017. In my opinion, through everything they do, they are one of the lynchpins of the Photography world. As is well known, they nurture up and coming Photographers who deserve wider attention, publish important PhotoBooks (“Stephen Shore” was one of the very best PhotoBooks I saw in 2017), put on terrific shows (like their recent “Prison Nation”), and publish often terrific limited edition prints by many of the leading lights of both contemporary and classic Photography at exceedingly reasonable prices.

Aperture’s PhotoBook Spotlight, this one featuring Photographer, Paul Graham, center, who discussed his classic book A Shimmer of Possibility.

At the show, they ran a steady stream of PhotoBooks spotlights, which included Paul Graham, who’s A Shimmer of Possibility, (winner of the Paris Photo-Aperture Prize for the Best PhotoBook of the Last 15 Years in 2012), spoke about it on the debut of MACK’s third edition. In my opinion, everyone involved in Photography owes a debt to the Aperture Foundation, and I hope they support them through buying their books, prints and magazine, or making a donation. That’s my opinion, and no…they didn’t ask me to say that.

Nico Krijno, Burning Wicker Chair, 2011, a Huxley Parlour Gallery, London. The South African Photographer’s fascinating work is something I definitely have my eye on.

With so much to see, I strongly advise getting the multi-day ticket. Thursday is my favorite day to go and get acclimated. The weekend crowds haven’t arrived and you can actually talk to the dealers and booth holders and get some of the fascinating backstories behind what they’re showing. Things have a tendency to germinate in my mind overnight. I’ll see something I don’t know, then go home and research it or the Artist, and go back and see it again. Friday and Saturday things were steady and busy throughout, with the weather cooperating this year. Sunday seemed to me to be surprisingly busy. During my rounds on Sunday, within 2-3 hours of closing, most (not all) of the dealers I spoke with said the show was “Good,” or “Very good” for them, and I was surprised by how few expressed a negative sentiment. What this tells me, beyond how successful The Photography Show was (and there is no doubt it was) is that the Photography market remains robust, and signs of a downturn were not to be seen, as far as I could tell. This is good news for the Artists, particularly, as well as the dealers, of course. After it ended, AIPAD reported record attendance numbering over 15,0003.

Lisa Kereszi, Gold Curtain, Poconos Resort, PA, 2004, seen at Yancey Richardson Gallery.

As so? I look forward to the curtain going up on The Photography Show, 2019. But, don’t worry- The curtain is not coming down on my AIPAD 2018 coverage…yet. Stay tuned!

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Take Me To The River,” by the great Al Green, which I actually said to a cab driver on Saturday. It can be seen in an early performance by Talking Heads here.

Uh-oh…Guess who’s back from their Winter Migration…

“On The Fence, #18 – The Wall Has Eyes Edition. Celebrating the 1st Anniversary of my fine feathered friends and “On The Fence,” who debuted after AIAD, 2017.

The Photography Show/AIPAD, 2018, is my NoteWorthy Show for April.

Once again, for the second year, I’m proud to bring you THE most extensive coverage of The Photography Show anywhere. The rest of it is here.

My coverage of The Photography Show/AIPAD, 2017 may be seen here.

My previous Posts regarding Photography are here.

My thanks to Margery Newman and Nicole Strauss.

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  1. Press release April 12, 2018 ↩
  2. I’m not putting them in that box. They were part of a show with that title which spawned the term at the George Eastman House, Rochester, NY in 1975. ↩
  3. Ibid ↩

Edvard Munch: Between The Canvas & The Camera

Edvard Munch (1863-1944) is mostly known in the USA for The Scream, so, Edvard Munch: Between The Clock & The Bed, at The Met Breuer was something of a revelation, an all too rare chance to see a selection of his work, in this case 43 Paintings, and see a bit more of what the Norwegian Artist was all about. The fact that more than half of the works on view remained in his collection until his death gave it a personal feel. Munch, who never married, considered his Paintings to be his children. So, when he passed away in January, 1944, he bequeathed his collection to the city of Oslo- 1,100 Paintings, 4,500 Drawings and 18,000 Prints, now housed in the Munch Museum.

Installation view of the entrance at The Met Breuer.

The personal feeling was heightened by the fact the show included 16 self-portraits, created over the 6 decades he was active. And so, we get to see the changing face of Edvard Munch-

Self-Portrait, 1886, Oil on canvas. Age 23. The first work Munch signed, created using a spatula and by scratching the surface, in some areas, baring the canvas.

Self-Portrait with Cigarette, 1895, Oil on canvas.

The Night Wanderer, 1923-24, Oil on canvas.

Self-Portrait: Between the Clock and the Bed, 1940-43, Oil on canvas. In his last significant “self-scrutiny” as he referred to his self-portraits, he stands before the faceless clock and bed, in front of his Paintings, facing mortality, and immortality.

Munch’s journey saw him experiment with a variety of styles, including Impressionism. But, even early on, as seen in his “Self-Portrait,” 1886, above, he showed signs of breaking out and finding his own way. Once he did, there is a strain in his mature work that is, famously, characterized by a depth of feeling that regularly includes agony and isolation, which he expresses in a style uniquely his own. Those works are what is mostly seen at The Met Breuer, and they proved captivating in one of the best shows thus far in 2018.

Ashes, 1925, Oil on canvas. The anguished man..the sensuous woman, and the log in the rear turning to ashes, it’s flame apparently gone out…

In these works, he’s moved beyond “Impressionism,” and all that’s left is raw emotion, powerfully and poignantly expressed in unusual poses and striking compositions.

Sleepless Night: Self-Portrait in Inner Turmoil, 1920, Oil on canvas

In another Self-Portrait, Sleepless Night: Self-Portrait in Inner Turmoil, 1920, the walls, floors and table surfaces seem to vibrate, and fade into other dimensions, as if the spaces themselves are emoting. Here and in the later Self-Portraits, Munch has also moved past the great self-portraitist, Van Gogh, to reveal himself at seemingly odd and unexpected random moments. The loneliness in these self-portraits as an older man is still somewhat startling, something rarely seen in Art History to that point. Michelangelo’s, apparent, inclusion of himself as Nicodemus in The Deposition aka The Florentine Pieta,” and, of course, Rembrandt’s late Self-Portraits being two that come to mind.

Of course, any discussion of loneliness, pain and agony in Munch must include The Scream.

The Scream, 1895, Lithographic crayon. The inscription near the lower right, reads, “I felt a loud unending scream piercing nature.”

At The Met Breuer,The Scream was included in an 1865 version done in lithographic crayon, Interestingly, he has rendered virtually the entire composition in lines, except for the coats and the sides of the railing. But, the highlight of this show was the chance to see precursors of The Scream, which I had never seen before.

Sick Mood at Sunset: Despair, 1892, Oil on canvas. A precursor to the first version of The Scream, 1983, The wall card says Munch referred to this work as “the first Scream.”

On January 22, 1892, while in Nice, where he painted Sick Mood at Sunset: Despair, Munch recorded in his diary an event that took place years earlier in Norway, “I was walking along the road with two friends. The sun set. I felt a tinge of melancholy. Suddenly the sky became a bloody red. I stopped, leaned against the railing, dead tired and I looked at the flaming clouds that hung like blood and a sword over the blue-black fjord and city. My friends walked on. I stood there trembling with fright. And I felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature.”

Despair, 1894, Oil on canvas.

These two take an opposite, introverted approach to the famous Scream. As such, they seem much more in character with the Edvard Munch seen in the rest of this show (admittedly, a low single digit percentage of his Painted output), and so serve to sharpen the feeling that The Scream is that rare moment of extroverted outburst that so many of his other works keep just below the surface. All three works (counting the Painted “Scream,” not here) are marvelously original, with searingly burning skies that even Van Gogh might have envied. The two above are masterpieces in their own right, in my view.

Photo, circa 1870, showing the Ljaborveien road Munch depicts. Oslo is in the background.

The show also included an 1870 Photo of the Ljaborveien road Munch depicts. It was here that Munch “felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature,” which he would immortalize over two decades later.

Starry Night, 1922-24, Oil on canvas. Even this late in his career, the influence of Van Gogh remains, here as a jumping off point. Note the two shadowy figures.

As I moved through this marvelous show, while bearing in mind that these works are only a tiny percent of his oeuvre, I couldn’t help but feel that after he left Impressionism behind, the influence of Vincent Van Gogh lingered. Of the countless Artists who have been similarly influenced, Edvard Munch is one of the very few who’s work would make an interesting counterpoint if hung along side his.

“The Sick Child,” 1907, Oil on canvas. One of the seminal works in Munch’s career.

Whereas Vincent never shows us pain in an actual event, leaving us to feel it, and everything else, in the “quiet” scenes he shows us after, like in his Self Portrait with Bandaged Ear,or in the garden scenes of the hospital he’s in. Edvard Munch shows us the events, like The Scream, and his terminally ill sister in The Sick Child, 1907, and this seemingly inconsolable woman, below, in Weeping Nude, 1913-14, as if to let us feel what he’s feeling and see why. The deaths of his mother when he was 5, and then that of his beloved sister, Sophie, when Munch was 13, both from tuberculosis (despite the fact that his father was a physician), stayed with him the rest of his life. He created six versions of The Sick Child, (the one above is #3), using a different model, over FORTY years (between 1885 and 1927), such was it’s hold on him. Therefore, it’s hard to think Painting these scenes were “therapeutic” for him.

Weeping Nude, 1913-14, Oil on canvas.

Edvard Munch: Between the Clock and the Bed shows an Artist who stands apart. He found his own way, apart from everything else that was going on in the Art world during his time. In an Art world full of genres, I find it refreshing that his work doesn’t really belong in one, as a reminder that no Artist’s work does. And? As I discovered in an interesting satellite show, Like Edgar Degas, Thomas Eakins, and other Artists of the time who are generally considered Painters, it turns out that Edvard Munch was, also, an avid Photographer.

Edvard Munch, Self-Portrait on the Beach with Brushes and Palette in Warnemunde, 1907, Printed from a collodion contact print. Perhaps channeling Gauguin in Tahiti.

If his Painting is not as well known here as it should be, his Photography is completely unknown. Into the void came the Scandinavian House who mounted a thorough show of these works (along a few graphics, and his experiment with filmmaking), titled Edvard Munch: The Experimental Self, as a satellite to The Met Breuer’s show. Part of the reason his Photography is unknown is that his surviving Photographs are extremely fragile. So much so, they had to be scanned and reproduced to be displayed here.

Edvard Munch strikes what would turn out to be a familiar pose in the introduction to this surprising show of his Photography and Films.

As I’ve been exploring the world of Contemporary Photography intensely since December, 2016, one thing that’s become apparent to me is that a surprising number of Painters have, also, been Photographers of varying degrees of seriousness, and almost none of them have had their Photography taken seriously- either by the Art world or by the world of Photography. Edvard Munch is yet another Painter who explored Photography. In his case, “explored” might be the best term to characterize his approach.

Scandinavian House Installation view. 3 prints in the far gallery, Photographs in the near gallery.

Munch considered himself an amateur as a Photographer, though he was pleased with the results he got and said that he planned on preparing this work for display at some point. It is interesting that none of the Photographs on view were, apparently, studies for subsequent Paintings, even with, as in The Met Breuer show, so many Self-Portraits included.

Self-Portrait wearing glasses and seated, with two Watercolors at Ekely, 1930, Print after an original silver gelatin print. Munch, hauntingly, with parts of two of his works, in, perhaps, a double exposure?

Munch Photographed during two periods. First, between 1902 and 1910, a period that began with the tumultuous end of a relationship during which one of the Artist’s fingers was mutilated by a gunshot, and ended with a rest cure for “emotional turmoil,” and again between 1927 and the mid-1930s, a period that began with the success of retrospectives in Berlin and Oslo and ended with a hemorrhage that temporarily impaired his vision in his right eye.

4 Self-Portraits, all taken in 1930. Munch was, apparently, very fond of this very serious pose, taken by himself with an extended arm, or with a cable shutter release, as it appears over and over again at different times, as seen here.

The “revelations” I found in his Photography was that along with the fact that he was his own preferred model with a camera, his poses are more serious. This may be due to the need to hold still during the long exposure times, but it does offer an interesting counterpoint to the Edvard Munch we see in his Paintings and Prints, where he seems more “natural.” It also appears that Munch was one of the first Artists obsessed with the “selfie,” and given how many variations he made with the same pose makes one wonder if Andy Warhol knew about them.

Courtyard at Pilestredet 30B, 1902, Original contact print on silver gelatin paper. I prefer this interesting shot of one of his childhood homes. He moved the camera while the shutter was opened and he, too, apparently liked the results enough to sign it.

The Photographs don’t portray the isolation and loneliness, nor the depth of emotion and expression his Paintings do. Therefore, it seems to me they will be considered an appendix to his Paintings and Graphic work, of interest, primarily, to Munch specialists.

Detail of Munch and the faceless clock in Between the Clock and the Bed.

All in all, Edvard Munch has been a figure who’s notoriety largely rests on one work, The Scream. It’s a work that speaks to the depth of feeling that characterizes a good many of the rest of his Paintings seen at The Met Breuer. The show proved his Paintings retain their power to speak to us and they reward both close, and repeat, looking. Perhaps even more than the Impressionists, Edvard Munch, working away in isolation in Oslo, created Paintings & Prints that resonates with our time. Like that clock with no hands, the emotions he Paints are timeless.

Edvard Munch: Between the Clock and the Bed is my NoteWorthy show for March, though it ended on February 4th. Edvard Munch: The Experimental Self ended on April 7th.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Forlorn,” by Weather Report, which may be heard here.

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Deana Lawson’s Rising Star

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Recently, MoMA opened “Being,” it’s New Photography 2018 show featuring 16 Photographers born between 1974 and 1987. Walking through the show, I couldn’t help but remember that one of those included in their New Photography 2011 show was Deana Lawson. Being born in 1979, Ms. Lawson would fit right into the demographics of MoMA’s current show. But, she’s already made her “name” and her star is still ascendant. After being an Artist in Residence at Light Work in 2008 (from who you could buy an original Deana Lawson signed & numbered print for all of $300. as recently as January), Ms. Lawson’s work has continued to impress every time I’ve seen it. She has a remarkable way of creating unique works out of what seems to be standard portrait situations and poses, that in her hands become entirely her own.

On March 1st, Sikkema Jenkins & Co. opened what I believe to be the first NYC solo show of her work featuring 10 new pieces. An Artist who works, and produces work, slowly, each piece was characterized by the extraordinary intimacy I’ve admired in her earlier works.

Since each Photograph appears to have been taken in the subject’s home, they contain the “dual intimacy” of the subject in their space. The sense of family looms large in most of her work, which shouldn’t surprise as she has said she considers her subjects to be “family,” though the works in this show were taken in South Carolina, Swaziland, Jamaica, Soweto, South Africa as well as in Brooklyn, where the Rochester, NY native lives now.

As part of what makes her style already instantly recognizablly a “Deana Lawson,” many of her subjects are “cornered” in one way or other. Many are standing or sitting along a wall. They look at the camera at 45 degree angles. Above all, there’s an obvious level of comfort they feel with the Artist, which brings a level of openness to the picture that’s generally only seen in family snapshots or selfies, and is rare in Fine Art Photography. But, there’s more. As we look at them and their surroundings, her subjects look back at us.

Last year, I called Deana Lawson one of the “stars” of the 2017 Whitney Biennial, where her work was brilliantly shown in dialogue with that of Painter Henry Taylor. Before the Biennial, Ms. Lawson was commissioned to do the Photographs for Time Magazine’s piece on the June 17, 2015 Charleston, South Carolina massacre. The article, which shows another side of her work, may be seen here.

Flashback- May, 2017. Installation view of the Deana Lawson-Henry Taylor gallery at the 2017 Whitney Biennial.

Ms. Lawson, currently an Assistant Professor of Photography at Princeton, is also the subject of the solo show, Forum 80: Deana Lawson, which opened recently at the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh through July 15.

Deana Lawson, left, talks with renowned Artist Kara Walker, right, who braved the freezing temperatures to attend the opening on March 1st in the same space where her latest show was this past fall.

Knowing I was going to write a piece on both Artists, unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ask Deana Lawson about Gordon Parks‘ possible influence on her. Then, this past week, word coincidentally came that the Gordon Parks Foundation has awarded the 2018 Gordon Parks Foundation Fellowship to her. As Ms. Lawson’s star continues to rise, the Aperture Foundation is preparing to release the first monograph on her work, with an essay by acclaimed English Novelist Zadie Smith, this fall. Among many other things, Aperture is renowned for publishing Diane Arbus’s first monograph in 1972. While I’m certainly not comparing Diane Arbus and Deana Lawson (or any creative beings or works), there are some interesting similarities in their work, particularly the striking level of intimacy they both achieve and the comfort level they elicit from their subjects. Stay tuned.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Family Portrait,” by Pink from Missundaztood.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free since 2015! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate securely by PayPal below to allow me to continue. Thank you, Kenn.

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Grant Wood: The Wheat From The Chaff

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Wait. What? My rough realization of what Grant Wood may have REALLY wanted American Gothic to look like. I’ll explain shortly.

There is no denying Grant Wood’s contribution to what is now called “American Art.” He was one of the staunchest advocates for this country developing it’s own style of Art. He did as much as anyone else from the late 1920’s on, towards making it a reality. He spoke, taught, and formed Artist’s communities. and created Art that received wide acclaim as being American. Yet, seventy-five years after his death, the image we have of Grant Wood, the man, as well as the common perception of his work, is not the whole picture.

Behind the show’s entrance, the first gallery is ominously dark, ostensibly to show off the work in the next Photo. It did “set a tone,” at least for this viewer.

Like Michelangelo, he carefully monitored his public image, and like Il Divino, this was no easy task given the unprecedented level of popularity American Gothic, um…the real one… received, literally overnight, when it debuted at the Art Institute of Chicago’s Annual Exhibition of Painting & Sculpture in October, 1930. It  pretty much never waned the rest of his life. Along the way, he carefully monitored his public image to keep out any inkling of homosexuality, which was, apparently his preference, though he married, once. Critics, and the public, have looked long and hard at his Art for “telltale” signs of it. I find very few passages that are even “suggestive.” That doesn’t mean he wasn’t homosexual1. That only tells me he was careful. Looking at the work, I find far more that would belie his image as the “Painter of Middle American values.”

Grant Wood, yes. Grant Wood, “Corn Cob Chandelier,” 1925, Copper, iron, paint. I can just hear Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Comfort Tiffany, the two geniuses of American Design and Ornamentation of the time saying, “Now WHY didn’t I think of that??”

Fire Screen Ornament, 1929-30, Wrought iron. Grant Wood was accomplished at a wide range of things, including iron working, as here, jewelry making and he even designed and constructed a few houses. As seen here, he had his own style in these materials, that was different from the ornament created by Wright, Sullivan or the Europeans.

My initial walk through of the entire Grant Wood: American Gothic & Other Fables 9 galleries over 3 visits to the Whitney Museum, left me with one overriding feeling. Though his mature period lasted barely 11 years, from 1930 to his death at age 50 in 1941, I found much of this work unsettling. Over my subsequent re-visits, I searched for why.

Overmantel Decoration,” 1930, Oil on composition board. Also displayed in the first, darkened gallery. Painted the same year as American Gothic, to go over the mantel of a couple’s new home, this “idyllic” scene bothers me to no end. Notice, half of the front lawn is covered by an ominous shadow, or is a dying lawn2, the trees on the right look more like circular saws (not exactly welcoming), and the mother looks away from the man on horseback, who is going past her and what we assume are her children, given his horse’s leading hoof is already past the path they’re standing on. Two of the trees are brown- are they dead? In the background dark clouds loom. The house is already being covered in vines. What, exactly, is going on here, and why are we “spying” on this scene from behind the plants across the road?

Overmantel Decoration, 1930, ostensibly fills it’s commission- Art to hang over the mantel of a family’s new home. Yet, I can’t help wonder if it’s “more.” The scene depicted, an almost ideal middle class life circa the late 1890’s, would be something almost impossible for an Arist to attain. Especially one in the mid-west, far away from where Art was trading hands for serious money at the time. Grant Wood well knew this. I can’t help but wonder if that’s why the scene is almost being evesdropped on. Most people would want to show their house from directly in front of it. Yet, we “spy” it from a 45 degree angle at a time when the front facade is in shadows. It’s as if the Artist is evesdropping on a life he’ll never know choosing to follow his creative star. Of course, any life is fraught with dangers, and maybe that’s why there’s so much of it, apparently, in this work, where one would expect the kind of bliss Currier & Ives made famous.

Detail. A strange “Welcome home” from the woman, IF this is her husband.

Grant Wood was born to a farmer and his wife in Anamosa, Iowa in February, 1891. His father was a very strict, my-way-or-the-highway kind of man, who wouldn’t hesitate to discipline if things weren’t done his way. He was a man’s man, and to his son Grant, more a God than a man, as he said in his autobiography. Plump and not blessed with physical strength, Grant (who was named after that paragon of manliness, U.S. Grant), was not cut out to follow in his father’s footsteps. His sense of inadequacy and his sense of striving to put forth a “manly” persona remained with him for the rest of his short life. (He died 2 hours short of turning 51 in 1941.) His father suddenly died when Grant was 10, forcing his mother to sell the family farm, and leaving Grant with issues that stayed with him the rest of his life, and I feel, are quite visible in his work. Yes, right there alongside the “wholesome,” American values so many see in his work.

Market Place, Nuremberg, 1928, Oil on canvas.

In 1920, he sailed to Europe on the first of 4 visits. In 1940, he explained, “when I told my friends in Cedar Rapids, Iowa that I was going ‘there’ to Paint, I immediately became an outcast. It wasn’t considered manly to be an Artist. Then I read H.L. Mencken’s articles, and decided I must leave the Bible Belt at once and go to Paris for freedom3.” During his 4th trip, in 1928, Grant Wood suddenly had an “epiphany” as he called it during a visit to Munich, Germany’s Alte Pinakothek, when he came upon works by the Northern Renaissance masters, particularly Hans Memling and Albrecht Durer. Virtually instantaneously, he abandoned the “Impressionistic” style he had been using (as seen above) in his non-commissioned work, for most of the 1920’s.

Portrait of John B. Turner, Pioneer, 1928/30, Oil on canvas. Almost on a dime, his work changed to this, sharply realistic style, that harkens back to Memling and Van Eyck, in a work that marks the beginning of his “mature” period. A number of portraits followed, this prize-winning work.

Returning home, almost immediately, his mature style debuted in the portrait of the father of the Artist’s patron, John B. Turner. Grant Wood was obsessed with the appearance of “manliness” throughout his life. David Garwood, who wrote the first biography of Grant Wood, said his father, Maryville (pronounced “Mervil”), “looked at Grant now and then and wondered how he happened to bring such a son into the world4.” For the rest of his life, Grant Wood would be so mindful of the impression he made he even adopted overalls when he worked and often when he was Photographed so as to not look like the stereotypical “Artist” of the day, which was associated with “unmanliness,” since Art making wasn’t considered “real work”. In Portrait of John B. Turner, Pioneer, the subject looks out at us as if to say, “I have secured my place in Iowa history. Can you measure up?” “The sitter appears to know” the answer, R. Tripp Evans, says. He also sees it as a “down payment on his debt to Maryville, whose death had freed him to become an Artist. Safely contained behind the mask of ‘Daddy’ Turner, as John Turner was familiarly known, Maryville sits before the map that will lead Wood back to his past- and to a new approach5.”

Continually using his family and friends as models, a series of portraits of them followed, Most notably this one-

Woman with Plants, 1931, Oil on composition board. The Artist’s mother in what was Grant Wood’s favorite of his own works.

It’s a portrait of his mother, Hattie Deette Weaver Wood, who Grant Wood lived with for the rest of her life after Maryville’s death in 1900, until her own death in October, 1935, partially perhaps, to shield him from the scrutiny and gossip surrounding him being a “bachelor Artist.” In it he depicts her as he remembered her looking on the day of her husband’s death. She wears an apron over a black long sleeve top, possibly in reference to the Artist’s comment regarding his change of styles, ” I spent twenty years wandering around the wold hunting ‘arty’ subjects to Paint. I came back to Cedar Rapids, my home town, and the first thing I noticed was the cross-stitched embroidery of my mother’s kitchen apron6.” His eyes opened to the potential subjects all around him, the change would last the rest of his life. After the fact, he tried to alter the dating of these two works to make it appear that Woman with Plants had come first, and before Portrait of John B. Turner, Pioneer, but it had not. Though he dearly loved it, Hattie insisted he sell it. Sorrowfully, he did, but intended to do another portrait to replace it. When the idea for American Gothic came to him, after seeing the now famous small house with the upstairs Gothic window in Eldon, Iowa, he had an idea. His sister Nan, who posed for the young lady in the Painting, said this in an interview soon after-

“As he put together his composition for the house and two people while he was at the breakfast table that morning in 1930, he said he had models in mind—a man and a woman who would be just perfect. However, he was afraid to ask the woman, fearing she would be angry at the idea of being made something less than beautiful … Grant never told me whose place I took as the model, but I’m sure it was a spinster who had hounded him7.”

So, finally, he arrived at this-

The “real”American Gothic, 1930, Oil on composition board. On loan from the Art Institute of Chicago, who bought it for the outrageous sum of…THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS!

How can ANYone stand in front of this and not feel uneasy? I, for one, don’t like having the business end of a pitchfork pointed at my eyes.

The Artist happened to drive by the house one day and was taken by the gothic window on the second floor, which reminded him of the Cathedrals he’d recently seen in Europe. Dr. Byron McKeeby, Grant Wood’s dentist, 62, by accounts an affable man, posed as the farmer. His sister, Nan, 30 at the time, posed as the lady who has been identified as either the farmer’s wife, or his daughter (Grant Wood is quoted calling her either at least once, though, like Michelangelo, he appears not to be above saying things for his own reasons, on occasion). The uneasiness this work invokes, along with a “Mona Lisa”-like enduring mystery about it’s “meaning,” hasn’t stopped it from becoming one of the most famous works of American Art of the 20th Century. My reading of it is that it has to do with the Artist’s feelings of confronting his father about his being an Artist and not a farmer.  That it’s his devoted sister, Nan, standing besides the father figure, says to me that she wants him to show him some understanding. It also expresses the Artist’s sense of feeling like an outsider in his native state. Those feelings may have been sharpened into irony (if not outright scorn of his neighbors) by his reading of H.L. Mencken8.

No, Grant Wood wasn’t a farmer. The closest he got to it was tending a garden. He was, originally, a Decorative Artist. He studied and worked at making silver jewelry and coffee and tea sets, he worked in iron, as seen earlier, and he did stage design. None of these were considered “manly” and most weren’t considered actual “work” by his father and others at the time in Iowa. Right up until the 1930’s, years after he had settled on being a Painter, he was still supporting himself designing, building and furnishing homes. He spent his whole life striving to overcome what he perceived was a lack of manliness in the perception of him by others, ingrained on him by Maryville.

Over 6 visits I made a point of carving out a few minutes each time to stand alongside viewers looking at American Gothic. I stood to the side so I could watch their expressions. Yes, quite a few posed for selfies with it, and in those cases, I looked at their faces, too. No one smiled. It seemed to me that the mood of the work was imparting something beyond the hype the work has received for 80 years as being an icon of the American Mid-west and it’s core values. I detected uneasiness in my fellow viewers as well. The power of the work begins in the eyes. R. Tripp Evans says the farmer’s eyes don’t make eye contact with the viewer, they look just past him/her. They bored right through me.

So…? What’s up with the image I posted up top?

The same R. Tripp Evans makes a strong case that the “woman who would be just perfect” was the Artist’s mother, Hattie. But, asking her to pose alongside another stern farmer other than her late hubsand would have been too close to home for her, and too painful. She would never had agreed. So, he posed Nan in her stead. Somewhat revealingly, Nan wears the same cameo (of Persephone) that Hattie wears in “Woman with Plants,” She wears long black sleeves under her apron, like Hattie does, both with pointed fringe and collar poking out up top, and, both women wear their hair back. Also, the potted sansevieria, which Hattie grasps with both hands on her lap in “Woman with Plants,” now appears on the porch over Nan’s right shoulder. Grant Wood never reused items that had appeared in one of his works in any other work ever again. Where there’s smoke? There’s fire. There’s quite a bit of “Hattie smoke” in Nan’s portrait here.

Is this the farmer’s wife, or daughter? She’s both. She’s made to look like Hattie, but she’s Grant Wood’s devoted sister, Nan, here taking his side, as usual. Note the sansevieria plant on the porch.

His father having passed away, his mother not being ammenable to posing, he did the next best thing. He asked his sister, Nan, to pose, and asked his dentist to pose as the farmer. In his unfinished autobiography, Return from Bohemia, Grant Wood describes Maryville as “Tall and gaunt,” with a “solemn, stern, angular face9.” The affable Dr. McKeeby was able to capture the grim look Grant Wood wanted, aided in no small part by the fact that he is wearing Maryville Wood’s eyeglasses! The only item belonging to his father that Grant Wood kept. He liked them so much, he had a duplicate pair made for himself. All these things point to the Artist’s original intention to depict his mother and father in American Gothic. The  Artist, himself, is represented, I believe, by the European Gothic window- quite out of place in 1930’s Iowa, like Grant Wood felt he was, fittingly, with it’s curtain down, hiding what’s inside.

So? I’ve created a very rough idea of what American Gothic might have looked like if he had asked Hattie to pose and she agreed.  Taking her portrait from Woman with Plants, my job was made easier because there are so many similarities between Nan’s appearance in American Gothic, and her mother’s in Woman with Plants, as you can see. The main visual difference being the disparity of their ages.

What this exercise showed me is the difference in the effect in switching Nan for her mother would be major. Of course, we have no idea how Grant Wood would have rendered Hattie had she agreed, and enabled the Artist to follow through on his yearning. If this had happened, it is interesting to ponder if the public would have responded to it the way they have to the American Gothic we have. That circles the question back as to why they have.

It’s ironic that it was his mother, who’s protective presence shielded him from unwanted public scrutiny, who inadvertently led to more of it than either of them could have ever imagined. Perhaps, only the Artist would have preferred it with his intended “perfect models,” and if he had gotten them, would he have remained a strictly local favorite Artist- a while longer, or permanently, as so many others have?

Dinner for Threshers, 1934, Oil on board, nearly 7 feet long. Ostensibly, a communal meal on “threshing day,” the day when the edible part of the grain was loosened from the husks and stalks (i.e.-the chaff). For Grant Wood, threshing day was “the big event of the year10.”

While most people who see Dinner for Threshers will take it at face value, as a meal after working in the fields, it harbors quite another level. Set in an open house, his childhood farmhouse near Anamosa, like a stage show, what we are seeing is nothing less than the Artist’s reimagining of his father’s last meal before he suddenly “dropped dead,” as the local newspaper headline read, in 1900 at the window in the center- the vanishing point of the work, in multiple ways, as Mr. Evans points out. It’s design is an apparent homage to Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, complete with untanned foreheads instead of halos, 13 workers instead of 12 disciples, and features what might be the Artist, himself, three times on the far left, outside, and again at the table looking up at the woman, who may be Hattie, who appears as the other three women, to the right, according to Mr. Evans11. Since Wood said that “It includes my family…,” that leaves me wondering where Nan is. Maryville, appears in the center, taller than everyone else, with his back to the viewer, in the light shirt, in what would be the only time his son Painted him. So, what we are seeing here is nothing less than the end of one life, and the beginning of another- Grant Wood’s career as an Artist. In that sense, too, “wheat has been separated from the chaff.” Treshing day, indeed.

Parson Weem’s Fable, 1939, Oil on canvas.

In Parson Weem’s Fable, 1939, the fictitious fable about George Washington it depicts is not the only “fable” being told. Here, also, as late as 2 years before his death, Grant Wood is having it out with his father. By not wanting to become a farmer, he is ostensibly killing the cherry tree, i.e. his farm, which was sold after his sudden death in 1900. He refuses to return the axe, that is go back on his choice of an Artistic career. Grant Wood acknowledged that Washington’s attitude is his own12. The house in the back is his and his wife, Sara’s house, and the house where his mother would die. The red curtain the Parson opens is his mother’s curtain used in their prior Turner Alley sleeping quarters for a decade. Those would would classify Grant Wood’s work as Magic Realism, including Emily Braun in the show’s catalog (P.67), need to look no further, as what I believe they mean is seen in full effect here. No less than Gilbert Stuart’s portrait of the mature George Washington13, the one seen on the dollar bill, is morphed on to young George’s body, because, as he said, no portraits of the young Washington exist. Intriguingly, in the back of the scene a black woman and man tend to another cherry tree. Are they a couple? Mother and son? They do serve to remind us that both George Washington and Washington’s father owned slaves. They are the only African Americans to appear in Grant Wood’s work (as far as I know).

Fall Plowing, 1931, Oil on canvas

Fall Plowing, 1931, is an example of what others call “Magic Realism” (a term that Edward Hopper gets lumped into and I will never understand why), with it’s classic, surreal, Grant Wood  background. What strikes me is the unattended plow. While others (R. Trip Evans, Grant Wood, P. 204) see a sexual metaphor, there is no other way for me to “read” this work than to think it’s a very poignant homage to his father, Maryville and his sudden passing. He may well have left some farm implement right where he was working and using it. The plowed and planted fields rolling off into the distance speak of work accomplished, while the unplowed land in the immediate foreground speak of work to come and now left undone. I can picture the Artist coming across such a scene after his father died, so for me, this strikes closest to home among all of Grant Wood’s landscapes. It’s interesting how the only sign of other human life is way off in the distance, heightening the sense of isolation. In the most recent biography of Grant Woods, by R. Tripp Evans, which is full over very interesting biographical detail, the author goes to great length to sexualize this work, as he does too many times, in my opinion. Frankly, I just don’t get that at all standing in front of Fall Plowing. I also note that in the same year, he painted Portraits of his sister, Nan (Portrait of Nan), and his great-aunt, Matilda Peet, (Victorian Survival).

Victorian Survival, 1931, Oil on composition board. Grant Wood’s maternal great-aunt, Matilda Peet, rendered, in a different style, from a 19th century family tin-type…with the addition of a “modern” telephone on the left.

Here there is, also, the overriding distance that is seen in most of Grant Wood’s mature landscapes. The scenes are seen from far away, leaving the viewer isolated, as in The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, 1931, for one example. The feeling is not all that different from that in the work of Edward Hopper at about the same time.

The loneliness seen throughout Grant Wood’s work may be rooted in the isolation he and his family lived during his first decade, isolated on a farm near Anamosa, a village of less than 2,000, “as if we had been on an island in the ocean,” he said. “If the unique circumstances of Wood’s childhood- it’s profoundly rural setting, his father’s strict expectations, and his own emotional makeup- established early self-doubts concerning his masculinity, then the cultural context of his youth only compounded the problem…the most compelling element of his mature work- his selective reorganization of past experience- was present in his art from an early age, and appears to have served a deeply cathartic function14.”

Death on the Ridge Road, 1935, Oil on composition board. The only appearance of multiple motorized vehicles in this show.

Death is, obviously, an undertone that accompanies many of Grant Wood’s works, and a theme in his life. Even beyond his father’s death, Grant Wood, appears to almost be obsessed with it. He took walks in graveyards, he worked for at least two funeral homes, including his first job as a night watchman. He took various roles at David Turner’s Funeral Home, including designing casket biers, and after being given a studio directly behind it, he used a coffin lid as it’s front door. In this work, Death on the Ridge Road, 1935, he Paints it. Inspired, Nan says, by a close call a friend had but survived. Here, the long sedan has no way out. At this time, Grant Wood was facing the eminent demise of his “we three” family unit he had been nurtured by for the past 25 years. Nan moved to Albuquerque and his mother, Hattie, was starting to go. She would die in October. Startlingly, on March 2nd Grant Wood, 44, finally married. Of course, some surmised, at the time and since, that his marriage was a “cover,” necessitated by Hattie’s demise. I have no idea. It ended in divorce some 3 and a half years later.

Spring in Town, 1941, Oil on Wood.

As the Nazis blitzkrieged across Europe, Grant Wood embarked on a series of works designed to show Americans what they stood to lose. Spring in Town, 1941, is one of the two he lived to finish before he died of pancreatic cancer on February 12, 1942. In the midst of the townspeople busy with their daily chores, I can’t help but notice the gent planting in the foreground. For me, this symbolizes much of Grant Wood’s Art. His work speaks for  him, and they do so on a number of levels, not all of them obvious. As this increasingly comes to light, the reassessment of Grant Wood is continuing. Just what is he really sowing in that ground, and in these Paintings? He had quite mixed feelings for Iowa, it’s citizens and their lifestyle, and some of his most famous works, including “American Gothic” were born out of his desire to poke fun at them in response to the way he felt he was treated as an Artist then and there. But more than that, seeing this many of his works together, it becomes obvious that Grant Wood was painting his childhood of the 1890’s, and not the mid-west of the 1930’s. He was painting what he lost, not what was disappearing as he grew older, and he was working out that most significant relationship of his life, that failed relationship with his father.

With 117 works on view by my count,  the show is larger than the Stuart Davis show. It does feel light on his early work (I saw one Painting from the decade of the 1910s, three dated 1920-25), which misses a chance to trace his development from nearer his beginnings. I doubt the overall impression would be much different. Grant Wood: American Gothic & Other Fables provides New York with a rare chance to see so many of the Artist’s works in one show (the last time, if I recall correctly, was also at the Whitney in 1983), given the overwhelming number of them permanently reside in Iowa, and most importantly, a rare chance to assess his work in light of all that has come after it, and to see what it has to offer to us today.

The Return from Bohemia, 1935, Pastel, gouache and pencil on paper. The cover for his unfinished autobiography shows the Artist surrounded by Nan, his early dealer, Ed Rowan, his patron, funeral home owner, David Turner, Hattie, and his younger self, left to right, looking over his shoulder. Mysteriously, each of their eyes are hidden from us.

When you begin to piece it all together, Grant Wood comes across as more of a “contemporary” American, who’s complex, had issues with his family and neighbors, and was a member of a sexual minority. He looked forward to, and did all he could to help establish, an American style of Art. His Art seems fixed in time- the 1890s. In that sense he was “old-fashioned,” too. Having dealt with rejection from his childhood, by the time he achieved his breakthrough, Grant Wood was an expert at managing what he revealed to others. He edited his work relentlessly to make sure it presented the image he intended, and he destroyed what he thought didn’t. Therefore, it should be no surprise that looking for “proof” of his homosexuality (in things like the gent in Spring in Town, above, working without a shirt on, or in Fall Plowing) is a waste of time, in my opinion. He didn’t want it to be found because the results would have been disastrous, personally and professionally, and he knew his work better than anyone else ever will. Looking, instead, at his work for messages and intentions that lie beneath the surface may be a bit more fruitful, but, again, it seems to me that so much of what he did was known only to himself. We can find elements of it through a study of his biography, his interviews, the memoirs of his sister, Nan, and the unfinished autobiography he left. But, it seems to me, that the still un-tilled, “deeper” levels in Grant Wood’s work, (reminiscent of the planting going on in Spring in Town), which I believe are there, are purposely buried so deeply under it’s topsoil that only he knew where they are.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “I Shall Be Released” by Bob Dylan, lyrics here, as performed with The Band and a cast of thousands in The Last Waltz.

References-

Grant Wood: American Gothic & Other Fables, by Barbara Haskell, Glenn Adamson, et al, Whitney Museum, 2018- Ms. Haskell and her team have done an excellent job with this 272 page catalog. The quality of the reproductions are excellent (180 color, 30 B&W), and include works not seen in the show, and different views of some that are, though some suffer loss of detail due to being across two pages. The essays are interesting, informative and even unusual, especially an entire essay about Grant Wood’s Homosexuality by Richard Meyer. Also included is a thorough Chronicle by Ms. Haskell, which includes a number of texts and additional Photos. Throughout rarely seen Photos add much to the book, which is now, the standard in Grant Wood monographs, admittedly a small field.

My Brother, Grant Wood, by Nan Wood Graham. I haven’t found an actual copy of this book, which is still in print, but the fact that she burned her brother’s letters after he passed would seem to indicate a protective slant. That being said, from the excerpts I’ve read of it, and interviews with her published elsewhere, I have no doubt it’s an essential resource.

Grant Wood, by R. Tripp Evans. Though marred by, what I consider to be, oversexualized interpretations of the Artist’s work, it is extremely well researched and adds countless key insights and details to his biography and background on his work.

My thanks to Danielle Bias and Veronica Brown of the Whitney Museum.

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  1. Writers, including R. Tripp Evans in the most recent biography of Grant Wood, provide details, and there is an entire chapter devoted to the subject, by Stanford Art History Professor, Richard Meyer, in the show’s catalog. ↩
  2. Interestingly, “The Birthplace of Herbert Hoover, West Branch, Iowa,” 1931, also has a brown/dying lawn. ↩
  3. R. Tripp Evans, Grant Wood, P.72 ↩
  4. Ibid P.33 ↩
  5. Ibid, P.103 ↩
  6. Ibid, P.122 ↩
  7. Ibid, P.144 ↩
  8. Ibid P.140 ↩
  9. Ibid P.146 ↩
  10. Ibid, P.249 ↩
  11. Ibid, P.255-6 ↩
  12. Ibid, P.409 ↩
  13. Throughout his work, Grant Wood, an astute student of Art History, quotes from the masters, often with humorous effect. See Daughters of Revolution, 1932 ↩
  14. Ibid, P.34 ↩

Gordon Parks: Re-Emerging Man

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The Invisible Man, Harlem, New York, 1952. One of Gordon Parks’ most iconic Photographs, among many other great ones.

The renowned 20th Century Photographer/ Filmmaker/ Painter/ Writer/ Musician & Composer/ (I keep finding more talents, so I’ll leave this one open for the next one)… “Renaissance man,” Gordon Parks (1912-2006) was a self-taught Photographer who bought his first camera from a pawn shop at 25. He went on to create an extraordinary body of work over the next 60 years that was marked as much by its range as by its quality. Along the way, he became, perhaps, best known for two of his films that are legendary in different ways. The semi-autobiographical The Learning Tree, 1969, achieved and retains critical acclaim, and Shaft, 1971, a much bigger commercial success, remains an influential cult classic.

After getting that first camera, Gordon Parks promptly became good enough with it to gain employment with the Farm Security Administration (FSA) until it closed in 1943. His subsequent work as a freelancer led to acclaim and his becoming the first African American staff Photographer and Writer at Life Magazine, then the #1 Photojournalist publication in the world. After 2 decades at Life, he turned his own best-selling novel, The Learning Tree, into a 1969 movie that was one of the first 25 films selected for permanent preservation by the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress1. Two years later, he followed it up with the wildly popular film Shaft, made for $500,000, which was added to the Library of Congress’ Preservation List in 2000. That same year, Gordon Parks was named one of 26 “Living Legends” by the Library of Congress. All the while, he would continue to create Photographs and explore Photography until his death six years later.

Monumental. Gordon Parks Collected Works, 2012, published by Steidl and still in print. *- Photo by Steidl.

After his passing in March, 2006, the Gordon Parks Foundation has been carrying on promoting his work, with particular attention to his Photography. Though renowned during his lifetime, his body of Photographs has seemed to be somewhat overlooked in the plethora of Photographs coming before the world these days. To reverse this, in 2012, the Foundation and the world’s leading Publisher of Photography Books, Steidl, produced an exceptional five-volume set of Gordon Parks’ Photographs entitled Collected Works that can found at quite reasonable prices online. But, seeing the real thing in person, as with most Art, has a power all its own.

Keeping the light burning. It was still getting dark before 5pm as I stood outside Jack Shainman on West 24th Street when Part 1 opened in early January. And, when Part 2 opened on February 15th.

To this end, Jack Shainman Gallery mounted two shows, Gordon Parks: I Am You Part 1 & 2, between January 11th through March 24th, that provided a beautiful and succinct overview of some of Mr. Parks’ finest work, and included a number of surprises.

An unexpected dialogue. 3 Photographs of Alberto Giacometti and his work- Falling Man, Strollers, and Untitled left to right, Paris, 1951.

For those who know his early work for the Farm Security Administration (FSA)-

American Gothic, Washington, D.C., 1942, meanwhile, the “other” one, by Grant Wood, is on display at the Whitney right now, about 15 blocks south.

Or, as a PhotoJournalist-

Untitled, Harlem, New York, 1949, left, Untitled, New York, New York, 1952

or his work documenting the Civil Rights movement-

Both, Untitled, Washington, D.C., 1963. The Civil Rights March on Washington

Untitled, Washington D.C. (Rosa Parks), 1963

Or, those that are hard to classify-

Invisible Man Retreat, Harlem, New York, 1952

Gordon Park’s work as a Fashion Photographer

and his later, color, works that explored much more freely, may come as a surprise.

In an age where there are far too many Photos taken of celebrities, I continually find myself stopped by the images he took of Muhammad Ali. Many of his shots of the Champ are somewhat unorthodox, and almost all of them have an intimacy not seen elsewhere. So well done are they, so natural, it’s extremely hard to tell if Mr. Ali is posing or was captured in the moment.

Untitled, London, England, 1966

Untitled, Miami, Florida, 1966

And this, seen last year-

Muhammad Ali (Wrapped Hands), 1966, as seen at the Weinstein Gallery, Minneapolis, AIPAD Booth in March, 2017

Even over two shows, given the length of his career and the extraordinary wide range of his work, it’s possible to only get a taste of his accomplishment. Luckily, the Steidl set, (which is also available, minus the slipcase, in a “Study Edition”), is around to provide a complete look. Still, my takeaway after both shows is that it’s hard to find a genre of Photography at which Gordon Parks did not excel, one in which he did not create memorable works of lasting strength, significance and beauty.

Emerging Man, Harlem, New York, 1952. Along with American Gothic, two of his most well-known Photographs.

There are some interesting parallels, and divergences, in the Photographic careers of Walker Evans (1903-1975) and Gordon Parks2. Both worked for the FSA, both went on to work for magazines, though Evans was, of course, white, both Photographed African-Americans, and both explored color Photography as their careers went on. But, Evans found a champion at the Museum of Modern Art in Lincoln Kirstein, which resulted in his work being given a solo show in 1933 and a breakthrough show, the now legendary “Walker Evans: American Photographs,” in 1938, the catalog for which is still considered a benchmark for all subsequent PhotoBooks. Gordon Parks has never been given a solo show in a NYC Museum (as far as I know), and wasn’t included in a MoMA group show until 1965. MoMA shows 17 Photographs by Mr. Parks in their collection. The Met shows O N E, the Whitney shows 5. In contrast, MoMA shows 205 works by Walker Evans, who has been included in 66 of its exhibitions, and The Met now owns the Walker Evans Archive.

“In my youth, violence became my enemy…Photography, Writing, Music and Film are the weapons I use against it.”
Gordon Parks, quoted on the cover of the documentary Half Past Autumn.

Untitled, 1941.

Looking at his work, Gordon Parks’ Photographs look every bit as relevant, and as good, today as they ever have. I think it’s going to be a very long time before that changes.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Do Your Thing,” by Isaac Hayes from the Shaft Soundtrack. The late Mr. Hayes performs it here, at the Glastonbury Festival in 2002-

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  1. http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/person/147876|62854/Gordon-Parks/ ↩
  2. No qualitative comparison between them is intended. ↩

700,000 Michelangelo Fans Can’t Be Wrong

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Take that, Elvis, who’s 1959 album title, and cover, I just borrowed. Michelangelo was the “King” of a different kind of rock. Old school rock.

Marble.

So “old school,” his work is proving to be timeless. Good luck outlasting him, Mr. Presley. No, they didn’t call him “The King.” Such were his skills as a Sculptor, Painter, Architect and Poet, they called him “Il Divino” during his lifetime. “The Divine One.”

Met Curator Carmen C. Bambach deserves a medal. Nine years in the making, she now joins the ranks of The Museum’s “superstar” curators, like Andrew Bolton. After curating the Leonardo da Vinci, Master Draftsman Blockbuster, in 2003, Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer is her crowning masterpiece. In her superb catalog for this show she points out that Michelangelo, himself, was quite fond of this rendering of his profile in this Portrait Medal of Michelangelo, c.1561, one of which was given to him by its creator, Leone Leoni. Click any Photo for full size.

Since Art is my religion, “Il Divino” works in my book, too, these 542 years after his birth. For me, Michelangelo is not “Divine,” as in “more” or “other than human.” His talent is “Divine”- Merriam-Webster definition 2a “supremely good: superb.” It is in that sense I relate to him as “Il Divino.” While qualitatively comparing creative people or their work is meaningless, I will say that if there is a “greater” Artist than Michelangelo? I haven’t found him, or her. Michelangelo was Art’s first “reality” superstar. He was the first Artist to have a biography written about him during his lifetime. In fact, there were three 1. Such was his renown that people came from all over Europe hoping to simply see him, or in hopes of acquiring something from his hand (like a Drawing).

Met fun fact- If you look over the banner, one of the largest I’ve ever seen hung outside, into the corner alcove on the right, that’s Michelangelo’s circular portrait permanently part of the wall of The Museum. It’s a “Badge of Honor” now. Though, I don’t think he’d be thrilled at having to face his rival Raphael, left alcove, in perpetuity. By accounts Michelangelo wasn’t fond of the younger Artist because of his “borrowing” from/being influence by him, and then having to compete with him for work. But? He can smirk now. Raphael is still waiting for his Met blockbuster show.

Yet, a good deal of the “Il Divino” cult that has surrounded him ever since his passing in 1654, at 88, was his own doing in creating. The third of those biographies, A Life of Michelangelo, 1553, by Ascanio Condivi, has been seen by many/most Michelangelo scholars as being ghostwritten by Michelangelo as a means of giving the world his story the way he wants it to be seen and known. The recent birth of the printing press served to help make it “go viral.” Ok. Widely read by many more than had ever been possible. That theory also holds that it was created as a “response” to the story of his life as told in Giorgio Vasari’s 1550 edition of The Lives of the Artists. For instance, in Michelangelo’s view (per Condivi), he burst on the Art world fully formed- i.e. without having studied Art. If this had been true, it would have been highly unlikely Pope Julius II would have entrusted him with Painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the most important church in Christiandom, a surface that amounts to about 10,000 square feet, if he had not been trained in Painting2. Vasari’ “replied” with a revised version of his Life of Michelangelo in 1568, four years after Michelangelo’s passing3. The revised version includes documentary proof, that Michelangelo was, indeed, apprenticed to Domenico Ghirlandaio. Nonetheless, the legend took root, including fact and fiction, and thanks to popular novels and movies, has lived on.

I’ll be seeing this in my dreams for the rest of my life. The show’s sign in Gallery 1 covers the faux scaffolding in the large Gallery 7 behind it devoted to the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

It doesn’t end with his life. There are all sorts of myths about Michelangelo’s works as well, and this show, along with recent scholarship, is slowly bringing the truth to light, even though it takes some darkened rooms to do so. Works by Michelangelo in the Western Hemisphere are about as rare as Leonardo da Vinci’s are. His Drawings (the only works in this part of the world besides one Sculpture and one Painting- both of which are included in this show) appear every once in a while, but given they are going on 500 years old and done in the days before acid-free or archival papers, their sensitivity to light means they’ll be shown briefly and in the darkened galleries, seen throughout this show. So, I’ve waited my whole life to see more than one or two Michelangelos in one place, let alone upwards of about ONE HUNDRED FORTY (I got chills typing that) by Il Divino among 250 items the catalog lists. The closest I’ve come to this point was when I last left Manhattan overnight, exactly six years ago in early February, 2012 to see the once in a lifetime Leonardo da Vinci: Painter at the Court of Milan, on its closing day, at London’s National Gallery, then stayed 3 more days solely to see the rest of the National Gallery, including their two, strange, Michelangelo Paintings (Photos were not allowed). So, to say I’ve been eagerly anticipating Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer since The Met announced it, is as big an understatement as I’ve yet made on this site.

When I finally turned the corner to see it, I was stopped in my tracks. I’ve said before in these pages that sometimes I don’t feel like I’m alive anymore. Here was one of those moments. How else to explain THIS?-

Art Heaven? No. It’s just one part of The Met’s 2nd floor. From far right to left- 1- Rodin In The Met, 2- Michelangelo, in the darkened room, 3- David Hockney, straight ahead, 4-  Joseph Cornell & Juan Gris seen in this 270 degree view. It’s so big, I had to stitch two panoramas to get it all in.

Being The Met, the “once in a lifetime” (to quote their own press release) Michelangelo show, apparently, isn’t “enough.” Not only was that going on, right NEXT to it on one side, the David Hockney 80th Birthday Retrospective was going on in 8 large galleries, on the other side, “Rodin in The Met, was going on, AND down the hall, the Joseph Cornell/Juan Gris show, Birds of a Feather, had opened!  Just amazing. The run of the four shows overlapped for 8 days. I don’t know what’s on view now in Heaven’s Art Museum, and I’m not in a hurry to find out, but can it be any better? I hear they don’t allow Photos, either.

Welcome to New York. At the back of the line in the gallery now occupied by the Joseph Cornell/Juan Gris show, “4”, above, on December 29th, with a long way to go to get in.

Over the holidays there was a waiting line that snaked all the way down that long hall, to the left in the panorama, around the corner and through the Modern Art galleries, including the one now occupied by the Joseph Cornell/Juan Gris show, Birds of a Feather, “4” in the panorama, above. Still, I managed 10 visits, and I was there when the show ended at 9pm on February 12th. The Met staying open that late on a Monday is unheard of in my experience. After its first month, it was continually crowded right to the end, amazing given the show’s huge size (see my floor plan further below). On February 13th, The Museum announced 702,506 other visitors attended (702,516 all told), making it the 10th most visited exhibition in Met history.

“It’s full of stars.” Stanley Kubrick was right. It really was. Before Michelangelo, the Sistine’s ceiling was a Painted blue sky with stars until a structural collapse in 1504 necessitated it be repainted after being repaired. Michelangelo’s rivals wanted the Pope to select him because they were sure he couldn’t possibly Paint as well as he could Sculpt. I would laugh out loud at them if I weren’t eternally in their debt.

Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman and Designer is a dream come true. Wandering the 20 sections in the 12 galleries, a number of them large, all of them densely lined with 250 pieces, including 133 Drawings by Michelangelo, 3 of his sculptures and one Painting, the largest Michelangelo show in this country during our lifetimes (regardless of when you were born), I was left to wonder if anything like this will ever be mounted on this side of the pond again. Only the 1980 Picasso Retrospective, which took over all of the old MoMA, is comparable among shows I’ve seen in NYC.

My Drawing of the show’s floor plan.

“It’s overwhelming…” was the comment I heard visitors say most often as they passed me. Most said it in the affirmative4. Yes, there is a lot to take in. The detail in the Drawings is staggering- on a number of levels. First, Michelangelo’s technical mastery of Drawing provides an endless amount to admire and study. Second, since many of the Drawings here are details of large compositions (like the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling and The Last Judgement), the show presents a rare chance to study how these details fit into his grand vision for both of those incomparable works, as well as to appreciate how much Artistry is packed into them. (A Note- Michelangelo’s immortal Vatican Pieta, and David are omitted here. In the show’s catalog, page 69, Carmen Bambach says no Drawings for the former survive. He, possibly, worked from a model, which may, or may not, have been found. I remain to be convinced by it. Michelangelo, famously, burned many of his Drawings right before he died, as Vasari theorized, so nothing remaining by him would appear to be less than perfect5.) Out of the 140 works by him on view, complete works (i.e. whole compositions) by Michelangelo are in the minority. Studies of details for huge compositions are what most of these Drawings are. They are, often, the Artist working out on paper exactly how to realize figures, body parts, faces, etc.. There are also Drawings for Architectural works, most of them details, as well. It’s hard not to come away thinking that his large Paintings for the Sistine Chapel were not conceived the way he conceived his Architectural plans. His work on Pope Julius’ Tomb, which occupied him for FORTY YEARS (Seriously!… Don’t get me started.), is something of a “bridge,” it seems to me, between these enormous Paintings and his Architectural works, since the Pope’s Tomb is equal parts Sculptured figures and Architecture. Especially in its early incarnations as a free standing monument, it combines these two of his three core Arts. Painting and Architecture are also, in a sense, combined in the Sistine Chapel, which includes Painted Architectural elements throughout the composition. But, before I get too far ahead, let’s start at the beginning…

The first gallery contains his earliest surviving work, alongside brilliant examples by his teacher, Ghirlandaio (first two works, center), and his fellow student under him, Granacci (large Painting from The Met’s collection, left).

Based on the evidence here, Michelangelo demonstrated his genius for design early on. In the first gallery, we’re treated to masterpieces of Drawing by Ghirlandaio, who Michelangelo was apprenticed to, and a brilliantly executed Painting by Francesco Granacci, Michelangelo’s fellow student under Ghirlandaio, from The Met’s collection.

Saint John the Baptist Bearing Witness, 1506-7, by the “Workshop of Francesco Granacci.” In 2010, Everett Fahy, no less than the former head of European Paintings at The Met, announced that in his opinion, this was really by Michelangelo, not Granacci. Carmen Bambach disagrees, saying that some of the figures may be based on a Michelangelo Drawing6. Looking at it, the work lacks the overall compositional unity seen in, say, Michelangelo’s version of St. Anthony, below. Strangely, at least 6 of the foreground figures are not even paying attention to St. John. The top half of the figure of the Saint’s body doesn’t seem attached to the lower part. Finally, it’s so different stylistically, with none of Michelangelo’s “dash and daring,” combining to make it too hard for me to believe that Michelangelo could have Painted this a mere two years before Painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling, which he began in 1508.

Granacci is an Artist who, nonetheless, deserves closer study, because of his involvement with Michelangelo as well as to fully study and recognize his style, particularly in the Sistine ceiling. About 6 years older, he introduced Michelangelo to Ghirlandaio, and later became the foreman of the assistant Painters for the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. But, the star of this gallery is The Torment of Saint Anthony, 1487-88, which Met curators determined is Michelangelo’s long lost first painting, after restoring it, and presenting it as such in its own show in 2009, which I saw. Based on a print of the same name the brilliant Martin Schongauer created between 1470-75, shown to him by Granacci, so taken with it was Michelangelo that he decided to create his own version of it- in color! Legend has it he haunted fish stands to learn how to render their skin. Beyond Painting it, in color, which adds another element of realism to it entirely, he recast the composition. Whereas Schongauer’s imagines the scene from “The Golden Legend” by Jacobus de Voragine, 1260, of Saint Anthony beset by various savage beasts, as taking place in mid-air. Michelangelo, does him one-better. He fills out the composition, adding a landscape, with rocky cliffs in the foreground, and a river complete with sailing craft behind. It’s been said that even Ghirlandaio envied it. The Torment of Saint Anthony, 1487-88, is more than “just” astonishingly well-executed for a 13 or 14 year old. It reveals a young Artist of vision, someone able to conceive, and wonderfully execute, a complex, unified, composition. Michelangelo felt something was “lacking” in Schongauer’s original and set out to solve this “problem” for himself. My question is- The Met had the chance to buy it circa 2009. WHY didn’t they? Instead, led by their own brilliant head Conservator, Michael Gallagher, they  gorgeously restored it, and it now resides in the collection of the Art Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, where it remains the only Michelangelo Painting in the country.

A shot across the bow of Art History. Two versions of the The Torment of Saint Anthony. Martin Schongauer’s print, right, which inspired Michelangelo’s astonishing first Painting, left.

Looking at it, I realized his genius for design begins here (among the works that have survived to reach us), and I now see it as nothing less than a “Rosetta Stone” of sorts for much that came after. It’s hard not to remember that both of his most famous later Paintings- the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling and The Last Judgement take place, largely, in mid-air, though both have elements that “attach” them to the Earth. On the ceiling, he does this by including faux Architectural elements he Painted between and among the scenes, and in The Last Judgement, of course, by including Earth, Purgatory and Hell. In fact, there are quite a few interesting similarities between The Last Judgement (seen here, and further below), and The Torment of Saint Anthony, including the landscape, river and sailing craft, and of course, beings suspended in mid-air. As brilliant as the execution of the Painting is, it’s the mind at work in the background creating the overall composition, from Schongauer’s original, in light of its similarities with these later works that proves for me that this IS a Michelangelo.

Michelangelo, The Torment of Saint Anthony.

And so, even in Gallery 1, we see that underlying much of what he created is his mastery of Drawing and his genius for design and compositions. This will be made clearer in every following gallery. As a result, Carmen Bambach serves to rewrite our understanding of Michelangelo as not only a genius of Sculpture, Painting and Architecture, but one of the supreme masters of composition and design.

The first gallery is completed with our first taste of masterpieces of Michelangelo’s Drawings. Drapery studies have been a staple for Art students probably since the advent of Drawing. Having recently seen, and written about a masterpiece of Drapery Drawing by Leonardo da Vinci at MoMA, it’s utterly fascinating to compare it with those of his great rival, Michelangelo. Leonardo’s though “perfect” as it is, is focused solely on the thigh, knee and calf of the subject, leaving much of the rest undone/unfinished, particularly on the fabric that lies on the floor. In this Drawing, a study after Giotto, Michelangelo gives us an almost complete figure, and another in less detail, save for his face and hands. While it is fascinating to compare these two supreme masters of Drawing, some consider this to be Michelangelo’s earliest extant drawing, which might make it unfair to compare with the more mature Leonardo piece.

Michelangelo’s earliest surviving Drawing, Studies after Two Figures in the Ascension of Saint John the Evangelist by Giotto, c.1492. Michelangelo would have been 16 or 17. Notice the standing figure clutching at his robe- something that makes the folds so difficult to draw, you rarely see a student attempt it. Interesting, also, these are two male figures which are not “sculptural.” Rare in Michelangelo’s later figures.

Few people may realize that Michelangelo started out as a Painter. It was only in 1490, when he was all of 15, that he began Sculpting. From Saint Anthony, the Young Archer greets us alongside a few possible influences and examples of other works that bear some similarity to lost early Sculptures by Michelangelo.

Young Archer, c. 1490, when Michelangelo would have been about 15, seen at The Met in 2015. Recognized as an early Michelangelo by Kathleen Weil-Garnis Brandt in 1996, it’s been the only work by the Master regularly on view in NYC since 2009, though, most visitors to The Museum, apparently, don’t realize it given this typical “crowd” I’ve encountered around it every time I’ve seen it- until now.

As if to make up for it’s questionable placement for much of the past decade, The Met placed it smack dab in the middle of the path to the next gallery so you can’t miss it. It’s certainly worth a long look wherever it winds up being displayed in The Museum now that the show has ended, to see if you think it’s the real thing, or…?

After 527 years? The Young Archer’s moment has arrived.

In The Room With Michelangelo.

“In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo”
T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

’Tis no different almost exactly 100 years after T.S. Eliot wrote those immortal words in 1920. At The Met I heard them. More than once. It was hard not to. Visitors were often shoulder to shoulder its last two months.

Rush hour on the A Train? Gallery 3 on February 11th, the day before it ended. I was thrilled to see so many people at this show. Not only that, they looked and they looked hard. That’s particularly amazing given that many of the works were studies of details of large compositions.

Seen without the crowd, Bastiano da Sangallo’s famous, Copy after the Central Episode of the Bathers in Michelangelo’s Battle of Cascina, The only surviving record of Michelangelo’s lost Battle of Cascina, which he was commissioned to do on a wall opposite the also lost Battle of Anghiari, commissioned from Leonardo da Vinci, of which a Drawing by Rubens is it’s only record. Still, so many Artists have been influenced by this work. I always wonder if Gericault’s masterpiece The Raft of the Medusa, is one.

I admit it. I did lean in to hear the details, and FINALLY know what Thomas Stearns Eliot was referring to. Most of the time? There were commenting on Michelangelo’s “unusual” female bodies. Their second most popular topic was his “choice of ‘friends.’” Oh well. Imagine my disappointment. Neither of these topics were news to me.

Sketches of the Virgin, the Christ Child Reclining on a Cushion, and Other Sketches of Infants. Early on, as seen here, and in the immortal Vatican Pieta, Michelangelo’s women seemed much more feminine to my eyes. This beautiful Drawing, which echoes his early Madonna of the Stairs, may have been a model for the Painting Virgin and Child with the Infant Saint John, possibly by Piero d’Argents, that was displayed next to it.

One of his “friends.” One Michelangelo portrait in the aptly titled, staggering, “Divine Heads,” section of Gallery 5, Portrait of Andrea Quaratesi, c. 1532.

A section on his early designs for Pope Julius II’s tomb leads us to a gallery of early Architectural projects, and then to a gallery full of “Divine Heads,” which includes the one above.

Demonstration Drawing for the 1505 Design of the Tomb of Pope Julius II. It’s interesting to me that once again, we see a compositions of multiple levels- like The Last Judgement. In this one, as well, salvation is to be found at the top. This was just one  of the countless incarnations of the design for Pope Julius’ Tomb, as it evolved from free standing monument to the wall tomb it is today, which was FINALLY finished in 1545. The haggling lasted so many years that of course the Pope died (in 1513!) before it was finished…32 years  before it was finished! Michelangelo’s Moses, one of his enduring, greatest, masterpieces, is its central Sculpture, in quite a different design, in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli.

Moving back to figurative Drawings, in Galleries 5 & 6, one card described his style perfectly- “He drew like a Sculptor.” Meaning he drew with a heavy hand, the examples just above notwithstanding. Yes, his outlines are distinct, lyrical, and strong, and yes, his figures are often “Sculptural,” but even beyond all of this, his brilliant composition extends beyond the possibilities of Sculpture. Look at this, for example-

The Archers A work of sublime beauty equalled only by its mystery that starts with the fact that most of the the titular “archers” hold no bows.

The Risen Christ. A fascinating, “simpler,” composition with only one figure that nonetheless reaches to the infinite.

Its wall card. I selected this one as a typically, enlightening, example of the commentary throughout.

Michelangelo presented a design for the Pope’s tomb that included 40 Sculptures, a composition so incredibly ambitious it was impossible for any one man, even one with “divine” skills, to Sculpt during one lifetime. Though he considered himself a “Sculptor,” we can be thankful that he was compelled to Paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling (seen, fully, here). Painting, especially (and Drawing in lieu of a Painting), provided the best means of realizing many of his extraordinarily ambitious and involved compositions. Thankfully, he was able to finish this one- in four years. Sill clouded in drama, fiction and fantasy after 500 years of dirt was removed from it in the 1980s, the real story of the ceiling’s creation is every bit as dramatic as are the incomparable results, which many consider to be the greatest work of Art in the Western world.

“It’s not the real thing.” I heard one visitor comment in Gallery 7. ! No, but it’s 1/4 size of the original. You can take a 360 degree tour of this gallery, with The Met’s brilliant curator, Carmen Bambach, here. By the way, Michelangelo’s scaffolding ingeniously hovered over the floor and was moved as the work progressed. So brilliantly conceived, the 1980 restoration team reconstructed it, in lightweight metals, as STILL the best option to work on the ceiling.

In the heart of the show, Gallery 7 featured a range of studies for the Sistine Chapel ceiling that provide fascinating insights to the individual characters and the overall composition. Full of details who’s meanings have faded over the centuries (like what’s up with all the acorns?), one of the most fascinating and thought-provoking voices about it belongs to Art critic, writer and filmmaker, Waldemar Januszczak, who was one of those to receive permission to observe the restoration up close on the reconstruction of Michelangelo’s ingenious scaffolding in the 1980s. He used the opportunity to launch into a full fledged investigation of the ceiling’s history, and its “meaning.” His resulting book, Sayonara, Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel Restored And Repackaged, 1990, and documentary, The Michelangelo Code: Lost Secrets of the Sistine Chapel, looks at the history of the Chapel and the “meaning” of both the ceiling and The Last Judgement. More on that in a bit.

Fact versus fiction. Michelangelo’s self-portrait Painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

Regarding the infamous “he Painted it lying on his back” story, Mr. Januszczak says, “Its origins can be traced back to a mistranslation of Michelangelo’s first biography, 31 lines written in Latin by Paolo Giovio, Bishop of Nocera, sometime between 1523 and 1527, (which can be read here). Giovio describes Michelangelo’s posture while painting the Sistine ceiling as resupinus. This was assumed to mean ‘on his back’ by various Michelangelo commentators who spent 5 centuries enthusiastically emphasizing his agony at the expense of his ecstasy. A more accurate translation of resupinus would be ‘bent backward7.’” In the show, we see Michelangelo’s own Drawing of the way he worked, above, alongside a sonnet he wrote to a friend about it.

The Met’s caption for the Drawing, above.

Apparently, The Agony & The Ecstasy author Irving Stone, and the film’s director, Carol Reed, haven’t seen this. At The Met, old wives’ tales died hard in the dim light of the darkened galleries.

No. Michelangelo did not paint it lying  on his back. Given how crowded it was, and how many visitors were looking up, it’s a bit amazing he didn’t get stepped on, though the young lady on the left almost got him.

Studies for the Libyan Sibyl in the Sistine ceiling. One of the most amazing things for me in the ceiling, beyond the astounding overall composition, are the postures of the figures- almost all of them. Perhaps none is more extreme than the immortal Libyan Sibyl. In the finished work, this priestess is seen at once stepping down from her throne while apparently preparing to move or close the gigantic book she holds in both hands. So complex are these movements that Michelangelo made studies of this figure in sections so he could closely analyze them, like this well-known example, in which the left hand is slightly higher than the right- the opposite of how they are in the Painting. The Artist possibly realized this would have made the whole pose look extremely unbalanced, not to mention rob the figure of much of its timeless grace.

Jaw dropping. One of the most important Drawings in existence. Every time I went, I had to stop and ponder this. I never knew it existed. Two Studies for an Outstretched Right Arm, Very possibly for God the Father in the Creation of Adam section of the Sistine Chapel. According to Waldemar Januszczak, the celing’s fingers have been REPAINTED by restorers at least twice, including during the most recent restoration in the 1980s8! So? THIS is as close as we may ever get to what Michelangelo intended they look like, from his own hand. Just astounding.

In Gallery 9, viewers were treated to the rarest of the rare- TWO sculptures by Michelangelo (with, or without, assistants), both unfinished. Both remarkable. When was the last time was that THREE sculptures (counting the Young Archer) by Michelangelo were shown in the U.S.A., at the same time? I don’t think it’s ever happened. If you know differently, please drop me a line.

Bust of Brutus, (with “some assistance” from Tiberio Calcagni), My recreation of an iPhone Photo the great Photographer, Stephen Shore, the subject of a terrific retrospective up right now at MoMA, took of it during his visit and posted on his Instagram page.

Last look. The crowd was still heavy around Michelangelo’s stunning, Bust of Brutus, in the final hour of the run of the show on February 12th.

Apollo-David, (Unfinished). Both it, and the Brutus, were on loan from the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, Italy. I can’t imagine how much the insurance was to ship these…round trip.

The Met’s glorious show goes a long way further to set the record straight about Michelangelo and his accomplishments, in my view. Michelangelo, the somehow “not human” myth, is dead. Long live Michelangelo, the all too human genius of Art & Design. It seems to me that the myth does him a disservice. If he wasn’t human, it would have been easier for him to accomplish Artistic perfection. But, he was very human, as his Poems and letters reveal, as does how hard he worked for a very long time (he died at 88, about 3 weeks short of his 89th Birthday- unheard of in the fifteenth & sixteenth century, when 35 was closer to the norm) to achieve the brilliant results he brought the world. Yes, human. He was continually worried about his finances (as we see in this show, where he uses every square inch of paper, on both sides, to economize), he continually worried about his family and their status, he worried about being paid, often by whichever Pope he was working for (He lived through the reigns of 12 popes and, extraordinarly, worked for 7 of them9.), and his temperament ran hot and cold. If you were out, he could be very hard on you. It seems to me he lived a largely loveless, isolated life. His loves, such as we see in his Drawings and Poems and in his relationships, remained largely unrequited.

Michelangelo, Fragment with a Study for the Virgin for a Crucifixion, left, and Fragment, with a Study for Saint John the Baptist for a Crucifixion, right.

Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer, serves to revise our perception of Il Divino. To this point, he, and Leonardo, are perceived as geniuses who finished little of what they started. While there are many projects that Michelangelo didn’t complete (as well as others he did finish that are now lost), the bigger picture is that he completed a remarkable number of compositions & designs- some of which were either intended for, or realized by, other Artists, or were completed after his death. During his lifetime, Michelangelo was the only Artist thought to have excelled the revered masters of ancient Greece and Rome (per Vasari), who inspired the Renaissance- perhaps the highest esteem a Renaissance Artist could achieve.

Marcello Venusti, The Crucifixion with the Virgin and Saint John the Evangelist, based on Drawings by Michelangelo, above, shown as one example among many of Michelangelo’s designs adapted by other Artists in this show. I selected Venusti’s because, well, it’s just gorgeous.

In one of the great mysteries in Art History, TWENTY FOUR YEARS after completing the ceiling, Michelangelo returned to the Sistine Chapel to Paint this. Well, almost this, The Last Judgement.

Marcello Vanusti’s copy of The Last Judgement, is a very valuable record of what the work looked like in the mid-sixteenth century, before the addition of the controversial loincloths. However, Venusti took a number of liberties elsewhere, himself, so this is not a verbatim record of what he saw, though important nontheless. Due to its popularity, this was, perhaps, the hardest work to get full frame in the entire show.

WHY? Never before had an Artist returned to the scene of one work to complete another after such a long period. Whereas the ceiling gives us Genesis, the beginning of the universe, and life, on the wall over the altar, Michelangelo now gives us the end of the world, in all of it’s shocking glory. A bit too shocking for the time as it turned out. The beginning, and the end, in one space. In the interest of keeping this piece shorter than it might be, I’m only going to briefly mention something I feel is important, though not addressed in this show- The possible “meaning” of the Sistine Chapel ceiling and The Last Judgement. There seem to be two main theories. First, Waldemar Januszczak believes the Chapel building, itself, is modeled on the plan of the universe laid out by the ancient Christian Cartographer, Cosmas, in his Christian Typography, 547 AD. In it, the universe is rectangular, with a dome, like the Sistine Chapel, and its proportions are the same as the Temple of Solomon’s, which also match the Sistine Chapel’s. The universe is bordered by curtains with heaven and a second earth lying beyond. This is where the Genesis story takes place. So, when we look at the ceiling, we see into the past, through the painted Architectural elements all over the ceiling, in a world that is flat with the Sun revolving around it.

Waldemar Januszczak mentions the long forgotten sixth century Christian Cartographer, Cosmas, as the creator of this model for the universe, which looks shockingly similar to the structure of the Sistine Chapel. Notice, the Sun revolves around the Earth, with God & Christ above. Interestingly, it shows a blue background sky, with stars, which is how the Sistine’s ceiling looked before the collapse led to Michelanglo repainting it.

The second theory is based on the coincidence that Nicolaus Copernicus happened to be in Rome espousing his theory the the Earth revolved around the Sun at the exact moment Michelangelo was painting the ceiling. It believes he, and the Pope, were privy to it, though it had not as yet been published, and they included it in the ceiling and The Last Judgement. In the latter work, Jesus’ left thigh is at the exact center of the composition. Dr. Valerie Shrimplin says, “The most probable source for this choice of a central point on Christ’s thigh, as the pivotal centre of the entire cosmological fresco, seems to be the Book of Revelation 19:16. In a description of the Christ of the Judgment, it reads: ‘And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.’ This text is immediately followed by a reference to the Sun-symbol: ‘And I saw an angel standing in the sun…’ (v. 17). In the Sistine Last Judgment, Christ is thus depicted (theologically, neoplatonically and scientifically) as Michelangelo viewed Him: as King of Kings and Lords of Lords, the Sun, the centre of the Universe.”

Given the lack of anything definitive in Michelangelo’s surviving documents (his Drawings or letters), to support either of these theories, I find Mr. Januszczak’s the more compelling case. Pope Julius was a theological scholar who became a Doctor of Theology before becoming Pope. It makes sense to me that he would have known about Cosmas, and given that his uncle built the Sistine Chapel in the exact same dimensions Cosmas espoused (the building is not mentioned in the other theory), means that TWO Popes were involved in the Sistine Chapel. Nicolaus Copernicus was 2 years old when the Sistine Chapel’s construction, in Cosmas’ proportions, began, which would seem to make it a moot point. These factors tips the balance to Mr. Januszczak’s theory, in my mind.

By the way, Pope Julius II and his uncle, Pope Sixtus IV, were members of the della Rovere family who’s coat of arms include acorns and oak trees, both of which are seen all over the ceiling, and indeed, all over Italy, by way of “marking their turf,” as it has been called.

From all I’ve read, one thing seems certain. Michelangelo was a deeply religious man. An Artist who included himself in his final Pieta, called The Deposition, as well as including his Self-Portrait on his flayed skin that St. Bartholomew holds in The Last Judgement. Some see a self portrait included in the depiction of the Archangel Michael (or “Michelangelo”) on the ceiling. I don’t think he would have done any of these things if he was not deeply religious. It also makes me think that he went back to the Sistine Chapel to Paint The Last Judgement years after Pope Julius’ death because, then in his 60’s, he may have been thinking of his own mortality. Regardless, 506 years after he completed the ceiling, and going on 500 years after he completed The Last Judgement, the discussion remains ongoing about trying to understand these two incomparable masterpieces.

The controversy doesn’t end there. Regarding those “ladies talking of Michelangelo”… Waldemar Januszczak says, “Michelangelo was thus never a fully accepted and fully committed homosexual of the modern kind. He belongs, rather, besides Donatello, Leonardo, Botticelli and the painter nicknamed Sodoma among those homogamous Renaissance artists about whom we have conflicting evidentce of a conflicting sexuality. That he was a homosexual in some form seems certain. that he was not homosexual, in the way we understand the word today, appears equally unarguable10.” And, on the question of his depictions of the female body, he continues, “Given Michelangelo’s obsession with human anatomy, it seems improbable that he never actually saw a naked woman in his life. But he cannot have seen very many. And he does not appear to have looked too closely11.”

Nothing Less than Michelangelo’s model for the vault of the Chapel of the King of France, 1556-57, created under his direction by Fabbrica di San Pietro, Vaticano, Vatican City. The calotte of the dome of the south apse at a scale of 1:30. He would not live to see his designs for St. Peter’s, of which he was chief architect for 17 years,  completed, and those that were were, including its dome, were altered12.

Drawing, Draftsmanship & Design underlie all of his works. As such, they are the key to understanding his genius as a visual Artist. His brilliant Poetry lies on yet another plane of it, a tributary springing from the same font. Regarding his work as an Architect, Camen Bambach summed it up saying, “The physical beauty of the human body, which so deeply inspired Michelangelo’s Drawings, Sculptures and Paintings, also provided some meaningful analogies for his work as an Architect. His sheets with preparatory Drawings often combine ideas for figures and buildings…The human body offered an organizing principle in creating a unity of forms, whether the component parts were symmetrical or in freestyle13.”

Frederico Zuccaro, Portrait of Michelangelo as Moses, showing “Il Divino” in a similar posture to that of his brilliant Sculpture for Pope Julius’ tomb. Michelangelo was not a tall man, and I imagine his arms must have looked not all that different to these after a life of carving stone. The tools of his trade lie on the pedestal beneath his feet. Carmen Bambach says of it, “Much as the prophet (Moses) led the Children of Israel out of Egypt, do did Michelangelo save the Artis, by indicating the true path through a command of disegno and visual judgment..” (Catalog, P.257)

While I continue to love and admire his Sculpture, Painting, Drawing, Poetry, and what I can understand of his Architecture (most of which was unbuilt), I now see him as a genius of design and composition, first and foremost, due to this show. That his Art continues to speak to so many of us 542 years after his birth is the supreme testament to his skill. It makes me wonder why he felt he needed to “pump himself up” to mythic proportions when his work, itself, has done so for him. His real story, as far as is known, makes him much more “human,” than “divine,” and I, for one, find that more compelling. It gives me hope that there may be another “supremely talented” Artist, or perhaps there already has been and he or she remains unknown to us. For the here and now, nearly three-quarters of one million people saw something they’ll never forget. One of the ultimate displays ever mounted of what human Creativity is capable of, and has achieved.

I am thankful I lived to see it.

“Now, speak!,” Michelangelo said after finishing the monumental “Moses” for Pope Julius’ Tomb, according to legend. I muttered it silently when I stood in front of his friend and collaborator Daniele de Volterra”s lifelike bust of him, partially created from Michelangelo’s death mask, at the very end of the final Gallery #12.

“‘Immortality’
Here my fate wills that I should sleep
too early,
but I’m not really dead; though I’ve
changed homes,
I live on in you, who see and mourn
me now,
since one lover is transformed into
the other.
Here I am, believed dead; but I lived for
the comfort
of the world, with the souls of
thousand true lovers.
Although I have been deprived of my
own soul,
I still live on in the souls of all those
who loved and remember me.”*

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Happy 543rd Birthday, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti, born March 6, 1475 in Caprese near Arezzo, Tuscany, since renamed Caprese Michelangelo.)

Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer is a NoteWorthy show in my life, and for February, 2018.

*-Soundtrack for this piece is “Suite on Verses of Michelangelo Buonarroti,” Op. 145a, by Dmitri Shostakovich in 1974, the year before he died, which includes Michelangelo’s words quoted above in its final section, titled “Immortality.” Shostakovich, one of the great symphonists of the 20th Century, considered it to be his Sixteenth (and obviously, final,) Symphony, as he told his son.

Appendix- Recommended Resources-

-The Exhibition Catalog for Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer, by Carmen Bambach, is one of the best books on Michelangelo I’ve come across this past year, at least. It’s certainly the first stop for anyone who saw this show and wants to know more about it, and I highly recommend it to those who missed it as all the works displayed are wonderfully reproduced, along with a good many that were not here. Unlike many exhibition catalogs I see that are slapped together quickly, this one was NINE YEARS in the researching and writing (Catalog P.8). It shows on every page. Full of insights, stories and details, I haven’t seen anywhere else, it truly is the next best thing to having been there, and the best record of what it was. Though its focus is on the show and works included in it, Ms. Bambach never forgets to tie the works into the bigger picture, providing a remarkably thorough running biographical picture in the process, plainly sorting facts from fiction as she sees them in a wonderfully no-nonsense way, along with including priceless technical details and insights only a world class curator, who’s spent her life immersed in this work would have. Essential reading for Art History students, Michelangelo collectors (soft smile), and anyone with a passion for Art History, or Michelangelo.

-If you only want one book on Micheslangelo, out of the current Michelangelo books, I’d recommend Frank Zollner’s Michelangelo, The Complete Paintings, Sculptrues and Architecture, published by Taschen. I’m saying that while also saying there are better books for the Paintings. Better books for the Sculptures, but most are out of print and would require quite a bit of digging. But, if you want one book with as many good Photos of the full range of his accomplishment (yes, that means after restoration where they have been done, and I have no problem with any of them I’ve seen thus far), I’d recommend you look at it. Prior to the Taschen book, which originally came in the HUGE, 23 pound, XL size (which I, personally LOVE), look for Michelangelo: The Compete Sculpture, Painting, Architecture, by William E. Wallace, who teaches and lectures on the Artist, and has also written a good biography of him.

-The best books on the restored Sistine Chapel is the 2 Volume set, The Sistine Chapel, 1991, featuring the Photographs of Takashi Okamura, very probably the best ever taken of the ceiling and “The Last Judgment,” because he, and NHK TV had exclusive rights to Photograph it in return for NHK Japanese TV putting up 3 million dollars for their restorations. But? Being issued in limited editions, weighing 27 pounds, they’re very expensive now. The good news is there are other books with many of the same Photos, though smaller, and text by the restorers which are currently very cheap, including- “The Sistine Chapel: A Glorious Restoration,” “Michelangelo: The Last Judgement,” and Michelangelo: The Vatican Frescoes” which have all been on my shelf for years.

-As for his Sculpture- There are two ways to go- General overviews, or books that focus on one work. Which way you go depends on how closely you want to look at one particular work. A good number of the specialized books are out of print, but can be found at a decent price used, and of course, depending on age, feature black & white Photos, the older you get. I have the Hartt Frederick book published by Abrams, but it’s out of print, now and pricey. For current overviews, take a look at the Zollner and Wallace books cited earlier and see what you think of them.

-Writings- Michelangelo’s Poems are beautiful. They reveal the depth of his feelings in a way that is surprising at first, while they give a bit of insight to how his mind worked. For the true devotee of Michelangelo, they are essential. The problem is that there has yet to be a “definitive” translation of them into English. You can drive yourself crazy reading different translations of the same Poem. Find one that speaks to you, and don’t read any others…unless you’re THAT obsessed. I have the James M. Saslow paperback, which includes annotations, and more than 300 of his sonnets, madrigals and other poems.

-As for the biographies, Condivi’s or Vasari’s Biographies of Michelangelo both have the issues I outlined earlier. Condivi’s is a bit harder to find currently. Another way to go is to start by reading his letters. There’s a lot of them, and the 2 volume set edited by E.H. Ramsden (the one I have), gives a the largest number of them. They’re presented chronologically, and give you the feeling of his day to day life, which no biography does, and, in my opinion, you also get a sense of some of his values, and what’s important to him. Then, you can read the biographies and sort out for yourself what’s true and what’s “marketing.” Penguin has a paperback of selected poems and letters, which I have not looked at, so I can’t share any thoughts about it. Please, do not read Irving Stone’s books on Michelangelo (or Vincent Van Gogh) as “biography.” You’ll get much closer to the real Michelangelo’s biography reading Carmen Bambach’s catalog for this show, and it’s not, primarily, a “biography.”

-Finally, as I mention in the piece, I find Waldemar Januszczak’s book, Sayonara, Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel Restored And Repackaged, 1990, and documentary on the Sistine Chapel, “The Michelangelo Code: Lost Secrets of the Sistine Chapel,” to be the most enlightening, and extremely well researched exploration of the ceiling’s history I have found. It also includes a fascinating presentation of a possible “meaning” Mr. Januszczak researched and developed over more than a decade. He may be right about it. Agree with him, or not, it’s well worth seeing for the tour it gives, which includes access to many off-limits areas, as well as for the history lesson. The 2-part film is out of print on DVD, but appears on Public Television’s “Secrets of the Dead” series every once in a while.

The former entrance as seen on February 23rd, thirteen days after it closed. “Sayonara, Michelangelo.”

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  1. Paolo Giovio’s, brief Michaelis Angeli Vita, circa 1527, which was all of 32 lines, which can be read here, Giorgio Vasari’s “The Lives of the Artists,” 1550, which was revised in 1568, and Ascanio Condivi’s A Life of Michelangelo, 1553. ↩
  2. as Waldemar Januszczak points out in Sayonara, Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel Restored And Repackaged, 1990, P.22 ↩
  3. Varari also designed Michelangelo’s tomb in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. ↩
  4. One complained, “It’s overwhelming. So many small works, with so much detail…I get it. Let’s go see something big and colorful.” Yikes. The David Hockney Retrospective is right next door. ↩
  5.  The Vatican Pieta, was shipped to NYC for the 1964 World’s Fair, where my parents saw it. Their only experience with Art, as far as I know. ↩
  6. Exhibition Catalog P.37. Henceforth referred to as “Catalog.” ↩
  7. Sayonara, Michelangelo, P.56 ↩
  8. Sayonara, Michelangelo P.39 ↩
  9. Sayonara P.53 ↩
  10. Sayonara, Michelangelo, P.135 ↩
  11. Sayonara, Michelangelo, P.139 ↩
  12. Catalog, P.237 ↩
  13. Catalog, P.237-8 ↩