Ed Ruscha & The Two-Sided Coin of Influence

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

This is the third and final part of my look at Ed Ruscha/Now Then. Part 1  is here. Part 2 is here.

1- Heads

One door closed, another opened. Los Angeles County Museum on Fire, 1965-8, Oil on canvas, seen at MoMA. Ed Ruscha/Now Then is now open there. Pictures in this piece are thumbnails. Click any for full size.

Ed Ruscha/Now Then is a memory for those of us who saw it at MoMA from September 10, 2023 to January 15th of this year. It’s a memory in the making for those who are seeing it now at LACMA, seen above in Ed Ruscha’s 1965-8 nebulous “portrait” of it (which I discussed in Part 1), or will be seeing it until it closes there on October 6th. They’ll be pleased to know it’s a show with staying power, a show I continue to relive and think about on a daily basis, six months after it closed here. After following the trail of his devlopment in Part 1, “Ed Ruscha’s Head Scratchers,” seeing some echoes of the work of Artists past, I began to wonder… Every Artist I’ve come across has had influences. Who influenced Ed Ruscha? As the show was up, and now after it ended here, that question lingered.

Marcel Duchamp, L.H.O.O.Q., 1919, or later. One Artist Ed Ruscha has repeatedly expressed his admiration for is Duchamp, who he met in the early 1960s. There are numerous version of L.H.O.O.Q. since the 1919 original. I chose this one because t contains all the elements of the original, which I cannot find (if you have  let me know)- the mustache, the goatee, and the famous letters all of which Duchamp added to a Mona Lisa postcard. Duchamp once said that L.H.O.O.Q. means “there is fire down below,” though I’ve seen other definitions.  *- Photographer unknown.

“Duchamp had quite a sizable influence on me from a pictorial standpoint and from an emotional standpoint,” Ed Ruscha (Ed Ruscha, Leave Any Information After the Signal, P.324).

Ed Ruscha has not written an autobiography, so his book, Leave Any Information After the Signal, a collection of “Writings, Interviews, Bits, Pages” from 1960 to 2000 is the closest thing we have to a primary written source. In addition to just looking, I turned to it, along with the numerous other interviews he’s given over his six-decade plus career, for insights.

As seen in Part 1– Encountering Johns’s  Target with Four Faces in a black & white reproduction in a 1957 magazine was, he said, an ‘atomic bomb’ in his training, ‘a stranger fruit’ that he ‘saw as something that didn’t seem to follow the history of art. My teachers said it was not art. ‘I didn’t need to see the colors or the size…’ ‘I was especially taken with the fact that it was symmetrical, which was just absolutely taboo in art school- you didn’t make anything symmetrical…Art school was modernism, it was asymmetry, it was giant brush strokes…it was all these other things that were gestural rather than cerebral. So I began moving to things that had more of a premeditation1.’” Jasper Johns, Target with Four Faces, 1955, Encaustic on newspaper and cloth over canvas surrounded by four tinted-plaster faces in wood box with hinged front. Seen in Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror at the Whitney in 2021.

Besides naming Duchamp, Jasper Johns and his counterpart Robert Rauschenberg, Ed Ruscha hasn’t addressed the subject of influences all that often.

René Magritte, The Treachery of Images (This is Not a Pipe), 1929, Oil on canvas. (Not in the show.) *-LACMA Photo

Pondering the visual evidence, the first name that came to mind was Rene Magritte, 1898-1967, a well-known Belgian Artist who also had a long career and touched on a number of subjects Ed Ruscha has, while sharing his fondness for taking the familiar out of context (which Mr. Ruscha does with words, objects and places). He also incorporated words. Though often labelled a “Surrealist,” his work touches on any number of other realms and styles of Painting, which made him ahead of his time. As a result, his influence is extraordinary and ongoing. Time and again, I’d look at an Ed Ruscha, or a section of one, and think “Magritte,” beginning with Actual Size, 1962, which I showed in Part 1, which echoes Magritte’s The Treachery of Images, 1929 better known by the famous words it includes, “This is Not a Pipe2.” The Magritte seems to echo his contemporary, Duchamp’s L.H.O.O.Q., from 1919.

Salvador Dalí, Open Field with Ball in Centre and Mountains in  Rear, Study for the Walt Disney film Destino, 1948, Oil on masonite, left. Ed Ruscha, Painkillers, Tranquilizers, Olive, 1969, right. (*- Dali from the Dalí & Film MoMA catalog. Ed Ruscha as I saw it in the show.)3.

Of him, Mr. Ruscha said, “Yes, Magritte did influence me, but it came the other way around—what I call 360-degree influence. That’s influence from a person’s thoughts and force and not from his pictures, which the person being influenced has not seen, until later on. The same with Dalí. I’ve been influenced by Dalí, but it’s been through other sources. Because I’ll go back, and I’ll be working on something and I’ll see a picture of Dalí’s I’ve never seen before, and there is my work. (P.56).” I wrote about seeing Dalí in Rauscha in Part 1– before I found that quote.

Surrealism Soaped and Scrubbed, Ed Ruscha’s cover design for Artforum 5, No. 1, Special Issue: Surrealism, September, 1966. 

What about “Surrealism’s” influence, that of the group of European Artists so labelled?

Ed Ruscha was Art Director for Artforum Magazine from 1966-19724. His cover for the September, 1966 “Surrealism” Special Edition I find fascinating, particularly in regards to Ed Ruscha’s Art, overall. While this image has almost nothing to do with “historical Surrealism,” I find it ripe with the “kind” of surrealism (small “s,” which he also uses here) I see in Ed Ruscha’s work, while also being another of his trademarked play on words. There is nothing in “historical Surrealism” that influenced this (as far as I know), and so it’s another work that makes me wonder what, if anything, inspired it. On page 349 of Leave Any Information After the Signal, Mr. Ruscha denies the influence of the Surrealists handling of light on his work. That’s all he has to say about it.

The Back of Hollywood, 1977, Oil on canvas. Was Ed Ruscha the first to Paint words backwards? Probably not.

What about influences on his Word Painting? In After the Signal, he said,  “Well, there’ve been so many artists who have used words throughout the centuries really, but the ones I enjoy are mostly from the twentieth century. Say, Kurt Schwitters. [. . .] 5” On page 115, Paul Karlstrom directly asks Mr. Ruscha,  “Who were your heroes then, your role models?” He replied, “Well, I guess de Kooning was, and Franz Kline. Franz Kline had a lot to say at that particular time, and so they were more or less the passwords. You just emulated them, almost automatically. Then if you couldn’t emulate them you weren’t really on the right track. I still think that. But the work of Johns and Rauschenberg marked a departure in the sense that their work was premeditated.” It sounds like he was referring to his early days as a student under the Abstract Expressionist influenced Chouinard faculty in the late 1950s, as once again, it’s hard for me to see the influence of de Kooning or Kline in Ed Ruscha’s work.

Joan Miró, Photo: This is the Color of My Dreams 1925, Oil on canvas. *- Met Museum Photo

The Surrealists began as a literary “movement,” that experimented with “automatic writing.” Later, their influence spread to Painting. In Miró’s Photo: This is the Color of My Dreams, it comes full circle. Part of the Artist’s “peinture-poésie” (painting-poetry) series, this strikes me as a forerunner or precursor to the Word Paintings of Ed Ruscha. Yet, I have no idea if he saw it, or other works in Mirós series,  or when.

America’s Future, 1977, Oil on canvas. The title is shown in the next picture.

The feeling I’m left with is that these Artists “effected” him in ways outside of a direct visual influence. They are, what I call, “echoes.” What Ed Ruscha called “360 degree” influences. As for the stated influences, in Part 2, I mentioned that Thomas Cole was the influence on Mr. Ruscha’s Course of Empire series, from who he borrowed the name of the series. It seems to me the rest of his influences, if any, remain up for conjecture. Still, taking him at his work on possible influences would leave Ed Ruscha remarkably original.

Detail. Though Painted 18 years before he began his Course of Empire series I showed in Part 2, seeing this made me wonder if this work should be appended to the end of the series, i.e. the final outcome of it.

2- Tails

Turning the influence coin over, however, 67 years, and counting, into one of the most remarkable careers in American Art history, at this moment in time it’s hard to think of another Modern & Contemporary Artist, let alone an American Artist, who is more influential than Ed Ruscha is. In fact, it’s impossible for me to list here all the realms in which his influence can be seen. Those that come to mind the quickest include-

-His role in furthering the breaking of the strangle hold of Abstract Expressionism in Painting in the early 1960s.

-His unique way of incorporating words and typography into his Art.

-His Paintings of L.A. and the American West6.

No place on the planet has more Artist’s books than NYC’s Printed Matter, home of 15 ,000 books they’ve created. How many are/were inspired in part or wholly by Ed Ruscha? I don’t know the total but I keep finding more every time I go in. May 6, 2024.

-His ground-breaking Artist’s books/PhotoBooks. (Is it a stretch to say he’s played a defining role in the Contemporary Artist’s Book & PhotoBook phenomenon? I don’t think so.)

-His style of nonjudgmental roadside and aerial Photography.

-Entire genres of Painting, Photography and books have sprung up around his work.

Jeff Brouws, Various Small Books Referencing Various Small Books by Ed Ruscha, 2013. 288 pages of books, and just books, by other Artists influenced by Ed Ruscha, and it’s now 11 years old!

To this point, at least two substantial books, including the book above, have been published focused solely on his influence! All of this is even more impressive (or mind-boggling) when you consider Ed Ruscha is still with us and going strong at 86. Usually, the influence of Artists is something referred to in the past tense.

-His unique way of incorporating words and typography into his Art.

Ed Ruscha’s presence is so pronounced at Printed Matter, they even have a well-worn box just for books he’s influenced. ‘Nuff said. No, that’s not a copy of Mr. Ruscha’s very rare Twentysix Gasoline Stations. It’s Michalis Pincher’s 2009 homage to it, which “borrows” Ruscha’s cover verbatim.

All of this, also, makes it harder to fathom that Ed Ruscha/Now Then was the first large Ed Ruscha show here in 41 years7, and his first show at MoMA! That makes the extent of his influence that much more impressive. Suffice it to say it’s a lot easier to see Ed Ruscha’s influence than it might be to see the influence of others on his work.is so pronounced.

The saddest moment of the entire 4 month run of Ed Ruscha/ Now Then: the show’s entrance, moments after it closed for the last time on January 15, 2024. I saw it on its first preview day, and I was there when it closed for good. Shows are fugacious events. The ending of a great show is always sad; like saying “goodbye” to a friend. One you’ll never see again.

-Takeaways

In addition to providing an opportunity to ponder the scope of his influence, Now Then provides the chance to assess his achievement and his place among the important Artists of both the 20th and 21st centuries. Ed Ruscha strikes me as an Artist who is continually moving forward to the point that he is a seemingly endless innovator. Ed Ruscha/Now Then provided a rare chance to see the craft behind the mystery his work evokes; to watch the Artist move on an almost step-by-step basis from his beginnings though each of his phases, with a focus on his recurring themes and his innovations.

Yet, he’s also an Artist who’s extremely aware of his, and our, pasts, and his Art stays in touch with it often in surprising ways. Ed Ruscha has never stood still long enough to have any box his work gets put in fit for very long. The Ed Ruscha box is the only one that fits an Artist as extraordinarily diverse as Mr. Ruscha has been and continues to be. Ed Ruscha/Now Then is a show that will live long in memory, and no doubt, influence.

Part 1 of my look at Ed Ruscha/Now Then is here. Part 2 is here.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is  “Goodnight My Love,” as performed by Paul Anna. In 2017, MOCA commissioned a short documentary on two themes in Ed Ruscha’s work (the text of which is here). In the resulting piece, Ed Ruscha says, “I’m gonna play this tune called ‘Goodnight My Love’ and this represents everrything I felt about California when I first came out here…” Because he doesn’t specify which recording he’s going to play, I chose the Paul Anka version from 1969.

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  1. Alexandra Schwartz, Ed Ruscha’s Los Angeles, P.15
  2. I cannot think of Rene Magritte without thinking of the singular Photographer, Duane Michals. When I met him, I quickly shifted the chat from Photography to Painting. He rightly gloated over the fact that he had met and Photographed his three favorite Painters- Balthus, Giorgio de Chirico, and Rene Magritte, with who he did a terrific PhotoBook, that he graciously signed for me. All three are under-appreciated in my book, and remain among my favorites, too.
  3. In spite of being among the best known, in my view, Dalí may be the most under-appreciated Artist of the 20th century, as anyone who saw the incredible Salvador Dalí Centennial Exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum in 2005 knows. It’s partially his own fault, as the endless fantastic stunts he put on overshadows the appreciation of his Art in my opinion. History will eventually fix that, I believe.
  4. Alexandra Schwartz, P.35
  5. Ed Ruscha, Leave Any Information After the Signal, P. 324
  6. Along with those of, and quite different from,Georgia O’Keeffe.
  7. As I mentioned in Part 1, the last big Ed Ruscha show here was the traveling retrospective, The Works of Ed Ruscha, which came to the Whitney Museum in 1982!

Ed Ruscha’s Wall Rockets

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava.

This is Part 2 of my look at Ed Ruscha/Now Then at MoMA. Part 1 is here, Part 3 is here.

From the late 1950s, through the early 1960s Ed Ruscha made regular trips back and forth between Oklahoma City, where he grew up, and L.A., his adopted home since the late 1950s. In 19621, he Photographed the gas stations that caught his eye on these journeys with his trusty Yashika Twin-reflex camera, taking 60 or 70 Photographs2. In an interview in 1973 he said, “What used to belong to the Navaho and Apache Indians now belongs to the white man and he’s got gas stations out there. So, I started seeing it as cultural curiosities.”

“I’d always wanted to make a book of some kind.”

He continues. “When I was in Oklahoma I got a brainstorm in the middle of the night to do this little book called Twentysix Gasoline Stations. I knew the title. I knew it would be photographs of twenty-six gasoline stations3.” “The first book came out of a play with words. The title came before I even thought about the pictures. I like the word ‘gasoline’ and I like the specific quality of ‘twenty-six4.'”  “Months went into the planning of that. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble by loosening up. You know, not gotten so concerned with how I wanted the thing to look. I changed the form about fifty times at the printer’s5.” He self-published Twentysix Gasoline Stations in 1963 (although the title page states 1962).

You’re looking at a revolution. Twentysix Gasoline Stations, 1963, revolutionized the Artist book, the PhotoBook, and street-side Phtography, with unique design, turning gas station Photography into a genre in the process. This copy was hanging for visitors to peruse, which was somewhat surprising as it’s now a rare book- even this second edition copy is worth hundreds of dollars. Knowing all of it from reproductions, this was the first time I was able to page through an actual copy of it. Pictures in this piece are thumbnails. Click on any for full size.

It’s an Artist’s book/PhotoBook whose influence is now incalculable.

Published in an edition of 400 copies, a case can be made that it ‘s the most influential PhotoBook of the contemporary period after Robert Frank’s The Americans (which the Artist acknowledges as an influence). Twentysix Gasoline Stations, with its “industrial” look and feel stood at odds with the frequently hand-made Artist’s book norm to the time. Virtually every aspect of the Artist’s book was reimagined, from the typography and text layout on the cover to the sparseness of the interior contents, with a lack of text save for image titles.

Believe it or not, this is one of the most influential Photographs in Modern & Contemporary Photography. STANDARD, ARMADILLO, TX, perhaps the key image in Twentysix Gasoline Stations, went on to have multiple lives of its own, inspiring numerous Ed Ruscha Paintings, Drawings & Prints, as well as the work of other Artists.

Speaking of the end result, he said-

“I realized that for the first time this book had an inexplicable thing I was looking for, and that was a kind of a “Huh?” That‘s what I’ve always worked around. All it is is a device to disarm somebody with my particular message5.”

Having immersed myself in PhotoBooks for the past 7 years, and Art books most of my life, it’s impossible for me to overstate the influence Twentysix Gasoline Stations has had, and continues to have, on the Art world. It turned Art & PhotoBook creation and publishing on its head, rewriting what a book could be and who could make one. He’s said he meant the pictures to be “like a collection of readymades7,” a term and genre Marcel Duchamp put on the Art map. Still, it received a mixed reaction when it was released, including famously being rejected by the Library of Congress.

Standard Station, Amarillo, TX, 1963, Oil on canvas, 64 15/16 x 121 13/16 inches. The “locomotive” compositional device, seen in Large Trademark with Eight Spotlights, 1962, in Part 1, returns, splitting the composition in two, just the beginning of what’s fascinating about this.

“I would say I came to painting through photography,” Ed Ruscha8

The STANDARD, ARMADILLO, TX, Photograph begat the Standard Station, Amarillo, TX Painting in 1963. Obviously, the Photo just shown has been reworked, reimagined, or he based this on another Photo. Whatever the case may be, the resulting composition seen here would subsequently take many forms and become iconic. Standard Station, Ten Cent Western Being Torn in Half, below, followed a year later.The Paintings begat Standard Station, Amarillo, TX Prints, with Standard Station, Amarillo, TX Drawings being created along the way. So ubiquitous did they become that gas station Paintings and gas station Photography are now, basically, his genres. Sooner or later, everyone who shoots or Paints a gas station is going to be compared to Ed Ruscha. Many, like Vik Muniz, openly acknowledge the influence.

What strikes me are the abstract elements, like the selective detailing- you can read the prices on the gas pumps, but detail disappears on everything behind them, creating a surreal experience (the “realistic” gas pumps offset against the featureless building behind them), under that big red sign whose white lettering, offset against the engulfing darkness, feels bold.

Standard Station, Ten Cent Western Being Torn in Half, 1964, Oil on canvas, 65 x 121 1/2 inches. Mr. Ruscha has likened  the comic flying off the canvas to the upper right to a “coda” in Music. For me, it looks like debris, garbage, pollution. In this piece, the featureless building has light and shadows added to it. Once again, the numbers and text on the gas pumps are very legible.

At the time, Ed Ruscha shot them, gas stations were bastions of the new found freedom of the open road and the catalyst of the massive post-war westward exodus that the Artist, himself, became a part of. Over time, gas stations would be seen differently as the toll of pollution and environmental decay mounted.

Ed Ruscha’s second most famous Artist book/PhotoBook. A copy of the legendary Every Building on the Sunset Strip, 1966, published in one long accordion fold. Ed Ruscha put a tripod on the back of a truck and went up and down Sunset Strip taking one Photo after another until he had shot every building on both sides of the street. Here, we get one direction on the top of the page, with what’s across the street synchronized and mirrored along the bottom.

Further books followed- 14 more to 1972, the most famous of which is Every Building on the Sunset Strip, 1966, another ground-breaking work. Ed Ruscha has stated that part of the reason he went west after high school, instead of east, was because of the glamour of L.A. Here, he shows the “glamour” of the famous Sunset Strip in all its “glory.” Then, in 1973, he shot all 12 miles of Hollywood Blvd. In 2004, he reshot Hollywood Blvd in color, and paired with the 1972 images, they became the book THEN & NOW in 2005. It’s one example of Ed Ruscha combining his love of the effects of time with revisiting his past subjects.

In all the acclaim he receives I almost never hear credit given the Artist for his exceptional Painting technique- the equal of anyone else’s of his time. Right from the start, Painting after Painting reveals sublime subtlety and under-appreciated skill.  Then Now provided a glorious chance to study his, often large, Paintings up close and marvel at his skill and taste. It also provides the extremely rare chance to see works of the same subject side by side, particularly two of his famous Standard Gasoline Station Paintings.

Shows present once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to see great works united from distant parts of the globe for a brief time. That’s why I waited over an hour for the crowds to part to get this shot. More than likely, I’ll never see these two great Standard Stations together again. Both of these also feature the “speeding locomotive” compositional device seen in the Large Trademark Painting, which adds to the somewhat surreal overall effect, wonder and mystery.

Further to the Large Trademark Painting, Ed Ruscha also began Painting the sights of L.A., which again seems to be his domain to the point that I can’t think of anyone who Painted the city before he did. (I’m sure there were. Right?)

“Being in Los Angeles has had little or no effect on my work. I could have done it anywhere.” Ed Ruscha, Leave Any Information at the Signal, Statement in “West Coast Style”

Los Angeles County Museum on Fire, 1965-8, 53 1/2 x 133. 1/2 inches. Fun fact- Guess where Ed Ruscha/Now Then reopened on April 7, 2024 after closing at MoMA? You’re looking at it.

Los Angeles County Museum on Fire, 1965-8, like most of Ed Ruscha’s work, has been the subject of endless conjecture. Over the years, the Artist has made a few statements about it, including this one, “… There’s no great message here. It’s just a picture to look at9.” That might be hard to believe. After graduating college, he took that trip to Europe I mentioned in Part 1, and came away disappointed at the lack of Contemporary Art on view in the museums. Back home, things weren’t much better. Contemporary Art was slow to gain admission to the hallowed halls of institutions here. Is it a stretch to think this was somewhere on his mind when he Painted this? I tend to think it was in there somewhere. The Watts riots had recently taken place. The Now Then Catalogue has this to say about it-

“Ruscha’s characteristic denial of content ignores the fact that not far from his studio in mid-August 1965, just a few months after the inauguration of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the city of Los Angeles was burning10.”

Ed Ruscha said, “The plain truth behind the Watts riots is that the riots themselves were good and beneficial and healthy regardless of loss of life. The Watts riots nationalized sympathy for a gigantic racial injustice11.”

He soon set a number of other sites on fire in his Paintings, including the an Amarillo Standard Station (which wasn’t in the show), and Norm’s, which was.

Norm’s, La Cienega, on Fire, 1964, Oil and pencil on canvas. The work features a complete lack of detail, save for the letters “ORMS” on the sign.  It’s interesting how the flames follow the “locomotive” line. Without those letters (which themselves are meaningless without the title), this Painting would be a completely abstract composition of shapes and lines.

For someone who’s so closely associated with L.A., and has been for over 60 years, it’s strange that some of his most well-known work shows L.A. landmarks being destroyed or in ruins. For example, he has continued to “destroy” the Hollywood sign, in different ways, over and over again throughout his career. Still, his fame continued to rise as did his association with the city. In spite of all this (and possibly because of it), in 1978, a six-story(!) tall mural (also referred to as the “Ed Ruscha Monument”) of the Artist was created by the Artist Kent Twitchell, for who Ed Ruscha was “the unorthodox hero of the art world.” Would anyone else be able to “destroy” a city’s landmarks and then become seen as the figurehead of that city’s Art community with a monument created for them? It didn’t happen for Nero. Unlike the emperor, Ed Ruscha didn’t actually destroy anything, except maybe in his mind and on some large canvases.

Rancho, 1968, Oil on canvas, which looks like it was made with a liquid, surrounded by Fire, Sin, Rustic Pines, each 1967, Gunpowder on paper, from left to right.

This calls to mind another thing Ed Ruscha doesn’t get enough credit for: innovation. In the 3rd, 4th and 5th galleries we see pieces made out of strange and unprecedented materials. Unhappy with the possibilities of paint or pencil, the Artist began exploring the possibilities of Drawing with gunpowder! The results, as seen above, are incredible. He found he had more control with it. In 1969, the Artist began going further, using unconventional materials in his Stains Portfolio of seventy-five substances ranging from L.A. tap water to egg yolk.

Installation view of Chocolate Room, 1971/2023, Chocolate on paper sheets.

His Chocolate Room for the United States Pavilion at the 1970 Venice Biennale, and recreated in a room of its own in Now Then, followed. After that, he began using a number of these “other” materials in his Word and Phrase Paintings.

Cotton Puffs, 1974. Egg yolk on moiré fabric, 36 × 40″

Along with this constant experimentation came the inevitable failure, like the egg yokes in Cotton Puffs, 1974, fading quickly. Ed has been remarkably cool with these. Accepting them for what they are12. (And probably learning in the process.) Each has its place in his oeuvre, with all the examples on view seeming to hold up remarkably well over the years given they are experiments. By the mid-70s, he had gone back to pastel on paper13. Though the materials experiments were short-lived, it led me to peruse the 7 volumes of the Ed Ruscha: Catalogue Raisonne of the Paintings, published by Steidl (which is a bit ironic- or fitting- because Steidl has published the work of any number of Photographers who include gas stations in their work, including the entirety of the 3-volume set, Gas Stop, by David Freund), which revealed that this insatiable exploration of materials was only the tip of his creativity iceberg. Paging through it (which only goes up to 2011 at this point), I was amazed to discover that though he has created a number of works with ostensibly the same subject, no two are identical. The differences are obvious or subtle. Still, this speaks to Ed Ruscha’s seemingly endless powers of invention and refusal to repeat himself verbatim. I was stunned when I discovered this, which was completely unexpected (though I should have been tipped off by what his STANDARD STATION, ALBUQUERQUE Photograph became). Seeing this range and variety gave me a glimpse of insight into just what may be keeping him going and creating since the late 1950s.

Wall Rockets, 2000, Acrylic on canvas

Perhaps THE highlight of Ed Ruscha/Now Then at MoMA for me was the chance to see 6 of the 10 Paintings from the Artist’s Course of Empire series. As I’ve looked at his work over the past 24 years of this century, these have fascinated me as much as any other work by Mr. Ruscha. Created for, and then debuted, at the 2005 Venice Biennalle, they subsequently travelled to NYC where they were on display at the Whitney in a show of the same name, the last important (though small) Ed Ruscha show in NYC until Now Then. Somehow, I missed them there, so seeing 6 might be as close as I get to seeing them all.

3 works from Ed Ruscha’s Blue Collar series, 1993, on the 3 facing walls.

Occupying the large, penultimate gallery of the show, the Course of Empire Paintings strike me as serving as a touchstone for a number of Ed Ruscha themes. They also eerily presage what has been going on in much of NYC (and perhaps elsewhere) this decade, with a number of stores and businesses closing due to Covid, then more closing due to the realities of our post-Covid (if we are post-Covid) economy, many have changed hands in a short time. Others remain for rent. The shape, perspectives and lack of detailing on the one-story  buildings I find reminiscent of Standard Station, Ten Cent Western Being Torn in Half, seen earlier. In each, our point of view is the same, and the same as in that Standard Station Painting- they are seen from below.

At the opposite end of the gallery, the same scenes reappear in his Course of Empire series, 2005, now in color, though right and left are flipped. (The scene on the right wall is that depicted on the left wall in Blue Collar Photo, above this one. The scene on the left wall is the scene shown on the right wall of the Blue Collar series above this one.)

The series evolved over a period of 13 years, with Ed Ruscha Painting the 5 black & white pieces, titled Blue Collar, in 1992-

Blue Collar Trade School, 1992, Acrylic on canvas. The only multi-story structure in the series.

Returning to the subject and the same sites  in 2005, this time in color and showing the effects of time passing.

The Old Trade School Building, 2005, Acrylic on canvas

Perhaps, his most subtly powerful series, their under-stated compositions lead to open-ended interpretations.

Installation view of the complete Course of Empire, by Thomas Cole, 1834-36, as seen at The Met’s Thomas Cole’s Journey in 2018. The rise and fall of civilization as seen from the same place, with the same distinctive mountain peak appearing in each Painting.

Based on, and in homage to, Thomas Cole’s legendary Course of Empire series, 1834-6, (which I wrote about here), they are another instance of Ruscha revisiting earlier work, his Blue Collar series from 1992. These also highlight that alongside the humor in any number of his pieces, running parallel, is a real depth of concern. Concern for the country, the world, the environment.

Psycho Spaghetti Western #7, 2010-11, Acrylic on canvas

“It’s all just rape of the land for profit these days. It’s fairly sick. Southern California is all just one big city now. But what do you say about progress? … So something’s got to give, and the landscape’s the first thing that gives….There is a certain flavor of decadence that inspires me. And when I drive into some sort of industrial wasteland in America, with the themeparks and warehouses, there’s something saying something to me. It’s a mixture of those things that gives me some sense of reality and moves me along as an artist,” Ed Ruscha 14.

Taking full advantage of having such a long career, the Artist has revisited past themes, and places, fairly often to the point that it’s a running theme in his work. Change over time…for the better, or worse, is left to the viewer to decide. Ostensibly set in L.A., the structures in Blue Collar/Course of Empire could be literally anywhere. As such they have a universality to them (as do a number of other 21st century Ruscha’s) that sets them apart from his purely L.A. work, like his Hollywood sign pieces.

Our Flag, 2017, Acrylic on canvas. The last work in the show.

Thomas Cole influencing Ed Ruscha’s Blue Collar & Course of Empire series started me thinking about other possible influences on his work. I touched on some in Part 1. In Part 3, I’ll take a closer look at them, and then flip that coin over.

Part 3 is here

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “L.A. Woman” by The Doors, one of the ultimate L.A. bands, from the 1971 album of the same name. (Narrowly beating out “California Girls” by the Beach Boys from Summer Days (And Summer Nights), 1965.) Ed Ruscha was into “car culture” before moving to L.A., and after, among other things he has in common with the #1 L.A. band of its time. Notice the gas station Jim Morrison, “another lost angel,” to quote his lyric, stops in to about half way through-

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 3/4  years, during which 320 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate by PayPal below to allow me to continue. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and 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. Ed Ruscha: Catalogue Raisonne of the Paintings, Vol 7, P.476
  2. E.R., Tate, P.30
  3. Willoughby Sharp, ‘“… a kind of a Huh?”, An Interview with Edward Ruscha’, Avalanche, no.7, Winter/ Spring 1973, p.30.
  4. ER, Tate, P. 31
  5. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/edward-ruscha-1882/ed-ruscha-and-art-everyday
  6. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/edward-ruscha-1882/ed-ruscha-and-art-everyday
  7. Reading Ed Ruscha, P.50
  8. Ed Ruscha, Photographer, P.7
  9. Ed Ruscha quoted in Ed Ruscha/Now Then Exhibition Catalog, P.21
  10. Ed Ruscha/Now Then Exhibition Catalog, P.21
  11. Ed Ruscha, Leave Any Information at the Signal, P.5
  12. E.R., Tate, P.65
  13. Ed Ruscha/Now Then, P.170
  14. Leave Any Information at the Signal, P.18

Henry Taylor: The Art of Empathy

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Show seen: Henry Taylor: B Side @ the Whitney Museum

See Alice Jump, 2021, Acrylic on canvas, as are all the Paintings in this piece, unless specified. From the wall card- “The track-and-field legend Alice Coachman, depicted here, set a record in the high jump at the 1948 London games, becoming the first Black woman to win an Olympic gold medal. By altering the photo and positioning Coachman as if she is jumping over houses in a neighborhood, Taylor metaphorically alludes to the social and economic barriers she overcame growing up in the segregated South.” The pictures in this piece are thumbnails. Click any picture for full size.

I’ve had my eye on Henry Taylor since I reported that he was Having a New York Moment,” as I called it in 2017 when he received the High Line Mural Commission simultaneously with being one of the “stars” of the 2016 Whitney Biennial. Okay, both eyes. The Artist returned to NYC in 2019 for a solo show at Blum & Poe, at which I met him.

Henry Taylor modifying/ammending his wall-sized Mural with my Sharpie at Blum & Poe, September 24, 2019.

I lent him my Sharpie which he proceeded to use to modify the large Mural that was the centerpiece of his show as I watched with my mouth open. I then followed him to the terrace where he inscribed his outdoor installation with it. I’d never seen an Artist modify a work (or two) hanging in a show in my 40+ years of show-going before.

Needless to say meeting Mr. Taylor that night was an extraordinary experience made unforgettable by his being quite nice to me, and I don’t think it had to do with the pen. I came away feeling Henry Taylor is one very hard not-to-like man. I wondered if that might have been born in the fact that Henry Taylor is a “30-years in the making overnight sensation.” All this being said, everything I express about his Art here I felt before I met Mr. Taylor. Almost exactly four years to the day later, Mr. Taylor’s Art returned to NYC in Henry Taylor: B Side at the Whitney, his mid-career Retrospective, which only expanded my appreciation of the depth of his accomplishment and filled in the gaps.

Gettin it Done, 2016, at the show’s entrance.

B Side is the most powerful Painting show I’ve seen since Kerry James Marshall: Mastry at the lost and lamented Met Breuer in 2017.

Now, or never! 4:30pm, January 28, 2024. One and one-half hours before Henry Taylor: B Side closed for the last time. Installation view of one of the two, large parallel galleries I mention further below. The other is behind the wall to the left.

This is remarkable because Henry Taylor was so late in getting his Art career started.

Hammons meets a hyena on holiday, 2016. Henry Taylor is a student of Art history and an entire gallery was devoted to works inspired by the work of other Artists. Here, he riffs on Dawoud Bey’s famous Photo of David Hammons selling snow balls one winter day from 1983.

The first thing that might catch a viewer’s eye is his palette. On a number of occasions his colors caught my eye from hundreds of feet away across large rooms. For that reason alone, a full Retrospective of his work over 6 galleries of the Whitney Museum’s 5th floor this winter, was a thing of beauty.

Untitled, 2021, Acrylic on linen. In fitting with the show’s title, here the Artist “covers” a Painting he saw in London’s National Portrait Gallery of King Henry V. This could be a play on his nickname- “Henry the VIII,” being the youngest of 8.

But life is not full of blue skies, roses, or bowls of cherries, and neither is Henry Taylor’s Art. There’s much, much more to be seen in his work. As enchanting as his palette is, it’s the depth of his content and his unique way of presenting it that sets his Art apart.

Untitled, 2022. A Portrait of the Artist’s brother, Randy, a former Black Panther (with a large one looming behind him) and now a dog breeder in Texas, depicted looking like he’s about to give a speech as he did in those earlier days.

That content speaks to a very wide range of subjects. Perhaps, most well-known for his Portraits, which as Antwaun Sargent points out, differ from the work of Kerry James Marshall in his preference for “the outcast,” as he calls them1. This is fitting for a show titled B Side, which is a reference to the other side of a single 45rpm record. The B Side of a hit 45 was almost always something overlooked and rarely played, except by devoted fans. It can also be a collection of lesser known or cover songs (like the album B-Sides, by Oasis). Both seem to fit the show. Yet, along with outcasts, B Side contains numerous Portraits of icons- political, Musical, and athletic. Throughout, it seems to me Henry Taylor Paints his subjects from the inside, out. Something quite remarkable. My impression is that he does it through empathy; from connecting and relating to the person he’s depicting in some way- even if he’s never met them, as in the Portrait of Alice Coachman up top. As good as his Art is, in the end, empathy might be what separates Henry Taylor.

Too Sweet, 2016. This extraordinary Portrait is based on a Photo the Artist took from inside his car as this man approached seeking help from passing motorists. A whopping 132 x 72 inches, its monumentality is furthered by viewing the figure from below. It’s also an example of the Artist selectively blurring facial details, in this case his eyes, which occurs off and on in the show, and which I find endlessly fascinating. I wasn’t a bit surprised to find out that MoMA has acquired it.

B Side complements his Portraits with a wide range of scenes from everyday life, with the specter of racism, and its impact, hovering as the omnipresent horror it is and has been, never far away. Of course, Mr. Taylor is well-acquainted with the reality of racism. Some of his Paintings on the subject of his grandfather hint that his 1933 murder in East Texas may be a continuing influence, as could well be expected. In fact, this was the subject of the large Mural, Ancestors of Genghis Khan with Black Man on Horse, 2015-17, which graced one of the lobbies of the 2017 Whitney Biennial, as I showed here.

Resting, 2011, Acrylic and collage on canvas. Taylor depicts his niece and nephew sitting on a couch at home with a reclining figure behind them. Further back is a Corrections Corporation of America truck, a line of uniformed men, and a wall with “WARNING SHOTS NOT REQUIRED” stenciled on it. Before the couple are Canteen Correctional Services forms for family members to authorize items prisoners can purchase at the commissary.

Most often, but not entirely, his subjects are Black, and with the body of work he has created over the past 30 years, Mr. Taylor has emerged as “one of the most powerful and poignant observers on what it means to be Black in America working today1.”

Wegrett, 2006, Acrylic and cardboard collage on linen. One of the most unique Portraits of an Artist with his mother in Art. The collaged cardboard seems to read “WE REGRET.” The wall card says- “Here, the words may allude to the pain he feels about the hardships his mother faced in her life. As Taylor explained, ‘I painted a picture of myself on my knees in front of my mama, and I don’t know why I painted that, but I just did, and I know I cried on that.'”

To complement his range, the show has been arranged by theme. As a result, B Side is a bit like a story with chapters; beginning with family, moving to his early creative days, and then to the subjects that hold his attention as a mature Artist. His current level of success doesn’t seem to have changed him or his Art one iota. Everything he’s done has that feeling of having been cut from the same cloth.

Untitled, 2016–22. Dr. Martin Luther King plays football with some kids while 3 ominous figures watch from the rear.

The first two galleries are devoted to Portraits, with an emphasis on his immediate and extended family, and some Self-Portraits. It’s hard to think of another Artist who has Painted his extended family so often and so strikingly (as in Untitled, 2022, shown earlier, of his brother, Randy- one example). Throughout B Side, I was fascinated by the Artist’s choices in creating his Portraits. Specifically, his choices of when and which facial details to include (as in Untitled, 2016–22, above, and Too Sweet, 2016, earlier). Are these done to cause the viewer to look elsewhere besides the face, or to make them look closer? This is a bit reminiscent of what Edward Hopper did on occasion, as in his Room in New York, 1932, as I discussed here.

First work. A collection of Henry Taylor’s Portrait Drawings of patients he worked with at Camarillo State Hospital, 1985-95, Graphite on paper. One is Pastel, colored pencil and ink on paper. These date from during his time as a student at Oxnard Community College and then the California Institute of the Arts (aka CalArts).

The third gallery took the viewer back to Henry’s beginnings as an Artist. Born in 1958, he spent the decade from 1984 to 1994 working as a psychiatric technician at Camarillo State Mental Hospital, Camarillo, CA.3. During this time, he created his earliest known work, Drawing and Painting a number of the patients he worked with: adults living with developmental disabilities or mental illness as well as those seeking treatment for substance use disorders, developing close relationships. 

“I learned not to dismiss anybody,” he recalls. “It just made me a little more patient, a little more empathetic. It taught me to embrace a lot of things. A lot of people will avoid a person who doesn’t appear normal, but I’m not like that.” Henry Taylor, in a must-read 2016 interview, here.

Untitled 1992. One of the earliest Paintings in the show. When B Side opened in October, I was buried in my piece on Van Gogh’s Cypresses which I published in November. Cypresses mostly takes place when Vincent was a patient in an insane asylum. Therefore, it was impossible for me not to make a connection between Henry’s experiences and Vincent’s. When I first saw this Painting, I was immediately reminded of Photos of the bath tubs Vincent was assigned to for therapeutic treatment in the San Remy Asylum almost exactly a century earlier.

For the last half of that decade as a psych tech, he was also a student at CalArts where he was at least a decade older than his fellow students, graduating in 1995 (among numerous others, Ed Ruscha was a 1961 graduate). Henry began his Art career at 37. After struggling to find representation and recognition, the world has gradually caught up with him to the point that 30 years on, he’s now one of our more influential and respected Artists, with a blockbuster Retrospective that appeared at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA), L.A. before moving to the Whitney.

Screaming Head, 1999, Oil on canvas. Just wow.

Working with his patients turned out to have a decisive impact that would continue in everything he’s done. Early on in his career after graduating, Paintings, like this one, continued to speak to his Camarillo experiences. 

From there the visitor emerged into two large parallel galleries that lie at the center and heart of the show largely focused on being Black in America. The first one ranges from a 4th of July cookout to incarceration to the show-stopping THE TIMES THAY AIN’T A CHANGING FAST ENOUGH, 2017, depicting the murder of Philandro Castile. On the other side of the wall, the other large gallery features Paintings related to the Black Panthers and a large installation recreating a Black Panther speech with appropriately attired mannequins.

THE TIMES THAY AIN’T A CHANGING FAST ENOUGH, 2017. Per the wall card- “Taylor has said that he was motivated to paint this scene immediately upon learning about it- ‘I don’t even think I thought about ever showing that one when I painted it; it was just something I had to get out of my head.'”

THE TIMES THAY AIN’T A CHANGING FAST ENOUGH is the most powerful Painting I’ve seen this century. It’s hard for me to think that history worn’t regard it as akin to a (Goya’s)  The Third of May 1808  of our time.

“Taylor’s paintings occupy a new and different space within Black radical aesthetics,” Charles Gaines, Artist4.

too much hate, in too many state, 2001. From the wall card: “This painting places the viewer in the vantage point of James Byrd Jr., a Black man who was abducted and murdered on June 7, 1998, in Jasper County, Texas, by three white supremacists who chained his ankles to the back of their pickup truck and dragged him to his death. The brutal murder led to a national outcry, prompting calls for stronger hate crime legislation.”

While it’s front and center in  THE TIMES THEY AIN’T A CHANGING FAST ENOUGH, and too much hate, in too many state, “social criticism” in Henry Taylor’s work is often equally subtle, but always sharply on point. On the other side of the wall was a large gallery centered around the Black Panthers, including this remarkable installation-

Untitled, 2022, Mannequins, leather jackets, and posters, including a Colin Kaepernick 49ers jersey.

The wall card informs us that Mr. Taylor created this installation to honor the Black Panthers and his brother, Randy, who was active in his local branch. Adjacent to it were Photographs of many of those recently killed by police, bringing past and present together. On the other two walls of the gallery were Paintings of former Panthers Huey Newton, and this remarkable rendering of Eldridge Cleaver, looking like you-know-who out of James Mc Neill Whistler.

Eldridge Cleaver, 2007.

Along with the outcast, B Side also showed figures who have gone on to attain and achieve: quite a few of them.

A counterpoint to his Portraits of the overlooked and outcast, was a room of Portraits of celebrities, that included Chuck Berry, Jay Z, and Haile Selassie, were this Portrait of Jackie Robinson, A Jack Move-Proved It, 2011, right, and Michelle & Barak Obama, Untitled, 2020, left, sporting a copy of the Henry Taylor Rizzoli monograph of their coffee table.

And then there was this remarkable pairing-

That Was Then, 2013, left, depicts an older Black man who has probably heard the racist slur surrounding him many times, and Watch Your Back, 2013,

Fresh, exciting, bold, beautiful, direct yet mysterious, subtle and powerful, the Art of Henry Taylor has something for everyone, and I suspect that people many years in the future will continue to find that in it. B Side was a show that honored “outcasts” and the inspiring achievements of icons side-by-side, while pulling no punches about the world both of them, and the rest of us, live in.

For all those reasons Henry Taylor: B Side was a landmark show. A near perfect mid-career Retrospective in my view.

Man, I’m so full of doubt, but I must Hustle Forward, as my daughter Jade would say, 2020. Ladies & gentlemen, the one and only Henry Taylor.

It seems to me that to be able to face ALL of this with dignity and empathy for others is a remarkable thing; something all-too-rare today. As great as Henry Taylor’s Art is, this says even more about Henry Taylor, the man.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Sign O’ the Times” by Prince, performed live here in 1987,  during Henry Taylor’s Camarillo days-

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 1/2 years, during which 320 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate by PayPal to allow me to continue below. Thank you,  Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and 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. Antwaun Sargent on Artsy in 2018
  2. Antwaun Sargent on Artsy in 2018
  3. Where Charlie Parker was famously sent for six months in 1946, and supposedly immortalized it in “Relaxin’ at Camarillo,” though he hated that title his producer gave it. It’s also rumored to be euphemistically referred to as “Hotel California” in the Eagles song of the same name.
  4. Henry Taylor: B Side Catalog, P.60

Sarah Sze: Timelapse- Freeze Frame

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

This is Part 2 of my look at Sarah Sze: Timelapse at the Guggenheim Museum. Part 1 is here.

Slice detail with Wright’s Oculus.

As I said in Part 1, there were so many amazing details in Timelapse I decided to devote a separate piece to them. I’m showing 40 as thumbnails. Click on any image for full size. There’s also a short video clip.

…and wonder about Timelapse I continue to…Show posters behind appropriate scaffolding, Seen on 10th Avenue, June 5, 2023.

The hub for the black string.

Following are Photos of details in the 8 Bays on the 6th floor. Please refer to the overall shots of each installation in Part 1 for orientation and where they are installed in each piece.

The following are details from Bay 1, The Night Sky is Dark Despite the Vast Number of Stars in the Universe

Detail of the Hammock in Bay 1. The Hammock over the ground floor pool and the Hammock Sarah Sze created in 2015 had a similar overlay. I believe the material on the floor is part of the installation, and hasn’t fallen through.

Detail of the far left corner of Bay 1, with a shadow from the Hammock and an image from River of Images.

The following are details from Bay 2, Travelers Among Streams and Cascades

Three details from the Painting, Travelers Among Streams and Cascades. This one from the left section…

Detail of the center section…

Detail of the right section.

The following are details from Bay 3, Slice.

Slice. Detail of the front.

Slice. Close up of the front. Shown here are a number of the recurring image “themes”: hands, birds, the Sun, fire, the sky and other aspects of nature.

Detail behind Slice with River of Images.

One of many levels and rulers.

Looking over a rung of a ladder to see the model of Slice in its Bay installed under it displayed next to the final piece.

Throughout Timelapse lamps were used apparently to draw the viewer’s attention to specific images or objects.

The following are details from Bay 4, Diver, Second of two parts and Images That Images Beget

The following are details from Bay 5, Times Zero

Times Zero, 2023.

The following are details from Bay 6, A Certain Slant,

Detail of the center surrounded by images of hands and objects.

Detail of the far right corner looking to the right from the image above. I imagine the salt from those blue containers is what is in the center of the circle.

Detail of part of the installation on the floor further to the right in the previous picture.

The following are details from Bay 7, Last Impression

An alternate, slightly closer view of Bay 5 from what I showed in Part 1. As you can see in the full size image, the empty frames to the right are attached to the strings that run across the gallery.

Some details of the ladder at the right side, front, of the Bay.

The following detail is from Bay 8, Things Caused to Happen (Oculus)

Short clip of Things Caused to Happen (Oculus).

The Artist points out that in the end, the digital images beamed on to Things Caused to Happen (Oculus) break up on the far wall.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “I’ve Seen It All” by Bjork. This time in the version with Thom Yorke.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

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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.

Mohammed Sami: The Power of Invisibility

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

Show seen- Mohammed Sami: Muzzle of Time @ Luhring Augustine

Mohammed Sami’s first U.S. show won’t be his last.

Refugee Camp, 2022, on the far wall and seen further below. All works are Mixed media on linen unless specified. Click any picture for full size.

I don’t know if I’m the first to say that, but I say it with confidence. I walked into Mohammed Sami: Muzzle of Time at Luhring Augustine on September 16th and immediately fell under the spell of his mysterious Paintings. I left realizing I’d “discovered” another rising Painter to be reckoned with. Of course, Mohammed Sami had already been discovered by numerous others before I saw his work. It turns out his Art was selected for the 58th Carnegie International in Pittsburgh, followed in March, 2022 by his first solo show in London. This spring, that city’s Camden Art Centre mounted his first solo institutional show, Mohammed Sami: The Point 0, known to me through its excellent catalog. When it opened on September 8th at Luhring Augustine, one of NYC’s most forward-looking galleries, Muzzle of Time announced his arrival on these shores in full effect in his first solo show here.

Meditation Room, 2022, 110 1/4 by 90 1/2 inches. Note the portrait of Sadam, near the upper right.

His road to this point has been long and grueling for someone not even 40. Born in Baghdad in 1984, where he had the misfortune of being raised during Saddam’s regime, and the resulting wars. As a dyslexic schoolboy, he traded Painting murals and portraits of Sadam (which every house was required to have) for passing grades in school. In fact, during Mr. Sami’s life in Iraq, the country was involved in no less than EIGHT wars!1. Art would prove to be his way out. He studied Drawing and Painting at the Institute of Fine Arts in Baghdad, graduating in 2005, before being granted asylum in Sweden in 2007. He lived there until 2015, leaving to continue his studies in the U.K., which he completed in 2018. He currently lives & works in London.

The Weeping Lines, 2022, 114 5/8 by 135 inches. “‘This is the type of signifier I use to hide the traumatic image behind something entirely different, like a cactus or the carpet on the floor, This helps to distract you from the main subject matter, which is trauma and conflict.’ In Arab culture, he says, euphemism and allegory are used as ‘a delusive strategy to not let the authorities understand what we’re saying.2.'”

Filled with Paintings that played it close to the vest, each revealed enough to be powerfully haunting, lingering in my mind to this moment. Since the show contained just 8 works (6 quite large), I needed to see more to get a feel for his accomplishment to this point. So, I went scurrying to find images of every other Mohammed Sami Painting I could locate. I was equally impressed by what I found, so I undertook this piece. Rendered in a similar style, each reinforced the initial impression though some upped the horror quotient.

A barricade against bombs … 23 Years of Night, 2022, Dimensions not known. Not in the show. *Photo by Robert Glowacki

In A barricade against bombs … 23 Years of Night, the reality of the seemingly innocuous scene is only really revealed in its title. In the process, it also provides a bit of insight into what we are seeing in the rest of his work.

Remnants. Reminders. Hidden scars. His Paintings provide small glimpses into his life that he says are born of “triggers” he came across, randomly, in Sweden, or now in London. The results are Paintings that are more like stills from a Film, leaving it to the viewer to fill in what came before in the story. Instead of hitting them over their heads, his work is characterized by a haunting subtlety that belies exquisite taste, and, it seems to me, supreme confidence in his abilities to communicate..

“The things I articulate in my artwork are memories hidden in the brain cells that are waiting for a trigger. So whenever the trigger is available, then the image comes2.”

Emotional Window II, 2023, 17 3/4 x 17 1/2 inches. Mr. Sami’s work is equally effective in mural size, or in easel size, as seen here.

The Artist Mr. Sami’s work comes closest to, for me, would be Thomas Demand, who constructs uncannily real-life recreations of scenes of historic or notorious import out of paper, leaving it to viewers to figure out what happened in these places. But, Mr Demand (as far as I know), did not grow up and live through, the hell and horror of war.

Moises Saman, A meeting room in an underground bunker used as a command center by Qaddafi’s security forces. Tripoli, Libya, 2011, Color ink-jet print. Not in the show.

As such, he’s, perhaps, closer to a conflict Photographer, like Moises Saman, of Magnum Photos, who covered the conflicts in Iraq, and elsewhere, as in this image he shot in Libya.

Electric Chair I, 2019-20, Acrylic on linen, 74 3/4 x 41 1/8 inches. Not in the show. *- Luhring Augustine Photo.

In fact, a few of his images echo a few of Mr. Sami’s. Im not introducing Mr. Saman here to compare their work. It’s interesting to see how their perspectives are different4.

Refugee Camp, 2022, 114 1/4 x 231 1/4 inches. “Several paintings titled Refugee Camp depict a house set deep within fenced woods, which we might be tempted to read as sinister. Sami, however, describes his stay there as ‘the most beautiful days in my life. It was a school of freedom where you’re free to pick your identity.’ He returns there every month. ‘It was a shock,’ he says. ‘You live in dust and deserts with the sound of bullets. And suddenly you open your eyes to gardens like heaven5.'”

Mohammed Sami had to move thousands of miles to have his life. Though Sadam is gone, the war is over, the scars remain, as they do after every conflict. It’s rare that a survivor expresses him or herself and their experiences in paint. Most History Paintings in Art history were done by Artists who were not eyewitnesses6. Even rarer to do so so subtly, relying on the power of the invisible to tell a visual story. Yet, it seems to me, that it is just this approach that allows him to tap into the collective unconscious. Everyone has things in our pasts that we are suddenly reminded of out of the blue by something we come across in the here and now, though they may not be war-related. In Mr. Sami’s work, we are transported by these triggers into what his experiences felt like, or feels like now, if not always the actual representation of events.

I can’t recall seeing this done, and done so effectively, in Painting before.

One Thousand and One Nights, 2022, 112 5/8 by 219 1/4 inches.

I haven’t been able to get Mr. Sami’s work off my mind these past two months. It haunts me the way I imagine his memories have haunted him. I haven’t read anything about whether these works are “therapeutic” for the Artist in some ways, or not. Having released these demons onto linen, I can only hope they exorcised them and help heal the scars. Still, there’s one thing that becoming apparent: his work is resonating with viewers. Mohammed Sami’s star is rising quickly.

*-Soundtrack for this piece is “Only the Dead See the End of the War” by Acrassicauda from Baghdad, who are, perhaps, best known as the subjects of the documentary Heavy Metal in Baghdad, 2007. One night a few years later, Acrassicauda’s guitarist, Tony Aziz, happened to sit down next to me at East of Eighth, on West 23rd Street- like Cecily Brown had a few years before. After I was introduced to him by my friend, Stephen, we had a fascinating, wide-ranging conversation. He was warm, well-spoken and quick to smile. He would leave the band in 2011. I hope he’s well.

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  1. Here
  2. The Guardian 3.21.2022
  3. The Guardian 3.21.2022
  4. A bit like looking at Matthew Brady’s  or Alexander Gardner’s Civil War Photographs and then Winslow Homer’s Civil War Paintings.
  5. The Guardian, 3.21.2022
  6. Goya may be an exception, though I haven’t seen proof that he was actually present at the events he is sometimes credited with witnessing.

Van Gogh’s Cypresses: Art From Hell

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

This new decade promptly brought with it the coronavirus pandemic, then a rolling lockdown in response. Isolation followed worldwide to a degree not seen since the equally devastating Spanish flu pandemic, 1918-20. I imagine most of us experienced isolation, or close quarters living, more than we had in our lifetimes. Still emerging from mine, as others are around the globe, it was somewhat ironic and timely that The Met chose Vincent van Gogh (1853-90) as the subject of its 2023’s summer blockbuster show. I also found it fortuitous. There’s spending a few years alone. Then, there’s spending virtually your entire adult life alone. As a momentous day dawned in my life, one I had dreaded spending alone- Who better to spend it with than Vincent van Gogh?

Perhaps no one I know of was more familiar with isolation and being alone than Vincent was. 

Welcome to The Met! In all my years of going to The Museum as I call it, currently 1,800+ visits since 2002, I’ve never seen TWO banners (left & right) up devoted to the same show. And, as I was soon to find out, it’s not like there weren’t other terrific shows going on! And, after all these years, I still get a tingle up my spine when I see this in front of me. Seen on June 2, 2023. Click any image for full size.

The Met’s Van Gogh’s Cypresses, centered on his depictions of the coniferous tree in his Art from March, 1888 through May, 1890, which the curators compare to his iconic sunflowers in his oeuvre. I, however, couldn’t get the backstory out of my mind. Rarely mentioned on the wall cards, was the utter hell Vincent was living through during the final year and a half covered by the show. In a life marked by struggle & loneliness, perhaps nothing he experienced was as bad as the confluence of hardships Vincent van Gogh faced from December 23, 1888 through May, 1890, when the show ends, 2 months before his death by suicide or murder.

The maze-like ticket line. You buy yours, then get on the “virtual line” and wait for a text…

I saw Van Gogh’s Cypresses three times. Each time, I bought my ticket, then waited on the “virtual line” for 2 hours before it was my turn to go in. Well, if I could pick a place on Earth to be “stuck in” with 2 hours to kill, “Oh, PLEASE let it be The Met!” Suffice it to say that during my waits I saw exceptional shows: Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid; Juan de Pareja, Afro-Hispanic Painter; In Praise of Painting: Dutch Masterpieces at The Met; and Philip Guston: What Kind of Man Am I? ! Two I’ve subsequently written about. PHEW. And then, I then spent close to 3 hours in Cypresses each time. 

During my wait I also checked out Vincent in the Permanent Collection upstairs to reconnect with his work that wasn’t in the show. I wrote about this gallery in 2018 when they were reinstalled after the skylight project had been completed here. Notice the light coming in from above.

Along the way, I realized I have been looking at Vincent for over 40 years. Van Gogh’s Cypresses is the FOURTH major Met Van Gogh show I’ve seen. In 1984, I saw Van Gogh in Arles. In 1986, Van Gogh in Saint-Rémy and Auvres (which includes the period covered in Cypresses), and in 2005, Vincent Van Gogh: The Drawings. Each one terrific1. The common denominator of each show is Susan Alyson Stein, who was on the staff of the first two, rose to co-curator of The Drawings, and now curator of Cypresses. Her legacy at The Met is approaching that of Carmen Bambach, Met curator of Drawings & Prints, who has given us the landmark Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer and Leonardo da Vinci: Master Draftsman, among others. HOW Ms. Stein, her team, & The Met ever got MoMA to part with The Starry Night, perhaps MoMA’s biggest single attraction, for the entire summer amazed me.

You may never see this again. MoMA’s Van Gogh wall on July 4, 2023 with The Met’s Irises, center, in the spot previously (and currently as of October 20, 2023) occupied by The Starry Night. Unfortunately, its original pink background has faded and apparently can’t be restored.

On a visit to MoMA this summer, I discovered The Met had “traded”/lent Vincent’s Irises, 1890, for it, which MoMA hung in The Starry Night’s spot. Interestingly, both it, and the work to its left in the picture above, The Olive Trees- Saint Rémy June-July, 1889, were Painted while Vincent was in the Asylum, the subject of the central, Part II of the show, but are not included in Cypresses because neither depict them.

Meanwhile, at The Met, Cypresses begins in somewhat subdued, though beautiful, fashion.

Drawbridge, May, 1888, All Paintings shown are Oil on canvas unless stated. The cypresses stand off to the side.

Arranged in three Parts, Part I of the show takes place in Arles from March, 1888 to early Spring, 1889. Vincent is hard at work trying to build on all he’d seen in his prior 2 years in Paris, a time that saw his work go from the dark, almost monochromatic, earth tones of works like The Potato Eaters to vibrant color. His palette has opened up, his journey to being “the first great colorist. Great…great colorist,” as David Hockney called him2, has begun. Now, he was after a style of his own. Note the very flat sky in Drawbridge, the first Painting in the show.

Installation view of Part I. The entrance is on the far right. Drawbridge straight ahead.

Throughout this period, and for the rest of his life, he juggled the influence of countless Artists, including the so-called Impressionists, the so-called Post-Impressionists and Japanese Woodblock Prints, all of which can be seen in Drawbridge. He had met and been influenced by Georges Seurat3, Paul Gauguin and Claude Monet (who was represented by his Art dealer brother, Theo, for a time), among others. His mission now was to develop his own style and begin to have his work sell, like theirs was beginning to. Totally dependent on Theo for money to survive, the heat was on.

Garden at Arles, July, 1888. Another flat sky, but notice how everything else is different. It has an almost spontaneous feel to it, until you see the Drawing next to it, now below. It’s endlessly fascinating to compare them both. 

Looking at the Paintings and Drawings in Part I, almost no two share entirely the same style. In Drawbridge, and Garden at Arles, above the skies are fairly flat. That would end. Notice the difference in the landscapes in both Paintings, created 2 months apart. In Part 1 we see the state of flux his style was in, indicative of his efforts to meld all he had seen in Paris and in Japanese Prints into a style of his own.

Garden with Flowers, July-August, 1888, Reed pen and ink over graphite on wove paper. Yes, a reed pen, which is made by cutting and shaping a single reed straw or length of bamboo. In Part I, a Drawing is pared with its resulting Painting a few times. Though some of his work, like Garden at Arles, above, has a “spontaneously dashed off” look to it, this is deceiving. Studying both, it’s striking to me how exact Vincent was when it came to translating his work from Drawing to canvas. Close looking reveals that even the smallest details are faithfully copied over from one to the other. After. you’re done studying that, then ponder his choices of color for each part.

By 1888, his Drawings, on the other hand, needed no additional inspiration beyond what he seems to have learned from his passion for Japanese Prints, which he amassed a sizable collection of. At least, that’s the only explanation I can find for them- there is none in Western Art that I know of. His Landscape Drawings from this time, like Garden with Flowers above, were and are, singular. Ever since I saw them in depth at The Met’s Van Gogh: The Drawings show in 2005, I continuously marvel at how he now saw and rendered fields, trees, and skies, especially since earlier on his Landscape Drawings, like this one, were much more “traditional.” His evolution as a Draftsman was as quick and as stunning as that of his as a Painter, and are among the most remarkable things about Vincent’s Art career.

Theo would convince Gauguin to join Vincent in the Yellow House in Arles, after offering him financial assistance to do so. This would FINALLY be the beginning of the realization of Vincent’s dream of establishing the “School of the South.” Arriving in September, the two co-existed for a while, but their personalities were bound to combust at some point. Very little is said in the show about what happened to Vincent next.

Still Life of Oranges and Lemons with Blue Gloves, January, 1889. The culminating work in Part 1. The prevailing serenity of this work, with cypress branches surrounding the basket, is shattered when you realize that this was Painted a few weeks after the attack that resulted in Vincent cutting off his left ear! In and out of the Arles hospital in January, and caught in an overwhelming fear of another attack (which he would have a few weeks later4)- all of which he was dealing with alone- HOW is it possible he could Paint this?

On that fateful December 23rd, 1888, the stuff hit the fan with Gauguin. Things had been festering while the two passionate & volatile temperaments were largely stuck inside working in close quarters due to the winter weather, until the boiling point made Gauguin announce he was leaving Arles to return to Paris, ending their “experimentation” in the Yellow House and Vincent’s long-standing dream of a “School of the South.” As if this wasn’t upsetting enough, Vincent had just received a Letter announcing that his brother Theo planned to marry, ending his hopes for the two brothers to live & work together. These portents of abandonment, the dashing out of hope (critical for someone as isolated as Vincent was), and the impending Christmas holiday, which reminded the Artist of his horrible falling out with his family one Christmas past, apparently conspired to bring on an attack5. The exact illness Vincent suffered from is still the subject of hot debate 130+ years later. Some say it was due to his drinking. Other theories include syphilis and epilepsy. In the throes of all of this he cut off his left ear, apparently leaving only the earlobe, then wrapped it and took it to a brothel that Gauguin may, or may not, have been in at the time. Barred entrance, he presented it to the “sentry” at the door, then went home and collapsed6. Theo was summoned, but stayed only a few hours before rushing back to Paris(?), with Gauguin! Vincent was hospitalized in Arles, with an initial diagnosis by the 21-year-old medical student on duty as suffering from frontal lobe epilepsy.

Vintage advertisement for the Asylum in Saint-Rémy. Notice the walls around the Asylum. *-Photo from the Van Gogh Museum

He would be in and out of the hospital7 until, steps ahead of his neighbors who had signed a petition to have him removed from their midst, he decided to VOLUNTARILY admit himself  to the insane asylum in nearby Saint-Rémy, in May, 1889, which is the point at which Part II of Van Gogh’s Cypresses begins. Phew…

Installation view of Part II, which is centered on a veritable “murder’s row” of 5 Van Gogh Masterpieces, highlighted by The Starry Night, right of center, with the Met’s Wheatfield with Cypresses partially hidden by the column. In my view, these are some of the most unfathomable Paintings in the entirety of Western Art history given the circumstances of their creation. It’s stunning how The Starry Night breaks up the vibrant sunshine in the others as the only nocturnal work among them.

For the next year, in particular, and for the short rest of his life, his fears of another attack proved well founded. He had had smaller attacks before the December, 1888 attack in which he cut off his ear. He would have four serious attacks in the year he spent in the asylum.

“Each time he hoped would be his last. ‘A more violent attack,” he feared, “could destroy my ability to paint for good.’ But instead, the attacks grew longer and fiercer; the intervals between them, shorter; his behavior, more bizarre and violent. Once, while in the garden, he scooped up a handful of dirt and began to eat it. Another time, he assaulted his asylum escort, accusing him of being a spy for the secret police.”

“With each escalation, the misery between attacks deepened and the leash of restrictions tightened. He was confined to the asylum; then to his dormitory; then to his room; then to his bed. He spent almost two months deprived of “open air.” His throat swelled up with sores. He barely ate or spoke, and wrote no letters. At times, he longed for death, if only the next attack would be his last. ‘I hated the idea of regaining my health,’ he later recalled, ‘always living in fear of relapses … I preferred that there be nothing further, that this be the end.’” Van Gogh: The Life, P.772

When Painting was forbidden, that might have been the hardest for him being the only thing he cared about. Painting was all he had left. (I shuttered as I wrote that.)

A (partial) list of the breakdowns/attacks Vincent suffered as they appear in the Index of Van Gogh: The Life. Arles is where he was in Part I of the show, where the smaller attacks led to the big “ear-cutting attack”. He was in the Asylum in Saint-Rémy in Part II. Only the major, ear-cutting, attack on December 23, 1888 is even mentioned, in passing, in the show.

But, as horrible as all of that must have been, there were still more levels of hell in store for Vincent. Things got worse. 

“Is there a reason for today?
Do you remember?”
*- Cream “World of Pain”

If you love Vincent van Gogh, this woman deserves your thanks. Johanna (Jo) van Gogh-Bonger was Theo’s wife for a year and a half before he died of syphilis, six months after Vincent died. Vincent strongly resented her coming in and “taking” Theo from him. Though she knew nothing about Art she inherited Vincent’s Estate from his brother and went on to make Vincent one of the most popular & beloved Artists in the world today. She did it by realizing Vincent’s Letters were the key to getting people interested in him. She edited & published them, though her edition is out of print, and not the one seen here in The Met’s bookstore, June 2, 2023. Hans Luijten’s biography is extremely detailed and is recommended- after you read Van Gogh: The Life and Vincent’s Letters.

As if his all of that wasn’t enough, during this time, he often went for a month or longer without hearing from Theo, who was busy with his impending marriage to Jo Bonger, finding and preparing an apartment for the new couple, and then for the arrival of their first child- ALL of this pained Vincent greatly, Theo being his lifeline to the world & support in it. As if that wasn’t enough, furthering his intense feeling of abandonment & isolation, Vincent was not allowed to explore the surrounding countryside for the first month in the asylum. A man now regarded among the great Landscape Painters the world has yet seen was forced to settle for the asylum’s enclosed garden and seeing the surrounding countryside from his window- a window with bars on it!

Somehow, NONE of this stopped him from creating masterpieces.

Landscape from Saint-Rémy, June, 1889. June, the month after his arrival, would be the key month in his year at the Asylum.

“I have two landscapes on the go of views taken in the hills. One is the countryside that I glimpse from the window of my bedroom. In the foreground a field of wheat, ravaged and knocked to the ground after a storm. A boundary wall and beyond, grey foliage of a few olive trees, huts and hills.” Letter to Theo (Letter 779, June 9, 1890).

Painted in June, 1889, almost exactly one month after he arrived in the asylum, this is the view from his 2nd floor bedroom window- minus the bars. It’s very interesting to me that he left the bars out. (There is a work in the show of the wall in his studio that shows its window with bars, shown below.) It certainly wouldn’t have been salable at the time if he had included them, but, how much more so is this? This is a Painting about nature- the land (with distant, almost incidental, cypress trees), the hills, the sky- and not a defacto “self-portrait.” Or is it? The wheat has been “ravaged and knocked to the ground after a storm,” confined in a space bordered by “a boundary wall.” Is that an analogy to his condition and situation at the time? There’s nothing more about it in Letter 779, so it would only be my speculation. IF that is not the case, and Vincent’s sole intention is what we see- without the bars that he saw- then I find it utterly transcendent. Note the mountains and the way the huts are situated- they would have another life.

Inside his life in the asylum. Vincent was granted the use of an empty room downstairs from his room as a studio. Window in the Studio, October, 1889, Chalk, brush, oil paint, and watercolor on paper, seen in Part III, shows a window he saw the outside world through- this time with the bars on it. Note the Artwork hanging in the upper right corner.

The opening of Part III: Vincent’s window, left, with the actual work he shows in the upper right corner hanging next to it- Trees in the Garden of the Asylum, October, 1889, right. It shocked and almost overwhelmed me when I realized this work hung in his asylum Studio. As such it’s one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen (even beyond Art). Vincent chose this work to look at while he was living a horror show.

“Outside my window is a tree
Outside my window is a tree
There only for me” *

Here he is, having admitted himself to an insane asylum(!) with an ailment that doctors still argue about, entirely alone, surrounded by the insane, and living in fear of suffering another attack. Still, his Letters reveal he put himself under continual pressure to develop his own style AND create work that was salable to justify the expense Theo was incurring and, possibly, support himself. Yet, in spite of ALL of this he SOMEHOW managed to create 150 Paintings, including any number of masterpieces! Among them, what is now, perhaps, the most beloved Painting in the world- The Starry Night– which he Painted that same June- one month after entering the asylum, during a period when he was not allowed outside at night!

“I can hear all the cries of the city
No time for pity
For a growing tree
There is a world of pain
In the falling rain
Around me” *

Is this the “greatest” Painting in Western Art? While I don’t believe “best” exists in the Arts, a case can certainly be made for just that. I think an even stronger case can be made that it is the most revolutionary Painting of its time and before. It’s unprecedented. In any event, it certainly must be among the most loved today, if it is not THE most loved Painting in the world. But? It twasn’t always thus! There is no Painting I’ve stood in front of more often in my life than The Starry Night, June, 1889. That’s because MoMA owns it, I live here and I make a point of seeing where they have installed it on each visit8. No matter- Every single time I see it, it thrills me. Seen here during the first time of all those I haven’t seen it at MoMA. The Met, June 2, 2023.

That’s right- Perhaps, the most famous night Painting in Art history was Painted indoors because the Artist was not allowed outside at night. (Read that again. I almost typed it twice it’s so hard to believe.) When you compare it to Starry Night Over the Rhone, September, 1888, which he did Paint outdoors at night, the difference becomes obvious. Stuck inside, to create The Starry Night, he combined a few Paintings he had already created into a night scene. He “borrowed” the horizon of hills from the recently completed Landscape from Saint-Rémy shown earlier. Front left is a large cypress, the tree having arrived as a focus after having lived in the background as seen earlier. The Met’s curators make the case of the numerous meanings the tree has had down through the centuries, death among them, given its frequent appearance at cemeteries. Long life, another, given the 1,000 year life of some. It would be central for a few months that summer, then, it suddenly disappeared from his focus, again relegated to the distance. This makes me wonder if the cypress had a connection with Paul Gauguin, who Vincent was eternally trying to win back after the disaster before Christmas the year before. The sky, the stars and the moon, however, are something else entirely- something not based on an earlier Painting he or anyone else did. Here, in all its glory, we finally see Vincent coming into his own!

After he Painted it, Vincent came to regard The Starry Night as a “failure!” He sent it to Theo, as he did all his Paintings. Theo didn’t know what to do with it. He railed against Vincent exploring stylistically, considering efforts like this to be “unsalable.”

“’it is better to attack things with simplicity than to seek after abstractions’, he confessed to having erred in the past with images like La Berceuse and the second Starry Night (i.e. this one, from June, 1889), both of which he dismissed as ‘failures.’ ‘I allowed myself to be led astray into reaching for stars that are too big,’ he wrote, ‘and I have had my fill of that9.'”

Vincent promised to toe the mark and produce more conventional work. That sound you hear is the wind rustling through the trees caused by countless millions of Art lovers today shaking their heads in disbelief.

You’re looking at the reason The Met had to get MoMA to lend them The Starry Night. Under the terms of its acquisition, the Met’s Wheatfield with Cypresses, June, 1889, is not permitted to leave the building. In the show, it was displayed immediately following the immortal nocturnal work. Both were Painted in June, 1889, as was Landscape from Saint-Rémy, shown earlier, making June, 1889 one of the most historic months in Art history. Wheatfield with Cypresses is usually displayed on its own wall in The Met’s Permanent Collection Galleries, signifying how The Museum feels about it, though they have 24 Paintings by Vincent! MoMA has 3. Wonder why I heart NYC?

Let’s think about it for a moment. The Starry Night is a one-Painting revolution that no one followed! Almost every other work of daring has inspired imitators or disciples, from Picasso’s Cubism to Seurat’s “chromoluminarism,” as he called his style (others have called it “pointillism”), to Jackson Pollock’s abstractions. Artists who are or were influenced by Van Gogh (like Edvard Munch) seem to me to be “more generally” influenced by him than influenced by The Starry Night specifically. Vincent, himself, infrequently revisited his Starry Night innovations later. Can you imagine what it would have been like if had taken them from the get-go in June, 1889 and ran with them?

Though it’s a copy of The Met’s Wheatfield with Cypresses, it’s titled A Wheatfield, with Cypresses, September, 1889, now in the collection of the National Gallery, London. The two were hung side-by-side in a once in a lifetime chance to study them together. I spent a few hours over 3 visits just going back and forth between these two masterpieces, comparing a detail in one with that in the other. Vincent’s style at this point bordered on total freedom, yet a close look reveals how amazingly similar these two Paintings are- except for the brushwork (and the clouds). The Met’s Painting is rich with impasto, the London picture is much more refined with a greatly toned down exuberance in the application of paint.

You never hear Vincent mentioned as an “abstract” Painter, yet looking at the “London” version of The Met’s Wheatfield, which Vincent Painted 3 months after the original, it would seem to me the case could be made as elements here border on abstraction. As if The Starry Night wasn’t enough of an indication of it, the two Wheatfields with Cypresses are more examples of how far he was now ahead of his time, in my view, having started out a mere 8 years earlier as a beginner! Just incredible.

One of the very best things about Art shows is the chance to see related pieces now housed in distant corners of the earth reunited for a brief moment, like this.

Yet, despite having this apparent “freedom,” he still stuck to his original composition down to small details, though with modifications. It’s fascinating to notice what he did change and wonder why.

Cypresses, June, 1889. To my eyes, all the forms seem to want to just fly off into what we might call pure abstraction. It’s interesting the taller cypress is cut off.

It seems to me that even more than Seurat, from June, 1889, on, Vincent was pushing the frontier of what would be called “Modern Art” a few years later. I wonder if not having a formal Art education allowed him this freedom to continually break rules he may, or may not, have even been aware of.

Meanwhile, over at the Guggenheim Museum, I saw this- Vincent’s Mountains at Saint Rémy. While not in the show, I’m including it because it was Painted one month after The Starry Night and Wheatfield with Cypresses in July, 1889. While it doesn’t include cypress trees (as far as I can tell), it says much about the direction Vincent’s style was going.

While many credit Manet as the beginning of Modern Art, a case can be made that what became known as “20th Century Painting” really started in the works we see on this wall that Vincent painted from June to September, 1889- while he was in an insane asylum.

Cypresses and Two Women, February, 1890, Oil on canvas. Vincent is back at work on the cypresses, and it all has changed so much. He intended this Painting to go to Albert Aurier, the author of one of the very first reviews of his work, in January, 1890, in appreciation. In it, he called Vincent a worthy successor to the seventeenth-century Dutch masters10. This work speaks volumes of what that meant to him.

After the June whirlwind, cypresses continued in his work, as we see in the remainder of Part II, then in Part III, they almost completely and suddenly disappear.

The final wall shows that by the end of his time in the asylum, in spite of all he had endured, Vincent had indeed created his own style.

The Landscapes in the final gallery are more varied, before the final work brings it all to a rousing climax.

A Walk at Twilight, May, 1890. The penultimate work in the show is a fresh and daring approach to early evening. All the trees, including the cypresses, appear to be vibrating as if trying to shake free of form. The cypresses, though, are now ancillary in the background.

In his Letters while he was there, Vincent speaks about wishing he could stay in the asylum. SOMEHOW, in spite of it everything, he managed to create 150 Paintings, including some of the great masterpieces in Western Art, as I said, while he was there. Then, in May, 1890 he left. Two full months later, he would be dead.

A Walk at Twilight, May, 1890. A cypress stands smack in the middle in an evening work that harkens back to The Starry Night from 11 months earlier, possibly proving that perhaps Vincent didn’t think it was such a “failure” after all. Painted 2 months before his death, it’s a work that can be read in any number of ways. For me, it may be the summation of Vincent’s achievement as a Painter and innovator.

By all accounts Vincent van Gogh was extremely hard to get along with, especially for any length of time. He drank too much. He smoked too much. He was obsessive about everything he cared about and he cared about a good many things. He could be intensely argumentative in defense of what he believed. He had a LOT of trouble finding love, or even real & lasting friendships, and on and on…Then, there’s his Art.

Self-Portrait with a Straw Hat, 1887, my personal favorite work in entirety of The Met, Painted on the raw, unprimed side of the canvas (because he had already Painted on the primed side and apparently couldn’t afford more canvas), which adds to the unique texture of the work. I’ve looked at it countless times over quite a few decades now and every time I see it, I marvel at its unique way of seeing the world. Interestingly, no Self-Portraits are included in the show. This was seen on September 15, 2018 in the Permanent Collection galleries.

“As for himself, he said, ‘as a painter I shall never amount to anything important, I am absolutely sure of it11.”

Vincent was a very astute observer of Art and Artists even before becoming a Painter. So, it’s odd he was so wrong about his own Art. Still, here’s the thing I can NEVER get past-

Beginning at the incredibly late age of 27, Vincent’s Art career lasted exactly TEN YEARS from July, 1880 to July, 1890!12
His entire Painting career lasted barely NINE YEARS, from 1881 to July, 1890!

The fact that one could ask the impossible to answer question “Is The Starry Night the greatest Painting ever?,” as I posited earlier, and have it taken seriously regardless of the outcome, shows me how utterly remarkable what Vincent van Gogh’s accomplished in one decade is. Painters as diverse as Francis Bacon and David Hockney, both astute, lifelong students of Art history, consider him to have been right up there with the very greatest Painters who ever lived! Far be it from me to argue with them, but that they would consider someone who Painted for 10 years in those terms is hard to imagine. The approximately 2,100 Artworks he created, including about 860 Paintings are extraordinary- if only for their stylistic diversity as I’ve found looking at them for 40 years13.

In 2018, I wrote a piece wondering what Vincent would make of his popularity today. For someone who lived without anyone in his life, and so little acceptance & love THIS level of both- worldwide- would have to be both the ultimate irony, and completely overwhelming.

With all he had to face- isolation, loneliness, fights with his parents14, illness, poverty, years of struggle and rejection attempting to find his way in various occupations, and everything else- though a good deal of it (if not all) he brought on himself (could anything make him more human?)- before becoming a beginner Artist at 27(!), HOW is it possible he was able to overcome ALL of it to create many of the most beloved works of Art in the world, including a good many while in an insane asylum?

The only answer I’ve found is that he loved Painting THAT much. No matter what, no matter everything I’ve delineated above, and everything else I haven’t- he overcame ALL of it by Painting.

It just boggles my mind.

*-Soundtrack for his piece is “World of Pain” by Gail Collins & Felix Pappalardi and recorded by Cream on Disraeli Gears, 1967.

 

(A “Postscript: My Journey to Vincent” follows below, or may be seen here.)

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  1. Each lives on in terrific catalogs, which are all highly recommended.
  2. David Hockney on Vincent van Gogh.
  3. Vincent’s time with Seurat, Paul Signac, Emile Bernard and Charles Angrand in Asnières, a Parisian suburb, which directly precedes the period of Cypresses, was the subject of a fascinating show at the Art Institute of Chicago concurrent with, but otherwise not connected to, Van Gogh’s Cypresses
  4. on February 4, 1890, per vangoghletters.org
  5. In Van Gogh: The Life, the authors, Stephen Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, correlate Vincent’s attacks with the level of stress & strain he was under.
  6. Van Gogh: The Life, P.704
  7. and having the 3rd attack since December on February 26, 1890 per vangoghletters.org
  8. As I’ve written, it’s endlessly puzzling how MoMA can spent 2 BILLION dollars on renovations this century and apparently never consider where they are going to display their most popular pieces- particularly The Starry Night, which has continually been relocated often without ever finding the “perfect” spot.
  9. Van Gogh: The Life, P. 784
  10. Here
  11. Van Gogh: The Life, P.743
  12. Like that of Jean-Michel Basquiat.
  13. Just page through a copy of Van Gogh: The Complete Paintings, one of my Desert Island Art Books, to see for yourself, the “Brick” edition is about $25. new.
  14. His mother, Anna Carbentus, who had Painted and gave him his first Drawing lessons, and who survived him by about 17 years to 1907, 2 years after the first big Van Gogh show mounted by Jo, never warmed to his Art (Van Gogh: The Life, P.795).

Cecily Brown At The Met: Bold, As Love

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Show seen- Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid @ The Metropolitan Museum through December 3, 2023.

The show’s opening brought me to a dead stop. Click any image for full size.

Over the course of its generous run, from April 4th through December 3rd, Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid  has had some VERY serious competition among great Art shows up in NYC’s museums for Art lover’s attention this year. Consider- MoMA had the excellent Georgia O’Keeffe: To See Takes Time (April 9th through August 12th), and now the equally excellent Ed Ruscha / Now Then (September 10th through January 13, 2024). The Whitney has Henry Taylor: B Side (October 4th through January 28, 2024). In addition to Death & The Maid, The Met had its summer blockbuster, Van Gogh’s Cypresses (May 22- August 27), and the just opened Manet/Degas (September 24th through January 7, 2024). Phew! While all of them deserve mention as “Show of the Year” candidates, in my opinion, Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid is the biggest breakthrough Painting show in a NYC museum since Jennifer Packer: The Eye Is Not Satisfied With Seeing, 2021-2, which I wrote about here. It provided the first opportunity we’ve had to see an overview of her work outside of books. Seeing 50 of her Paintings, Drawings, and Monotypes in person left me feeling that the show is a game-changer that will rewrite the Art world’s appreciation of Cecily Brown’s Art & her standing in Art– even though both are well-established. Her diligence and continual hard work over the past 25 years has paid off in spades. The fruits of her labors explode on the walls.

Time passes slowly. Painted during the initial outbreak of the pandemic, the stunning Selfie, 2020, Oil on linen, kept me transfixed at the entrance as minutes passed, mirroring in a small way the time the Artist spent creating it. In fact, mirrors are a key, recurring, element in the show. Anchored by the reclining figure to the right, and the vanity with the round mirror to the right rear, the whole has a feeling of claustrophobia, from too much time spent in the same place that every last detail becomes all-too-familiar. It’s perfectly chosen to begin the show in my view (or, end the show, depending on which end of the show you enter from) as it sets the stage for (or culminates) a show that covers about 25 years and includes very recent work.

One night in 2004, I met Cecily (who was born in London in 1969) when she and a date happened to sit down next to me at East of Eighth, the now-lost Chelsea bar/restaurant/Mother Ship on West 23rd Street a few doors west of the legendary Hotel Chelsea. At that point, the buzz around her was just forming. Days earlier, I had read an article about her in the Art press intrigued by the fact that she is David Sylvester’s daughter. Mr. Sylvester will always be remembered by Art history for being the interviewer in what is, perhaps, the most important Artist interview book yet- Interviews with Francis Bacon, (one of my Desert Island Art Books). A book that helped form my long-standing obsession with Mr. Bacon. It was right in the middle of my decade of drawing (small “d”) daily, which I was when she sat down. Recognizing her from the article, I quickly put my sketchbook away. I told her I had read the article and we chatted briefly, then I let her get back to her date.

No You For Me, 2013, Oil on linen. The viewer looks into the mirror on a vanity at a figure in a room. It appears there’s a spanking going on. Perhaps as close as Cecily Brown comes to the realm of Francis Bacon isn’t that close at all.

I regret I didn’t get a chance to ask her if she met Bacon. Cecily’s Art has been influenced by his, I’ve read, and they both seem to me to be on the cutting edge of “abstracting” the portrait, yet the influence might be in spirit as opposed to a direct visual or stylistic influence as far as I can see. As many have pointed out, Cecily Brown lives on the edge between abstraction and figuration, more or less. Whereas “pure abstraction” leaves nothing “familiar” for the viewer to hold on to, Cecily Brown usually does, even if it’s just the title. In the work included in the show I felt there were “handles,” so to speak, in virtually all of the pieces that lead the viewer into her world.

Francis Bacon, Seated Woman, 1961, Oil on canvas, which sold for $28 million in 2015, Oil on canvas, seen at Skarstedt, June 24, 2022.

In Bacon, the world (through his eyes) is represented to an apparent larger extent, but then the figure or figures are rendered with a selective fluidity that allows the Artist to mould them to his intentions. This often makes them seem out of place in their settings. In Cecily Brown’s work, even though many of her works depict interiors, there is no stylistic difference. Everything is rendered as part of the whole.

The moment I realized Cecily Brown had arrived as a Painter to be reckoned with. A Day! Help! Another Day!, 2016, Oil on linen, 109 x 397 inches (that’s just over 33 FEET long!) seen in Cecily Brown, A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!, Paula Cooper Gallery, October 31, 2017.

Since 2004, as I’ve followed her career and gone to her shows, her work has grown, and grown on me, continually. The record shows I’m not alone in that. Though she quickly gained major gallery representation, and shows in European museums, it seems to me the Art world has been slow to fully “get” her, like here, as incongruous as that may be to say for an Artist who has achieved her stature.

Sketchbook, 2004, Oil pastel, ballpoint pen and pencil on paper, from the year I met her. The image on the left is at the heart of the show. A woman embraces a skeletal figure, whose knee is between hers. Possibly a copy of Edvard Munch’s Death and the Woman, 1894-5, a Print in The Met’s collection, here, this motif appears in Cecily’s recent Painting Death & The Maid, 2022, shown below, revealing how long this subject has been on the Artist’s mind.

Early on, her work was quite sexually oriented, then it steadily opened up. As it did, more and more people began to see the breadth of her talent. The real turning point for me came on October 31, 2017l, when I walked into Paula Cooper Gallery and was face to face with A Day! Help! Another Day!, seen earlier, in Cecily Brown: A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

Death & The Maid, 2022, Oil on linen. The title of the famous String Quartet #14 by Franz Schubert, “Death & The Maiden,” is shortened here to “Maid,” possibly as a reference to Ms. Brown’s time working as a maid to pay for Art school. The center of her Painting shows the titular figures embracing and Death’s leg extending to the left, climaxing the influence of Munch’s Death and the Woman, as seen above. “Death & The Maiden” is also the title of a Painting by Albrecht Dürer’s remarkable student & friend, Hans Baldung, from 1517, which can be seen here. That might be the earliest use of the title.

In April, almost exactly 19 years after I met her, Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid opened in the hallowed halls of The Metropolitan Museum, in the same gallery I saw Louise Bourgeois: Paintings in, an interesting coincidence (two European-born women Artists who settled in NYC for good a half-century+ apart). Having moved to NYC in 1994, after winning a plane ticket, it’s the first show she’s been given by an NYC museum. I think she might say the wait was worth it.

Installation view with The Picnic, 2006, Oil on linen in three parts, center, on the wall.

Brilliantly selected from the past three decades and installed (with the involvement of the Artist), it all hangs together seamlessly. Though her style has evolved over the years of her still-young career, the show really does all look like part of a whole. This is aided to no end by the continuity of themes- vanity, death, interiors, and influences & dialogues with Art history.

Full of Face, Full of Woe, 2008, Oil on canvas in three parts. With a title that comes from the “Monday’s Child” nursery rhyme, it’s the first Cecily Brown Painting in The Met’s Permanent Collection. It captivated me when I first saw it last year in the Modern & Contemporary Galleries, and again in the show. Note what appears to be a woman looking in a vanity mirror in the left panel.

The first thing that was apparent to me is how her work looks like no one else’s. She has achieved a style instantly recognizable as Cecily Brown. A major achievement in its own right. The second thing that stands out for me is how deeply and continually she mines Art history. There are references to Munch, Bruegel, Manet, Rubens, Hogarth, Gilbert, Frans Snyders, Dutch & Flemish Still Lifes, among others here, but the resulting work is completely her own no matter the origin, and provides for an interesting “conversation” over time. Filtered through a different viewpoint, experiences and century into nothing less than a striking personal vision, one that strikes me as unprecedented, though I do see a kinship to the work of her teacher, Maggi Hambling and occasional echoes of the late-50s work of Janice Biala.

Blood, Water, Fruit and Corpses, 2017, Oil on linen.

“My red is so confident he flashes trophies of war
And ribbons of euphoria
Orange is young, full of daring
But very unsteady for the first go ’round
My yellow in this case is not so mellow
If fact, I’m trying to say it’s frightened like me
And all of these emotions of mine keeps holding me from
Giving my life to a rainbow like you.” *-  Jimi Hendrix, “Bold as Love”

The third thing that’s instantly apparent is her color. For the past eight & 1/4 years, I’ve posted a piece of Music as the “Soundtrack” for each piece I’ve written here. As I walked through Death & The Maid, one song screamed at me from the walls: “Bold as Love” by Jimi Hendrix.

“Bold” sums up much of Cecily Brown’s work for me. In her daring and boldness lies energy and excitement.

As for “Bold as Love,” Hendrix “paints a vivid picture of the spectrum of human emotion using colors,” as genius.com puts it. Virtually every color Jimi writes about is powerfully featured at one point or other in the show. I’m not saying this is a literal interpretation, of course. It’s a reflection of the power of color as a language. The choice is not as arbitrary as it might seem. In the early years of the past decade, Ms. Brown was so taken with the cover image for Jimi’s 3rd album, Electric Ladyland, the last album he completed in his lifetime, that she did a series of Paintings based on the original cover Photo for the U.K. release that was banned for its U.S. release.

All is Vanity (After Gilbert), 2006, Monotype

Cecily Brown’s color strikes me as being that of life. Of being alive. As Adrian Piper pointed out in her brilliant MoMA show, A Synthesis of Intuition, in 2018, “Everything will be taken away.” In death, the colors of life are one the of the first things taken away. Here, it runs as a consistent and compelling counterpoint to the theme of death. It’s interesting that in some of the work that seems to be more centered on death (not all), the color is washed out.

Untitled (Vanity), 2005, Oil on linen

The other thread is the the face/the temporality of youth/and the body (which takes many forms, including the frequent “looking in a mirror” works). Of course, any living body must confront the idea and the reality of death. In the show, it’s the central focus, but it has been one of her central themes, among others, virtually all along. This makes her unique among major Contemporary Painters. While many address it, I can’t think of anyone who makes it a main focus. The show is also interesting for a virtually complete absence of her earlier sexual work.

Vanity Shipwreck, 2021-2, Oil on linen

On the technical side, her compositions, she says, come together in the making. In a number of pieces, figures are in the center, and everything else happens around them. The same feeling occurs in Selfie, though the figure is in the lower corner, and in pieces like Carnival and Lent, below, where bits of figures pop up all over, virtually awash in all that surrounds them. “Abstraction?” What could be a more realistic representation of the chaos of contemporary life where everyone is continually bombarded from all sides, by everything?

“You start with something that’s say, a day old, and then you look at the different directions it can go. And in a way, you can argue that you’re never losing anything, because you try and always keep those things in mind. You have to be willing to lose it all. And that really does happen all the time in painting. And I always want to keep that possibility, just to go back to what kind of painter I am. That’s what I call being a painterly painter, and what’s kind of old-fashioned about it is that attitude that you can lose it all….the paint itself telling the story. The idea that paint can carry or contain a sort of life of its own. Paint traps energy1.”

Carnival and Lent, 2006-8, Oil on linen. Cecily Brown’s take on Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Fight Between Carnival and Lent, 1559.

I’m struck by the fact that Jackson Pollock could only do his so-called “drip” Paintings from 1947-1952. Ms. Brown has been working in, and developing her style for almost 30 years. Then, there’s her technique, her brushwork. Whereas she said that “Paint traps energy,” her brushwork brings it. 

Detail.

It seems to me that the recent pieces included in Death and the Maid (particularly Selfie, the titular work shown earlier, and A Year on Earth, below) show her reaching a new level. Though her work probably looks very abstract to many viewers, including this one, almost all of them have titles that ground them in the “known world,” separating her from many abstract Artists (though she is not one. Cecily Brown’s work only belongs in the Cecily Brown “box“) who use “Untitled” most often. Titles which function as one of the “handles” I referred to earlier,

A Year on Earth, 2020-21, Oil on linen. Begun in the early months of the pandemic.

Mounted near the end of the show, it could be just me and my life these past 4 years, but I found her Painting BFF incredibly moving.

BFF, 2006-15, Oil on linen.

The wall card explains that Cecily’s teacher, the Artist Maggi Hambling, “once told her to make painting her best friend, as it would always be there for her.” It seems to me that’s not only true for the act of Painting for Painters, but also in the act of looking: Painting is always there for everyone!

There’s a feeling Cecily Brown: Death and the Maid gave me that made me just not want to leave it. I’ve thought about what that feeling is and why I had it since I did leave (to go see the gigantic Manet/Degas show- about 12 galleries worth!). One thing I can say is that it’s a feeling I live for. It’s not only being in the presence of great Painting- there’s plenty of that on view in Manet/Degas as well as everywhere in The Met. It’s the excitement of being in the presence of something alive, pulsing with energy and color with a vibrancy that jumps off the wall- and a lot of it! In Death and the Maid we get a first chance here to play catch up and take stock of 25 years of Cecily Brown’s Art and accomplishment, while getting set up to watch where she goes from here. That’s exciting, too.

This May, I ran into Cecily, again, when we were both leaving the opening of Rosa Loy’s wonderful new show (separately, of course), though I didn’t get the chance to speak to her. It said a lot to me that she was out and about seeing Art, even while her own show was up on the walls at 1000 5th Avenue. I took it as a sign she’s not slowing down or resting on her laurels; she remains fully engaged in the Art world around her, which has inspired her all along.

In the end, you just never know when that person who happens to sit down right next to you one night is going to wind up being one of the world’s major Painters less than 20 years later.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Bold As Love,” by Jimi Hendrix from his immortal album Axis: Bold As Love.

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  1. Cecily Brown, Phaidon Contemporary, P.38

Gregory Halpern In NYC

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Shows seen- Impressions @ Fotografiska, July 20, 2023 and
Immersion: Gregory Halpern, Raymond Meeks and Vasantha Yogananthan @ ICP, through January 8, 2024

Gregory Halpern, right, giving a brief overview of his career to date as an introduction to his work including this well-known image from his PhotoBook,  ZZYZX, with Magnum Photos President, Photographer, and fellow exhibitor, Cristina de Middel, center, and narrator Jessica Nabongo at Impressions @ Fotografiska, July 20, 2023. Click any image for full size.

Two shows featuring the work of Gregory Halpern provided all-too-rare opportunities to see his work here in what were the NYC debuts of both his newest work, and his most recently published work. While familiar to most from his remarkable series of PhotoBooks this past decade as a “book Artist,” the shows provided the chance to see him as a “wall Artist.” Though neither was a Gregory Halpern solo show, they proved revelatory1.

 Immersions installation view

On September 26th, Immersion opened at ICP, where I was last for William Klein: YES. Immersion is the name of a commission program involving an amalgamation of French and American organizations awarding selected Photographers, called laureates, a sponsorship to create a body of work either in France or the US. Gregory Halpern was a laureate in 2018. Raymond Meeks and Vasantha Yogananthan are the other two laureates included in the show. For his part, Mr. Halpern decided to go to Guadeloupe, a former French colony, a daring and somewhat ground-breaking choice (Raymond Meeks chose two regions in France, and Vasantha Yogananthan chose New Orleans).

So, why Guadeloupe?

 Immersions installation view.

“I think I knew I would find a certain form of Surrealism there,” Mr. Halpern explained in an interview with Curator Clément Chéroux2.

The stage set, after research and a number of trips to Guadeloupe to take the Photographs, he undertook the rigorous selecting and arranging process he outlined during a talk when I saw him last at The Strand Bookstore in September, 2019. Aperture published the resulting body of work, indeed perhaps his most surreal, in Let the Sun Beheaded Be (a NighthawkNYC Noteworthy PhotoBook of 2020). In Immersion NYC finally gets to see the work as Photographs.

The show was concise, typically open-ended, and bookended by the Artist’s first foray into Video(!) and a stunning, leaning, Sculpture3. It opens with one of the most compelling images in the book.

Untitled, as all the images are in the book, is described by Mr. Chéroux- “Shot in a former slave prison in the town of Petit-Canal, northwest of Grande-Terre, it shows the tentacular development, right inside the building, of a tree commonly known as a strangler fig because the strength of its wide roots destroys everything on which it grows4.”

Christ Columb, 2023, Marble, cement, stainless steel, wood and cinderblock. An “exact replica of a bust of Christopher Columbus that currently stands in Guadeloupe,” per the wall card. “Exact” in that it even mirrors the vandalism to the real bust’s face.

It serves to define his terms. In these Photos, Mr. Halpen consciously avoided tourist trappings, saying in the book’s conversation with Stanley Wolukau-Wanambwa that after seeing how the tourists acted and treated the locals, he realized his burden as another white outsider with a camera would be even heavier, especially because he wasn’t fluent in either French or creole. He chose instead to focus on the stormy history, the place, the human, the animal, and the vernacular, in what are the five unofficial “chapters” of the book.

History/the place, the human…”The tattoo is a replica of the 1848 decree abolishing chattel slavery in Guadeloupe (the second, final abolition, after Napoleon reneged on his 1815 abolition,” from the wall card regarding the work on the right.

Surrealism runs throughout all of them, yet in Let the Sun it’s, perhaps, an overriding mood as much as it is actually on view. Possibly, this is due to the inherent surrealism Mr. Halpern said he was expecting to find, or perhaps it was also due to his reading material during his visits. The title “Let the Sun Beheaded be” comes from Soliel cou coupé (or Solar Throat Slashed) by Martinican poet Aimé Césaire, who was influenced by the concluding lines of “Zone,” the first poem in Guillaume Apolliinaire’s Alcools, 1913, “Adieu Adieu / Soliel cou coupé” (Farewell, farewell / Let the Sun beheaded be). Apolliinaire coined the term “surrealism” circa 1917. Césaire’s earlier work found its way into the hands of André Breton, one of the leading surrealist theorists, and the two became long-time friends. Speaking of Solar Throat Slashed curator Clément Chéroux points out in his essay the numerous connections between the guillotine, which was brought to Guadeloupe with the French after the French Revolution and put to extensive use in the colony, and Photography- down to the “guillotine shutter.” Thankfully, the guillotine shutter is the only use of the notorious device in the work, though death takes many forms.

Stills from Triangulation, 2-channel video(!), duration 4:20.

Yet, after finishing his Photography, he subsequently returned to make a 2-channel Video titled Triangulation, which meditates on the coming and going of the cruise ships and their cargo. The Video, his first to be shown in public, startled me for having a different approach than his Photography does! Whereas he goes to great length to speak with his Photographic subjects, even collaborating with them to an extent in his Photo Portraits, in Triangulation, he’s an observer. Highlighting the risks of this, at one point, staged or not, a cruise ship employee with “Photographer” emblazoned on his shirt, ironically moves towards the camera making a “STOP” signal . The Video added a counterpoint to the show. At once showing that side of Guadeloupe most known to the outside world, but showing it not from the standpoint of the tourists, but almost from the viewpoint of the locals if and when they watch these foreigners arriving & disembarking on their island. 

Appropriately hung near the floor. Seeing it this size created a completely different impression than the image in the book.

Another thing that struck me seeing this work was size. Images have a tendency to live in our minds in the size they appear in in a book. Unlike a Painting or Drawing, we may tend to forget Photographs can be printed larger or smaller. I heard from readers when I named Mr. Halpern’s Omaha Sketchbook a NoteWorthy PhotoBook of 2019 who disagreed, saying they were unhappy with the size of all the images in it- each a reproduction of a Photo cut from a medium format contact sheet, done to remain true to his original mockup- a “sketchbook.” Let the Sun returned to full page images to stunning effect (I happened to love the daring in the design of Omaha and the sizes of the Photos therein). At ICP, the Prints ranged from slightly larger than page size to very large, probably 40 inches or larger. The added real estate enabling the images to begin to attain a “life-size” presence. 

“In Guadeloupe, slavery memorials are everywhere, so the weight of that history is much more perceptible than in the United States.” Gregory Halpern in the Conversation.

In my 2019 overview of his work, “Gregory Halpern’s America,” I wrote about his work’s hold on me. I still can’t think of any other living Photographer whose work speaks to me as much as his continues to. Given that his instant classic book ZZYZX is now in its 4th printing, and his three subsequent books have sold out, I’m apparently far from the only one it speaks to. I went in to Immersions believing that Let the Sun is somewhat underappreciated compared to his U.S. based books (i.e. all of his previous books). I came out feeling I may have underestimated it. Let the Sun is a book that could inspire change on a number of levels- from opening the eyes of people who’ve never been to Guadeloupe (like myself), to increased possibilities for the Photographic Portrait, to publishers who have neglected the Caribbean (& it’s Artists) to this point in Art & PhotoBooks, to the shame that the history of slavery in this country has been so ignored. For those reasons, it’s something of a landmark book in my view.

On the road, again. Gregory Halpern looking for subjects in Oklahoma City as he talks in the voice-over about his Instagram announcement seeking Portrait subjects. Still from a fascinating video short about his week in OKC at Fotografiska, July 20, 2023.

A few weeks earlier, at Fotografiska in the Flatiron on July 20th, Mr. Halpern was joined by 3 Magnum Photos Photographers, of which he is now also a full member, in a show sponsored by a hotel chain titled Impressions. The Photographers were ensconced in separate hotels around the world and asked to document what they experienced. Mr. Halpern went to Oklahoma City, and exhibited 4 Photos (as did each of the others- Cristina de Middel, Jonas Bendiksen, and Alessandra Sanguinetti) in what is the first new work I’ve seen of his since Let the Sun Beheaded Be, 2020.

Here is Mr. Halpern’s presentation-

I find the arrangement particularly interesting. We see animals, a Portrait of a young man in a barber’s cloth, some sort of structure, and a torso bearing a tattoo. Looking at these, yes, Let the Sun came back to me. Each of the four images “represents” one of its unofficial themes- animals, a human, the evidence of the land/history, and another human. The surreal is also represented in all four (at least for me).

It would be easy to say they “harken back” to what we saw in Omaha Sketchbook. That book featured images of masculinity (along with images of animals, the land & history and other themes), like Douglas, Army Jurnior Reserve Officer Training Corps, Bellevue, 2005-18, to cite one example out of many; the young man getting a haircut harkens back to those societal expectations and traditions. Ostensibly, it’s a straight-ahead image of an event that parents are fond of documenting during childhood. Yet, there’s an air of mystery around it. The young man stares at the camera with a somewhat stoic look that gives away little. The barber cloth hiding anything the might tell us more about him. His haircut appears to be finished and he’s ready to face the world again. Yet, I’m reminded of Clément Chéroux’s essay in Let the Sun when he speaks about the guillotine, Guadeloupe, and the mechanics of Photography. He mentions Photographers refer to Portraits as “cutting heads.” Here we see just that twice- once with only the head (in a Print mounted on a red background), and once of a torso sans head. Notice how the Print of the young man is mounted higher than the others- at a height where the young man’s head just about “completes” the Portrait of the tattooed torso on the right.

Detail of the far right Photo, showing the tattoo. Speaking of recurring themes, t’s interesting to contrast this with the very first image in this piece from ZZYZX.

It reminds me of some of the games the Surrealists used were fond of playing, like the one Kerry James Marshall based his recent show on.

Mr. Halpern discussing two other images from his OKC series.

Of course, this is only my reading of it- your results may differ, as Mr. Halpern’s intentions may as well. In the end, I’m lucky I never have to leave NYC to find Surrealism. It finds its way here from all over the world.

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Captains and Cruise Ships” by Owl City.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and 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. As far as I know, there has not been a Gregory Halpern solo show in NYC since the auspicious Gregory Halpern: A at Clamp Gallery from January 5th to February 11th, 2012, as hard as that is to believe. If you know of one subsequently, please let me know.
  2. From 2019, per Clément Chéroux, “GH/971” in Let the Sun Beheaded Be.
  3. Which is not his first. He showed Sculpture for the first time earlier this year in Gregory Halpern: 19 Winters/7 Springs at Transformer Station, Cleveland.
  4. ibid

Rod Penner’s America: Small Town Nation

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Show Seen- Rod Penner: Small-Town Meditations – Traveling exhibition seen in NYC @ Meisel Gallery

“America: A Nation of Small Towns”
Title of the 2020 United States Census Report.

Small towns in the big town. The opening, NYC, March 18. 2023.

I’ve already written as much, and maybe more, than anyone else has about Rod Penner’s Art over the past six years. Most recently, I wrote my fifth Penner piece, an extensive look and the first anywhere, at the first full-length book on his work, Rod Penner: Paintings, 1987-2022. If Mr. Penner’s work speaks to you and you haven’t seen a copy, make a point to. It accomplishes the rare double feat of being equal parts long-awaited full-length Monograph and Catalogue Raisonne, containing everything he’s Painted through 2022, in one volume. All of this being said, my pieces on his Art were based on seeing one show of smaller Paintings in 2017 and two works in a prior group show. This spring, I finally had a chance to see a show with a more representative overview of his work going back to 1998. I came away feeling I saw much in his work I hadn’t seen before.

My only previous Rod Penner solo show, in 2017, consisted solely of 6 by 6 inch and 5 by 7 inch Paintings, each jam-packed with detail. Though Sands Hotel & Cafe/Vaughn, MN, 2019, Acrylic on canvas, is a huge 31 by 64 inches (almost 5 1/2 feet long!), the detail is every bit as stunning, representing a staggering amount of work. I continually get lost looking at the fore and mid-ground in what strikes me as a bit of an unusual composition. But, of course, there’s much more to it. Click for full size.

Rod Penner: Small-Town Meditations consisted of a group of 17 Paintings that establish Mr. Penner as the foremost Painter of small town America working today, inheriting the mantle from John Salt, and Charles Sheeler & Edward Hopper before the late Mr. Salt (1937-2021).

John Salt, Red Mailbox #2, 2015, Casein on linen, 45 x 65 inches. Seen in 2018 in the same space occupied by Rod Penner: Small-Town Meditations. Casein is a water soluble medium that derives from milk casein, and is used masterfully here to create such a rich, yet mysterious, atmosphere.

Rod Penner was born & raised in Canada before marrying his wife, Debbie, and relocating to Texas in 1988, where the majority of his work is set. In the Q&A I did with him in 2017, the Artist said this about the beginning of his Painting career-

“Shortly after arriving in the Lone-Star State, I rediscovered the work of John Salt and felt an instant connection. I couldn’t drive past a trailer home (and there are many in Texas) without thinking “Salt.” At this point, I wanted to spend more time in the studio and less time searching out subjects to paint, so I started driving around the town we lived in and took photos of these tract houses that were everywhere. I found them visually interesting. As with all the streets and buildings that I paint, these homes, under certain weather and lighting conditions, became transformed. I painted my first tract house in 1989 and it sparked a series of paintings that were later shown at O.K. Harris in NY.”

614/House with Daffodils, 1998, 10 1/4 x 15 inches, Acrylic on board.

While people appear in very few of his Paintings, right from the beginning, virtually every piece he’s created is rich with their presence. First, there’s what people have built on the land that signifies them. Then there’s the condition of these structures, which are steeped in individual modifications and adornment. Some are in need of attention; perhaps a new coat of paint or repairs. It seems that the occupants are too busy living in them to do them right now. In addition to the building, we often see the evidence of human habitation: toys, tools or lawn implements in the yard; though vehicles are not seen nearly as often as they are in John Salt’s homestead works where they are one of his trademarks. Combined with the lived-in condition of the house all of this makes for a de facto “Portrait” of its inhabitants, in my view. His work is rich in character, one thing that sets him apart. Character adds an incalculable amount of depth to his Paintings. In a larger sense, his work is a “Portrait” of how, and where, many Americans lived in the last half of the 20th and early parts of the 21st centuries.

212/House with Snow, 1998, 36 by 54 inches, From here on, all works shown are Acrylic on canvas unless noted.

The idea of “home” looms large in Rod Penner’s oeuvre, striking me as one of his main themes, be it in actual houses or motels (temporary homes), like Sands Hotel & Cafe/Vaughn, MN, 2019, shown earlier. None of his homes are palatial. Rather, they are all well lived-in. The roofs and paint look weather-worn, as if they’ve survived countless storms or harsh winters. It’s easy to make this fit the “Portrait” analogy. A number of his Texas scenes include snow- something the rest of us may have trouble associating with one of America’s southern-most states, but the terrible storms they’ve had these past years are changing that. Snow makes these scenes look they could have been seen in many other places in the country. Yet, in spite of it all, they’re still standing, and much of the same can no doubt be said of whoever lives in them.

212/House with Snow, 1998, a masterpiece in my view, sums up so much about the broad and vague idea of “home.” For me, that doesn’t necessarily mean a place; A person could be “home” for someone, and much of what I see here, and the feelings it generates, would still apply. Like virtually all of Rod Penner’s Paintings 212 cries out to be seen up close.

How much you see in a Rod Penner Painting is only limited by how long you look at it.

A number of his House Paintings are set during the Holidays. In this detail from 212/House with Snow, we see the Christmas tree lying diagonally in front ready to go out with the trash & recycling. A poignant image by itself. It’s been there a little while given it’s snowed since it was put there. A toy bus (maybe a Xmas present?) pokes out from a red box with an intricate logo on it- all in this stunning little section, which is typical of all of Rod Penner’s Paintings. Oh! That’s before you get around to admiring the incredible detail on the Christmas tree branches, the tree trunk behind it, or the condition of the paint on the house and garage! Then, there’s the ground…

Yet here, as in all Rod Penner’s work, in my opinion, he puts the detail at the service of Art. The detail is revelatory, like a well-turned sentence in a great novel, or like the floor in Jan van Eyck’s The Annunciation in Washington. It never preaches. It never gives too much away, leaving it all to the viewer. In fact, when I first met Mr. Penner, he was reluctant to speak about his Art. He told me he wanted his Art to speak for itself. Personally, I’m glad he has softened that stance a bit and has spoken about his work, especially in his Artist’s Statement in his book. I only wish the Art media respected what the Artist says about his/her own work more than what anyone else says about it.

Bar-B-Q/Marble Falls, TX, 2022, 12 x 18 inches. The latest in a long and memorable series of roadside eateries and gas stations. Those foreshortened signs to the left must have been fun to Paint.

Another theme in his work is life on the move: gas stations and roadside eateries loom large here, in addition to motels.. This makes it apparent that the Artist gets around since every scene he renders he has visited in person. Sometimes, it’s hard to look at these and not smile. What may be Mr. Penner’s subtle sense of humor can be at once poignant, and again tack sharp. In person, the Artist is quick to smile, so it’s hard not to see that coming across in his work at times. At the March opening, two visitors were present who had traveled all the way from Marble Falls, TX for it. Well-familiar with the real-life Bar-B-Q back home, it must have been a strange, but welcoming, feeling to see its likeness hanging on the wall in a SoHo gallery thousands of miles from home.

Buy Pecans Here/San Saba, Tx, 2021, 31 by 52 inches.

Buy Pecans Here/San Saba, Tx, 2021 marks Rod Penner’s return to large Painting after his series of small San Saba pieces I saw in his last NYC solo show. When I look at this, I see an early 21st century “History Painting.” The Old Masters famously rendered scenes from history, usually in suitably large scale. Here, Rod Penner shows a number of stages of San Saba’s history in one scene in the recent past (2021). In the back, San Saba County Courthouse, 1911, peaks out of the trees and rooftops, surrounded by what man has built in the area in the following 110 years, including telephone poles and power wires, which may now carry the internet, including NighthawkNYC. San Saba is known as the “Pecan Capital of the World,” so the appropriately sized Pecan store sits stolidly on the earth occupying much of the right side as if anchoring that reputation. Further down the block on that side is G&R Grocery, behind the white pickup. Across the street in the rear the red brick of “Station” peaks out- that’s the only word left on its sign. Mr. Penner featured both of these buildings in his San Saba Series of small Paintings in 2016-7, which I showed here. Buy Pecans Here also got its own Painting. In the front left is another one, the former San Saba Butane Co., which he immortalized in a show-stopping small Painting of the same name, looking a bit more the worse for wear than it does even here. Yet, it’s still standing, seemingly waiting for what’s coming next. The ground weather and the skies add incalculably to the mood. An unfathomable amount of work must have gone into this Painting.

Like San Saba Butane, a number of the places he Paints are out of business. I don’t have to tell anyone how prevalent that is, wherever you are, in the age of the pandemic, before and “after.” Yet, it’s something rarely seen in Painting. Businesses opening, being active, and going out of business are part of the business cycle. That is the “history” I see in Buy Pecans Here/San Saba, Tx.

Bertram Supply Co., 2015-6, 31 by 52 inches.

Rod Penner Paints democratically. I’m not referring to politics. I’m using the word in its original meaning. That is that Rod Penner Paints everything he shows us with equal weight. Virtually everything, front to back, is in focus, like it is in many of Richard Estes’s Paintings. Everything is shown at the hyperlocal distance, as Photographers say1. Therefore, it’s up to each viewer to decide what’s important to the narrative they weave in their mind. It also allows for different scenarios at each viewing with different things standing out each time.

Compositionally, it seems to me that many, if not most, of Mr. Penner’s Paintings, and all those shown here, consist of three horizontal “bands” or areas. He presents the sky in a top band, the buildings/main subjects in the center band, and the ground weather in the lower/foreground band. One of the subtler joys of Rod Penner’s work is that he is a master of rendering the ground effects of weather (i.e. rain, snow, graupel, mud, or the baked naked earth), a bit like JMW Turner was a master or rendering skies (in a completely different way, of course). The ground weather is a unique, and often stunning, part of most of his Paintings, easy to overlook, but not to be missed. The detail they contain is astonishing and in addition to adding so much to the “narrative,” they also hint at how much time and thought went into every inch of his Paintings- regardless of size.

Welcome to PennerVille. A close look at Bertram Supply Co., reveals the Artist’s name on the street sign, with “Rod E.” foreshortened for the cross street sign under it, indicative that he’s put his name on this scene. It’s becoming his genre.

Rod Penner: Small-Town Meditations sums up in capsule form Rod Penner’s accomplishment. To me, that is nothing less than preserving the lives that countless Americans have lived these past 40 years in paint. Rod Penner is creating a body of work that defines and preserves what a good deal of America- small town America (which most of America consists of)- is and has been like these past 4 decades as much, if not more, than any other Artist has.

Having said that, I would also add that I’m not sure that that’s his point! It may be. Or, it may simply be what I’m seeing in his work. His Art is open-ended enough so that everyone is free to see in it what they will.

Rod Penner discussing how he created some of the detail in Yellow Light/Brenham, TX, 2004-5, 15 x 25 inches with a visitor behind him at the opening, March 18, 2023.

Saying all of this would seem to overlook the most obvious characteristic of Rod Penner’s Paintings: his world-class technique. His technical skill (readily seen in the details from Bertram Supply Co., or 212/House with Snow, above) approaches the level of the Old Masters. Yet, technique, by itself, does not make Art. In Rod Penner’s case, his technique is only the beginning of the story. Every time you look at his work, you get to write your own ending for it. 

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Small Town” by John Mellencamp.

My prior pieces on Rod Penner are-

The Vermeer of Marble Falls, Texas,”April 28, 2017

“Rod Penner: Brilliance, Under Cloudy Skies,” June 10, 2017

Q&A With Master Painter Rod Penner,” June 14, 2017

Rod Penner’s Neighborhood,” August 3, 2017

and- “NoteWorthy Art Books- Rod Penner: Paintings, 1988-2022,” April 7, 2023.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and 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. The focus distance at a given aperture on a lens where everything after that point is in focus, and somethings before are as well, depending on the settings and the lens.

Jaune Quick-to-See Smith’s Survival Map

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Show Seen: Jaune Quick-to-See Smith: Memory Map @ The Whitney Museum

Indian Madonna Enthroned, 1974, Mixed-media.

It took 83 years for Jaune Quick-to-See Smith to get her first NYC retrospective. As if that’s not notable enough, Jaune Quick-to-See Smith: Memory Map is also the “largest and most comprehensive show of her work to date,” the Whitney says of its installation of 130 of her Paintings, Drawings, Prints, and Sculptures covering almost 5 decades of her career on its 5th floor, where it follows Edward Hopper’s New York, and 3rd floors.

Self-Portrait, 1974, Pastel, graphite pencil and charcoal on paper. The Artist showing herself with 6 arms.

Born in 1940, a citizen of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Nation, the show reveals Jaune Quick-to-See Smith to be an Artist of her time, one that is fluent with contemporary Art styles and techniques. An Artist, and a person, passionate about the well-being of her people and the world in which they, and we all, live. Yet, she’s also been ahead of her time in bringing many issues her people face to the Art world, which has only recently begun to be more open to Indigenous Artists.

Homeland, 2017, Oil and acrylic on canvas, radiates from the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Nation’s Flathead Reservation in Montana.

Indian Map, 1992, Oil, paper, newspaper and fabric on canvas.

Survival Map, 2021, Acrylic, ink, charcoal, fabric, and paper on canvas

As a result, it seems to me that her work has been on the line between being of its time and ahead of its time throughout her career, both in terms of style and content. She proves herself fluent in moulding the language developed by her peers to her purposes over her career while also creating as many of her own innovations.

Jasper Johns, Flag, 1954-55, Encaustic, oil, and collage on fabric mounted on plywood, three panels, seen at MoMA, 2017.

McFlag, 1996, Oil, paper and newspaper on canvas with speakers and electrical cord

Among the numerous Artists she references, including Magritte and Picasso, two names repeatedly came to mind, both at the forefront of the developments in American Contemporary Art of her time. Maps and Flags play a central role in the work on view, echoing Jasper Johns (B. May 15, 1930). Whereas Mr. Johns’s intentions for using the flag and maps remains, like most of his work, ambiguous, Ms. Quick-to-See Smith uses them to powerfully present the lives and issues faced by Indigenous People. 

Robert Rauschenberg, Gull (Jammer), 1976, Sewn silk, rattan poles, and twine, 1976, seen at MoMA in 2017.

Other works echo Robert Rauschenberg (Oct 22, 1925- May 12, 2008).

Ronan Robe #4, 1977, Oil, beeswax, charcoal and soot on canvas with lodgepole.

In 1985, the Artist got involved in efforts to save Petroglyph Park in New Mexico, creating what would become her Petroglyph Park Series, 1985-7, and marking the beginning of the appearance of current events in her Art.

Trade (Gifts for Trading Land with White People), 1992, Oil, paper, newspaper, and fabric on canvas with found objects on a chain. Perhaps a history of exploitation with “trinkets” being exchanged for land. A number of the sports teams whose ephemera hangs above the Painting, have subsequently changed their names, some have not. Other items shown remain in production, including children’s toys which cheaply knock-off Native American culture.

Historic events don’t escape her attention, either.

9 Monotypes from the Custer Series, 1993. The work next to the lower right is after Magritte. The text reads, “This is not a peace pipe.”

Wall card for the Custer Series.

The Confederated Salish and Kootenai Nation’s Flathead Reservation is located in Montana, site of the Little Bighorn. Canoes, often labelled “Trade Canoes” (except for the one above), are a recurring theme, each one rendered strikingly differently.

Trade Canoe: Making Medicine, 2018, Mixed media, foreground, Green Flag, n.d., on the back wall.

Detail.

Trade Canoe: Forty Days and Forty Nights, 2015, Oil, acrylic, oil crayon, paper and charcoal on canvas, introduces the show, and is seen to the left in the picture of the show’s lobby, seen further below.

In addition to having her eye on what’s going on around her, her Art also has a wonderful way of looking back to the rich history of her culture. Messages of protest are side by side with sage wisdom. Her Chief Seattle Series (or C.S. Series), 1989-91, does this wonderfully and adds a timeless element to her work. The Wall Card says-

The Garden (C.S. 1854), 1989, Oil, rubber hose, crushed tin and aluminum cans, and nails on canvas. C.S. is Chief Seattle and The Garden is part of Chief Seattle Series from 1989-91. It reads, “WE are part of the EARTH and it is PART of US, C.S., 1854.”

Jaune Quick-to-See Smith has created an important, innovative and powerful body of work that somehow all manages to remain of the moment no matter when she created it. On the one hand, that’s a sign the country hasn’t evolved faster and how much remains to be done. 

Memory Map shares the 5th floor with Josh Kline: Project for a New American Century, which is compelling in its own right. The shows overlap as both express concern over climate change and the impact of social, economic and technological change on the labor force.

On the other hand, it’s a testament to the Artist’s range, humanity, and perhaps above all, her perseverance. 

Celebrate 40,000 Years of American Art, 1995, Collagraph. A reminder that the ancient, original Art of our land has yet to be fully appreciated.

In some ways, the case of Jaune Quick-to-See Smith reminds me of Alice Neel, who didn’t see her first full-length monograph published until she was 83, the year before she died. Shows of, and books on, her work have increased ever since. I expect Ms. Quick-to-See Smith to also receive increasing attention as time goes on, and hopefully, she will still be around to see, and enjoy, it. Memory Map proves she deserves every bit of it. 

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Now That the Buffalo’s Gone” by Buffy Sainte-Marie, who was born on the Piapot 75 Reserve in Saskatchewan, Canada. She announced her retirement from live performance earlier this month after 60 years of performing.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and 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.