Tyler Green
Art-focused Journalism by Tyler Green

Tyler Green Modern Art Notes

Archive for September, 2011

Considering some responses to ‘Excavation’

On Monday I posted about a peculiar little feature I noticed in the lower left-hand corner of Willem de Kooning’s magnificent Excavation (1950), on view now in the Museum of Modern Art’s de Kooning retrospective: I wrote that de Kooning seems to have literally excavated the painting with a strip of masking tape.

Readers contributed a number of possible answers. One of the most interesting was from reader and painter Gordon Fraser who pointed to this detail posted from Jim Coddington’s conservation study of Woman II (1952), which is both published in the exhibition’s catalogue and excerpted on MoMA’s exhibition website (click through to the third image on MoMA’s site, the image is also at right below):

Because [de Kooning] painted on an unstretched canvas, the sight size of the painting was, of course, never fixed. So there’s evidence that he changed the actual stretched size — the sight size, as we call it — of the painting several times. Along the bottom left edge, about an inch and a half or two inches from the current edge of the painting, one can see a series of staple holes, which indicate that it was at that point, about two inches up, the painting was stretched, perhaps just temporarily, to test a slightly smaller composition for this painting. Similarly, there is a drawn charcoal line about half an inch above the bottom left edge — another indication that he was perhaps testing that as the bottom edge of the canvas at some point.

Fraser suggested that maybe what I was seeing was a similar or related mark, or that maybe de Kooning had tape a drawing onto the bottom left edge of the canvas.

Could be, though perhaps that seems an odd place to tape a drawing. (Also, de Kooning often just stuck drawings onto wet paint.)

In response to my speculation that the way de Kooning excavated the painting by perhaps or apparently removing a piece of masking tape, art historian David Anfam suggested I consider the title for Excavation within the context of the titles that preceded it. From Anfam’s 2003 article on de Kooning in The Burlington Magazine:

[I]t is the whole tenor of Bosch’s, and sometimes Bruegel’s, realms that accords with de Kooning’s own in the second half of the 1940s and early 1950s. They share teh sentiment of humanity as threatened and absurd: de Kooning famously emphasised fear, trembling and torment in his talks and textas at the time, such as ‘A Desperate View’ (1949) and ‘The Renaissance and Order’ (1950, which opens its rumination on that earlier age with people ‘being hung or crucified.’ Apocalyptic destruction and eschatological overtones are also corollaries of this mutual perspective: obviously in Bosch’s ‘Last Things’ and ‘divine judgments’ and Bruegel’s concern with worldly horrors; more peripherally in de Kooning’s titles such as Black Friday (1948) and Noon (1947), respectively the day and the hour of the Crucifixion. Even the titles of Light in August (1946), Orestes and Gansevoort Street may reinforce this palimpsest of meaning.

Fascinating stuff…

William Garnett, Lakewood, Calif. and the grid

Yesterday at the new The Atlantic Cities website, Emily M. Badger told the story of how the dreaded suburban cul-de-sac came to be, complete with how the federal government spent decades encouraging the (mal) development.

The Federal Housing Authority embraced the cul-de-sac and published technical bulletins in the 1930s that painted the urban street grid as monotonous, unsafe, and characterless. Government pamphlets literally showed illustrations of the two neighborhood designs with the words “bad” and “good” printed alongside them.
The FHA had a hand in developing tens of millions of new properties and mortgages, and its idiosyncratic design preferences evolved into regulation. From the 1950s until the late 1980s, there were almost no new housing developments in the U.S. built on a simple grid.
Badger published the above graphic with her essay, and the combination of her well-told story and the graphic reminded me of the work of pioneering California photographer William Garnett, whose post-World War II photographs of the construction of Lakewood, California presaged the seriality of minimalism and the New Topographics’ interest in the way land-use was changing the West and America. In his NYT obituary for Garnett, Philip Gefter quoted John Szarkowski from “Looking at Photographs: 100 Pictures from the Collection of The Museum of Modern Art”: “Aerial photographs that possess true coherence of intention and resolution are rare, and a remarkable number of those that hold firm in our memories were made by William A. Garnett.”

Today the J. Paul Getty Museum has 29 Garnetts, likely the largest collection of any American museum. (Update: The Getty’s website says 29. Turns out the Getty actually has 49.) Included in the Getty’s collection is the Garnett above, Trenching Lakewood, California (1950). The picture shows almost exactly the kind of suburban shape that Badger says the FHA was in the process of eliminating in 1950. Yesterday I featured five of Garnett’s pictures of Lakewood on MAN’s Tumblr, 3rd of May. Click here to see today’s story+art (Marsden Hartley and the possibility of a new national park in Maine) and scroll down to see the five Garnetts.

Related: What about Badger’s discussion of the impact of the cul-de-sac-ization of America on living standards and crime? Check out two books: DJ Waldie’s award-winning memoir “Holy Land: A Suburban Memoir,” about a childhood in Lakewood; and Joan Didion’s “Where I Was From,” which includes a story about a horrific crime that was committed in Lakewood. (The Didion story is also available to New Yorker subscribers here.)

MFA Boston deaccesions its way into a trade

Yesterday the Boston Globe’s Sebastian Smee broke the news that the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston was hoping to sell eight paintings in order to acquire Gustave Caillebotte’s Man at his Bath (1884, at left).

The news reminded me of my baseball card-collecting days, when I might offer a boyhood chum the 1985 Topps cards of hometown San Francisco Giants Chili Davis,  Jeff Leonard and Dan Gladden — ‘our’ entire outfield! —  hoping that he’d be willing to give up an ‘84 Topps Darryl Strawberry. And, uh…: In the heat of the moment I may have tossed in a Don Mattingly rookie card too, because that’s what my buddy told me it would take to get the deal done. I agreed. The result: Bad trade for me. But, you know, I wanted that Darryl Strawberry card real bad and my buddy had it.

Is that what the MFAB is doing in effectively hoping to trade eight paintings for the Caillebotte? It’s hard to say. I haven’t seen any of the paintings the MFA is hoping to give up in years. I’ve never seen the Caillebotte. Regardless: The most strategic way to deaccession is coolly, systematically and over time so that when an opportunity presents itself you’re in a position to make the best possible decision rather than to do whatever you have to do to get another painting you really want, now. The Hirshhorn, the Indianapolis Museum of Art and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art have been deaccessioning in this manner for years: Not so that they could buy a particular painting now, but so that they’d be in a position of strength when something interesting became available. (Special credit to the IMA for doing its deaccessioning more transparently than anyone else. The MFA didn’t provide a list of what it hopes to sell until after close-of-business yesterday.)

Is the MFA is trading its outfield and a Mattingly rookie card for something it really wants? Here’s what it’s giving up:

Paul Gauguin, Forest Interior (Sous-Bois), 1884.

Maxime Camille Louis Maufra, Gust of Wind, 1899.

Claude Monet, The Fort of Antibes, 1888.

Camille Pisarro, View from the Artist’s Window, Eragny, 1885.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Bust Portrait of a Young Woman, ~1890.

Alfred Sisley, Overcast Day at Saint-Mammes, ~1880.

Alfred Sisley, Saint-Mammes: Morning (Le Matin), 1881.

An image of the eighth painting the MFA hopes to sell, Vasily Vereshchagin’s Pearl Mosque, Delhi (~1880-90), was unavailable.

De Kooning, ‘Excavation’ and… a strip of tape?

As I was standing in front of Willem de Kooning’s great Excavation (1950) at the Museum of Modern Art last week, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before: de Kooning apparently removed a strip of masking tape from the bottom left-hand corner of the painting. You can sort-of see it in the detail from the painting I’ve posted above. You can see it quite clearly at MoMA, where “de Kooning: A Retrospective” is on view through Jan. 9, 2012. I’ll have a review and some other coverage of the show soon. (The revealed strip is also noticeable on the best, largest image of the painting I could find on the web: Click on Excavation at the Art Institute of Chicago’s website for an 800-pixel-wide JPEG.)

So, yeah: Willem de Kooning? Using masking tape? And in 1950, a few years after the great black-and-white paintings, in the midst of his greatest series of Woman paintings, and just before another remarkable series of wet, free-flowing, loose-and-brushy Woman paintings? Surprise! Why in the middle of this period, a period during which one suspects masking tape was typically as far from de Kooning’s toolbox as could be, did he tape off a little three-quarter inch strip of the bottom left of Excavation?

‘Tis a small detail, so it’s no surprise that two of the most recent sources of de Kooning scholarship — MoMA’s catalogue and the Mark Stevens-Annalyn Swan biography of the artist — don’t mention it. (The word “tape” isn’t even in Stevens and Swan’s book.) I did a search on JSTOR too, and didn’t come up with anything. (My access to JSTOR is pretty low-level, so I may have missed something. Readers?)

Still, given that it seems entirely out of practice for this period of de Kooning’s work, I wonder why he did it. Here’s my best guess: The removal of tape makes apparent a strip of what’s under the rest of Excavation, particularly some red, orange and pink that’s present elsewhere in the painting. Two photographs of the painting-in-progress taken by Max Margulis and published in MoMA’s catalogue clearly show that the lower-left of the painting featured substantial doses of those colors. It seems as if de Kooning thought that later he might want to provide a little window into the paintings origins. And as it turned out, he did.

In “de Kooning: An American Master,” Stevens and Swan provide an explanation that may suggest why the idea of revealing the painting’s history may have intrigued de Kooning:

[He] was also attracted during this period to the “excavating” going on around him at building sites. In the economic boom of the postwar years, construction workers were repairing and extending subways and digging foundations for new buildings. De Kooning, like many other pedestrians at loose ends, enjoyed looking through the holes cut in boards surrounding construction sites in order to get a glimpse of the excavation and the rising building.

Perhaps this little mystery might provide an answer for another mystery: Why the painting is titled Excavation, about which “there has been much speculation,” notes MoMA curatorial assistant Lauren Mahony in the exhibition catalogue. Maybe removing that strip of tape to reveal what was underneath, literally excavating a little section of the painting, was so important to de Kooning that it birthed the painting’s title.

Weekend roundup

The deCordova’s “Temporary Structures”

I’m going to try something new on Fridays this fall: Key images from exhibitions around the country. I hope it will be a fun way to spotlight shows that take on interesting topics in contemporary art. First up: Temporary Structures: Performing Architecture in Contemporary Art. The exhibition is curated by Dina Deitsch and opens this weekend at the deCordova Sculpture Park and Museum.

Alex Schweder LaSnowballing Doorway, 2008. Installation on view at The Warehouse Gallery at Syracuse University, 2008-2009

Sarah Oppenheimer, P-21, 2008.

Ward Shelley and Douglas Paulson, Grow or Die, 2003/2011. Part of the Haifa International Installation Triennial, Haifa Museum, Israel
Vito Acconci, Instant House, 1980. Collection of the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego.

The copyright revolution at US art museums

Every once and a while an art museum (or two or three) does something so jaw-droppingly clever that in hindsight it seems like an obvious thing to do. So it is with the decision by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the Walters Art Museum and various entities at Yale University to make high-resolution images of art from their collections available for anyone to use, for any purpose, copyright-free. (At Yale special credit goes to the Yale Center for British Art, which got out ahead of the rest of the school’s similar efforts.)

As a result, if you want to make a t-shirt, a tote bag or a beach towel out of a YCBA Rubens, just download-and-go. If you’re a PhD student who wants to publish her dissertation about Constable as an e-book, here are scores of Constables you can download and e-publish free of charge.

My column for Modern Painters this month (not yet online, but on newsstands now) is about how and why LACMA, the YCBA and the Walters are tearing down the copyright wall — and what they could be enabling:

[W]hile the result of all this openness could ultimately be a special boon to marketers, advertisers and others who might want to use these images commercially, the more important reason for museums to tear down the copyright walls is to encourage scholarship and innvoative, image-rich educational materials. Any university student can now publish images from LACMA, Yale or Walters collections as part of her dissertation.

“It’s now free for schools everywhere to use our art in their classrooms,” Govan said. “I have a 16 year-old in New York schools and it’s a big issue. Teachers are always trying to find ways to get them images for nothing. Now they can.”

Here’s hoping we see innovative creative-folk swoop in and take advantage of the great artworks made available by LACMA, Yale, the Walters and others. Heck, if some art-smart craft brewer creates ‘A Philosopher’s Ale’ and puts LACMA’s Ribera on its label, I’ll buy it.

In London and Washington, Degas times two

It is not often that two art museums 3,700 miles apart launch similar shows at almost the same time, but that’s what’s happening this fall.

On October 1 the The Phillips Collection in Washington will open “Degas’s Dancers at the Barre: Point and Counterpoint,” an examination of ballet in Degas’s art. The centerpiece of the exhibition is the Phillips’ own late 19thC Degas masterpiece, Dancers at the Bar.

Meanwhile, the Royal Academy in London is presenting “Degas and the Ballet: Picturing Movement.” The London exhibition takes as its subject Degas’s interest in photography and early film. [Image above: Degas, The Dance Lesson, c.1879. Collection of the National Gallery of Art.]

Wednesday links

The quirky fun of MoMA’s most-viewed list

This is Andreas Gursky’s Ratingen Swimming Pool (1987). It’s a pretty standard late-’80s Gursky, a medium-sized picture of a big scene. (The print is about two-feet wide and a little less high.) Made just two years after Gursky started exhibiting his work, Ratingen Swimming Pool not exactly a focal point of Gursky literature or scholarship, though art historian Michael Fried spent a bit of time on it in his 2008 book “Why Photography Matters as Art as Never Before.” The picture is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, but it is not currently on view.

Then why was it the most-viewed artwork in MoMA’s online-accessible collection last week, beating out Warhol’s Gold Marilyn Monroe, Van Gogh’s The Starry Night and other mega-famous artworks? I have no idea. (Readers?)

Every couple weeks this gem of a feature on MoMA’s website throws us a curve ball such as this. It’s fun to see (and wonder about) what people are looking at most, especially when the No. 1 artwork is inexplicable and even quirky. More art museums should offer fun little nuggets such as this up on their websites…

Related: In March, I surveyed a bunch of museums asking for what was most-viewed on their websites. Here’s what they reported back. (The only museum I asked to participate that declined was the National Gallery of Art.)