8 15 183 https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/a365907fe0a84c4d1e5f3a965ee6fff6.pdf 132df941c4969453ac360e2c10cb5241 PDF Text Text ������������������ https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/c405abaa984850e21b9a32355c6980ea.pdf 8297898b07a8e247aec9fbc44a142001 PDF Text Text CONTEMPORARY REALIST ART FROM THE COLLECTION OF MELLON BANK ■ . SORD GA N6512.5 F5G73 1997 ..... �CONTEMPORARY REALIST ART FROM THE COLLECTION OF ------ MELLON BANK �I CONTEMPORAR FROM THE O - -------- -..... — I ! - Essay by Stanley I Grand August 25 to September 28,1997 1 Vija Celmins Ocean Surface i, 1982 drypoint Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes Univers �CONTEMPORARY REALIST ART FROM THE COLLECTION OF MELLON BANK Essay by Stanley I Grand i-ARLEY LIBRARY V i_KES UNIVERSITY KPS-BARRE, pa August 25 to September 28,1997 Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes University Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania �Vit'li!’. ■ T A TEAREPLEA^’T°1O1N the Bordoni Art Gahe l/\/ ing "Contemporary Realist Art from the Coll T V Mellon Bank." The corporate art collection ol was established to enhance the workplace for the enjoy employees and customers, while bringing an importan educational asset to those areas we serve. By lending u museums and galleries, our intention is to increase an ; the visual arts and their place in our cultural—and cor heritage. This exhibition includes a selection of contemporary paintings and prints from Mellon Bank's collection. Th which initially consisted of a small body of nineteenth paintings, was carefully supplemented in the early 19f British and American works of the same period. The o works were added to bring the collection into the twei and to reinforce the connection between Mellon Bank innovative ways of doing business. "Contemporary Ri the Collection of Mellon Bank" enables us to share an of our collection with the community and to celebrate ments of a distinguished group of artists. We are grateful to art consultant Jane Richards for her to selecting works of the highest quality’. Her efforts cont key role in the development and use of this collection All of us at Mellon Bank take great pride in sharing our collection and hope that you find pleasure, insigh standing in this exhibition. Copyright © 1997 Sordoni Art Gallery AH rights reserved 1600 copies were printed by Llewellyn & McKane Inc. Catalogue design by John Beck Set in Adobe Palatino (designed in 1952 by Hermann Zapf) ISBN 0-942945-11-5 —Frank V Cah Chairman, Pres Chief Executive Mellon Bank C �■ FOREWORD T A 7"e are pleased to join the Sordoni Art Gallery in presentl/\/ mg "Contemporary Realist Art from the Collection of V V Mellon Bank." The corporate art collection of Mellon Bank was established to enhance the workplace for the enjoyment of our employees and customers, while bringing an important cultural and educational asset to those areas we serve. By lending works of art to museums and galleries, our intention is to increase an awareness of the visual arts and their place in our cultural—and corporate— heritage. This exhibition includes a selection of contemporary American paintings and prints from Mellon Bank's collection. The collection, which initially consisted of a small body of nineteenth-century paintings, was carefully supplemented in the early 1980s with British and American works of the same period. The contemporary works were added to bring the collection into the twentieth century and to reinforce the connection between Mellon Bank and modem, innovative ways of doing business. "Contemporary Realist Art from the Collection of Mellon Bank" enables us to share an important part of our collection with the community and to celebrate the achieve­ ments of a distinguished group of artists. We are grateful to art consultant Jane Richards for her commitment to selecting works of the highest quality. Her efforts continue to play a key role in the development and use of this collection. All of us at Mellon Bank take great pride in sharing this portion of our collection and hope that you find pleasure, insight, and under­ standing in this exhibition. —Frank V. Cahouet Chairman, President, and Chief Executive Officer Mellon Bank Corporation J• ijJE j : �■: '■ • • . . e 100 beginning in 191 Bank a., - . ; ■ a corporate art cotie present contains approximately 3,000 works. 1 preexisting holdings of nineteenth-century American Bank expanded its collection or traditional paintings an prints, while simultaneously moving into other collectii Mellon family's long?landing interest in British art poin another collecting direction: British paintings, watercok drawings from the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early tw ries. Reflecting the Bank's strong position in the interna sector, the collection increasingly assumed a global asp particular, being well represented. Finallv, the Bank pin porary art. primarily works on paper, from which the c is drawn. Several considerations contributed to and influences development of Mellon s art collection, which coincide cant expansion of its consumer base and a concurrent i physical facilities. Obviously, the collection fulfilled int external needs, but it also reflects certain ideas current in which it was created. Specifically, these factors indu trend of corporate collecting, the art market during the since this exhibition deals with representational art-—tl acceptance of "New Realism" during the 1980s Intemallv. the collection was utilized as a means of workplace by creating a "pleasant and stimulating em employees and customers." Not only did art add "col the work spaces." it also demonstrated management's employees: Unlike most corporate collections, which senior management Mellon Bank designed its prograj a highly democratic manner [which! demonstrates t that the Corporation cares about their work environ collection was to serve as an informal educational using a 2 Jennifer Bartlett In the Garden #118,1982 silkscreen >. The quotations in thi^ and the following paragraph art document entitled Mellon Bank C orparate Art Collection I �1 I "X URING a seven-year period beginning in 1980, Mellon I Bank actively developed a corporate art collection, which at present contains approximately 3,000 works. Building on its preexisting holdings of nineteenth-century American paintings, the Bank expanded its collection of traditional paintings and historic prints, while simultaneously moving into other collecting areas. The Mellon family's longstanding interest in British art pointed toward another collecting direction: British paintings, watercolours, and drawings from the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth centu­ ries. Reflecting the Bank's strong position in the international business sector, the collection increasingly assumed a global aspect—textiles, in particular, being well represented. Finally, the Bank purchased contem­ porary art, primarily works on paper, from which the current exhibition is drawn. Several considerations contributed to and influenced the growth and development of Mellon's art collection, which coincided with a signifi­ cant expansion of its consumer base and a concurrent increase in its physical facilities. Obviously, the collection fulfilled internal and external needs, but it also reflects certain ideas current during the time in which it was created. Specifically, these factors include the broader trend of corporate collecting, the art market during the 1980s, and— since this exhibition deals with representational art—the growing acceptance of "New Realism" during the 1980s. Internally, the collection was utilized as a means of improving the workplace by creating a "pleasant and stimulating environment for employees and customers."1 Not only did art add "color and beauty to the work spaces," it also demonstrated management's concern for employees: "Unlike most corporate collections, which are exclusive to senior management, Mellon Bank designed its program to function in a highly democratic manner [which] demonstrates to employees that the Corporation cares about their work environment. Last, the collection was to serve as an "informal educational tool, a way to i. The quotations in this and the following paragraph are from an undated document entitled "Mellon Bank Corporate Art Collection Fact Sheet. 7 �enrich and broaden employees' personal lives. This concern with the quality of the work environment was consistent with the thinking of contemporary personnel and motivational experts. Externally, Mellon understood the collection's public relations and marketing value: "The art collection is strategically utilized as a means to position Mellon Bank in a leadership role within the cultural community and to promote corporate citizenship within highly demanding communities. The art collection s high caliber enables it to be utilized in a way that serves to strengthen the Bank s image and community involvement in an increasingly competitive marketplace." In management's view, the "quality and enduring value" of the art were "qualities that match Mellon's business activity." Thus, the evolving collection was seen as having a role in the advancement of corporate objectives. The "increasingly competitive marketplace" reflected the boom years of the 1980s, which presented both great opportunities and uncertain­ ties. As the banking industry struggled to redefine itself, corporate art collections helped convey an image of stability, tradition, taste, and responsibility. But then this has often been the case: one thinks of the Florentine Lorenzo de' Medici (1449-1492), who understood well the use of art to further his family's banking interests. The development of the Mellon collection should also be seen in the wider context of corporate collecting and specifically within the heating up of the art market during the 1980s. A relatively recent phenomenon, contemporary corporate art collecting began during the Depression years of the 1930s when, as Marjory Jacobson has noted, the Rock­ efeller Center real estate group and International Business Machines pioneered the "modem precedents for American business involve­ ment in the visual arts."2 The former, following centuries-old tradi­ tions of patronage, commissioned Diego Rivera to paint a mural for its midtown flagship property; the latter, under the leadership of Thomas J. Watson, Sr., effected the "transformation of the accepted mode of art collecting established by nineteenth-century moguls into major company policy."3 In the 1980s, the art market became one repository for surplus capital, a way to diversify one's investments and minimize risk. For example, when the British Rail Pension Fund sold its Impressionist and modem pictures at auction in 1989, the Fund realized an annual 2. Marjory Jacobson, Art for Work: The New Renaissance in Corporate Collecting (Boston: Harvard Business School Press, 1993): 10. 3. Ibid., p. 12. s 3 Janet Fish Autumn Leaves and Canteloupe, 1982 pastel on paper �ancem with the the thinking of ic relations and ilized as a ithin the ship within tigh caliber hen the Bank's r competitive 1 enduring >usiness zing a role in the boom years id uncertainIf, corporate iition, taste, one thinks understood SStS. be seen in the tin the heating phenomenon, Depression the Rockiess Machines ess involvees-old tradit a mural for iership of he accepted y moguls into r surplus lize risk. For ipressionist ed an annual Corporate 8 �f 7?- --- - increase in value exceeding 20 percent on many of these paintings. The possibility of selling trophy pictures like van Gogh's Iris (which fetched $53-9 million) or Portrait of Dr. Gachet ($82.5 million) offered the potential of bringing instant fame and prestige to the paintings new owners and of providing stockholders with an outstanding return on investment. Broadly speaking, most of the artists on view in this exhibition were associated with New Realism, one of the many and often intersecting—stylistic directions (Minimalism, Pop, Op, Process, Site, Earth, Conceptual Art, Hard Edge Abstraction, Photo-Realism, Kinetic, and Happenings) that flourished during the 1960s. The prior decade had witnessed less formal diversity; indeed, many critics would have agreed with Clement Greenberg's 1954 observa­ tion "that representational painting and sculpture have rarely achieved more than minor quality in recent years, and that major quality gravitates more and more toward the nonrepresentational."' "Quality," however, is an elusive concept. By 1961, Greenberg had come to believe that "standards of quality" were directly tied to an art's "purity," by which he meant that the artist must "eliminate . . . every effect that might conceivably be borrowed from or by . . . any other art."5 Since representational painting shares subject matter, narrative, and illusionism with other arts, it was inherently of lesser aesthetic quality in Greenberg's formalistic hierarchy. The artist and critic Fairfield Porter (Catalogue Numbers 23 and 24) represented a notable and eloquent dissenting viewpoint from Greenberg's. In 1962, Porter, a long-time advocate of figurative and representational art who had written for Art News (1951-1959) and The Nation (1959-1961), wrote: "To say that you cannot paint the figure today, is like an architectural critic saying that you must not use ornament, or as if a literary critic proscribed reminiscence.'"’ Subsequently, an increasing number of critics favorably inclined toward representational art began forcefully arguing its case.7 4. Greenberg expressed this view in a lecture originally delivered at Yale University and subsequently published as "Abstract, Representational, and so forth" (1954) in Art and Culture (Boston: Beacon, 1961): 135. 5. Clement Greenberg, "Modernist Painting," Arts Yearbook 4 (1961): 103. 6. Fairfield Porter, Art in Its Own Terms: Selected Criticism 1933-1973, edited by Rackstraw Downes (New York, 1979): 70. 7. For an overview of the critical response to the realist revival, see Lawrence Alloway, "The Renewal of Realist Criticism," Art in America (September 1981): 108-111. 10 4 Sidney Goodman East River Drive, 1979 oil on canvas �lintings. ■is (which. i) offered aintings' iding bition aften icess, Realism, The lany bserva■ly major itional."4 rg had d to an nate... ...any after, of lesser 23 and t from ive and 39) and t the ust not ce."6 ined >7 at Yale 1, and so i): 103. '975- see iai 10 4 Sidney Goodman East River Drive, 1979 oil on canvas �Concurrently, several important museum and gallery exhibitions, along with their accompanying catalogues and reviews, served to focus and clarify the revival of representational painting and bestow legitimacy on it. The Museum of Modem Art's (MoMA's) seminal -New Images of Man" (1959) exhibition recognized figurative art as a powerful, contemporary means of expression. Guest curator Peter Selz argued that in response to "solitude and anxiety .. . anguish and dread .. . these new imagists take the human situation, indeed the human predicament rather than formal structure, as their start­ ing point."8 Three years later, MoMA hosted another important exhibition titled "Recent Painting U.S.A.: The Figure" (1962). Se­ lected from more than 9,500 entries, the show highlighted the increasing interest in figurative painting. Several commercial spaces, including the Komblee Gallery and the Downtown Gallery, orga­ nized figurative exhibitions to coincide with MoMA's exhibition. During the 1960s, three additional exhibitions significantly furthered the cause of the new representational art: "Realism Now" (1968) at Vassar College, "Report on the Sixties" (1969) at the Denver Museum, and "Directions 2: Aspects of a New Realism" (1969) at the Milwaukee Art Center.9 By the time the Whitney Museum of Ameri­ can Art's "22 Realists" (1970) opened, pluralism had replaced the once unchallenged dominance of abstract art. Putting the change in perspective, Alvin Martin observed that whereas Barbara Rose in her American Art Since 1900 (1967) had devoted only one paragraph to post-World War II realism, Sam Hunter, a mere five years later, gave the subject half a chapter in his American Art of the Twentieth Century}0 In sum, by the early 1980s, when Mellon Bank began collecting contemporary representational art, Greenberg's belief in the su­ premacy of abstract art had been supplanted by other critical viewpoints.11 Moreover, unlike the often hermetic abstract art, ^959) iitef SelZ' Sidn‘ °fMan (NeW Y°rk: Museum of Modem Art, Nochli." wrote a ^logue essay for the Vassar exhibition, and 12 5 Richard Haas View Through Sun Roam. tl/iaf watercolor 198» �chibitions, irved to nd bestow seminal tive art as itor Peter aguish ., indeed eir startrtant >). Sehe :al spaces, i orgalition. fly m Now" le Denver 169) at the if Ameried the -range in ose in iragraph s later, ’.ntieth lecting ’ sutical irt, rn Art. tion, and fferent is: San ues, /Photo­ urn 12 5 Richard Haas View Through Sun Room, Haas House, 1983 watercolor �representational art had, in the words of Mellon curator Jane Richards, a "broad appeal," which was important to the Bank. The broad appeal of New Realism stemmed, in part, from its variety of aesthetic choices. As Frank Goodyear observed, "most important, at the root of realism's pluralism, is the realization that contemporary realism is not an art movement per se and thus shared ideas may be few."12 Thus realism can look both to the past as well as to the future: "it reflects both a revisionist and an avantgarde bias. Contemporary realism cannot be understood in any other sense, encompassing as it does the complexities and contradic­ tions of contemporary life."13 Unlike the nineteenth-century Realism of a Gustave Courbet, "contemporary American realism," in Good­ year's view, represents "two radically different aesthetics—one a commitment to the value of phenomenological information as the basis of art, the other an affirmation of the process and value of its translation into pictorial information."14 In terms of this exhibition, Goodyear's synthesis and position were especially important since they helped define New Realism during the period when Mellon was actively collecting. The subsequent contextualization of much figurative art within a post-modern perspective did not effectively influence the direction of the collection. The aesthetic options noted by Goodyear are well represented in the current exhibition. "Phenomenological information"—art based on a careful study of the object as it appears optically—is seen in Janet Fish's meticulous still lifes (Figure 3). Although Fish worked from direct observation, others, like photorealist Richard Haas (Figure 5), painted from photographs. Filtering the perceived subject through a mechanical medium reflects a modem sensibility shared by many other artists who employ photographs or photographic ways of seeing. Although he does not work from photographs, Philip Pearlstein's compositions (Figure 8) frequently suggest the camera's often arbitrary cropping. Association's "Real, Really Real, Super Real" (1981), and The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts' exhibition "Contemporary American Realism since i960" (1981), with an important catalogue by Frank Goodyear that provided the most comprehensive survey of the phenomenum to date. 12. Frank H. Goodyear, Jr., Contemporary American Realism since i960 (Boston: New York Graphic Society and The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, 1981): 9. 13. Ibid., p. 23. 14. Ibid., p. 32. h John Moore Light .’urine. 1984 oil on board �re ink. n its "most on that tus he past as rantany :ontradicr Realism n Good-one a 1 as the le of its aibition, nt since Mellon if much ectively rented in art based een in worked laas ed subject y shared raphic phs, est the nsyhania tealism ar that date. ’ i960 ny of the 14 6 John Moore Light Manufacturing, 1984 oil on board �a e •V Many other artists, however, rejected the mechanical aesthetic and smooth surface associated with "straight" photography, an aesthetic that eliminates all evidence of the artist's hand. For these artists, many of whom had begun their careers during the heyday of "action painting" as Harold Rosenberg characterized Abstract Expression­ ism, the gesture was of paramount importance. Jennifer Bartlett's painterly garden scene (Figure 2) or Sidney Goodman's expressive landscape (Figure 4) clearly grow out of this tradition. For both Bartlett and Goodman, the formalistic concerns of process, surface, tactility, and materials remain central—as they do in James Weeks's loosely painted but tightly designed composition (Figure 12). The advent of Pop Art, with its cool, ironic, deadpan imagery derived from commercial products and rendered in an impersonal manner as if by a machine, represents both an assault on formalistic values and traditional subject matter. In terms of the latter, Pop Art represents the final rejection of History Painting, the high art of the Renaissance and Baroque eras. Didactic and moralistic in intent, History Painting was serious: it treated allegorical and narrative subjects, drawn primarily from the Bible or the Classics, in the Grand Manner; that is, in a manner appropriate to the gravitas of the subject matter. Landscapes, portraits, still lifes, views, or genre paintings, on the other hand, occupied a considerably lower place on the aesthetic totem pole. The successful assault on this standard commenced in the nineteenth century, when critics like the poet Charles Baudelaire urged artists to paint the "heroism of modem life" and reject the timeworn scenes and incidents from the antique. The triumph of the Impressionists over the Academy, where the old History Painting still ruled, ushered in the modem era and broad­ ened the number of acceptable subjects for serious art to consider. For Pop artist Claes Oldenburg a three-way plug absurdly floating on quiet water (Figure 7) is as valid a subject as the Apollo Belvedere. Although today Pop artists are not seen as New Realists, the lines were more blurred initially: when the Sidney Janis Gallery mounted New Realiste," an important 1962 exhibition, most of the exhibitors were Pop artists. This ambiguity is seen in the career of West Coast artist Wayne Thiebaud, perhaps best known for his thickly painted ■ PU™mg K’‘'S •rx * «,“■? reaC“ a8ainS1 Abslra« Expressionism's ™ M*"taafo's rei»ed the action uberanre. The rehned seascapes otViJ. Celmins (figure r) 1* 7 Claes Oldenburg Floating Three Way Plug, 1976 etching and aquatint �thetic and sthetic ts, many tion -essionrtlett's >ressive >oth surface, Weeks's 0igery ersonal rmalistic Pop Art rt of the itent, :ative the Has of the mre ;r place tandard poet lodem antique, e the old broad­ insider, floating Ivedere. le lines mounted exhibitors st Coast painted tiginous o). Ed i witty aism's ction igure i) 16 �Si -J or the spare landscapes of James Turrell (Figure xi) exemplify the figurative component of the "less is more" aesthetic. The reductive aesthetic, with its roots in the Precisionism of Charles Sheeler and others, is seen also in the simplified forms and flat colors of Alex Katz (Catalogue Number 13), who had begun his career working in an Abstract Expressionist manner. In the art world as elsewhere, every action seems to have a reaction. Rejecting the irony of Pop and the asceticism of Minim­ alism, artists such as Jack Beal (Catalogue Number 2) have striven earnestly to reinfuse art with sincerity and meaning accessible to all. In retrospect, his efforts are a harbinger of the debate on inclusive­ ness that has attracted so much critical attention in the 1990s. John Moore's cityscape (Figure 6) likewise reflects a traditional approach to his subject. New Realism's strength and broad appeal result from its hetero­ geneous nature. Most important, the reintroduction of recognizable subject matter did not mean a renunciation of Modernism. Rather, many artists combined modernist perspectives with the larger art historical tradition. Thirty-five years ago, George A. Kubler, in The Shape of Time: Remarks on the History of Things, noted that the pace of formal innovation in the visual arts was likely to decrease. The century that had witnessed the rapid succession of Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Cubism, Fauvism, Futurism, Dadaism, Surreal­ ism, and so on could no longer continue to develop at the same pace. Kubler's prescient concept of an "archaeology" of visual imagery—whereby artists turn increasingly to the art historical tradition as they focus more on what they want to say instead of how to say it—seriously undermined the romantic notion of a perennial avant-garde. The art in this exhibition comes from the historical period when the implications of this insight were first beginning to be understood. ° & I L Ct <!•••---------’ —Stanley I Grand Wilkes University it 8 Philip Pearlstein Temple of Hatshepsut, 1979 aquatint �ii) exempiity the iietic. The reductive harles Sheeler and sat ccior? of Alex is career working m eras to have a zticism or Sitnnnrer - have striven 7±rg accessh-:e to al­ ehate on tndtstv^ ■ :~. the ica-os >hn nactho---- arttroa". ~c~ a netsrozon of recogrczab.e -. •;-.* the —ger art t.-. S?_r .ir m ~ : ttaa ±r tri pace o: : z^a^z. ~Z'i • : ■' ar~ri=5-ra5~ - Z aca:s~ S_—--L.’t S'. Z. :r jj^suhism >• j. . o Hmipiio :Z~Zi. z:~ ~-^- 1:: -_e; l-3t££- z: sjs ?Zz- T :— ,.' 7 :_zzzzzz~ :z zr-..':-ezrrZr z zz -zz- : . -^z ’- ’ - z. Z■ .■ "> •Z ■J rht ,h> fi ,ul, ><)■;<) 1M ■i ■M■ �$ �Wayne Thiebaud Downgrade, 1979 etching and aquatint �SSI 12 it lames Turrell Deep Sky Vll, 1^84 aquatint : -i ir..<-•. Wet k> - <»;. r i I'ub! CtrJtn . t <*' oil on canva*- ��CHECKLIST OF All dimensions are given in inches; height precedes width. ^Indicates works illustrated in this catalogue. 8 Sidney Goodman (b. 1936) East River Drive* 15 Sylvia Plimack Mangold (b. 1938) Untitled (17 December 1983) 1983 pastel on paper 22 x 29V4 22 P I *977 watercolor 17I6 x 25I6 16 John Moore (b. 1941) Light Manufacturing* 1984 oil on board 30x24 23 F 7 Richard Haas (b. 1936) View Through Sun Room, Haas House* 1983 watercolor 2116 x 34 17 Claes Oldenburg (b. 1929) Floating Three Way Plug* 1976 etching and aquatint 42’/s x 32I4 24 I I 11 David Hockney (b. 1937) Vase and Flowers 1969 etching and aquatint 27% x 21% 18 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Sacsahuaman 1979 aquatint 29% x 39’/$ 25 I 5 Vija Celmins (b. 1939) Alliance 1982 drypoint and aquatint 26 x 2016 12 Yvonne Jacquette (b. 1934) Two Ferries 1982-1983 aquatint 30 x 22 19 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Stonehenge 1979 aquatint 29% x 391/2 26 ’ 6 Vija Celmins (b. 1939) Constellation-Uccello* 1982 aquatint with soft ground 26 x 2016 13 Alex Katz (b. 1927) Good Morning 1975 silkscreen 37I6 x 28I6 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Temple of Hatshepsut* 1979 aquatint 29% x 3914 27 . 7 Janet Fish (b. 1938) Autumn Leaves and Canteloupe* 14 Alex Katz (b. 1927) Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Temples at Abu Simbel 1979 aquatint 2934 x 3914 28 Jennifer Bartlett (b. 1941) In the Garden #118* 1982 silkscreen 29 X 38I6 Jack Beal (b. 1931) Black Eyed Susans 1980 pastel on paper 34x44 Vija Celmins (b. 1939) Ocean Surface 1* 1982 drypoint 26 x 2016 Vija Celmins (b. 1939) Jupiter Moon-White Constellation 1982 mezzotint and etching 26 x 20I6 pastel on paper 39 x 28 1979 oil on canvas 36 x 51 9 10 Richard Haas (b. 1936) Old Waterworks, Philadelphia Late July 1970 lithograph 22 x 30 20 1 a 2 1 2 1 1 < ( �■ CHECKLIST OF THE EXHIBITION I - Kia Plimack Mangold (b. 1938) 15 Sylvii Untitled (17 December 1983) ey Goodman (b. 1936) I.Rit’cr Drive* 1983 pastel on paper n canvas 22 x 29% P 1 Haas (b. 1936) lard x6 John Moore (b. 1941) Light Manufacturing* Waterworks, Philadelphia i984 oil on board 30x24 jrcolor x 25% iard Haas (b. 1938) ,, ,, Through Sun Room, Haas House* tercolor U34 Lid Hockney (b. 1937) L and Flowers I9 king and aquatint |i x 21% ■July 1° ■ograph ■<30 24 26 x 20% 18 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Sacsahuaman 1979 aquatint 29% x 39% 25 Ed Ruscha (b. 1937) Paradise* 1986 dry pigment on paper 601 /a x 40% 21 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Temples at Abu Simbel 1979 aquatint 29% x 39% lx Katz (b. 1927) 1971 lithograph 24 Fairfield Porter (1907-1975) Isle au Haut 1975 color lithograph 20 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Temple of Hatshepsut* 1979 aquatint 29% x 39% ■5 •screen I x 28% 23 Fairfield Porter (1907-1975) The Christmas Tree (Interior with Christmas Tree) 17 Claes Oldenburg (b. 1929) Floating Three Way Plug* 1976 etching and aquatint 427s X 32% 19 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Stonehenge 1979 aquatint 29% x 39% Lnne Jacquette (b. 1934) I) Ferries I2-1983 liatint lx 22 lx Katz (b. 1927) Bd Morning 22 Philip Pearlstein (b. 1924) Tintern Abbey 1979 aquatint 29% x 39% 25% x 22 26 Wayne Thiebaud (b. 1920) Downgrade* 1979 etching and aquatint 29% x 22% 27 James Turrell (b. 1943) Deep Sky I-VII (*VH illustrated) 1984 aquatint 21 x 27 each 28 James Weeks (b. 1922) Concord Public Gardens* 1981 oil on canvas 51x73 25 �exhibition underwrite : Diversified Records Services, Inc. Franklin First Savings Bank Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Mellon Bank Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, m Wilkes University ■ SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Eastern Insurance Group Friedman Electric Supply Co., Inc. Marquis Art and Frame Nabisco, Inc. G. R. Noto Electrical Construction Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Pennsylvania Millers Mutual Insurance Co. Rosenn, Jenkins and Greenwald, L.L.P. Trion Industries Inc. m it' lakes pride in presenting ar exhibit.on ... n tom thi Collection of Mellon Bank, P burgh. Ex ■ r, one <v Mated with the Gallery thanks the for its generosity in making selected works from the Collector available to the students at Wilkes University’ and the iitizervNortheastern Pennsylvania This exhibition grew out of initial discussions between Tern W. Casey, Vice President/Private Asset Management and Mel Maslow 1 urnia, a member of the Sordoni Art Gallery's Advise Commission. Once the project was under way, Peter B Fglin,' man. President and C.E.O, of Mellon Bank, N A., gave hr entl tic support. Bri m J. Lang, Art Collection Administrator, alsov tirelessly on all aspects of the project Jane Richards, curator o Mellon Art Collet tion, provided me with insights regarding tl evolution of the Collet tion and read an early draft ot my essa Other readers included C hristopher N Breiseth. Robert J. He. Nancy L. Krueger, and Brian Lang. 1 appreciate their commet suggestions. I am especially grateful to Frank V. Cahouet, Chairman, Pr and C.E.O, of Mellon Bank Corporation, for contributing the word to this catalogue. -s 26 �derwriters ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Sordoni Art Gallery takes pride in presenting an exhibition drawn from the Collection of Mellon Bank, Pitts­ burgh. Everyone associated with the Gallery thanks the Bank for its generosity in making selected works from the Collection available to the students at Wilkes University and the citizens of Northeastern Pennsylvania. This exhibition grew out of initial discussions between Terrence W. Casey, Vice President/Private Asset Management, and Melanie Maslow Lumia, a member of the Sordoni Art Gallery's Advisory Commission. Once the project was under way, Peter B. Eglin, Chair­ man, President and C.E.O, of Mellon Bank, N.A., gave his enthusias­ tic support. Brian J. Lang, Art Collection Administrator, also worked tirelessly on all aspects of the project. Jane Richards, curator of the Mellon Art Collection, provided me with insights regarding the evolution of the Collection and read an early draft of my essay. Other readers included Christopher N. Breiseth, Robert J. Heaman, Nancy L. Krueger, and Brian Lang. I appreciate their comments and suggestions. I am especially grateful to Frank V. Cahouet, Chairman, President, and C.E.O, of Mellon Bank Corporation, for contributing the Fore­ word to this catalogue. —SIG he SPONSORS 27 26 �ADVISORY COMMISSION Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary Jane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Constance R. McCole Hank O'Neal Arnold Rifkin Kim Ross Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, in Sally Sprankle Sanford B. Stemlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Thomas H. van Arsdale Joel Zitofsky STAFF Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Krueger, Co-ordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator GALLERY ATTENDANTS Leah Crescenzo Sarah Karlavage Colleen McKinnon Lisa Tabbit Beth-Ann Witkowski 28 �11 — �ZTATAVAyg ftiligB sSSs^sg -rr-r.—reu-jt-s" 3 iS&SSs MIO: »aw«8^a^aB®<W«Hi SBMBSBS|B^^!!S®b3s & s==s=^W^^ : :■ rv^.g;.~ «SW gasses � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1997 August 25 Contemporary Realist Art from the Collection of Mellon Bank Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Jennifer Bartlett Jack Beal Vija Clemins Janet Fish Sidney Goodman Richard Haas David Hockney Yvonne Jacquette Alex Katz Sylvia Plimack John Moore Claes Oldenburg Philip Pearlstein Fairfield Porter Ed Ruscha Wayne Thiebaud James Turrell James Weeks Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1997 August 25 - September 28 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource This exhibition includes a selection of contemporary American paintings and prints from Mellon Bank's collecttion. The collection, which initially consisted of a small body of nineteenth-century paintings, was carefully supplemented in the early 1980s with British and American works of the same period. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource American British Mellon Bank realism realist Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/a54e2152398bcdef91e9acb115f84c2e.pdf 8891790c52f0b25d8aa16aa9fdea5e67 PDF Text Text ���������������������������������������������������� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/dd090b27470f9989b223432c5e95256d.pdf 5ad7c72d118f17e2c81e89c8331fb406 PDF Text Text E7E7 1997 �* JIMMY ERNST SHADOW TO LIGHT PAINTINGS 1942-1982 i �I ■ ■ - J E V \ • ©Arnold Newman 1997 �;n H h JIMMY ERNST SHADOW TO LIGHT PAINTINGS 1942-1982 Exhibition Curated by Stanley I Grand Essays by Donald Kuspit Stanley I Grand E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA ©Arnold Newman 1997 SORDONI ART GALLERY Wilkes University ° Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania 0 October 5-November 9, 1997 �9 ARCHIVES to 99^7 Cl -7 ) 997 Jimmy Ernst: From Surreal! Donald Kuspit k The pall of silence had beet apparent finality that I feai behind it. 3 TT immy Ernst called himself "a I ism," and paintings like Surrea, J (Blue Max), 1942 (Figure 3) mal A Copyright © 1997 Sordoni Art Gallery All rights reserved 1500 copies were printed by Unigraphic Color Corporation Catalogue design by John Beck Photography by Gary Mamay Set in Palatine ISBN 0-942945-12-3 center of the latter is a portrait o painter Max Ernst, Jimmy's fath much more than a Dadaist and Si abstract art—a far-from-tranquil t transcendental experiences of hi new contemporary purpose, at c Once Jimmy realized that 1 captive by Surrealist ghosts," he 1. Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Still Marek, 1984), 249. All subsequent quc otherwise noted. A Not-So-Still Life i autobiography of our time, both as s above all as a demonstration of wha through. I am not exaggerating; I kn which a modem artist shows such ii their relationship. �Jimmy Ernst: From Surrealist to Abstract Visionary Donald Kuspit The pall of silence had been in place with such apparent finality that I feared what was hidden behind it. —Jimmy Ernst1 T immy Ernst called himself "a child of Dada and SurrealI ism," and paintings like Surreal, 1942 (Figure 2) and Untitled J (Blue Max), 1942 (Figure 3) make this abundantly clear—at the center of the latter is a portrait of the German Surrealist painter Max Ernst, Jimmy''s father. But the adult Jimmy was much more than a Dadaist and Surrealist: in the silence of his abstract art—a far-from-tranquil silence—he recapitulated the transcendental experiences of his youth, and used them to new contemporary' purpose, at once personal and social. Once Jimmy' realized that his "talent was ... being held captive by' Surrealist ghosts/' he was able to make the transi- 1. Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Still Life (New York: St. Martin's/ Marek, 1984), 249. All subsequent quotations are from this book, unless otherwise noted. A Not-So-Still Life is perhaps the greatest artist's autobiography of our time, both as social and artistic history and above all as a demonstration of what psychoanalysts call workingthrough. I am not exaggerating; I know of no other autobiography in which a modem artist shows such insight into his life and art and their relationship. tion from adolescence to adulthood. This was an artistic awareness—a search for something fresh and new, recognizing that Surrealism had become somewhat old and labored—but even more crucial, a personal one.2 For the chief Surrealist ghost was Jimmy's famous father, from whom he had been more or less alienated since the age of two, when Max be­ trayed Jimmy's mother with Gala Eluard, later to become Gala Dali. How could Jimmy continue to live off the capital of his father's art and fame when he felt so ambivalent—to say the least—about Max, who had abandoned his mother? Max was notoriously cold, and Jimmy needed warmth, empathy, intimacy, and—above all—an identity of his own. It was the classic syndrome of the famous father and the son who "suf­ fered ... painful rejections" by him, ostensibly because his career was more important than any human relationship, but more deeply because he was emotionally defective—Max was a seriously "flawed, often hermetically cold human being," as Jimmy came to understand. The challenge of Jimmy's career— indeed, of his life—was to get beyond his father's influence, 2. The decisive moment seemed to have been the 1942 Surrealist exhibition at the Marian Willard gallery in New York. It became clear to Jimmy—twenty-two at the time and himself showing in the exhibi­ tion—that Surrealism had "the unmistakable aura not of an alive movement but rather that of a closed circle of licensed practitioners." J7-<UUU15 �r fl': 6 • JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT - 4i persona, and reputation. Until he could do this, he would achieve nothing as either a person or an artist. The solution to his problem came directly from his mother, and more broadly from all the women Max had used and "discarded at the brightest possible moment" of their relation­ ship—ostensibly in fear that "the end result of emotional involvements was a detestable prison," but in fact out of narcissistic inability, rationalized as artistic superiority, to see beyond himself. Jimmy identified with these hurt, victimized women: "As a son I had experienced some of the terror that others, most particularly women, must have felt at the unex­ plained appearance of an impenetrable barrier that would freeze attempts to approach the inner person." He also identified with his mother's humanism, as he called it, and even more, with her saintliness—her ability to rise above her suffering and her unhappy situation to maintain hope and faith in life. (She fled Nazi Germany for Paris, but she died in Auschwitz.) Jimmy also found this quality in Marie-Berthe Aurenche (Max's second wife) and perhaps above all in Maja Aretz, the Catholic woman who cared for him after Max had left. This spirituality also became associated with the churches and synagogues he attended as a child (on the principle that he would choose between Judaism—his mother's religion— and Catholicism—his father's—when he grew up). In particu­ lar, "Cologne's beautiful churches" impressed him with the "wonder of [their] stained glass windows and altarpieces by the Rhenish masters." These churches—representing security and community ("the symbolic Gothic spires of my child­ hood") came to Jimmy's rescue and saved him both from his father and from Surrealism. Suddenly, at the moment of crisis, "without any deliberate effort I found the content of my painting shifting toward a more pronounced Abstraction . .. certain totally nonfigurative passages on a canvas became strongly reminiscent of the Gothic church-architecture and stained-glass windows of my youth." In a sense, Jimmy experienced an emotional and artistic miracle—a regression in the service of both his ego and his art. With the help of a symbol and memory of transcendence, he moved beyond the "personal biomorphy [and] dependence on Freudian interpre- tation" demanded by Surrealism and left behind its generally "literary" character. He did something more: although he achieved a "sense of 'immediacy' and 'action on the canvas/" (the abstract expressionistic norms of the day), he did so on his own terms. His "linear energy-storms" were not simply gratuitous explo­ sions of the unconscious—blind discharges given nominal "artistic" shape—but conscious expressions of the need and wish for transcendence and sublimation. He united expres­ sionist rage—a response to danger and isolation—with faith in spiritual survival, whatever the emotional and social odds against him. Hope balanced helplessness, as he himself said. Grunewald's Isenheim Altarpiece was a beloved model— indeed, the one unequivocally great work of art for Jimmy. It juxtaposes, on the one hand, the dramatic, hyperexpressive image of the very physical Christ crucified and abandoned and, on the other, the equally dramatic, more subtly expressive image of the spiritually transfigured and resurrected Christ. Jimmy's problem was to translate Grunewald's vision into abstract terms—to liberate its basic spiritual meaning from its old-fashioned iconography. In short, Jimmy struggled to synthesize physical impulse and spiritual structure—implic­ itly Gothic (that is, aspirational)—in works that were essen­ tially abstract altarpieces. He eventually succeeded, uniting expression and construction to new transcendental effect. In terms of art history, he was ahead of his times, for according to modernist dictates, expression and construction are opposites that cannot be united. Nor should they be; each should be pursued to the limits of its own purity'. In showing that they could and must converge—that they could form a viable hybrid, more esthetically and emotionally adventurous and complex than pure expression or pure construction— Jimmy was, however unwittingly; a postmodernist. One of the most striking aspects of Jimmy's works is their increase in size over the years. This gradual change demonstrates in physical dimensions his development beyond his father's Surrealism his ...... own .... autonomous abstraction - ----------- - to ..... >u.j....... ............ —— autonomous even in terms of the prevailing American abstract expressionism, however abstract and expressionistic it also expressionism, however abstrac was. Max's pictures tend to be s the size of pages in a book. In fa books of collage images. Jimmy this model; Surreal (Figure 2) is Untitled (Blue Max) (Figure 3) is twenty-four. There are some sta the 1940s—Dallas Blues, 1947 (Fi eight inches. But by the sixties, 1960 (Figure 12), which is fifty b 1964 (Figure 14), which is fifty t making large works, confirmin' father and confidence in his ow works also show his assimilatio open, expansive space—in shar even claustrophobic, European The contrast between the enclo: Surreal and the broad space of i Katchina White, 1982 (Figure 25) The change in style broug' a shift from hand-me-down "si called, to a uniquely American Jimmy's transcendental imager gious" experience. Mahogany H Dallas Blues (Figure 7) embody are a kind of embodied jazz (as Surrealism to abstraction)—am experience of Native American the most authentic, "native" as that, he spontaneous!}' identify jazz and the Native Americans in the West, for they were as so felt himself to be. Shortly after he arrived in two experiences that proved p the streets of New York, the otl one day, at Fifty-ninth Stre Jinimv witnessed the performa so p> 1 ack youngsters." He becar �FROM SURREALIST TO ABSTRACT VISIONARY lism and left behind its generally ?: although he achieved a "sense n the canvas,"' (the abstract day), he did so on his own terms, /ere not simply gratuitous exploind discharges given nominal us expressions of the need and ublimation. He united expresanger and isolation—with faith in he emotional and social odds helplessness, as he himself said. ece was a beloved model— y great work of art for Jimmy. It he dramatic, hyperexpressive irist crucified and abandoned dramatic, more subtly expressive igured and resurrected Christ, slate Griinewald's vision into basic spiritual meaning from its i short, Jimmy struggled to nd spiritual structure—implicd)—in works that were esseneventually succeeded, uniting j new transcendental effect. ; was ahead of his times, for is, expression and construction ited. Nor should they be; each ts of its own purity. In showing rerge—that they could form a and emotionally adventurous sion or pure construction— igly, a postmodernist. aspects of Jimmy's works is ,’ears. This gradual change insions his development beyond wn autonomous abstraction— he prevailing American abstract ict and expressionistic it also expressionism, however abstract and expressionistic it also was. Max's pictures tend to be sub-easel in scale—more or less the size of pages in a book. In fact, his most famous works are books of collage images. Jimmy began his career following this model; Surreal (Figure 2) is twelve by sixteen inches, and Untitled (Blue Max) (Figure 3) is not much larger, twenty by twenty-four. There are some standard easel-size works from the 1940s—Dallas Blues, 1947 (Figure 7) is thirty-six by twenty­ eight inches. But by the sixties, with such works as Rimrock, I960 (Figure 12), which is fifty by sixty inches, and Icarus 64, 1964 (Figure 14), which is fifty by forty, Jimmy had begun making large works, confirming his independence from his father and confidence in his own ideas and ability. The large works also show his assimilation of an American sense of open, expansive space—in sharp contrast to the cramped, even claustrophobic, European space in his father's pictures. The contrast between the enclosed, impoverished space of Surreal and the broad space of infinitely extending figures in Katchina White, 1982 (Figure 25) makes the point succinctly. The change in style brought with it a change in content— a shift from hand-me-down "sumaturalism," as it might be called, to a uniquely American content, which came to serve Jimmy's transcendental imagery as much as his early "reli­ gious" experience. Mahogany Hall Stomp, 1946 (Figure 6) and Dallas Blues (Figure 7) embody Jimmy's response to jazz—they are a kind of embodied jazz (as they are also transitional from Surrealism to abstraction)—and Katchina White reflects his experience of Native American ritual. For Jimmy, they were the most authentic, "native" aspects of America. More than that, he spontaneously identified with the blacks who created jazz and the Native Americans confined to their reservations in the West, for they were as socially outcast and rejected as he felt himself to be. Shortly after he arrived in the United States, Jimmy had two experiences that proved particularly formative—one on the streets of New York, the other in the New Mexican desert. One day, at the Fifty-ninth Street entrance to Central Park, Jimmy witnessed the performance of "a spasm band of nine or so black youngsters." He became so fascinated with their jazz, 7 that he joined the band as "collector of contributions, [which] seemed to astound the pedestrians." Black boys were sup­ posed to work for white boys, not the other way around. One night one of the band members took him to Carnegie Hall to hear a jazz concert devoted to Spirituals to Swing. "I had the feeling of being an eavesdropper at a private event. More than a performance, each musician seemed to communicate far beyond instrument and voice." This became Jimmy's ambi­ tion: to make pictures as full of "subtle tonalities [and] deep empathy" as jazz and to emulate its method of improvisation and skat. In other words, to improvise visual skat—which is one way Jimmy understood abstraction. The other formative component was also supplied by a musical event when he witnessed the annual Hopi Snake Dance. "The ceremony was performed by richly painted dancers who to the insistent rhythm of drums and an almost monotone chant moved in a contracting circle toward a pit in the center of the village's plaza from which each man pulled a pair of writhing rattlesnakes." It was a "Surrealist spectacle," as Jimmy said (that is, archaic in import), but it was also a fertility ritual—a rain dance intended to make the desert bloom—with profound social import. What made it especially moving for Jimmy was that it was "the expression of a people rather than of isolated artists, and yet each one of them was highly individual, as if calling out from one soul to another." This was crucial for Jimmy: William Baziotes—a surrogate father figure who was as emotionally good to Jimmy as Max was bad for him—had argued that "'meaningful art' ... could occur only within groups who shared a totally common experience. Or in a time ... when the artist's subject matter ran fairly parallel to a predominant belief." Jimmy was deter­ mined to make art that was meaningful in these terms—"great art [that] would be based on anonymity rather than personali­ ties"—on shared beliefs and communal concerns, not the self­ expression of isolated individualists (such as Max). Jazz was one kind of communal, spiritual art; the Snake Dance another. Jimmy's was to be a third, at once as personal as jazz and as social as the Snake Dance. One final experience, even more personal and intimate �• 1 JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT them the way myth predates history—informs the spiritual vision of his mature works. Ever since childhood, he had been "intrigued by bodies of water washing against reeds, grasses and trees."3 More particularly, the sensation of being "in a lake, in a pond, very still water, with insects skating on the water," haunted him.4 The patterns these insects made seemed improvised and abstract—a particularly intense, spontaneous form of skat. But the awareness of water had a highly personal meaning. As Jimmy writes in A Not-So-Still-Life, his earliest memory is of "my mother holding me in her arms, letting the mysterious water [she was standing in] cover my legs. Sud­ denly the mirrorlike surface ahead of me was broken." It was Max, rising from the depths. "He raised his arms to me, and Lou was lifting me toward him. I became aware of innumer­ able long-legged, water-skating insects on the glassy surface surrounding Max's body and I began to scream and struggled against being handed over. Max's face went dark and angry; he turned and swam away." This emotionally complicated experience has been interpreted psychoanalytically by Gilbert Rose, a friend of Jimmy's.5 For me, what is important about the event—in effect a screen memory—is Jimmy's acute awareness of physical detail, as well as his association of the water with Iris mother. His prescient rejection of Max adds a touch of instinctive aggression: aggressively articulated detail, as endlessly proliferating and as crystal clear as ripples, is exactly what we find in Rimrock, 1960 (Figure 12), which hovers on the border between natural observation and pure abstraction. The experi­ ence of the placid maternal water, shattered by his father's intrusive body, is transposed to stone, engraved as though for 3. Unpublished statement, dated August 27, 1983. 4. Jimmy Ernst with Francine du Plessix, "The Artist Speaks: My Father, Max Ernst," Art in America (November/Decemberl968): 54. 5. Gilbert Rose, The Power of Form: A Psychoanalytic Approach to Aesthetic Form (Madison, Conn.: International Universities Press, 1992, expanded edition), 102. Jimmy is the character called Bruno. eternity—materialized in a substance as elemental, enduring, and basic to life as water. The horror vacui made evident compensates for his father's empty place—the emptiness he felt at his father's rejection and abandonment. (Why did Max swim away? Is it not supremely narcissistic to be offended that an infant does not want you to hold him?) This same experience—the sense of a tranquil, fragile surface broken but not entirely shattered, and thus intact for all its "suffering," for the swarm of buglike details that disrupt its clarity and make it dangerous—appears in what is in effect the broken stained-glass-window look (stained glass being yet another kind of liquid surface) of such later grand, murallike works as Oceania, 1963 (Figure 13), which might be seen as Max's monstrous presence shattering the peace; Homage to Edgar Varese, 1965 (Figure 15), honoring a visionary of musical improvisation; and Only Yesterday, 1968 (Figure 17), among other works. A highly detailed surface is "disturbed" by enormous fault lines—huge flaws—that nonetheless do not destroy. The silence of the scene—the intimacy with the mother—is broken by the noisy father, but it remains intact, however precariously. Even the row of shamanistic person­ ages in Katchina White—Katchina dolls represent the religious figures in the sacred performances—seems to disrupt the surface, but not to undermine it. Perhaps the experience is embodied most obviously in Sea of Grass (Black on Black), 1982 (Figure 27), one of a series in which Jimmy deals directly with the fascination water washing against grass held for him. Here apparently, its depressing aspect—the unhappy effect of Max's sudden presence in the water—is conveyed. The idiosyncratic mixture of personal and transcendental experience that informs Jimmy's art, conceived as a sublima­ tion of rejection and ostracization, is perhaps nowhere more evident than in Icarus 64, 1964 (Figure 14), one of many works devoted to the theme. On Winter Nights (With Louis Simpson), 1982 (Figure 26) is another. The ambiguous figure of Icarus— half-flying, half-falling—is overlaid on what is essentially a poem about death. Icarus's feathers are as marvelously detailed as the shards of liquid glass and hold together with the same uncertainty. Jimmy was as obsessed by the story of Icarus as he was by water. Indeed, u Icarus fell from the sky into the sea, the myth of Icarus is a classic story c ship between father and son. Jimmy had an unusual respons first heard it as a student in the Gyn "Icarus' destruction was the result c father's commands to avoid soaring melt the wax that held his wings tor moisture from the sea would make" endear myself to the rigid tutors by indeed at fault, not for disobedience first place, unquestionably trusted e by his father, Daedalus, whose geni entrap the monster Minotaur on Cn "only Daedalus would live to tell th father's view of what happened. In offers another version of the story. I it were, his sister's son Perdix, who charge to be taught the mecha apt scholar and gave striking t ity. Walking on the seashore h< of a fish. Imitating it, he took i notched it on the edge, and th: He put two pieces of iron toge at one end with a rivet, and sh ends, and made a pair of comp so envious of his nephew's pe took an opportunity, when ths day on a high tower, to push I in other words, Icarus did not fall t of his own arrogance but because o Daedalus "was so proud of his ach bear the idea of a rival," as Bulfincl 6. Thomas Bulfinch, The Age ofFable �FROM SURREALIST TO ABSTRACT VISIONARY ^stance as elemental, enduring, torror vacui made evident npty place—the emptiness he 1 abandonment. (Why did Max y narcissistic to be offended that hold him?) le sense of a tranquil, fragile ■ shattered, and thus intact for m of buglike details that disrupt us—appears in what is in effect ow look (stained glass being vet of such later grand, murallike 13), which might be seen as ttering the peace; Homage to honoring a visionary' of musical day, 1968 (Figure 17), among surface is "disturbed" by iws—that nonetheless do not ie—the intimacy' with the y father, but it remains intact, e row of shamanistic personna dolls represent the religious aces—seems to disrupt the it. Perhaps the experience is ea of Grass (Black on Black), 1982 ,'hich Jimmy deals directly with against grass held for him. Here ict—the unhappy' effect of Max's -is conveyed. ; of personal and transcendental r's art, conceived as a sublimaion, is perhaps nowhere more (Figure 14), one of many' works 'er Nights (With Louis Simpson), e ambiguous figure of Icarus— irlaid on what is essentially a ithers are as marvelously i glass and hold together with i’as as obsessed by the story of Icarus as he was by water. Indeed, water is significant here— Icarus fell from the sky' into the sea, where he drowned. And the myth of Icarus is a classic story' of the ambiguous relation­ ship between father and son. Jimmy’ had an unusual response to the story' when he first heard it as a student in the Gymnasium in Germany. "Icarus' destruction was the result of not having obeyed his father's commands to avoid soaring so high the sun would melt the wax that held his wings together, or so low that moisture from the sea would make them heavy. I did not endear myself to the rigid tutors by’ agreeing that Icarus was indeed at fault, not for disobedience, but for having, in the first place, unquestionably' trusted artificial wings fashioned by his father, Daedalus, whose genius had enabled him to entrap the monster Minotaur on Crete." As Jimmy remarked, "only’ Daedalus would live to tell the tale." The story is a father's view of what happened. In fact, Thomas Bulfinch offers another version of the story'. Daedalus had a stepson, as it were, his sister's son PerdLx, who was put under his charge to be taught the mechanical arts. He was an apt scholar and gave striking evidences of ingenu­ ity. Walking on the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish. Imitating it, he took a piece of irony and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the saw. He put two pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a pair of compasses. Daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on a high tower, to push him off.6 In other words, Icarus did not fall to his death solely because of his own arrogance but because of his father's envy. Just as Daedalus "was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear the idea of a rival," as Bulfinch states, so Max was so 6. Thomas Bulfinch, The Age ofFable (New York: Heritage, 1942), 162. • proud of his achievements he could not bear the idea of a rival—even his own son. Where Daedalus literally killed his stepson—pushing him from the same high tower he and Icarus flew from—Max in effect "soul murdered" his (to use the psychoanalyst Leonard Shengold's terminology). But Jimmy survived by becoming angry: "A strange anger sud­ denly took possession of me. The ancient dilemma: Should a son make use of wings fashioned by his father? I bolted from the building and delivered myself of a tirade against all painting." He also ran to his mother for succor. The flight of Icarus is as much a parable of ambition that overreached itself—that understood no limits—as it is of rebellion against the father. It is an archetype of the wish to transcend—to fly higher than the world and one's father—and the failure to do so. Jimmy's mature works combine images of successful and unsuccessful transcendence in a single abstract vision. Just as the water was broken and disturbed by the apparition of Max, so transcendence makes a broken, dis­ turbed appearance in such works as Across a Silent Bridge, 1957, Sentinel, 1967, Another Silence, Twice, both 1972, and Due North, 1972-73 (Figures 11, 16, 20, 21, and 22), among many other works. The central, confrontational, emblematic, apparitional, abstract constructions that appear in these works—at once communal, Katchinalike figures and symbols of radical autonomy and individuality—are all versions of Icarus, at least in my opinion. The fate of Icarus haunted Jimmy, how­ ever unconsciously, all his life. Icarus was the obverse of Daedalus Max, and the question was whether to wear the Surrealist wings he fashioned or forge one's own. After attempting to obediently wear his father's wings, and finding they were a bad fit and that he could no longer fly far with them in the different artistic atmosphere of America, Jimmy finally managed to forge his own ingenious artistic wings—indeed, to soar, truly transcend, with them. He did ironically: by turning the figure of failure—the Icarus who wore his father's wings and got nowhere with them—into ; symbol of successful selfhood. Indeed, there is a certain irony in Due North, which can be interpreted both as the shrine Daedalus built for his dead son and as Icarus's transfigured �10 • JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT and resurrected figure. The same can be said for Sentinel and the other mysterious abstract figures that haunt Jimmy's pictures. Griinewald remains the consistent paradigm: the transformation of the crucified Christ into the resurrected Christ becomes the transformation of the falling Icarus into the rising hero. It is now a strong new Jimmy who emerges out of the silence of the past, as Self-Portrait When Last Seen Out of the Past, 1961, suggests (Figure 9 is an earlier study for this . painting). He has become strong where he was wounded, as J HllUiy BlElSt the sturdy, supporting structure of Another Silence and Homage J i to Edgar Varese indicates: what were once fault lines—breaks in tilC Tlddi-tl the surface—have become flying buttresses. In these and similar works, Jimmy has ingeniously created an indestruc­ tible cathedral of the self. Stanley I Grand We cannot accept the anti-h culture is a mere servant or aims. The seeds of aesthetic any people have always bee and discovered by philosop ~iT n his remarkable memoir A A recounts his reaction on first se JL (c. 1525-1569) Landscape with Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts ds Parisian exhibition. A youngster a painting and what it represented sc of the exhibition hall. Yet despite t later years the Icarus legend becarr painting [Icarus 64, Figure 14] and the myth forms the autobiography question of Jimmy's growing up:" son make use of wings fashioned Like Icarus, Jimmy was the artificer, the painter Max Ernst. I So-Still-Life contains a flight to fr however, where the son falls to J 1. Jimmy Ernst, "A Letter to A Journal 21, 2 (Winter, 1961-62): 68. 2. Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Stil Marek, 1984), 78. �[Figure 9 is an earlier study for this strong where he was wounded, as ructure of Another Silence and Homage what were once fault lines—breaks in le flying buttresses. In these and s ingeniously created an indestruc- ! Jimmy Ernst and the Tradition of the Artist-Intellectual I Stanley I Grand We cannot accept the anti-humanist concept that culture is a mere servant or tool of political or social aims. The seeds of aesthetic and social aspirations of any people have always been anticipated, sensed and discovered by philosophers, poets and artists. —Jimmy Ernst1 Tro his remarkable memoir A Not-So-Still Life, Jimmy Ernst j recounts his reaction on first seeing the Elder Pieter Bruegel's -JL (c. 1525—1569) Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (c. 1558, Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels) at a Parisian exhibition. A youngster at the time, Jimmy found tire painting and what it represented so upsetting that he stormed out of the exhibition hall. Yet despite this inauspicious encounter, in later years the Icarus legend became important in both Jimmy's painting [Icarus 64, Figure 14] and writing. Indeed, in many ways, the myth forms the autobiography's subtext since it poses the key question of Jimmy's growing up:"The ancient dilemma: Should a son make use of wings fashioned by his father?"2 Like Icarus, Jimmy was the son of a famous artist/ artificer, the painter Max Ernst. Like the Icarus legend, A NotSo-Still-Life contains a flight to freedom. Unlike the myth, however, where the son falls to his death, here he manages to 1. Jimmy Ernst, "A Letter to Artists of the Soviet Union," Art Journal 21, 2 (Winter, 1961—62): 68. 2. Jimmy Ernst, A Not-So-Still Life (New York: St. Martin's/ Marek, 1984), 78. evade the tightening noose of National Socialism, while the father—whom the Nazis officially labeled a Degenerate Artist in 1937—barely manages to escape to America. Jimmy's mother Louise Straus-Ernst, on the other hand, died at Ausch­ witz. A Not-So-Still-Life, then, is a coming-of-age saga that is simultaneously part biography and part autobiography. It includes the artist's youth in Weimar, Germany, his flight from Europe, a new life in America, and the loss of his parents (the book begins and ends with a parent's death). Complete with cameo appearances by the leading European Modernists, it describes a personal odyssey through the labyrinth of twenti­ eth-century art and politics. On another level it is a partial biography of the father as witnessed, frequently from afar, by the son. That the tone of the book is often dark is indicated by tine evocative, poetic chapter titles: "An Echo Etched in Smoke," "A Cage of Nightmares," "The Luxury of Sadness," "Darkness Uber Alles," or "Some Desperate Dances." In sum, the book is a modern parable, an allegory, a contemporary Pilgrim's Progress, and an eloquent apologia pro vita sua. As Diane Waldman observed: "In both his extraordinary autobiography . .. published shortly before his death, and in his last paint­ ings, he indeed came to terms with both his life and his art."3 Although "extraordinary," the book is part of a long tradition of artists' writings, a tradition that Jimmy Ernst knew. While growing up in German)' he had had the benefit of a Gymnasium education. His mother, an art historian and 3. Diane Waldman, "Introduction" in Jiininy Ernst: A Survey, 1942-19S3 (East Hampton, N.Y.: Guild Hall Museum, 1985), 9. i �. JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT journalist, reared him in a home where both the written word and images were valued highly. Later, when Jimmy himse began to write, he consulted and quoted from Goldwater and Treves's Artists on Art? In the catalogue that accompanied Jimmy's Retrospective at the Guild Hall Museum (1985), Frank Getlein stated that Jimmy was "arguably the most literate American artist of his generation."5 (High regard indeed when one considers that this company included Robert Motherwell, Ad Reinhardt, and Barnett Newman.) A Not-So-Still-Life adds to an extensive written heritage that stretches back to the Classical era. Although vast, this literature is not well known to non-specialists. Consequently, in order to appreciate fully Jimmy Ernst's contribution, a brief overview of the landscape would be helpful. (Since compre­ hensiveness cannot be attempted in a short essay, bear in mind that the following examples represent a personal, even idiosvncratic, selection from the Western tradition.) This survey begins with the High Classical sculptor Polvclitus (active between c. 450 and 405 b.c.) who wrote a famous, but now lost, treatise on human proportion called the Canon. Somewhat later, during the Late Classical era, the minor sculptor Xenocrates of Sikyon (active first half of the third century b.c.) wrote a book that evaluated and criticized artists according to certain aesthetic criteria. Reflecting the refined taste exemplified by Lysippus' (active second half of the fourth century b.c.) new canon of proportion, Xenocrates praised Polyclitus for his employ­ ment of contrapposto but faulted him for the excessively monoto­ nous heaviness of his figures. Although no longer extant, Xeno­ crates' text informed much of Pliny the Elder's Natural History. Not to be dependent on the astuteness of other critics, Apelles (active in the fourth century b.c.), the most famous painter of 4. Jimmy Emst, "Freedom of Expression in the Arts II," Art Journal 25,1 (Fall 1965): 46, n.l. He quotes a letter from Courbet included in Robert Goldwater and Marco Treves, Artists on Art from the XIV to the XX Century (New York: Pantheon, 1945). 5. Frank Cetlein, "Jimmy Ernst in Retrospect," Jimmy Ernst: A Survey, 1942-1983 (East Hampton, N.Y.: Guild Hall Museum, 1985), 12. his day wrote a treatise on his own art, which boasted that he knew when to remove his hand from the painting. Despite the contributions from antiquity, the rich tradition of writing artists has its roots in the intellectual imperative forged during the quattrocento (the 1400s) in Italy, namely that the painter is an intellectual, not a craftsman, that creating art is a mental endeavor, and that the role of the artist is to ad­ vance the store of human knowledge. Thus, during the Renais­ sance as individuals and society became ever more complex and self-conscious, as Classical learning was rediscovered and absorbed, as urban based economies rapidly developed, and as thought became increasingly secularized; artists were no longer content to write studio manuals like Cennino Cennini's (c. 1370 to c. 1440) Il Libro dell'Arte (written c. 1400). While seeking to differentiate themselves from craftsmen and become identified as humanists, artists were stigmatized by what they regarded as an unfortunate oversight: painting was not included among the Seven Liberal Arts. Typically divided into the quadrivium (arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music theory) and the trivium (grammar, rhetoric, and logic), the liberal arts represented activities of the mind in contrast to those of the "vulgar" or manual arts. Worse, although poetry could boast of authoritative and ennobling ancient texts—Aristotle's Poetics and Horace's Ars poetica—no similar theoretical works existed for the art of painting. Nonetheless, since both Aristotle and Horace, the latter in a famous simile Lit pictura poesis ("as is painting so is poetry" or as it came to be understood "as is poetry so is painting"), had commented on certain correspondences between painting and poetry, art theoreticians came to equate the "sister" arts. Significantly, Cennini, without mentioning Horace, linked painting and poetry; and somewhat later, Leonardo stated flatly that painting is the superior art. The full development of the theoretical implications of Ut pictura poesis, however, was concurrent with the rise of art academies commencing at the end of the sixteenth century. During the Renaissance, on the other hand, artists were often more concerned with advancing the scientific aspects of their art. No longer content merely to codify studio practices, numerous artists engaged in studies that clearly belong w the quadrivium. Their interest in perspective is a case in°pc Rediscovered by Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446) or at le first publicly demonstrated by him, the basic laws' of line; mathematical perspective captured the imagination of me of the foremost quattrocento artists. Paolo Uccello (1397-h according to Vasari, was so enamored with perspective, h "sweet mistress," that he refused his wife's entreaties to c to bed. Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472), a close friend of Brunelleschi s, made a detailed study of tine subject. Pierc della Francesca (c. 1410/20-1492), also of a theoretical bei wrote De pi aspect iva pingendi as well as other works on m ematics and perspective (Del abaco and Libellus de quinque corporibus regularibus). When his eyesight failed, Piero, on the greatest of a great generation of painters, gave up his and devoted himself to writing works that went beyond solving studio problems and into the realm of mathemati speculation. Another master of perspective, and one of tJ foremost painters of Baroque illusionistic ceilings (Sant' Ignazio, Rome is his masterpiece), Andrea Pozzo (1642-1 published Perspectiva pictorum et architectorum (2 vols., 16 and 1700). This exceedingly influential study—it appears many editions and translations, including Chinese—diss nated widely the Roman convention of quadratlira ceiling decoration in which illusionistically painted architecture elements appear as extensions of the actual architecture. Artists during the Renaissance approached proport well from a humanistic point of view. Although artists li Lysippus had based their rules on a study of nature—Lysif used to say that "whereas his predecessors had made mt they really were, he made them as they appeared to be" Nat. Hist. XXXIV, 65)—in the centuries following the dec the Ancient world, art became less concerned with natui proportions. By the Gothic era, authors such as the archi Villard d'Honnecourt (active in the thirteenth century) F reverted to a pre-classical aesthetic wherein proportions determined schematically and ornamentally, often with; any interest in the proportional relationships of the varii parts of the body. Reflecting the Renaissance's new scier �THE TRADITION OF THE ARTIST-INTELLECTUAL • 13 [rich boasted that he tainting. ty, the rich tradition ctual imperative n Italy, namely that an, that creating art he artist is to ads, during the Renais/er more complex as rediscovered and ly developed, and 1; artists were no ? Cennino Cermini's c. 1400). Ives from craftsmen 5 were stigmatized versight: painting Arts. Typically ronomy, geometry’, ar, rhetoric, and of the mind in arts. Worse, 'e and ennobling :e's Ars poetica—no of painting, ce, the latter in a ng so is poetry" or is painting"), had ween painting and "sister" arts. Horace, linked eonardo stated ull development of •sis, however, was mmencing at the land, artists were □entific aspects of ,’ studio practices, numerous artists engaged in studies that clearly belong within the quadriviuni. Their interest in perspective is a case in point. Rediscovered by Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446), or at least first publicly demonstrated by him, the basic laws of linear or mathematical perspective captured the imagination of many of the foremost quattrocento artists. Paolo Uccello (1397-1475), according to \ asan, was so enamored with perspective, his "sweet mistress,' that he refused his wife's entreaties to come to bed. Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472), a close friend of Brunelleschi's, made a detailed study of the subject. Piero della Francesca (c. 1410/20-1492), also of a theoretical bent, tvrote De prospectiva pingendi as well as other works on math­ ematics and perspective (Del abaco and Libellus de quinque corporibus regularibus). When his eyesight failed, Piero, one of the greatest of a great generation of painters, gave up his art and devoted himself to writing works that went beyond solving studio problems and into the realm of mathematical speculation. Another master of perspective, and one of the foremost painters of Baroque illusionistic ceilings (Sant' Ignazio, Rome is his masterpiece), Andrea Pozzo (1642-1709) published Perspectwa pictontm et architectorum (2 vols., 1693 and 1700). This exceedingly influential study—it appeared in many' editions and translations, including Chinese—dissemi­ nated widely the Roman convention of quadratura ceiling decoration in which illusionistically painted architectural elements appear as extensions of the actual architecture. Artists during the Renaissance approached proportion as well from a humanistic point of view. Although artists like Lvsippus had based their rules on a study of nature—Lysippus used to say’ that "whereas his predecessors had made men as they really’ were, he made them as they appeared to be" (Pliny, Plat. Hist. XXXIV, 65)—in the centuries following the demise of the Ancient world, art became less concerned with naturalistic proportions. By' the Gothic era, authors such as the architect Villard d'Honnecourt (active in the thirteenth century) had reverted to a pre-classical aesthetic wherein proportions were determined schematically and ornamentally, often without any interest in the proportional relationships of the various parts of the body. Reflecting the Renaissance's new scientific approach, however, Albrecht Diirer (1471-1528) made a careful study of proportion that culminated in his Underweyssung derMessung (Treatise on Measurement, 1525) and the posthumous Vier Bucher von menschlicher Proportion (Four Books on Human Proportion, 1528). By the end of tire quattrocento, the position of the artist in society had changed dramatically, and Leonardo da Vinci (14521519)—engineer, inventor, painter, musician, anatomist, writer, fortifications expert, botanist, art theoretician, and hydrologist (this is the short list)—embodied the new ideal. No longer was a work of art valued primarily for its rich materials (Alberti urged artists to avoid using gold and precious stones on their paintings) or painstaking technique, but instead for its intellec­ tual conception and learning. Thus when accused of wasting time by painting too slowly, Leonardo responded by saying that the time spent thinking is the most valuable. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, the new status of the artist in Italy was epitomized in painter and courtier Raphael (1483-1520). That Jimmy Ernst believed firmly in this conception of the artist as thinker is clear from his contribution to a sympo­ sium on "The Artist—Technician or Humanist?": The artist is not a mechanic of methods or of theo­ ries. In the physical construction of his work the tools of technique are subservient to the excitement of the inner eye. Inspiration must precede technical means. Without it the artist[']s activity consists of mere means only.6 After gaining acceptance in Italy, the new view of the artist as humanist gradually spread throughout the rest of Europe. In Spain, Francisco Pacheco (1564-1654), painter, writer, poet, and scholar, who was the dominant artistic personality in Seville, helped propagate the new conception of the artist. A great teacher whose best-known pupil, and subsequent son-in-law, 6. Jimmy Ernst, "The Artist—Technician or Humanist? One Artist's Answer,"Art Journal 15, 1 (Fall 1955): 52. :i i i< �was Velazquez, Pacheco wrote El Arte ae in rnnuiu -■ addition to biographical information about Velazquez, El Greco and others, Pacheco made exceedingly detailed pro­ nouncements on iconography: for example he insisted that artists depict four rather than three nails in Crucifixion scenes. Since he was an official censor for the Inquisition, his recom­ mendations carried considerable weight. In England, despite the success of portrait painters Hans Holbein (1497-1543) and Anthony' van Dyck (1599-1641), whom Charles I knighted, a concerted effort to elevate the status of the artist was not made until the founding of the Royal Academy of Arts in 1768.' Between 1768 and 1790, until blindness forced his retirement, the Academy's first president, Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) delivered fifteen lectures that define and codify' the classic academic attitude. Published as the Discourses, Reynolds's lectures elucidate the principles of eighteenth-century' aesthet­ ics—the cult of the antique, the rational tradition, the pan­ theon of artists headed by Raphael—which sought to form a bulwark against the expansion of inchoate Romanticism. That James Boswell dedicated his famous Life of Johnson to Reynolds is indicative of the respect the painter inspired among the leading thinkers of his time. Nonetheless, considering the Academy's preference for History Painting, it is ironic that Reynolds's greatest success, both financially' and aesthetically, came from his portraits. The theoretical issues discussed in the Discourses are repre­ sentative of artists' continuing and extensive interest in theory, a cursory study of which would require several volumes. The following examples illustrate only one theoretical stream, the Classic. In a famous letter to Baldassare Castiglione (1516), Raphael, echoing Zeuxis, described the creation of an ideal figure by employing the best attributes of several models. When the Milanese painter and writer Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo (1538- 7. As a young man, Reynolds had read and been influenced by the portrait painter Jonathan Richardson's (1665-1745) An Essay on the Theory of Painting (1715), which asserted the intellectual nature of painting. subsequently published two enormously umuaiuai ueauseson art: Trattato dell'Arte de la Pittura, Scoltura, et Architettura (1584, an English translation appeared in 1598) and Idea del Tempio della Pittura (1590). Further advancing the theoretical base of the Classical ideal, Nicolas Poussin (c. 1593-1665) developed a complex doctrine of Doric and Ionic modes based on an under­ standing of antique musical theory. Although Poussin's planned treatise on art never progressed beyond the research stage, his notes were published by Bellori in 1672 and, along with his letters, contributed to his immense influence. Poussin's greatest advocate was Charles Lebrun (1619-1690), who worked for Louis XIV. In 1662, the Sun King named him Premier Peintre du roi. The following year Lebrun became Director of the Academie and subsequently institutionalized Poussin's Classicism as the official French style. Indebted as well to Poussin, Lebrun's famous Methode pour apprendre a dessiner les passions... (1698) systematized the rendering of emotional states. Long a standard reference work, Lebrun's opus codified, organized, and classified the rules of art reflecting the underlying belief that laws do indeed exist, can be discovered, and when properly' applied will produce high quality art. Other important advocates of the Classic ideal include Anton Raffael Mengs (1728-1779), the leader of the Neoclassical school, who was once considered to be the finest living painter. His Gedanken uber die Schbnheit hand den Geschmack hi derMalerei (Considerations on Beauty' and Taste in Painting, 1762), winch he dedicated to his friend Johann Joachim Winckelmann, was of great importance and widely' disseminated. Finally, in response to the naturalistic surfaces employed by' artists such as Rodin, Adolf von Hildebrand (1847-1921), an exponent of classicism both in his own sculpture and as the author of the widely read, and translated, Das Problem der Form in der bildenden Kunst (1893; English edition, The Problem of Form in Painting and Sculpture, 1907) advocated the concept of "pure form." Closely' related to the view of the artist as a practitioner of the liberal rather than the vulgar arts—theory clearly’ falls within the realm of philosophy and rhetoric—was the Renais­ sance concept of fame. The radical nature of this concept becomes apparent when we consider the art created between 330, when Constantine moved empire to Byzantium, and the first eight hundred years later. We are st absence of artists' names. For the rr who painted the illuminated manu mosaics, or built the churches soari creators are cloaked in an opaque r sionally, of course, a name pops up In the twelfth century, howevi Not only' did the sculptor Wiligelm a new, more naturalistic figure stvle, edge of Classical art, but his achieve) an inscription carved into one of the Cathedral in the Northern Italian t< quently Giovanni Pisano (d. after 1 inscription into the pulpit of the Di boasts of surpassing his father, wh< Sienese inscription, claimed to be f beginning of the 1300s, the trecento, creasing importance, and transitor Iii painting Cimabue thou< To hold the field: now Giot So that thefame of the othe (Purgatory XI, 94-96 Not unexpectedly, and confer developing cult of fame is the rise of well-known examples include Ghil Baptistery' Doors and Alberti's, done medal, which well reflects the era's tion with the antique. (Both Albert Ghiberti wrote important treatises.) classic humanist texts such as Pliny 8. A translation of the inscriptio your work shines forth. Wiligelmus. H< honors." �e 33. he devoted himself to writing and two enormously influential treatises on e la Pittura, Scoltura. et Architettura (1584, appeared in 159S) and Idea del Tempio rther advancing the theoretical base of :olas Poussin (c. 1593-16651 developed a >ric and Ionic modes based on an underisical theorv. Although Poussin’s planned regressed beyond the research stage, has by Bellori in 1672 and, along with his is immense influence. Poussin's greatest ebrun (1619-lec-2 i. who worked for Louis ng named him Premier Peinrre d:: roi. The i became Director of the Academic and nalized Poussin's Classicism as the official :s well to Poussin, Lebrun's famous Vrc.'.L les passions... (1698) systematized the states. Long a standard reference work, , organized, and classified the rules of art ing belief that laws do indeed exist, can en properlv applied will produce high iant advocates of the Classic ideal include 728-1779), tire leader of the Neoclassical considered to be the finest living painter. thbnheit hand den Geschmackin derAlalerei uty and Taste in Painting, 1762}, which he Johann Joachim Winckelmann, was of ridely disseminated. Finally, in response aces employed by artists such as Rodin, I (1847-1921), an exponent of classicism ure and as the author of the widely read, blent der Form in derbildenden Kunst (1893: roblem of Form in Painting and Sculpture, mcept of "pure form." > the view of the artist as a practitioner an the vulgar arts—theory clearly falls lilosophy and rhetoric—was the Renais. The radical nature of this concept len we consider the art created between ---------- o mguci. uieir creators are cloaked in an opaque robe of anonymity. Occa­ sionally. of course, a name pops up, but rarely more titan that. In the twelfth century, however, things began to change. Not only did the sculptor Wiligelmus (active c. 1100) introduce a new, more naturalistic figure style, which reflects some knowl­ : edge of Classical art, but his achievement was commemorated by an inscription carved into one of the reliefs on the facade of the Cathedral in the Northern Italian town of Modena.8 Subse­ quently Giovanni Pisano (d. after 1314) carved a self-laudatory inscription into the pulpit of the Duomo at Siena wherein he boasts of surpassing his father, who had himself, in an earlier Sienese inscription, claimed to be the greatest sculptor. At the beginning of the 1300s, the trecento, Dante captured the in­ creasing importance, and transitory nature, of fame: bi painting Cintabue thought indeed To hold the field; now Giotto has the cry, So that the fame of the other few now heed. (Purgatory XI, 94-96, Binyon translation) Not unexpectedly, and contemporaneous with the developing cult of fame is tire rise of interest in self-portraiture: well-known examples include Ghiberti's on the Florentine Baptistery' Doors and Alberti's, done in tire manner of a Roman medal, which well reflects the era's lionization of and competi­ tion with the antique. (Both Alberti, as has been noted, and Ghiberti wrote important treatises.) Moreover, as artists turned to classic humanist texts such as Pliny's Natural History, they read 8. A translation of the inscription reads "Among sculptors, your work shines forth, Wiligelmus. How greatly you are worthy of honors." > Vasari, that is a shift from Lives of the Saints to Lives of the artists. One of the most famous artist-writers, Luke the Evangelist was a painter celebrated for his portrait(s) of the Blessed Virgin Mary, one of which, according to the faithful, is still visible in SS Annunciata, Florence. Patron saint of painters and protector of academies such as the Accademia di S. Luca, Rome (founded 1593), Luke appears as the subject of many paintings including Guercino's Saint Luke Displaying a Painting of the Virgin (1652, Nelson-Atkins Museum). The shift from hagiography to history is evident in the career of the miniaturist Matthew Paris (d. 1259): not only did he write and illustrate a Life of Saint Alban (Trinity College, Dublin, owns an autograph manuscript), but he also composed the Historia Anglorum (or Historia Minor), which chronicles events of the first half of the thirteenth century. Interestingly enough, the work contains a self-portrait. The most influential chronicler, of course, is the impor­ tant Mannerist painter Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574). Long befo)ire the era of professional biographers, artists themselves as­ sumed the task of retelling the lives of predecessors and contemporaries. The classic example is Vasari's Lives of the Artists (Le Vite de'piii eccellenti architetti, pittori, et scultori italiani, 1550; 2nd. ed. enlarged 1568). More than a series of biographical entries, the Lives argues that the great painters of Tuscany, commencing with Cimabue and Giotto, rescued art from the debased conventions of the post-Classical world by establish­ ing their art on a close study of nature. He traces the progres­ sion from the pioneering artists of the trecento, through the achievements of Donatello, Masaccio, and other quattrocento artists, until his own day when Michelangelo, Leonardo, and Raphael elevated art to perfection. The importance of Vasari's Lives cannot be overemphasized; not unexpectedly it spawned numerous imitators. Now largely' forgotten as a painter, and justifiably so, Carlo Ridolfi (1594-1658) wrote Le Miraviglie deWarte (Marvels �ft ft lb • JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT of the Painter's Art, 2 vols., 1648), which provides an alternative, Venetian perspective to Vasari's emphasis on the Central Italian and Roman Schools. Ridolfi also wrote a full biography of Tintoretto (1042). In Le vite de'pittori, scultori, ed architetti (1642), Giovanni Baglione (1573-1644), another mediocre painter but important writer, described the lives of artists then active in Rome. Notable is his unequivocally expressed enmity for and detestation of Caravaggio, which represented (as will become clear) justice from poetry if not poetic justice. Other important biographers included Filippo Baldinucci (16241696) an artist from Florence, whose Notizie de' professori del disegno (1681-1728) covers artists from Cimabue to his contem­ poraries. He also wrote a biography (1682) of the sculptor Gianlorenzo Bernini (1598-1680), which has long been the primary source for understanding the artist's life. Baldinucci's contemporary, tire painter and antiquarian Carlo Malvasia (1616-1693), concentrated on the lives of the Carracci and their Bolognese followers in Iris Felsina pittrice: vite dei pittori bolognesi (Felsina [Bologna in Etruscan] Painters: Lives of the Bolognese Painters, 1678). Malvasia's pioneering handbook of Bolognese paintings (Le Pitture di Bologna ..., 1686) was among the first such studies; he also wrote a full biography of Guido Reni. The example of Vasari was not confined to Italy. Karel van Mander (1548-1606), the "Dutch Vasari" and erstwhile teacher of Frans Hals, included biographies of Netherlandish and German artists commencing with Jan van Eyck (d. 1441) in his Het schilderboeck (The Book of Painters, 1604) which also contains information on the Italians, mostly derived from Vasari, although Mander does add some original material, especially about artists working after Vasari's second edition appeared. The book also contains a long poem dealing with techniques, materials, and critical theoretical matters. Another forgotten painter, the "Spanish Vasari" Antonio Palomino y Velasco (1655-1726) chronicled the lives of his countrymen in his Museo Pictbrico y Escala Optica (3 vols., 1715 and 1724). On this side of the Atlantic, the "American Vasari," William Dunlap (1766-1839) continued the tradition with A History of the Rise and Progress of the Arts of Design in the United States (2 vols., 1834). Other important "lives" by artists include Joachim von Sandrart's (1606-1688) Teutsche Academic der Edlen Ban-, Bildund Mahlerey-Kilnste (German Academy of the Noble Arts of Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting, 1675), Arnold Houbraken's (1660-1719) De Groote Schouburgh der Nederlantsche Konstschilders en Schilderessen (The Great Theater of Netherlandish Painters, 3 vols., 1718-1721), and John Ruskin's (1819-1900) Modern Painters (5 vols., 1843-1860). Although von Sandrart was once highly regarded as a painter, he is now remembered primarily as the author of a treatise that combines a strong debt to Vasari with original material concerning the lives of German artists, information on art collections and iconogra­ phy, as well as a most unusual feature, a chapter on Oriental Art. Arnold Houbraken remains an invaluable source of information on Netherlandish artists of the seventeenth century. Finally, John Ruskin, the premiere English art critic of his era and a prolific writer whose collected works total 39 volumes, was also a talented amateur watercolorist. In addition to "lives" a number of artists, such as Ridolfi and Malvasia, have written more extensive biographies on a single subject, whom they frequently knew personally. For example, Ascanio Condivi (d. 1574) wrote a biography of his friend Michelangelo (1553) in rebuttal to certain claims made by Vasari in the first edition of tire Lives. The Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds (1813-1815) by the uninspired academic history painter and portraitist James Northcote (1746-1831) remains the premiere contemporary source on Sir Joshua. Charles Robert Leslie (1794—1859), now forgotten as a painter, is remembered for his Memoirs of the Life of John Constable (1843), a biography of his close friend that remains a classic of the genre. Not all biographies are flattering however. Like Northcote, J. T. Smith (1766—1833) had served as an assistant to his subject, but unlike Northcote, Smith described his master as a tightwad, cheapskate, and miser in his harsh, brutal and unflattering [Joseph] Nollekens and His Times (1828). Our own century provides numerous examples of artist­ biographers. A painter who never emerged from the shadow of his more famous father, George Inness, Jr. (1854-1926) wrote (Text continues on p. 4V 1 The Elements, 1942 oil on canvas 24x20 �! ■5 ■" by artists include Joachim von che Academic der Edlcn Ban-, Bildm Academy of the Noble Arts of Painting. 1675), Arnold Houbraken's burgh der Nederlantsclte Konst> Great Theater of Netherlandish , and John Ruskin's (1819-1900) 3-1860). Although von Sandrart ; a painter, he is now remembered treatise that combines a strong material concerning the lives of on art collections and iconogralal feature, a chapter on Oriental ains an invaluable source of sh artists of the seventeenth i, the premiere English art critic of whose collected works total 39 1 amateur watercolorist. number of artists, such as Ridolfi more extensive biographies on a equentlv knew personally. For 1.1574) wrote a biography of his n rebuttal to certain claims made of the Lives. The Memoirs of Sir by the uninspired academic st James Northcote (1746—1831) nporary source on Sir Joshua. ■1859), now forgotten as a painter, irs of the Life ofJohn Constable )se friend that remains a classic of ;s are flattering however. Like -1833) had served as an assistant to cote, Smith described his master nd miser in his harsh, brutal and is and His Times (1828). ides numerous examples of artistnever emerged from the shadow ieorge Inness, Jr. (1854-1926) wrote (Text continues on p. 41) ../j H I 1 The Elements, 1942 oil on canvas 24x20 2 Surreal, 1942 oil on canvas 12 x 16 �'A A B '■ •"* 3 Untitled (Blue Max), 1942 oil on canvas 20 x 24 4 Untitled, c. 1942-1943 oil on canvas 12x16 5 Blues in Black and White, 1946 oil on canvas 20x23 �■ 1 1 5 Blues in Black and White, 1946 oil on canvas 20x23 6 Mahogany Hall Stomp, 1946 oil on canvas 36 x 347s �8 The Wake, 1947 oil on canvas 30x36 �8 the Wai-Ji, 1947 oil on canvas 30x36 �■ id i a 9 Self-Portrait, 1951 oil on canvas 24 x 20 10 Animals and Mineral, 1952 oil on canvas 43x43 ��>« 's J ; ■ £ 12 Rimrock, 1960 oil on canvas 50 x 60 �sJ A > .. .' a ■ -a ■ ■ Ss? •' ...A \.X 7 - < ' • •■- ■< ■ ... - ' BRASS’ ' A ' --- \. * x . ' r ■ _■ i f ’^A ; .;'A Sacs'aS 'A... ' -.. s " - 'A -u ■ A s' A A ■" i i :•■ A". .;.. - -' . ' ., , •- t V' > . / AA W A A .... . . 'H. - IB ' - S A A ' -A; ' ' 'I . \ SS i. r ' ■ A- A. .'. I ■ -A ■ A< L J V cc . s-X ■1 A >Ac< VA >A 1 . 12 Rimrock, 1960 oil on canvas 50 x 60 frig AK - �13 Oceania, 1963 oil on canvas 43x38 14 Icarus 64, 1964 oil on canvas 50 x 40 �— : & gg 1 :-- I ?rr?^ 'i V;^*-=■<>’ 1 • i I $3 g ;/ fi 9 ■ 4- 1 �r f S': I ' b. &r'il -741 I 1 ■ i liBWBfc 15 Homage to Edgar Varese, 1965 oil on canvas 50 x 6572 16 Sentinel, 1967 oil on canvas 65Vs x 50 �*■ a- It �i I rJ! i i'l 17 Only Yesterday, 1968 oil on canvas 60x50 18 Nightscape IIIA, 1969 oil on Plexiglass 21x21 ��i 20 Another Silence, 1972 oil on canvas 72 x 120 ' ■■ ,®s‘i �) ..•I �T i ;; F'. ���5 B ! I i 1 :?5! > ■ �ft" i?.-' K x . s ^5- -> : ■ «, - i Ik' •.«*£= : 1 ■ ■ L— i A >. i ; , . 1!__ .. ‘r 1 ■ l3_. ::: s iii 25 Katchina White, 1982 oil on canvas 50x60 26 On Winter Nights (With Louis Simpsoi oil and fumage on canvas 84x60 �- ■ ■ . ■ " w.. YOU „ “ - '-’1 FINDING SWlUiUULb r: v ' ’ ' “.-.l i: ih r OWAF0RM • i ■" »<(*', ■■ ‘ ' - WSANITY . . 6= '■ ? 26 Oh Winter Nights (With Louis Simpson), 1982 oil and fumage on canvas 84x60 . fe. ■« I I J �(Continued from p. 76; (1932)amdE^H^ ^931), that Zb^ knowledge of the subject with a critical •. . have the example of Roland Penrose (1900-1984) a painter - - ■ knownfor Pic 19s ± J tea veritable flood of ink on the artist, remains ai n like Jimmy Ernst, arfeteha nfe the need to tell their own stones. Alth fy fest published in 1728, Ben Cellini's (1500-1571) autobiography is a notable e^pfeU autoapotheosis.AfterCellini,whatwasatri< . jbecan torrent, especially in our own century. A partial sam titles includes Marc Chagall’s (1887-19851;Sah *. dor Dali s (1904-1989) colorful, vibrant, self-promoting, and hyperbolic autobiography Comment on dement Dali: les exax inmoudblesd Sa . . ... . Unspeakable Confessions of Salvador Dali as told t ■ Andre Parinaud, 1973); the American sculptor Jo David., ?n' - 18831952) Be. J ■ . - ' . --. ; (1951); the v. . Hillier (1905-1983): the unsurpassed, if net altogether e source on the movement, William Holman Htmfs(1827-191 Prc-R.i ; . _ John s (. S, >—. -■ . . .. . . - ■ -. - ;- • 1 - ”2 and Finishing Touches (1964); Guy Pene du Bess's(1884-1958 Artists Say the Sa.ast 7 ;s r34, .: and Lcrr; Rivers - t. 1-23 fun and somewhat ri-cue memoir "A.;: D :C. ‘ ~ . I.' :.::..- .■ 1992 withAmoldl einstein). Less formal than a m.? graphiesare - diaries 27 Sea of Grass (Black on Black), 1982 oil on canvas 50x60 Jacopo Ponto-me -i?--.-.r, .zx-irr- m ■which he records the progress of his great fresco pre rc~ Lozrenzo. Florence. What emerges is a portraita - da rr . self-absorbed hypochondriac, dEugene Delacroix 179S-lSb3 which he kept ire. cert 1 '22 and 1824 and from 1S47 to 1863. reveals the great Romantic pemrer to be an equally perceptive observer and commentator er. art his own life, loves, and cm. Jusfl famous s#e Cami .. issatio s �THE TRADITION OF THE ARTIST-INTELLECTUAL • 41 (Continued from p. 16) (1932) and Edward Hopper (1931), fa, eornbLd . personal knowledge of die subjects with a critical appraisal. Finally, we have the example of Roland Penrose (1900-1984), a painter best known for Picasso: His Life and Work (1958), which despite a veritable flood of ink on the artist, remains an important work Like Jimmy Ernst, artists have often felt the need to tell their own stories. Aldiougli only first published in 1728, Benvenuto Cellini's (1500-1571) autobiography is a notable example of autoapotheosis. After Cellini, what was a trickle became a torrent, especially in our own century. A partial sampling of titles includes Marc Chagall's (1887-1985) Ma vie (1931); Salva­ dor Dali's (1904-1989) colorful, vibrant, self-promoting, and hyperbolic autobiography Comment on devient Dali; les aveux inavouables de Salvador Dali. Recit presente par Andre Parinaud (Th<ie Unspeakable Confessions of Salvador Dali as told to Andre Parinaud, 1973); the American sculptor Jo Davidson's (18831952) Between Sittings: An Informal Autobiography of Jo Davidson (1951); the wonderfully titled Leda and the Goose (1954) by Tristram Hillier (1905-1983); the unsurpassed, if not altogether objective, source on the movement, William Holman Hunt's (1827-1910) Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (1905); Augustus Jofm's (1878-1961) Chiaroscuro, Fragments of Autobiography (1952) and Finishing Touches (1964); Guy Pene du Bois's (1884-1958) Artists Say the Silliest Things (1940); and Larry Rivers's (b. 1923) fun and somewhat risque memoir What Did I Do?: The Unautho­ rized Autobiography (1992, with Arnold Weinstein). Less formal than autobiographies are journals, diaries, notebooks, and letters. A fascinating example is the diary that Jacopo Pontormo (1494—1557) kept between 1554 and 1556, in which he records the progress of his great fresco project for San Lozrenzo, Florence. What emerges is a portrait of a melancholic, self-absorbed hypochondriac. On the other hand, the Journal of Eugene Delacroix (1798-1863), which he kept between 1822 and 1824 and from 1847 to 1863, reveals the great Romantic painter to be an equally perceptive observer and commentator on art, , his own life, loves, and era. Justly famous are Camille Pissarro's (1830 1903) letters to his son Lucien (published in 1943, edited by John Rewald) and Vincent van Gogh's (1853-1890) to his brother Theo (first published by the painter Emile Bernard [1868-1941]). The Renaissance conception of the artist-intellectual has frequently encouraged artists to write on subjects seemingly outside their main areas of interest. In this category' one thinks of the English painter Paul Nash (1889-1946) who wrote a Shell Guide to Dorset (1936) or the vanguard experimental artist and personality Yves Klein (1928-1962) who composed a Judo text (1954), or the Swiss born Surrealist Kurt Seligmann (1900-1962) who, after immigrating to the United States, penned a thought­ ful study entitled The Mirror of Magic (1948). An outstanding example is the great seventeenth-century painter of Amsterdam cityscapes, Jan van der Heyden (1637-1712), whose expertise in the area of firefighting was demonstrated in his Brandspuitcnboek (Fire Engine Book, 1690). Still others have created works of literature. Among the best-known are the sculptor-painter-architect Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564) who also wrote beautiful and sensitive poems; the visionary, Romantic poet, and mystic William Blake (1757-1827) who combined illustrations and text in his Songs of Innocence (1789) and The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1793); and Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882), the founder of the PreRaphaelite Brotherhood. When his beloved wife died of a drug overdose, the bereaved Rossetti, a gifted poet, painter, and translator, placed the only complete manuscript of his poems in her coffin. (Subsequently, the poems were unearthed and published.) Adored in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as tlie proto-Romantic artist (legend had it that he was a bandit), Salvator Rosa (1615-1673), when not painting wild, picturesque, and sublime landscapes, wrote poems. Other poets included Edgar Degas, whose Huit Sonnets (1946) appeared posthumously; Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931), whose verses from The Prophet (1923) have helped launch countless marriages; David Jones (18951974), author of the prizewinning In Parenthesis (1937), a massive experimental work that combines poetry and prose, which T. S. Eliot praised highly; and the minor Umbrian painter Giovanni Santi (d. 1494), father of Raphael, who wrote a verse history' of 1 �ft i- 42 • JIMMY ERNST: SHADOW TO LIGHT ■’ £- *'* - :1 r* ii" the Dukes of Urbino. Less decorous are the poems of II Sodoma (1477-1549), which, according to Vasari, unabashedly glorified the pleasures that earned him his nickname. Art historians are uncertain if Caravaggio (1571-1610) actually wrote the insulting and satirical poems that led to his imprisonment after Giovanni Baglione, the target of the poems, filed a lawsuit for libel (1603). The Expressionist painter Oskar Kokoschka (1886-1980), who began his career as a Jugendstil follower of Gustav Klimt, wrote several plays, including the satirical Sphinx und Strohntann (Sphinx and Strawman, 1909) and Mbrder Hoffnung der Frauen (Murderer Hope of Women, 1909), a savage, misogynist, and brutal drama of lust and blood. More gentle are the plays of Everett Shinn (1876-1953), one of The Eight. Fiction writers include Aubrey Beardsley (1872-1898), the illustrator in the dark fin-de-siecle manner, who wrote the Story of Venus and Tannhauser (1907), for which he also provided erotic, if not downright pornographic, illustrations. Other novels include the caricaturist Max Beerbohm's (1872-1956) Zideika Dobson (1911); and Salva­ dor Dali's (1904-1989) Hidden Faces (1944). Among the more bizarre novels is Die andere Seite (The Other Side, 1909) by Alfred Kubin (1877-1959), a member of Der Blaue Reiter group, who had dramatically, but unsuccessfully, tried to kill himself on his mother's grave. The list of writing artists goes on and on. How can we overlook Jonathan Richardson (1665-1745), who with his painter son Jonathan the Younger (1694-1771), wrote An Account of Some of the Statues, Bas-Reliejs, Drawings, and Pictures in Italy (1722), which was carried and consulted by countless dilettanti and young noblemen as they made the Grand Tour of the continent? Or the acerbic bon vivant, James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903), who sued Ruskin for libel and wrote the witty and mordant The Gentle Art of Making Enemies (1890)? Or Paul Gauguin's (18481903) Noa Noa (1897) about his life in Tahiti? And the literature of artists' art criticism has not even been scratched! In sum, the tradition of writing artists is a vast landscape over which we have flown. From this vantage point, details are lost; but the broad panorama unfolds. Visible below are numer­ ous cities with names like Theory or Biography or Poetry. Like the Guelphs and Ghibellines, the cities built fortifications against their rivals. Within the walls, sit many once magnificent edifices, now fallen into disrepair. Outside the walls, surrounded by impedimenta, commentators, scholars, and their followers encamp. Along the roads, solitary travellers make their way. Beyond the horizon, to the East, an unexplored tapestry unfolds. Neither an isolated castle nor an urban tower, A Not-SoStill-Life resides in a small country village where the author is known. The story is intimate and personal. It is a testament, an affirmation, of the power of art and the spirit to overcome adver­ sity. Jimmy's life was not easy: his father left when he was but a toddler. His mother was forced to flee and left him in tine care of relatives who regarded him as an unhappy reminder of a failed marriage. Later, he himself desperately struggled to escape from what would become his govemmenf s "final solution." When he disembarked from the S.S. Manhattan in June 1938, a few weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday, Jimmy had few prospects in his new homeland. But after a succession of menial jobs, he finally landed a position—in the mail room—at the Museum of Modern Art. Here his father's spirit was unavoidable. Throughout his youthful years, Jimmy had made a point of rejecting art—"Should a son make use of wings fashioned by his father?" Viewing Picasso's Guernica, however, knocked the seventeen-year-old's eyes open: "Here was the artist's elusive miracle. Conscious human knowledge becoming a rope ladder into dark solitude, there to find the blinding flash of ultimate reality, the lightning bolt called the moment of truth."’ Now, in the New World, Jimmy strapped on the wings but used them not to follow his father across the wine-dark sea but to pursue his own light. Although Jimmy's earliest works [Figures 1-4] reflect his father's vision, that vision was not his own and he promptly left it behind. Since Classical times the parable of Icarus has often been retold. In the Medieval age, it was seen as a cautionary tale against flouting authority, hubris, and pursuing forbidden knowledge. Later, in the Renaissance, Icarus was seen as an allegory of the heroic, soaring human spirit that seeks new knowledge despite 9. Ernst, A-Not-So-Still-Life, p. 87. I the costs. In our own century, writers and a tale through a Freudian glass, if not darkly Oedipally. For the Italian Lauro de Bosis, w 1927, the legend was more than symbolic; h subject: after dropping anti-fascist leaflets f over the city of Rome, he crashed to his dea Although Jimmy Ernst initially saw th tion, as a Siren call, he also saw them as a rr dence and freedom. But even more so, he u symbolic of the fragility of civilization: the �•I It many once magnificent edifices, ■side the walls, surrounded by (scholars, and their followers ■at)' travellers make their way. I an unexplored tapestry unfolds, le nor an urban tower, A Not-SoBntry village where tire author is Ind personal. It is a testament, an Band the spirit to overcome adver■ris father left tvhen he was but a I to flee and left him in the care of I an unhappy reminder of a failed lerately struggled to escape from ■meat's "final solution." When he tii/iattnn in June 1938, a few weeks I. Jimmy had few prospects in his [cession of menial jobs, he finally ■ room—at the Museum of Modern Is unavoidable. I years, Jimmy had made a point of riake use of wings fashioned by his lemicfl, however, knocked the In: "Here was the artist's elusive lowledge becoming a rope ladder Id the blinding flash of ultimate Id the moment of truth.''9 I Jimmy strapped on the wings but Ither across the wine-dark sea but lugh Jimmy's earliest works I's vision, that vision was not his ehind. parable of Icarus has often been has seen as a cautionary tale against pursuing forbidden knowledge, us was seen as an allegory of the hat seeks new knowledge despite fe, p. 87. i^^XuZS ?f' ists have seen the Oedipally. For the Italian Lauro de Bosis who ° C"ta.inly 1927, the legend was more than svmbo r 6 ICarUS in subject: after dropping anti-fascist leaflets fromT J6?1”6 over the city of Rome, he crashed to his deaS P Although Jimmy Ernst initially saw the wings as a temni- TH E TRADITION OF THE ARTIST-INTELLECTUAL • ES™ bLnding Wax-Whenyoun8Jimmy fled ‘^° amS °f hiS m°ther' she reProved him fo3 am accidenr fUm and Spoke Sadly Of the coming war, of the Die urPg n preserva«on' of ‘hose who burned books and ss assx Li/e is a testament to that love. symMc of tile fragility „f dviU2ation; th. LS”! 10. Ibid., p. 79. 43 �f;i F I, ChecxB’-c jf the E' Selected Bibliography ■ it Amason, H. H. American Abstract Expressionists and Imagists. New York: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1961. The Arts Club of Chicago. Recent Paintings by Jimmy Ernst. Chicago: The Arts vl Club of Chicago, 1968. Baur, John I. H. Evolution and Tradition in Modern American Art. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1959. --------- , ed. The New Decade: 35 American Painters and Sculptors. New York: The Whitney Museum of American Art, 1955. Beekman, Aaron. The Functional Line in Painting. New York: Thomas Yoseloff rj Im Inc., 1957. Berkson, Bill. "Review of Books: What Becomes a Legend," Art in America (October 1984): 23. Bethers, Ray. Composition in Pictures. New York: Pitman Publishing Corpora­ tion, 1962. Blesh, Rudi. Modern Art, USA. Men Rebellion Conquest 1900-1956. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1956. Campbell, Lawrence. "Jimmy Ernst at Armstrong," Art in America (October 1984): 200. Canaday, John. Mainstreams of Modern Art. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1961. Detroit Institute of Arts.T/ie Art of Jimmy Ernst: A Comprehensive Exhibition. Detroit: Detroit Institute of Arts, 1963. Ernst, Jimmy. "The Artist—Technician or Humanist? One Artist's Answer," Art Journal 15,1 (Fall 1955): 51-52. --------- . "Freedom of Expression in the Arts II," Art Journal 25,1 (Fall 1965): 46-47. --------- . "A Letter to Artists of the Soviet Union,"Art Journal 21, 2 (Winter, 1961-62) 66-71. --------- . A Not So-Still Life: A Memoir. New York: St. Martin's/Marek, 1984. --------- , and Francine du Plessix. "The Artist Speaks: My Father, Max Ernst," Art in America. (November-December 1968): 54-61. Friedman, B. H. '"The Irascibles': A Split Second in Art History," Arts Magazine (September 1978): 96-102. Galerie 1900-2000. Jimmy Ernst. Paris, Galerie 1900-2000,1990. Getlein, Frank. "Book Reviews: A Not-So-Still Life." Smithsonian (July 1984): 122. --------- . "Jimmy Ernst the Artist," Art Journal 21 (1961-1962): 60. --------- . "The Younger Ernst," The New Republic, March 23,1963,35-36. Goodrich, Lloyd, and John 1. H. Baur. American Art of Our Century. New York: The Whitney Museum of American Art, 1961. Guggenheim, Peggy, ed. Art of This Century. New York: Art of This Century, 1942. The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. American Abstract Expressionists and Imagists. New York: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. 1961. ______ Younger American Painters: A Selection. New York: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1954. Guild Hall Museum. Jimmy Ernst: A Survey 1942-1983. East Hampton, N.Y.: Guild Hall Museum, 1985. Hadler, Mona. "Jazz and the Visual Arts," Arts Magazine Uune 1983): 91-101. Janis, Harriet, and Rudi Blesh. Collage. Personalities Concepts Techniques. Philadelphia and New York: Chilton Co., 1962. Janis, Sidney. Abstract and Surrealist Art in America. New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, 1944. McCurdy, Charles, ed. Modern Art... A Pictorial Anthology. New York: Macmillan, 1958. Mendelowitz, Daniel M. A History of American Art. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1961. Moore, Barbara. "Ernst." In Art: USA: Now, edited by Lee Nordness, 2 vols. New York: Viking Press, 1963. Motherwell, Robert, and Ad Reinhardt, eds. Modern Artists in America. New York: Wittenborn, Schultz, 1951. Philadelphia Museum of Art. Multiples: The First Decade. Philadelphia: Boston Book and Art, 1971. Philharmonic Center for the Arts. Jimmy Ernst: Lincs through Time. Naples, Fla.: Philharmonic Center for the Arts, 1994. Porto, Gabriel Lawrence. An Analysis of the Life and Works of Jimmy Ernst and his Father's Early Influence. 1969. Pousette-Dart, Nathaniel, ed. American Painting Today. New York: Hastings House, 1956. Read, Herbert. A Concise History of Modern Painting. New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1959. Ritchie, Andrew Carduff. Abstract Painting and Sculpture in America. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1951. Robertson, Jack S. Twentieth-century Artists on Art: An Index to Writings, Statements, and Interviews by Artists, Architects, and Designers. 2nd enl. ed. New York : G. K. Hall, 1996. Seitz, William C. Abstract Expressionist Painting in America. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983. Tampa Museum of Art. Jimmy Ernst: Trials of Silence, Works 1942-1983. Tampa, Fla.: Tampa Museum of Art, 1994. Ward, John C. American Realist Painting 1945-1980. Ann Arbor, Mich.: UMI Research Press, 1989. 1 The Elements, 1942 oil on canvas 24x20 2 Surreal, 1942 oil on canvas 12 x 16 3 Untitled (Blue Max), 1942 oil on canvas 20x24 4 Untitled, c. 1942-1943 oil on canvas 12x16 5 Blues in Black and White, 1946 oil on canvas 20x23 6 Mahogany Hall Stomp, 1946 oil on canvas 36 x 343/s 7 Dallas Blues, 1947 oil on canvas 36x28 8 The Wake, 1947 oil on canvas 30x36 9 Self-Portrait, 1951 oil on canvas 24x20 �Checklist of the Exhibition nil Abstract Expressionists and iggenheim Museum. 1961. Jew York: The Solomon R. 942-1983. East Hampton, N.Y.: Magazine (June 19S3): 91-101. alities Concepts Techniques. So., 1962. lerica. New York: Reynal & rial Anthology. New York: 11 Art. New York: Holt, Rinehart dited by Lee Nordness, 2 vols. Modern Artists in America. New :irst Decade. Philadelphia: it: Lines through Time. Naples, ;, 1994. ife and Works of Jimmy Ernst and 1 The Elements, 1942 oil on canvas 24 x 20 10 Animals and Mineral, 1952 oil on canvas 43x43 19 Nightscape VI, 1969 oil on Plexiglass 21 x21 11 Across a Silent Bridge, 1957 oil on canvas 50x90 20 Another Silence, 1972 oil on canvas 72 x 120 12 Rimrock, 1960 oil on canvas 50x60 21 Twice, 1972 oil on canvas 50x60 4 Untitled, c. 1942-1943 oil on canvas 12x16 13 Oceania, 1963 oil on canvas 43x38 22 Due North, 1972-73 oil on canvas 50 x 60 5 Blues in Black and White, 1946 oil on canvas 20x23 14 Icarus 64,1964 oil on canvas 50x40 23 Exile, 1974 oil on canvas 50x60 6 Mahogany Hall Stomp, 1946 oil on canvas 36 x 343/s 15 Homage to Edgar Varese, 1965 oil on canvas 50 x 65'/, 24 Mombasa, 1975 oil on canvas 50x60 7 Dallas Blues, 1947 16 Sentinel, 1967 oil on canvas 65'/sx50 25 Katchina White, 1982 oil on canvas 50x60 8 The Wake, 1947 oil on canvas 30x36 17 Only Yesterday, 1968 oil on canvas 60x50 26 On Winter Nights (With Louis Simpson), 1982 oil and fumage on canvas 84x60 9 Self-Portrait, 1951 18 Nightscape TUA, 1969 oil on Plexiglass 21 x21 27 Sea of Grass (Black on Black), 1982 oil on canvas 50x60 2 Surreal, 1942 oil on canvas 12x16 Untitled (Blue Max), 1942 oil on canvas 20x24 ing Today. New York: Hastings tinting. New York: Frederick A. id Sculpture in America. New >1 Art: An Index to Writings, Irchitccts, and Designers. 2nd enl. ng in America. Cambridge: f Silence, Works 1942-1983. 1994. —1980. Ann Arbor, Mich.: UMI oil on canvas 36x28 oil on canvas 24x20 �Acknowledgments E"' This exhibition would not have been possible without the wholehearted participation and support of Dallas Ernst and The Rimrock Foundation Inc. I am particularly grateful to Mrs. Ernst for her advice, assistance, and hospitality, all of which she gave ■ unsparingly. We are very’ pleased that Donald Kuspit agreed to write tire lead essay in this catalogue. As Dr. Kuspit notes in his essay, Jimmy Ernst had a great love of jazz. Two other jazz lovers, Andrew J. Sordoni, III and Hank O'Neal, assisted in numerous ways to make this exhibi­ tion a reality. A special debt is owed to Rebecca Foster and the Society for the Preservation of American Modernists (SPAM) for sup­ porting this project with a generous grant. The Pennsylvania Council on the Arts also helped underwrite this exhibition. Last, I thank my colleagues Bonnie C. Bedford, Robert J. Heaman, Nancy L. Krueger, and William H. Sterling for reading an early draft of my essay. I appreciate their thoughtful com­ ments and suggestions. —SIG i £. ■■■ ' X1 U I Exhibition Underwriter: Diversified Records Services, Inc. Franklin First Savings Bank Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery F. M. Kirby Foundation, Inc. Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Mellon Bank Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Sponsors The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Eastern Insurance Group Friedman Electric Supply Co., Inc. Marquis Art and Frame Nabisco, Inc. G. R. Noto Electrical Construction Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Pennsylvania Millers Mutual Insurance Co. Rosenn, Jenkins and Greenwald, L.L.P. Trion Industries Inc. �Exhibition Underwriters Diversified Records Sen-ices, Inc. Franklin First Savings Bank Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery F. M. Kirby Foundation, Inc. Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Mellon Bank Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Sponsors The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Eastern Insurance Group Friedman Electric Supply Co., Inc. Marquis Art and Frame Nabisco, Inc. G. R. Noto Electrical Construction Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Pennsylvania Millers Mutual Insurance Co. Roserm, Jenkins and Greenwald, L.L.P. Trion Industries Inc. �F Advisory Commission Z' ■ i-; 2- x; u Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Man’ Jane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Constance R. McCole Hank O'Neal Arnold Rifkin Kim Ross Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sally Sprankle Sanford B. Sternlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Thomas H. van Arsdale Joel Zitofsky Staff Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Krueger, Co-ordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator Gallery Attendants Deidre Blake Sarah Karlavage Colleen McKinnon Lisa Tabbit Beth-Ann Witkowski �JBHL *> I / > GAYLORD FG �I- .»MJ 1 ? "' ' ■ : ■■■■ .' i|g ' : / - ' ■ ■■-.■ >'■ ■■ ■;:*;: ' .- ; s- ■. - Esss � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1997 October 5 Jimmy Ernst-Shadow to Light Paintings Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Jimmy Ernst DonaldKuspit StanleyI.Grand Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1997 October 5 - November 9 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Jimmy Ernst was a painter heavily influenced by Surrealism and Dada as seen in his erratic pallette and interest in chance happenings in his paintings. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Jimmy Ernst painter painting Surrealism Dada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/4a2234d76f9a5e4aeb67868d1f159f63.pdf a6037777598858875ecde555b2d42638 PDF Text Text ���������������������������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1997 November 16 Richard Florsheim: The Artist In His Time Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Richard Florsheim Robert L. Kurtz Louis A. Zona August L. Freundlich Domonic J. Iacono Neil Watson Robert L. Kurtz Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1997 November 16 - December 2 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Richard Florsheim's art was very much influenced by the events occuring around him from the Second World War to geometric modernism. His work captures the tragedies and triumphs of our time. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Richard Florsheim landscape landscapes modernism Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Butler Institute of American Art https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/a1d8cf105bf0c4faa4f79b84651d1369.pdf 149f380f36e3870bfaa96711ee3d205a PDF Text Text �������������������������������������������������������������������������������� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/e945b758fc3fbccc826ae0e786a33fdf.pdf 3d2b4176fb58e14ed8e20fbdeaed986e PDF Text Text I ARCHIVES | 8ORD GA N6337 S6426A4 1998 �ANTHONY SORGE �Copyright ' l998Si»rdoni Ait < i.ilh ip, Will.'■ ! ■ ..i All tight-, reserved 1600 copn were pi inted by I 'nigraphu Color Corporation Photographic Credits. ('olor Plan s Gary Mainat i I (•. 1 I and ... I In Spi ed Ah Musriiin y"’ i Mii hacl 1 huni.v. , S iV HP Set in Adobe Monotype Centaur ISBN 0 0429 b 13 1 HOSH SORt I I OCR DEC AI) �I ANTHONY SORCE: FOUR DECADES Exhibition cnr.HcJ by - Stanley 1 Grand i W ■/»/ • ■ ■■ ■ >’• ■ Mr. » I V \pf,t Essays bv Stanley I Grand John Yau E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WIL ' . .a ■■ ■ -•> • r »!.:■» i �' r,f -.. ‘ j _ -» 'x?1 V&A-'i. - ‘ �j PROGRESS AND INNOVATION: THE ART OF ANTHONY SORCE Stanley I Grand 3 �his exhibition and accompanying catalogue represent the first in-depth survey of An­ thony Sorcc’s protean artistic career. At times an innovator, at times a developer, Sorce has consis­ tently experimented with new processes, materials, and aesthetic possibilities.These investigations have mani­ fested themselves in a multiplicity of stylistic expres­ sions linked together by his commitment to such Modernist concerns as formal invention and artistic progress. Born in 1937, Sorce was raised in a family that valued the arts. As a youngster he frequently visited the galleries of the Art Institute of Chicago, where he developed his lifelong love of the Old Masters and admiration for the avant-garde. In 1955, Sorce won a citywide competition and enrolled at the American Academy of Art, Chicago, where he fol­ lowed a strict academic curriculum concentrating on drawing from the nude and employing line and value to express three-dimensional forms. His early figure drawings in which units are strung together to form the whole, where the underlying structure, or skel­ eton, is gradually obscured, but never obliterated, by succeeding layers of muscle, and where the entire sum is governed by a rational, logical, additive approach remain key factors in his subsequent works [Fig. I . At the Academy he also received extensive instruc­ tion in color theory and the techniques of oil, water­ color, tempera, and casein painting. This very tradi­ tional training has formed the basis for his lifelong devotion to craft and to expanding and investigating the physical aspects of process. After receiving his diploma from the American Academy of Art, Sorce was awarded a scholarship to study with the sculptor Ivan Mestrovic at X'otre Dame, where he earned his B.F.A. degree in 1961 and his M.F.A. degree a year later. Typical of Sorce's early work, EmHoino, 1961. shows his preoccupation with religious themes Tig. 2 , A subject whose pa­ thos has inspired countless artists, but few as mov­ ingly as Rembrandt. Etc f/eme "Behold die Man" John [9; 4-6, shows Christ at the moment ol bis �5 6 7 8 2 r.^Hciw. Wt'I 3 Qwois H64 4 irfs'fwn. ♦ Drawing for Th Cuy, 1964 364-6-/0, 1965 Vntitlri. 1965 3-70-6-0. 1965 I I J* ■ i > condemnation to be crucified.The work exemplifies arts school in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Outside the Sorce never accepted the nihilistic aspect of Existen- Scree's interest in depicting form in space and his classroom, he met regularly with a select group of tialism, nor did he embrace fully its preoccupation understanding of the expressive use of light, both faculty, led by Dr. George McMorrow, to discuss philo­ with the absurd. In this regard, he remained closer to ■ lessons learned from the Baroque Masters. sophical and artistic matters in general and Existen­ Gabriel Marcel, who maintained his faith, than to | Other ierge figurative works from this period include tialism in particular.1 From his study of Existential­ Jean-Paul Sartre. Replacing his earlier narrative sub­ Gru.~c an a Or.'.’:z-J JfeirTrrfien, both 1964 [Figs. 3 & 4], ism, Sorce came to the dialectic of existence—essence, ject matter and religious content with Existentialism J masklike faces and fragile linear contours, poignanth Lire r.u earliest figure studies Fig. I], the paintings have which increasingly became the content of his art. Yet illustrations for fa Cwlad/ Th Cits. a book of plays, short stories, and poems Madrid: Ldicior.es Magi­ cal, c. 1965 bv Jorge Diaz de la Jara, a Spanish port and fellow professor at Nazareth Fig. S’. Both ot Sorces Draw.sr , Mr Th Cus. 1964. with their signified a key development in Sorces art and marks ■ evoke the plight ot the anonymous. alienated, and an additive quality in which units are combined to his progression from a youthful, religious iconogra- ■ depersonalized individual m the modern city t. olor create a vr. ..t. Sorce viewed his compositional com- phy to a secular, philosophical art to. finally, one in | Plates 1 Si 2 . Sorce also collaborated w ith the poet Stephen Dobvns on A 'srlt-Ptrirau. 19b5. :.-.al building blocks—like the chap­ I. Existentialism, of course, was much discussed at the which formal aesthetic concerns predominate. Indeed. ! ter- tn a : c .I-, or the movements in a symphony— tunc. Not only did its tenets influence professional philoso­ one significant aspect of his art is this development | : Im. ’ . tr-. ate rm integral artistic entity while phers, but it also appealed to a broad range of die intelligentsia. this ability to grow. retaining their own artistic individu- Much contemporary art criticism reflected an Existentialist view­ pener.t.- . In ' cm. • ■ i?.n : an independent unit that ■■ but is not subsumed within, a greater i • - I ' "ii-l " ■■■ ! ’ : .’•• -1 figun . vinbolizing the trans- t; • n.-i’ni-il into spirit, sliow the influ- '■ 1.1 fjr. • .-.*.!. ■rt Itr .ttt' r. <,f I9f 2 ; JO . J- I'liipn.ii / tic at the ir xell known to Sorce. • hfi b.'oir, 1to ’ a pt a i. a. Ii -iz .. * > h f oik ,<<, a -mall lil u'l.il point; Peter Selz, for example, had written in the catalogue ac­ companying the highly influential "New Images of Man" exhi­ bition at the Museum of Modern Art that in response to Toward the end ot 1964. Sorce began to experi­ ment with assemblage Figs. 6 A further consequence of these discussions was "TheVelocitx ot Gows In h*s poem Stephen Dob-.ns described. that Sorce began to collaborate with a number ot "Standing there with lorn Sorce • in the dark ga­ other creative individuals. In IQ64 he provided the rage. he looking for junk, a found ob|*ct.. . . He o tired ot canvas. rhe movement ot spact "solitude and anxiety . . . anguish and dread . . . these new \n- imagists take the human situation, indeed the human pre­ dicament rather than formal structure, as their starting point" iA'rw Images of Man (New York: Museum of Modern Art. in William H. Whytes Hr < liym.anm Ma« D56 t®* the questions of c‘hSvnccs .Mitheniicicv. and hvp»xm>v ** I9.59 i, II,*. Other disciplines as well had incorporated ke\ ixploioi m ,ounik I'.xistrnii.tlist concepts; alienation, for example, was a subtext mlhRsr 1951 among du* most promtnc»X- runvls with |. D ! 2. rhcXikKUv of t <n Sew mi 'ir'a.uJ f^rrv IVngum Bo<iks. 1994.44. m Stephen lX*bsii». ln*iNew York Viking �5 6 7 8 ted the nihilistic aspect of Existen- Drawingfor The City, 1964 364-6-10. 1965 Untitled, 1965 3-70-6-0. 1965 illustrations for Li Ciudad/The City, a book of plays, other poet, BenTibbs, specifically referred to 364-6- slamped into the back of the mannequin’s head by short stories, and poems (Madrid: Ediciones Magi­ 10, 1965, an assemblage included in this exhibition die manufacturer n this regard, he remained closer to cal, c. 1965) by Jorge Diaz de la Jara, a Spanish poet [Fig. 6]: phor of alienation. As in the line drawings for The te embrace fully its preoccupation ^h-f-6-10 semis a fitting meta­ who maintained his faith, than to and fellow professor at Nazareth [Fig. 5]. Both of Replacing his earlier narrative sub- Sorce’s Drawing!s] for The City, 1964, with their ligious content with Existentialism .’elopment in Sorce s art and marks om a youthful, religious iconogra- dispersonalized individual in the modern city [Color ihilosophical art to, finally, one in Plates I & 2]. Sorce also collaborated with the poet this bald mannequin letic concerns predominate. Indeed, Stephen Dobyns on A Self-Portrait, 1965. pale and ashen 10 reflects an awareness of the dehumanizing tech­ quadruple amputee niques employed by political entities. As Hannah stares as if suddenly Arendt noted in her seminal Origins of Totalitarianism aect of his art is this development, City, the figure's gender is ambiguous, unisex, and fixed on axis hence universal. Armless, bald, and stripped, the man­ masklike faces and fragile linear contours, poignantly and squeezed between nequin symbolizes the wounded slate, and lack of evoke the plight of rhe anonymous, alienated, and sides of a large spool wholeness, ol the contemporary individual. (treated Toward the end of 1964, Sorce began to experi­ only two decades after the horrors of the Nazi con­ centration camps had become widely known. 364-6- v. ment with assemblage [Figs. 6, 7, & 8]. In his poem equence of these discussions was to collaborate with a number of “The Velocity of Cows,” Stephen Dobyns described: confronted (1951 , dehumanization by stereotyping, substitut­ "Standing there with Tony Sorce / in rhe dark ga­ by rhe hub of all ing numbers for names, shaving heads, and starving ividuals. In 1964 he provided the rage, he looking / for junk, a found object. ... He is existing dynamics’ bodies, was an essential prelude to the actual, phi st­ tired of canvas, / the movement of space ... s The Organization Mau 1956 ,. Finally, tna. authenticity, and hypocrisy were novels, with J. D. Salinger’s Th Catcher mg rhe most prominent. eal destruction of the victims. An­ Constructed of a mannequins torso, a wooden wire In a sense, 364-6-10 echoes other experiments in spool, and other found objects (364-6-10 was figurative sculpture during these wars, particularly 2. “The Velocity of Cows," in Stephen Dobyns, Veloci­ 4. In fact, 364-G-10 rather than 364-6-10 q pears to ties: New and Selected Poems 1966—1992 (New York: Viking, Penguin Books, 1994;, 44. 3. Ren Tibbs, “364-6-10,” Pyramid 3 I960 •: 12. be stamped on the back of rht- mannequin* head Il �those of Trova (in terms of the sleek, streamlined forms' and George Segal (in terms of the palette). Most significant, however, was the influence of Rob­ ert Rauschenberg’s employment of altered found ob­ jects (a ram tn Monogram, 1959) to create a new’ unity. The use of wheels, to create a chariot-like platform, recalls a long tradition of mobile characters that flows backward from Alberto Giacometti to the Etruscans and Greeks. 364-6-10 also reflects a widespread in­ terest in assemblage during the early 1960s: in 1961 the Museum of Modern Art had mounted "The Art of Assemblage,” with a catalogue by William C. Seitz { The Art of Assemblage, 1961). In many ways this exhi­ bition was a success by scandal: John Canaday, the chief art critic at The Acw York Times, denounced the exhibition as “highly perfumed" and "afflicted by fashionable bloat. Despite Canaday, interest in as5. Quoted by William C. Seitz the exhibition’s cura­ tor] in Art in the Age of Aquarws: (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1991), 41. 12 semblage continued; and five years later, Allan Kapn chronicled more recent developments in .'lasrmWage. Environments and Happenings 1966 One of Sorces most ambitious paintings to date. Once Upon a Life, 1965, is a Large, flat, frieze-like work, in which an ambiguous, enigmatic drama takes place on a shallow stage [Color Plate 31. To the left, a streamlined man moves toward a large space, empty but for a small circular object that hovers midpoint. In his haste, he distorts the restraining line, whose spiky forms bespeak tension. To the right, a pale, fe­ male character reclines, resting her weight on an el­ bow. Beneath, a heavy figure turns inward, his move­ ment caught as if in a multiple exposure photograph or a Futurist painting. The small picture within the picture, which echoes the larger painting, suggests that the action is occurring in an interior, domestic space. To the far right, facing away from the male, are the legs, buttock, swollen belly, and breasts of a headless figure. An interlocutor, a silent onlooker, peers down upon the scene. of countless childrens stories. I.ik, th, protagonists tn so mam such tales and alb. gurus the man muo rmbatk upon a quest or jourti-x in ot,i<-r to fulfill ho destiny.! he pregnant figure that turns away from the man as he moves outward into hi- future seem ,y■ mize that eternal conflict between the wandering male (Odysseus and the domestic female Penelope In Sorces painting, there is also a quest, but the I jib- :. tential message is that only Ln acting—bv employing free will, In seeking the- unknown—can the essence be transmuted into existence. One cannot, tn ,>thrr words, describe; one must act and experience. The painting is a summary and transitional work ; that continues Sorces preoccupation with narratwr | content; however, its outlook is philosophical rather than religious. It is sincere rather than ironic, rame< rather than knowing. Overall, it appears sonsewhX T unresolved: the large void, for example. In many y the work seems more like a colored drawing tha» a painting. Nonerhele: it is a harbinger of futu* *’$' l.uiguagi. \ltl ■ „lgll S. . ,[ i> IIHI, J lO i \ p|or> <h< lihiv.js ol growth, . h nr,■ • ii' ■ i. ■ In mg .r.,! i. itlungnv s, and oih' i 1 o-.i, mt ilisi . rr,» thiooghout die mid-sixties. In mcr< jsinglv cam,- to beliesc that: I hr sigruln uiee ol in tod.i, u ; i< >r m th, mug-- pro ducid 1.1 Pop. Op. Surrralnm but rail,,’ in the expansion ol media Fortuitous at this time th ( 'pp bn ( ’.imp in. u; Kji ,iiij/o. ,.t ■ .Lot in i,., rigid | ol.unthan, foim r..id.,bli to a limited num­ ber of lo.-.i! .unsts. One of th. i ills bi raIh iirus .>f this dcci<i, n. Sol. • •> II. > I id 1- ,ng been interested tn artistic innovation. began investigating the acstlsetk’ ;sossibiliti< • of polyun thatrf foam. Working in poi.uutfi ,r,. invoked conibimrig a binder and a cat il, st .Much like u ,ot . auung dough to rtsr th, n .mi mt mixtun ■■■■,-u.i d quick]-, m a ratio 6. Anthonv whiir-.d •turins'sK. 1%4 �9 Turn, 1966 1(1 C niirlfd Ljudseape, 1967 a I the painting recalls the opening lines lildrens stories. Like the protagonists in tales and allegories, the man must em|uest or journey in order to fulfill his -cgnant figure.that turns away from the ■s outward into his future seems to epitoal conflict between rhe wandering male d the domestic female (Penelope). In g, there is also a quest, but rhe Exis­ ts that only by acting-—by employing eking the unknown—can the essence into existence. One cannot, in other I one must act and experience. ? is a summary and transitional work Sorce’s preoccupation with narrative er, its outlook is philosophical rather t is sincere rather than ironic, earnest iwmg. Overall, it appears somewhat large void, for example. In many ways more like a colored drawing than a heless it is a harbinger of future fig- K ure-ground investigations and a more visual, abstract language. Although Sorce continued to explore the themes of growth, change, emergence, being and nothing­ ness, and other Existentialist concerns throughout the mid-sixties, he increasingly came to believe that: "The significance of art today is not in the images pro­ duced (i.e. Pop, Op, Surrealism, etc.) but rather in the expansion of media."1’ Fortuitous ar this tune, the Upjohn Company in Kalamazoo decided to make rigid polyurethane foam available to a limited num­ ber of local artists. One of the early beneficiaries of this decision, Sorce. who had long been interested in artistic innovation, began investigating the aesthetic possibilities of polyurethane foam. Working in polyurethane involved combining a binder and a catalyst. .Much like yeast causing dough to rise, the resultant mixture expanded quickly in a ratio 6. Anthony Sorce, undared statement r. I960. of 30 to I. Sorci •> i elicit q’cnimiu w itli th' mw material incorp -r il* J I -ind objci t .■ it _illt> it'll' .111.1 du, .which rl ; . i. .th 1 > , 1.1 and Pop refercnc. lie. 9 • 'swl'i. f- ml- ■■■:.■ would •tr< tdi otdtn tri I’-. Tm , , >t . tram.- md iln-n pour the puli uii th u,i unto on ,li- : i rim--. ,V In worked he cut slits tn the dii io.,, id. r to allow tin medium to rti. .md swell. I !m . th m.ii'ii.il ..nd ehan.i became p.utici; c.iti in th, u .iti’.e pioois. After his mini to R.'.Viiter X< w York, in th« fill of 1967. Suite eontiniH .1 to ■. A. ait io u whi-.r., i. wnh polyurcthani. ( Itt picjl of the extruded form 11 or relut-. • ij; live of gardens or contained landslip, ■, he ctc.itcd during the Lite 1960s Fig. Ilf. With pohur.-thanc Sorce found a mau n J through which he could express hi- underlying conient m in abstract and visual way. In a 1972 letter h< ohset ■■■ .1 Aesthetically and philosophically I ana concerned with the Existentialist'' notion of emergence. th< continual process of cominc into Ix-tng th« dvnami. �Vfwi.Vwr-- Urt*. !X*» i I S&uJ Cay Merk. 1969 MU ■ ' 14 12 Alpl'ribets, 1969 £ -■ • - I li pnvji. private. .or...ptual m.1 . [’belli, rd vi.irkv flux of life—the painful and rewarding course of veloped in several dire. Hous siniult m< > growth and creation."' The material—with its inter­ tore incorporating ek-mi-nts of c.mc. piti.il and p. r were created during i p. ri> ■.! of gtr u .... ul .hjngc twined swellings and depressions, its anatomical, formance art. ironv. found obji etc, and m homage to Although intended is i.onpdrti- il. arsthrlir nwrvti- sexual, and fecund forms—perfectly expressed his Marcel I )uchamp‘s sign, J nt m il. Soic. g.ition themes of growth, emergence, and becoming. Like block f ig. If . Ill. .S/ctad fit / k. In a c*. : d a . it- >•. bounded l>v in rctr. •: < . t tiw. app. at to this wnirr to ask pointed <|U< st ion, u h as AV 1*> own, ihr earth?" Sorer a number *4 cMthwtnrk* th# nt-'-tr I ik a 14 X 15. T Ivm- prc).:C!» it pre ' 'iicrl hi* «Mii n,(Ut js in [h« ri»»ntr i Inion J mute rial* to hnmrfH nf »'•. uc work* h* nontr idrtitinj] Mir*. w; ti well at an the large Seurat in the Art Institute, these works ex­ Wooster. Prince. Grand, and < liven. >tre. is m Sop. • •it i iinn when th. L nited Nat. press a moment frozen in time. Moreover, polvure- was created on Mav 25. 1969. j. p in of a group ill Southeast Asia. I thane represented a new material for a new time. Like project called ''Streetworks III. In other works, such Iiousn. ss ind untie st ei.Iio.m.'niariarusm sharacterts- many others—the Abstract Expressionists had used as Alphabets, 1969, he used twigs md th. it cast shad­ ttc of th. I'ttuls ( on-idering how CommrrriaJ the Duco paint, the Dadaists found objects—Sorce was ows to create an alphabet by the seashore 1 ig. 12 . irt worl.f b,.. !•. omc .t is hird to recall that mam* publication >f R mIw! 4 arson', intent upon employing the industrial products of his The sparse linear quality of these pieces, which w.i. artists n. tiw 19611s active!-, rejected rhe feushntic. continued with the back-toths laris! inisriwiM and time. Sorce's commitment to truth in materials, along promptly destroyed by the elements, recalls 1 Inry commodity aspect of art. Some artists refuted tos-a.-w culminated in live first Earth Day in April 1970 with a desire to escape the constriction of the frame, Callahan's minimal photographs of wild flowers, in galleries and museums while others created hap- were to become characteristic of his later work. weeds, and sticks against a white ground 'sorce has penmgs and other transitory, nonsalat-le works <d art *. a.tnrly at war -. il-o reflect a genet d rdel n< •»' <4 «nIn * i;>: • «. Mi-i« I H* • IXnms jOpixfilw: Jin *»r Hvlx-rt SnwfiiMXk Fix » • .• srk-. 4xsulJ I unJrixnx-jd in chr contra <4 mi inert aung of eeobofteti N*uet that began »tth the In 1969 Sorce began a senes to.ms 1 Fig 16 fyo”* 1X2 :i Mier form1: g 'be shapes he The polyurethane foam experimental reliefs led to described his Alphabet work as "draw ing w uh the . la­ Still others emplir.ed noutraditiorul and unpemunnM W.-uld mt into the polyurethane to reveal the tvn a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1968. which enabled ments and capturing the result with a camera." Oth. r jewel-like inner cellular uriacturr and colors him to move to New York City. Responding to the materials Sorces use of sand and mu. for eian^ar ’* seaside works included Signed Atlantis ( >.<a.i. which in­ displayed their works in anommou* eththrtw* ;*culy>tors then working >n nonrradtfionai materials vitality' of the New York art scene, Sorce’s work de­ volved the ocean’s participation in both their creation stres-.ing the art rather than rhe cult of penutubty. 'included Louise Bourgeois, l.vj Ftrsre. Louise and their destruction • Fig. 13.1 hi se works reflected or guerrilla theater manifestations from the tiorurv War to the Viet Cone guerrilla ta.'tx'' ha* Sorce’s awareness of. and admiration for. Rauschen­ 7. Anthony Sorce. letter dared May 19. 1972. 14 berg’s Erased de Ktvnmg Drawing. 1953. been an effective means of fighting unpertaltS" iVK-' Ni-irlson. jtxl R ichard Stankiewicz. The naw* isthn Totems evoked both ancient monuments such as Stonehenge as well as tlse vcriicdit j of tbr NewYwrk �13 i-r 15 S i1..'.:.. I ‘V .?•:)■.■. mro 5 1 °70 i. ST Lhese private, conceptual, and ephemeral c rks e created during a period of great social change, hough intended as nonpolitical, aesthetic investions, in retrospect thev appear, to this writer to pointed questions such as “Who owns the earth? time when the United States v.ss active!-. at war I | southeast Asia. Thev also reflect a general relzelsness and antiestablishmentarranism characterisaf the 1960s. Considering how commercial the world has become, it is hard to recall that man;, its in the 1960s actively rejected the ferishistic iditv aspect of art. Some Seme artists refused to show 11 modify allenes and museums, while others created hap- j ngs and other transitory, nonsalable vc. >rks of art. others employed nontraditional and imp rm.anent ■rials 'force’s use of sand and sun for example or ■ laved their works in anonymous exhibitions ■ ssing the art rather than the cult of personality I icrnlla theater manifestations from the Revolu| iryWarto the Viet Cong, guerrilla tactics hast ■ an effective means of fighting imperialism Scree also designed a number of earthworks that -z ere never executed Figs. 14 & 15"|. These projects represented his own interests in the employment of nontradiricnal materials to create nontraditional ?-ks for nontraditional sites, as well as an aware­ ness of ether artists, such as Michael Heizer, Dennis Oppenheim. or Robert Smithson. These works should also be understood in the context of an increasing awareness of ecological issues that began with the publication of Rachel Garson’s Silent Spring (1962), continued 7.1th the 1 ack-to-the-land movement, and culminated in rhe first Earth Day in April 1970. In I ->'■ > - rL-,. Regan a series of rigid polyurethane foam 7.:;- :: Jig. 16 . After farming the shapes, he ■.■.wild cut into the polyurethane to reveal the very jev -.I-like inner cellular iructure and colors. (Other sculptors • ns then th'C. working ’working m in non nontraditional materials included Louise Bourgeon . Eva Hesse. Louise Is'ev. Liand R icliard Stankn wicz. I lie monolithic Totems • v< red both am imt monuments sinh as Stonehenge a . .1.11 as till .etnc.ilily ol the New fork skyline. Unlike the former, however, the Totems rep­ resent the opposite of permanence. Over time, sun­ light has broken down their chemical structure. This self-destructive quality, however, now seems to be a part of their meaning: they have become metaphors of the cycle of birth and decay, .in industrial me­ mento mon. Ephemeral, like the conceptual ocean pieces, thev reflect the values of a civilization that no longer believes in permanence. Shown in 1970 at the Jewish Museum and subse­ quently at the Wichita Art Museum, the Totems re­ ceived mixed critic.il response.' Gordon Brow n found reason to both praise and condemn the work. ' > >ic« works with both intense and muted colors which he shapes and hacks at . . . producing a perfect realiza­ tion of Abstract Expressionism in sculpture. 1 here is no denying that this is an original idea and th it one senses strongh the actions he performed io ereS. In conjunoion with itsrev'vl'itw:!. iIkAViJv'v Xri Masetnn commissioned Sorce to create a pan of Ltcnu 15 �I7H. 16 Tctem. 1969 ate the work, which gives it a living quality.”1’ But Brown had problems with the material itself: "I hon­ estly believe that his sculpture has an ugly shine to it.”1'1 So did Hilton Kramer, who wrote that "Mr. Sorce’s sculpture is something of a puzzlement. He shapes polyurethane foam into fat columnar forms that have all the appearance of giant ceramics. I find it odd that so much technical finesse should be invested in making one material resemble another when there is so little discernible esthetic advantage in the process."11 Sorce. on the other hand, felt that the critics had misunderstood his Totems by failing to differentiate the surface qualities of polyurethane cellular struc­ tures from those of other, more traditional materials. 9. G. B. Gordon Brown , "Beautiful Painting and Sculp­ ture,” Arts Magazine 'April 1970.: 55. 10. Ibid. 11. Hilton Kramer. "Variety Marks 3 I:•Jiibilinn-. at the Jewish Museum." 7h Ara K’d l::iu> March IM, 197(1 : 40. 16 In 1972, Sorce created a number of polyure­ thane sculptures in the courtyard of the Hudson River Museum. Here the installation stressed the interactive nature of the work. Viewers were en­ couraged to move the lightweight pieces around, to construct their own nonstatic environment, to embrace chance and randomness, and thereby to break down the barrier between the object and themselves i a concept explored earlier in < )»<y L pen a Life). This participatory approach, this desire to extend boundaries, and this emphasis on open forms are also found in his assemblages recall Dobyns’s observation) and later in his poh urethane poured pieces. Finally, in encouraging the viewer to assume an active role in the art, this installation implicitly, if nor explicitly, promoted the concept dium. 1 hese experiments led to shaped works and Open 1 orm "antiground’ paintings such as I rtitle.! 5rirr.ro;, 1972 ( olor Plan A . In ihesc worfw. Sorce employed a wide variety of tccli.n.iu.••. in­ cluding gestural brushstrokes and scumbird Inrrs of paint, to appb. polychrome acrylic pigment' onto transparent polyethylene shuts. When dr. he peeled oft the thin, flexible layers of paint Mm. which he then cut into different shapes Overlap­ ping. folding, and cutting the fine livers of pure color, he created painted collages. Typically he would expose prior layer' of paint film and thereby produce an actual, rather than illusionistic. depth. Since the layers were primarily opaque rather than of questioning authority, which was a w idelv held belief at the time. After the Totems, Sorce continued to investi­ gate the aesthetic properties of polyurethane, but now as a painting, rather than a sculptural, me- the work was laminated onto the wooden support using rhoplex. The construction or these Op**1 transparent, they served to rrinforci thr sculptural, low relief quality of the work. When o'lnpUte. Form paintings, therefore involved tw> d»<tiact processes: I the painting stage and 2 the s’1® posing stage. The separation was more tnan om ph one of process; represented Sorce’s assault thr traditional iwav of making a painting m on the which the two step* steps are closely mierrrlated. Having n<> predeteimined ground, the image 'formed its ow n ground organically creating a umr. of image and form According to Sorer hr* intent • >' to unify figure and ground and thereby con­ tinue th' advancement of modern art: T he Im­ pressionists broke up color, ihe Cubists broke up form, the early abstract painters fWasaih Kandinsky. Kasimir .Malevich, and Piel Mondrian' eliminated subject matter I eliminated ground cun'iderations Sorce s desire to further artistic progres' continues i tradition that I. H i wimbrich explored well in his classic. 1952 tssav, "The Renaissance Conception of Artistic Progress and its Consequences." republished .n !Km an f.'or. StuLe; in the Art . ' thr Jfrnaojan., 19ri(> . Thio, m sums ways. Sorce is an exemplar of Modernism s •b-evsion with the new. even at a time when the Concept of the vanguard itself was increasingly C0!1 IS < Sha 1 the WOT rrh fen the uf Mu orb I Shr W 19* �17 1umma Scnrs I'll!, 1980 ese experiments led to shaped works and ply one of process; it represented Sorcc’s assault coming into question by critics and authors such Rockbiimc or I rank Stella, were also explnruiy -b u • I paintings such as L'n- on the traditional way of making a painting in as George Kubler, Hilton Kramer, and Roger canvases. Sorcc’s method of painting was quite dif­ which the two steps are closely’ interrelated. Shattuck.12 rm "antiground -ce. 1972 Color Plate 6). In these works, ployed a wide variety of techniques, in- Having no predetermined ground, the image Throughout the 1970s and '80s Sorce explored ferent. Rather than creating objects, in w.is num in­ terested in deconstructing or breaking down the idea formed its own ground organically creating a unity’ the possibilities of film painting. As he did so the of making a painting. In breaking dow n closed barri­ of image and form. According to Sorce his intent work changed from organic to geometric to paint­ ers. Sorces open, "antiform'’ painting-, demalcnd- sparent polyethylene sheets. When dry, was to unify figure and ground and thereby con­ erly. His palette went from bright colors, organic ized the object and shared iffinities with others in­ off the thin, flexible layers of paint film, tinue the advancement of modern art: “The Im­ forms and irregular shapes, as in Untitled (Scherzo , to volved in process art.' I h's lint of development cul­ estural brushstrokes and scumbled layers to apply polychrome acrylic pigments _ then cut into different shapes. Overlap- pressionists broke up color, the Cubists broke up the monochromatic palette and geometric structure minated when Sorce reintroduced color and a pimt- ling, and cutting the fine layers of pure created painted collages. Typically’ he I form, the early abstract painters (Wassily of polygonal shaped works like The Speed Art erlv, e.xprcssiomstic approach in works such a- Tu Kandinsky, Kasimir Malevich, and Piet Mondrian) Museums Untitled, 1977 [Color Plate 71. Although niina.Sems 17//. 1980, and Matin:, 19ft I. ... J,3C1i r< pre­ ose prior layers of paint film and thereby eliminated subject matter. I eliminated ground con­ other artists, including Elizabeth Murray, Dorothea sents the end of the polygonal paintings 1 i_-. I 7".... I n actual, rather than illusiomstic, depth, siderations.” Sorcc’s desire to further artistic layers were primarily opaque, rather than progress continues a tradition that E. H. Gombrich it, they served to reinforce the sculptural, has explored well in his classic, 1952 essay, “The quality of rhe work. When complete, [ Renaissance Conception of Artistic Progress and vas laminated onto the wooden support its Consequences,” (republished in ,\orm and Form: (. olor Plate 8 . Thereafter, in works like \;eii II 12. Sec for example George Rubier. The Shape of Tune Re­ marks on the History of Things New I favcn’.Yale I’iiiwr.it>. Pre 1962); Hilton Kramer. "The Age of rhe Avant-Garde." Th Age of the Avant-Garde: An Art Chronick of . New plex. The construction of these Open ■ Studies in the Art of the Renaissance, 1966;. Thus, in York: Farrar. Straus and Giroux, 1973'. 3-19; Roger itings, therefore, involved two distinct j: some wavs. ways, Sorce is an exemplar of Modernism’s Shattuck. "The Demon of Originality.” The Innocent L:e. On Modern I ueratiire and the Arts. New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, ' I; the painting stage and > 2, the com ge. The separation was more than sim B obsession with the new, even at a time when the B concept of the vanguard itself was increasingly 1983. he returned to a rectangular cam,r- which served as the support for his “collaged” acnlv Flu.-. C T .r I9«4 ;, 62-81. 13. Robert Morns. one of I' t -ll,..;,-,- of N1 mm,<loni wrote an influenlui wrick "A’lti-I '' '. - . 1968 : 30—33. that qc, ..t:,?n, d -ia-. of die »wmpn<iiH of that acsth, tic. r �> Plate 9], Curiously, his work now developed in the op­ posite direction from the earlier polygonal paintings; that is to say, die paintings increasingly become less expressionistic and more reductive as seen in Untitled (AVS/ Glowing Presence), 1989—92 [Color Plate 10]. In many areas the end of the 1980s saw a general mood of downsizing, a retreat from the exuberances and excesses of the decade. Responding to the re­ trenchment on Wall Street, the art market collapsed, especial!}' in the contemporary area. In the 1990s, Sorce's works have undergone a dramatic shift in scale and technique. Seeking a more intimate engagement with the viewer, he began working exclusively on pa­ per. at first mounting paint film on paper and then working directly on the paper itself. He also began to experiment with a proprietary product called Acryla Weave as his support. In the Schema Series, he reverted to a more geo­ metric, even constructivist aesthetic [Color Plates 11. 12, & 131. In the following year, 1995, he eliminated color altogether and substituted dramatic light-dark IM tenebrism, and mystery in the works from the < .ara vaggio Suite. The mystery is heightened by uncer­ tainty: arc these photographs or paintings? And what do they portray? Some like Double Circles seem to docu­ ment a documentation of an ancient eclipse I olor Plate I5j. Others like Impost and Spring suggest archi­ tectural ruins [Color Plate 17;. Still others like Di­ agonal suggest everything from lunar vehicle tracks to the incised marks associated with Neolithic cave paintings [Color Plate 16j. Overall, however, thet appear like nineteenth-century records oi the arti­ facts from some remote and long gone cult tire, whose meaning or function is now indecipherable. After the restraint of the Caravaggio Series, Sorce's work has undergone an explosion of color ; Color Plate I9j. Using glazing techniques, hatching, and scumbling, while manipulating the surface with inci­ sions and scratches, he has produced small atmo­ spheric, even Tonalist, paintings which glow like fine polished leather. In fact the surfaces appear to have the waxy quality and depth of color associated with encaustics. What might appear, m ... a flat area of color is a.jualk iruh I iiuiim anul- I gam.mon of hues. More t o nih. in works such M I Siam tn Due 1, 1996-97, Sorce has taker mg in wet paint < olor Plan 21 As Anthony Sorce's art ha- evolved. u continuer I to be characterized by progress and inrr It i recent statement, Sorce observed ti to niaking art is formali'ttc: i. the formal elements of art 1 li- :- an nt of tmrn- 1 tiveness, of exploration. In hi- mitun work hr iscov-1 cerned primarilv with matinal- i.sthitic question*. 3 color and light. Nonetheless, his art never becomes I sterile or academic because process and discovery jrr ' for him an Existential metaphor of eternal breons-1 mg, a studs in possibilities. Ju-.t r> the human condi* | tion is not static, but always evoking mJ cn> so has his focus on process process become become sy svnonymou* num dkmis *uh j his content. 14. Anthony S >rcv. ktier .IkcJ Jan :ir. 1 & * �Iht appear, in a reproduction, as ■ actually a rich, luminous amal■orc recently, in works such as 1-9?', Sorcc has taken to “drawllor Plate 211. Is art has evolved, it continues I’ progress and innovation. In a re observed that his “approach lalistic; i.e., a concentration on If art.”1’ His is an art of mvenn. In his mature work he is conmaterials, aesthetic questions, :theless, his art never becomes tause process and discovery are I metaphor of eternal becomlities. Just as the human condialways evolving and changing, cess become synonymous with Iter dated January I d. 1996. ANTHONY SORCE’S RECENT WORK John Yau �~W" n the early 1990s, Anthony Sorce, who had 1 become dissatisfied with the large scale of J- his geometric works [Color Plates 7—10], shifted his focus to a more intimate scale. One suspects that the change was precipitated not only by Sorce’s dissatisfac­ tion with the scale of his own works, which since the mid 1960s had often been both physically large and materially insistent, but by his intention to separate his work from the material excesses of much of the art made in the 1980s. As in his earlier work, Sorce's change in scale necessitated the use of different materials and procedures. It wasn't simply that he was going to make his work smaller but that he was determined to rein­ vent his whole approach to making art. During this period of reconsideration, while working largely on paper, Sorce discovered a durable paper. Acryla Weave, which enabled him to redefine his process, particu­ larly as it involved the way he applied the paint. Acryla Weave is a hybrid material that combines characteristics associated with the more traditional materials of paper and canvas; it is relatively smooth and yet extremely durable. Its surface can both sup­ port acrylic paint and be continually reworked and even scratched and incised. As an artist interested in both painting and sculpture since he was a stu­ dent at Notre Dame, Sorce found thar Acrvl.i Weave enabled him to use various methods to apply and subtract paint, thus developing a physically engag­ ing process. One of the recurring aspects of Sorce s career is his commitment to developing a physi­ cally engaged way of making art which is open to chance. As when he poured polyurethane in the [Color Plate 5 and painted, peeled, and assembled films of acrylic paint in the '70s and '80s ( oh >r Pi ties 6—I0J. Sorce wants to be simultaneoush involved and removed. In this regard, one can say that Sore.A pro­ cesses have something to do with Abstract Expres­ sionism. particularly as it extends out of Pollock's pour­ ing of paint, as well as utilizing asp. cts associated with conceptual an. 21 �J One of Sorce’s reasons for changing his methods around this time may have been the feeling that he was no longer discovering something by using a meth­ odology that had preoccupied him for nearly two decades and that he had exhausted its possibilities. Drawing, he may have believed, would inevitably lead into an area that would enable him to make discover­ ies, as well as consider what avenues he might wish to explore. In this regard, he was clearing the decks and starting over. The works of the past five years are intimate in scale and, like his earlier works, hybrid in form. Al­ though they are done on Acryla Weave, which is tech­ nically a kind of paper, they should be considered as paintings rather than as drawings. Whereas in the geometric paintings Sorce layered different films of paint together, in the recent works he layers, abuts, scratches, and scrapes away areas of color, which is a combination of acrylic gel and dry pigment.The pro­ cess is one of addition, juxtaposition, and subtrac- tion, and thus significantly different from the pro­ cesses he had previously developed, all of which were largely additive. The other significant difference between the work of the past half-decade and what preceded it is Sorce s evident interest in light and its relationship to color. In both the Caravaggio Suite grisaille paintings [Color Plates 14-17] and those using color [Color Plates 18—20] the viewer senses that a dense rich light is suffusing throughout the composition. Here, the analogy the viewer is tempted to make is to light as an immanent presence, as a moment of spiritual realization. And yet, while the temptation is inevi­ table, such readings must also take into account the process of layering Sorce uses, as well as the linear scratches, divisions, and forms that have been made in the surface. The paintings of the last five years can largely be said to belong to one of three groups. In the grisaille paintings, Sorce uses a palette knife and other flat edges to apply the paint medium to rhe Acryla Weave after he has deliberately placid van ous silhouettes beneath it. 1 his method of intoaction between paint and altered surface can !■• seen as extending Max Ernst's use of frott igr tu arrive at an image. In Sorce’s work, the paint regis­ ters the flat object below, thus causing a destabi­ lized, silhouetted image to appear. I he imager destabilized because it is difficult to calculate actly where it ends and the ground begins. \\ hiii rhe image is usually geometric, it neither sepant ■ from nor is subsumed by the ground. From a iistance, it is as if one were looking at the scratche negative of an aerial photograph of a distant pit— Consequently, one can't tell if it is a man-made imK or a natural terrain or both. It is only when one closer to the painting that one realizes that it is ■ photograph but a painting. The result r diw — ing and causes one to question how on whether something is a painting or not. 22 ... 111 painting- lil.i I I • ' < ,1 /1 . .- •<>r. • ,i hi ,h Snrci h>« usis. >n lie mt<> i<J Hi* ■■ liipi.t light ni.f. .' In uses a pal< u<- knifi and appli'. .tin p unt in much same manner .is he d<» » in the gir alii w..rks ' Plates 18 & 201. IIw Jiff.;. 11. ■ : ti..a rs aj'piles trans­ parent films <>l color and then -.tip. •. pirt of th m away. I his c.ur i - the n inainm; 1i i_■ ■ • >1 olea m come i ven mon .iimosphiiic. live r nil is a d< -i.ihili/cvl plain MT.hip between ligun and ground solidm and atmosphere. Images app.at hovt-r within .mJ beneath other images. One r reminded of blurred photographs, as well as dramatic bndsc ipcs. In SnuiK in Due I or ' tri:.... th. thn 1 :: > i] . Sorce both applies thicker lav< rs of color and usecolor to divide the conip out ion into dot in. t geo­ metric areas Color Plates 21 6 22 . Hi then scratches lines into the surface. Causing the color beneath to show through. Rpicallv, the lines are rough and awkward t>-.- . • tmee -if the paint to the instrument - edg. Of t: . rhr •. g f O I a P d fi c b d �i to apply the paint medium to the ter he has deliberately placed varibeneath it. This method of inter­ In paintings like Evening Light or Encounter, in which Sorce focuses on the interrelationship of light and color, he uses a palette knife and applies die paint in much the paint and altered surface can be ig Max Ernst’s use of frottage to e. In Sorce’s work, the paint regis­ same manner as he does in the grisaille works [Color Plates 18 & 20]. The difference is that he applies trans­ parent films of color and then scrapes part of them away. This causes the remaining traces of color to be­ ter below, thus causing a dcstabid image to appear. The image is ause it is difficult to calculate ex- ds and the ground begins. While illy geometric, it neither separates umed by the ground. From a dis­ one were looking at the scratched ial photograph of a distant planet, e can’t tell if it is a man-made image i or both. It is only when one moves ring that one realizes that it is not a i painting. The result is disorient|ne to question how one identifies pg is a painting or not. come even more atmospheric. The result is a destabi­ lized relationship between figure and ground, solidity and atmosphere. Images appear to hover within and beneath other images. One is reminded of blurred photographs, as well as dramatic landscapes. In Siarno in Due I or Offspring, the third group, Sorce both applies thicker layers of color and uses color to divide the composition into distinct geo­ metric areas [Color Plates 21 & 22]. He then scratches lines into the surface, causing rhe color beneath to show through. Typically, the lines arc rough and awkward because of the resistance of the paint to the instrument’s edge. Of the three groups, it is this group in which the surface is most physically insistent. It seems evident that Sorce is after the most diffi­ cult unit)' to achieve, the synthesis of the material (layers of paint) and the spiritual (the presence of everlasting light). The degree to which we feel he is successful depends on our orientation toward spiritual matters and questions such thinking inevitably raises. Is light everlasting or is it another material in a world of things? Sorce’s work seems not to settle into either perceptual category, but rather to address both at the same time. To Sorce’s credit, he doesn’t try to make us sec the work in a narrow, didactic way. Consequently, we sense the artist’s own faith in us as viewers. Since Sorce began working with polyurethane in the late 1960s, he has followed an unpredictable and fruitful course. His commitment to process, how­ ever, is not something we should take for granted, because, in fact, few artists ever live up to the stan­ dards of such a demanding ideal. His incorporation of new techniques and materials has always been di­ rected toward what might be discovered rather than what could be made of them. Sorce’s recent processes have led him to make paint­ ings that seem to be photographs, though not in the usual sense in which we use that word. His "photo­ graphs'’ not only evoke the various worlds that exist beyond what we can see under natural conditions but also underscore the various devices we use to enhance both looking and our memory of looking. His paint­ ings convey the limitedness of our sight by evoking what might exist beyond, within, and beneath what we look at ever)- day. Finally, Sorce is an artist whose concern with materials has never led him to celebrate materiality. In this regard, he has remained faithful to the possibility that art can have a spiritual pres­ ence in the viewer's life, can evoke something we might not otherwise see. And in doing so, Sorce’s art is able to bring us to a moment of wonderment that all too often we have ignored or rejected. �I Drawingfcr The City, 1964 ink on paper 7 x 5'/. 2 Drawing for The City, 1964 ink on paper 7 x 5'/: �I I V �3 ()n:e I pn a Lift. 1’9 A 5 acnhc on canvas 72 ;; 14 I ��•t'-t-0-/0, b\,5 assemblage 53 \ SO \ 16 ��H i. 5 Emergence, J 969 painted rigid polyurethane 70x70 I I ����1 ■ 1 Unlilkd. 1977 acrylic on board 49 x 82 Collection of The Speed Art Miluseum, Louisville, Kentucky ��8 Matins, 1981 rliople.x on wood 61 x 74 ��J ! F I 9 \ ' //.•; . r\s; ik’pk'i <>:i c;.iv SO x (>Q ��. 10 L ntitW 11 5, rhoplex on canvas 90 x CO ��II Schema, Orange 1994, 1994 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 24 x 18 12 Schema, Blue 1994, 1994 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 24 x 18 13 Schema, Red 1994, 1994 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 24 x 18 �������I I �tn:cunkr, 1995 . "r.Ii.icrdic •7'1. dry pigment on Acryh Weave 7-Z. x 7/, ���w■ 1 I yI '■ a. VUvf .1 <■ f I i .' • l ; '■ -n jil •' �( i ( I i I 22 Offspring, 1996—97 acrylic, acrylic gel. dry pigment on paper board 11x8 ��I �'• II ■ r1 ! M ) I �Prelude II, 1997 j(p/^1C ^r.v P,£rnenf °n p.»p»r ���I I �L. •- I. Ever rm, 1997 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment 9x 12 ��I '>', l 1994 acrylic gel. dry pigment on Acryla We.n« Sehetna, 24 x 1H Metaphor, Caravaggio Suite /99t 1995 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryl i \V«- iv< 9>/ x 7*/. Private ('ollection Double Circles, (Caravaggio Suite I'J'D 1995 acrylic gel, dry pigment on i Ac ryl i \V< 9/,'x 7‘Z I In* Maslow < .ollcction Diagonal, (Caravaggio Suite /99S 1995 acrylic gel, dry pigment (on Airy la \\ eave 9/. x 7‘Z "The Maslow Collection Impost and Spring, (Caravaggio Suite 197 5 1995 acrylic gel, dry- pigment on Act-,1a Wi o 9/i x 7</2 rite Maslow Collection F-vening Light 1995 acry<ic gel. dr, ■} pigment on Aery Li \\\ ,i\ i n/.x«z ' Courtesy of J, [•>.«n Prats Galien New York < its �Schema, Red 1994 Landscape, Summer 1995 1994 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 1995 24x18 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 8%x II/, Private Collection Museum, Louisville, Kentucky Metaphor, Caravaggio Suite 1995 Kergil’s Melody 1997 1995 aaylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave Encounter acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on paper 8/4x Il'/a 1995 Private Collection 91/? x 7'/r acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 7'/4 x 7/4 Private Collection Private Collection Double Circles, Caravaggio Suite 1995 t lO/txS'/z Courtesy ofj<[oan Prats Gallery, New York City' 1995 Siamo in Due I aaylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave 9^x7‘/2 1996-97 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave The Maslow Collection 10x8 Collection of Jennifer and Steven Holtzman. Diagonal, Caravaggio Suite 1995 New York City Pour Soi 1997-98 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on paper 9x 12 1995 acrylic gel, dry' pigment on Acryla Weave %xl/2 nee) '1 The Maslow Collection Impost and Spring, Caravaggio Suite 1995 Offspring 1996-97 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on paper board II x8 Collection of Gerald Himmel, Chicago 1995 acrylic gel, dry’ pigment on Acry’la Weave 9/4 x 7/2 Lcryla Weave The Maslow Collection Evening Light Transposition 1996-97 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry pigment on paper .cryla Weave Courtesy of J< [oan Prats Gallery', New York City Three important paintings shown in this catalogue could not 15 x 10/4 , v , Courtesy ofjoan Prats Gallery, New York City' be included in the exhibiton: Prelude II Color Plate 9, Collection of David and Linda Moscow, C hicago Color Plate 24, Courtesy ofjoan Prats Gallery. New York City 1995 acrylic gel, dry pigment on Acryla Weave I l /r x s yi A Note on the Illustrations 1997 acrylic, acrylic gel, dry p.gmenr on paper Color Plate 27. Courtesy of Joan Prats Gallen. New York City 65 �i i I AWARDS/FELLOWSHIPS 1997 r Faculty Research Award for Painting. I hi- Ri i !:> ir.li > 1996 ANTHONY SORCE EDUCATION Born: 1937 1965 Resides: New York City Study tour Italy and France Faculty Research Award for Painting. I hi KiH.ir.ii Foundation of 1 he (aty University of New \ork 1975 t Faculty Research Award for Painting. I bi Rcscardi 1962 Foundation of I he State University of New 1 ork >i University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame. Indiana: M.F.A. I 1974 1961 University of Notre Dame. Notre Dame. Indiana; B.F.A. ["acuity Research Award for Painting. I h< P< search < foundation of 1 he City University of New York I John Simon Guggenheim Fe llowship 1957 1968 American Academy of Art, Chicago; Diploma I 1964 I 1 rances Award, South Bend Art Center. South Ht rnl Indiana I 1961 I Purchase Prize. Chicago Union League Art Exhibit. Chicago f r 66 1 Foundation of I he < aty I Iniveistty of New York I �awards/fellowships SOLO EXHIBITIONS 1997 1998 Faculty Research Award for Painting, The Research Lance Fung Gallery’, New York City Foundarion of The City University of New York Joan Prats Gallery, New York City 1996 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University, Wilkes-Barre, 1970 Pennsylvania Jewish Museum, New York City Wichita Art Museum, Wichita, Kansas Faculty Research Award for Painting, The Research Foundation of The City University of New York 1996 Howard Scott/M-I3 Gallery (Project Room), and France 1975 New York City otre Dame, Notre Dame, Indiana; M.F.A. 1986 Faculty Research Award for Painting, The Research Foundation of The City University of New York 1968 ■my of Art. Chicago; Diploma Kalamazoo Institute of Art, Kalamazoo, Michigan O. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City 1965 1974 otre Dame. Notre Dame, Indiana: B.F.A. 1968 Nazareth College of Rochester, Rochester, New York 1966 Faculty Research Award for Painting, The Research Foundation of The State University of New York 1977 O. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship 1964 Frances Award, South Bend Art Center, South Bend, Indiana 1961 Purchase Prize, Chicago Union League Art Exhibit, Chicago 1984 O. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City 1982 O. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City 1981 Kalamazoo College, Kalamazoo, Michigan 1964 Battle Creek Art Center, Battle Creek, Michigan Institute de Cultura Hispanica, Madrid. Spain Nazareth College, Nazareth. Michigan South Bend Art Center, South Bend. Indiana The Gallery, Kalamazoo, Michigan O. K. Harris West, Scottsdale, Arizona 1963 1980 Western Michigan University. Kalamazoo. Michigan O. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City I960 1979 o. K. Harris Works of Art, New York City Artist Guild of Chicago, C hicago Liberty ville Art Center. Libertyville. Illinois <C �I SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS 1997 1985 Intimate Universe (Revisited;, James Howe Fine Arts First Contemporary Art Expo Tokyo, Isetan Gallery, Critic's Choice, Mississippi Museum of Art, Gallery, Kean University. Union, New Jersey’ Intimate Universe (Revisited . Robert Steele Gallery’, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan Jackson, Mississippi New York City’ 1995 1983 1977 Art Today, Ward Gallery, Rochester, New York Art on Paper, Weatherspoon Art Gallery, University of O. K. Harris Artists, Zone Art Gallery, North Carolina, Greensboro, North Carolina O. K. Harris Gallery Artists, Root Art Gallery’, Hamilton 1982 College, Clinton, New York O. K. Harris Gallery Artists, Slippery' Rock College Art 1994 Art in the Marker Place, Sawhill Gallery, James Madison Museum, Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania To Enchant (Blue;. Cynthia McCallister and Bixler Gallery, University', Harrisonburg, Virginia New York City Contemporary American Paintings, Myers Fine Arts Gallery', State University College, Plattsburgh, New York 1989 Artists of the 80's: Selected Works from the Maslow O. K. Harris Show, Newark College of Engineering. ( 1 Springfield, Massachusetts Fifty- Works, .AHI Gallery. New York City Small Paintings, O’Hara Gallery, New York City' 1970 1979-80 Newark, New Jersey Second Flint Invitational, Flint Institute of Art. Flint, Michigan 1969 Ivan Karp Presents, Visual Arts Gallery. New 'l ork (a t 1967 New Acquisitions, Kalamazoo Institute of Arts. Kalamazoo, Michigan 1976 Contemporary' Reflections 1975—76, .Aldrich Museum of 1965 Contemporary Art, Ridgefield, Connecticut Alumni Exhibition, University of Notre I Jam-.. South Bend, Indiana 1981 Collection. Sordoni Art Gallen-, Wilkes College, New York Galleries Showcase, Oklahoma Museum of Art, 1972 Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania Tulsa, Oklahoma Sculptures for N. Howe Participation Piece/20th Century Sculpture Exhibition, Hudson River Museum, 1980 Michiana Biennial Exhibition, South Bend Art Centei 1986 Yonkers, New York South Bend, Indiana The Artists of O. K. Harris, Helander Gallery, Illusionism, O. K. Harris West, Scottsdale, Arizona Summer Graphic Show, Katona Art Museum, Katona. Michigan Painters and Printmakers, Grand Rapids A Palm Beach, Honda Inauguration Exhibition, The Snite Museum of Art, New York Museum. Grand Rapids. Michigan University' of Notre Dame, South Bend, Indiana Young Printmakers, Pace Graphics, New York City New York Artist, Members Gallery, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York 1971 68 r Area Exhibition. Kalamazoo Institute of Arts. Kalamazoo, Michigan 1964-65 i itic s Choice, University of Michigan. Ten Artists, Wesrbcth Galleries, New York City Wcstbcth Artists, Westby Gallery, Glassboro State t ollcge, Ann Arbor, Michigan Glassboro, New Jersey American Interiors, Intern Flushing, New York New A ork s World Fair: Michigan Room. Pavilion * �?pi Museum of Art, 1970 1964 0. K. Harris Show. Newark College of Engineering, Area Exhibition, Kalamazoo Institute of Arts, Newark, New Jersey Kalamazoo, Michigan Second Flint Invitational. Flint Institute of Art, First National Print Exhibit, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, Michigan Flinn Michigan poon Art Gallen’. University of Midyear Exhibition, Butler Institute of American Art, boro, North Carolina 1969 rises, Root Art Gallery, Hamilton Ivan Karp Presents. Visual Arts Gallery, New York City State Museum, Springfield, Illinois fork rists. Slippen' Rock College Art Youngstown, Ohio North Mississippi Valley Invitational Exhibition, Illinois 1967 1961 American Watercolor Society Exhibit, National Academy of Design, New York City Liturgical Art Show, University of Illinois, Urbana. Illinois Michiana Biennial Exhibition, South Bend Art Center, South Bend, Indiana Professional Artist Exhibition, Fine Arts Gallen’, Exposition Building, State Fair, Springfield, Illinois Union League Exhibition, Chicago Union League, Chicago New Acquisitions, Kalamazoo Institute of Arts, 1963 I960 Kalamazoo. Michigan Area Exhibition, Kalamazoo Institute of Arts, >ns 1975-76. Aldrich Museum of 1965 Kalamazoo, Michigan Michiana Biennial Exhibition, South Bend Art Center, Professional Artist Exhibition, Fine Arts Gallery. Exposition Building, State Fair, Springfield, Illinois leficld, Connecticut Alumni Exhibition, University of Notre Dame, Pennsylvania South Bend. Indiana Area Exhibition. Kalamazoo Institute of Arts, Participation Piece/20rh Century udson River Museum. Katona Art Museum. Katona, Kalamazoo, Michigan Kalamazoo, Michigan Union League Exhibition, Chicago Union League, Chicago Michiana Biennial Exhibition, South Bend Art Center, Watercolor USA. Springfield Art Museum, South Bend. Indiana Springfield, Missouri 1959 Member Exhibition, Artist Guild of Chicago Gallen-, Chicago Professional Artist Exhibition, Fine Arts Gallery. Exposition Building, State Fair, Springfield. Illinois 1958 Chicago Artists Exhibition, Navy Pier, Chicago Michigan Painters and Printmakers, Grand Rapids Art Member Exhibition, Artist Guild of Chicago Gallen-. Chicago Museum, Grand Rapids, Michigan 1962 Midyear Exhibition, Butler Institute of American Art. 1964-65 Youngstown, Ohio Professional Artist Exhibition, Fine Arts Gallery, Chicago Artists Exhibition. Naw Pier. Chicago Ann Arbor, Michigan Exposition Building. State Fair, Springfield, Illino.s Watercolor Exhibition, Artist Guild of Chicago Gallen'. Union League Exhibition. Chicago Union League. Chicago ■sew 'i orb's World l air: Michigan Room, Pavilion of American Interim's, blushing, New York < Chicago e Graphics, New York City 1957 Critic s Choice. University of Michigan, iallcrics, New York City >y Gallery, Glassboro State College, South Bend, Indiana Three-Man Show, Western Michigan University, Member Exhibition. Artist Guild of Chicago Gallery, Chicago �•i ( I I SELECTED PUBLIC COLLECTIONS SELECTED LITERATURE American Republic Insurance Company, Des Moines, Iowa “Alumni in Art-Ill: Anthony John Sorce.” Notre Dame American Telephone and Telegraph, Long Lines, Virginia Alumnus (February-March 1965): 17. Anthony John Sorce. Kalamazoo, Mich.: Kalamazoo Institute of Arby’s Inc. Becton Dickinson, Franklin Lakes, New Jersey' Best Products, Richmond, Virginia British Airways, New York City' Capital Management International, New York City' Chase Manhattan Bank, New York City Arts, 1968. Anthony Sorce: Exhibition and Commission. Wichita, Kan.: Wichita Art Museum, 1970. “Awards and Prizes.” Art News (May 1968): 8. Birdsell, Roger. “3 Artists Featured in New Exhibit.” The South Bend Tribune (November I, 1964). Episcopal Church Pension Fund, New York City G. B. [Gordon Brown], “Beautiful Painting and Sculpture.” General Reinsurance Corporation Arts Magazine (April 1970): 55. Contemporary Reflections. Ridgefield, Conn.: The Aldrich IBM/The Continental Group, Stamford, Connecticut Jurist Company Inc., New York City' Kalamazoo Institute of Art, Kalamazoo, Michigan Kelly, Warren & Dyre, New York City' The Maslow Collection, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania Owens-Coming Fiberglass Corporation, Toledo, Ohio Penn Central, New York City' Pepsico, Purchase, New York Security’ Pacific National Bank, Los Angeles, California Sherman and Sterling, New York City' Museum of Contemporary Art. 1976. “Exhibit of Anthony Sorce.” Kalamazoo Gazette (April 17, 1964). Guide to Selected Works of Art at TRW’s Headquarters. Cleveland, Ohio: TRW Inc., 1985. Gump, Marilynn. “Artist Concerned with Now.” The Wichita Eagle (January 21, 1970). ----------- . “Boiling Plastic Formula for Art.” The Wichita Eagle (January 24, 1970). The Speed Art Museum, Louisville, Kentucky Criticism Worksheet. Rochester, New York, Nazareth College of Rochester (March 1968). Vesti Trust, Boston, Massachusetts Wichita Art Museum, Wichita, Kansas Gallery' Variety,” The Phoenix Gazette (February’ 14, f 1981). New York Gallery Showcase. Oklahoma City: Oklahoma Art Center, 1981. O’Toole, Judith H. Artists of the 80’s: Selected Worksfrom the Maslow Collection. Wilkes-Barre, Pa.: Sordoni Art Gallery', Wilkes College, 1989. f “A Resourceful Artist.” Notre Dame Alumnus (December 1969): 22. Schjeldahl, Peter. “Designed for Use Rather Than Delectation.” The New York Times (April 5, 1970). I ( 2nd Flint Invitational Exhibition of Contemporary Painting and Sculpture. Flint, Mich.: Flint Institute of Arts, 1969. “Sorce Exhibit” Scarsdale Inquirer (October 16, 1969). r “Sorce Show to Open at Art Center.” Kalamazoo Gazette (June 6, 1966). Watercolor USA. Springfield, Mo.: The Springfield Art Museum, 1962. "In Two Exhibits Art Center Shows Works of Teachers.” Kalamazoo Gazette (June 19, 1966). Isctan Gallery. First Contemporary Art Expo Tokyo. Tokyo: Shinjuku, 1985. Kramer, Hilton. Variety Marks Three Exhibitions at the 70 1970). Miller, Marian. “Art: Light Modulations, Sculpture Lend Hughes, Tom. “Admirations and Such.” Southwind: An Arts TRW Inc., Cleveland, Ohio Upjohn Company, Kalamazoo, Michigan I Jewish Museum,” The New York Times (March 18, [ �I I I ( EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The artist dedicates this catalogue and exhibition to his wife Gloria, his children Damian, Becket, and Juliet, and his parents Ann and Joseph. This exhibition and catalogue would nor have been possible without the enthusiastic support of Anthony Sorce. Additional thanks to John Beck Stephen Dobyns John and Joy Finlay Lance Fung/Lance Fung Gallery, NYC Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery Charles Pittenger Lisa Parrott Rolfe Brendan Rooney/ Joan Prats Gallery, NYC F.M. Kirby Foundation, Inc. Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Rosida (Rose) Russotto Robert Schweitzer Howard Scott/M-I3/Howard Scott Gallery, NYC Ann and Joseph Sorcc Gloria, Damian, Becket, and Juliet Sorce Mellon Bank Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Joseph M. Sorce Paula Sorce The Speed Art Museum, Louisville, Kentucky SPONSORS Gerald Himmel Jennifer and Steven Holtzman Ev Stone The Business Council Ben Tibbs CBI-Creative Business Interiors Ivan Karp Nancy L. Krueger Earl W. Lehman Michael Walls Mr. and Mrs. David C. Hall John Yau Private Collectors Marquis Art and Frame Dr. Robert J. Heaman Melanie Maslow Lumia The Maslow Collection, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania Marilyn O’Boyle Joseph and Mildred Patera PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. ��� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1998 March 15 Anthony Sorce: Four Decades Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anthony Sorce Stanley I. Grand John Yau Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1998 March 15 - April 26 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource This exhibition and accompanying catalogue represent the first in-depth survey of Anthony Sorce's protean artistic career. At times an innovator, at times a developer, Sorce has consistently experimented with new processes, materials, and aesthetic possibilities. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource painting painter Anthony Sorce Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/b55db641adc47f9086fd4243294dca86.pdf 36393ad4709eb9bf72ec7a69d25909cd PDF Text Text ����������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1998 Will Barnet: An American Master Print Retrospective Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Will Barnet Lisa M. Davis Micheal A. Tomor Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1998 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource This exhibition is a survey of Will Barnet's lifetime career as a remarkable printmaker. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource printmaking prints printmaker Will Barnet Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Southern Alleghenies Museum of Art https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/448d9b59663c418c0ac7ed457c983092.pdf 937aed50cb4df04a46b57fc5ce9e01fa PDF Text Text ���������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1998 May 6 Form and Atmosphere: The Etchings of Paul Resika 1995-1998 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Paul Resika JohnYau Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1998 May 6 - June 20 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Resika's ostensible subject is the place where the outposts of civilization come face to face with nature's forces, which is, as everyone knows, unpredictable. Whether nature or manmade, it is these forms which liberate Resika, as well as become the focal point of his expressiveness. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Paul Resika nature Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Lori Bookstein Fine Art Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Lori Bookstein Fine Art https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/bfb32e94c237890f6135edd7f59012d7.pdf c5ddf8940566b2aeda263dccda889514 PDF Text Text ! Ir gARCHIVES I SQR.D GA ! 2269.2 N43C6 I 1999 �THE COLLECTOR AS BOOKBINDER The Piscatorial Bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. �ITINERARY Cleveland Museum of Natural History Cleveland, Ohio January 9 through March 14, 1999 THECOLLECTC The Piscatorial Bi: Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes University Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania June 13 through August 15,1999 Rochester Institute of Technology, Cary Collection Rochester, New York October 7 through December 17, 1999 American Museum of Natural Flistory New York, New York April 7 through July 2, 2000 The American Museum of Fly Fishing Manchester, Vermont July 9 through September 29, 2000 Essays by Elisabeth R. Agro Stanley 1 Grand Binder’s Statement, Catak S A. Neff, Jr. New York State Museum Albany, New York October 6 through December 10, 2000 Sordoni Art Caller. • Wilkes I. �THE COLLECTOR AS BOOKBINDER The Piscatorial Bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. Essays by Elisabeth R. Agro Stanley I Grand Binder's Statement, Catalogue Entries, and Glossary by S. A. Neff, Jr. E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA Sordoni Art Gallery • Wilkes University • Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania �6-A .• -L. N L/ 3 *_ BINDER'S STATEMEN T S. A. Neft Ir I ci q Copyright © 1999 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University All rights reserved 1700 copies were printed by Becotte & Gershwin Catalogue design: John Beck Photography: Jeff Cornelia Typeface: Palatine ISBN 0-94294S-14-X Front Cover: A Treasury of Reels, Vol. I (Front) Back Cover: A Treasury of Reels, Vol. I (Back) <11 cwkk in the exhibition was produced over a tv period beginning in ll»si. Both the exhibition am logue have been arranged in chronological order viewer to •.*■* the development ot the concept- and the ti the work has been created for mv per-onal angling hbrar it is the culmination ol one angler’s passion tor fishing I; flv. As will be clear to the viewer, m.inv ot the sets contai beyond the written word In fact, ome ot the set- bvioni miniature mil: <-uin that attests to and supports the w ritti Included in the various sets are photograph ot angling < actual fishing flies and the materials used for dressing th angling arid.ids, and paraphernalia. 1 was introdui ed to bookbinding in mv mid-forties, an beginning I km w this < rilt would be .< >me one ■ >f th* mo directions in my life Asm1, kill- developed I r* aiized ft twenty-five year's experience m graphic design in.id'.ert trained me to be a bookbinder 1.a rived into the w* rid ol with a well-dec eloped as-th, tic sen.-* a kec-nlv h i.-.d he coordination, a sense ot proportion, and patience. A sense of history prompted me to look cl* sely at the t developed bv bookbinders of past centuries These book! bookmakers have built a very -el .1 n <u:.dation. and I h.: behooved to continue to build O'- that inheritance 1 have re-.pect for the rules of that rich tradition t*< attempt to br to negate them altogether. My direct! as a b vkb.nder i creative as possible while firmly remaining witSn th ■ p* �BINDER'S STATEMENT S. A. Neff, Jr. in the exhibition was produced over a twelve-year period beginning in 1986. Both the exhibition and the cata­ logue have been arranged in chronological order to enable the viewer to see the development of the concepts and the techniques. All the work has been created for my personal angling library. In a sense, it is the culmination of one angler's passion for fishing for trout with a fly. As nnll be clear to the viewer, many of the sets contain material far beyond the written word. In fact, some of the sets become a kind of miniature museum that attests to and supports the written word. Included in the various sets are photographs of angling environments, actual fishing flies and the materials used for dressing them, letters, angling artifacts, and paraphernalia. I was introduced to bookbinding in my mid-forties, and from the beginning I knew this craft would become one of the most significant directions in my life. As my skills developed, I realized that my twenty-five year's experience in graphic design inadvertently had trained me to be a bookbinder. I arrived into the world of bookbinding with a well-developed aesthetic sense, a keenly honed hand-to-eye coordination, a sense of proportion, and patience. A sense of history7 prompted me to look closely at the traditions developed by bookbinders of past centuries. These bookbinders and bookmakers have built a very solid foundation, and I have always felt behooved to continue to build on that inheritance. I have far too much respect for the rules of that rich tradition to attempt to break them, or to negate them altogether. My direction as a bookbinder is to be as creative as possible, while firmly remaining within the perimeters of he work these traditions. Some people think of my work as design binding, but I consider it fine binding because I have chosen to follow the tradi­ tions set by past generations of bookbinders. Almost from the start of my career, I have been intrigued with the concept of creating containers to house bindings and other volumes. Many of the containers take the form of a drop-back box covered with goatskin. All are decorated to various degrees, and this decoration generally sets a theme for the housed volumes. In juxtaposition with experimenting with container forms, I have continued to explore techniques for decorating them. Although a detailed description of techniques evolved for the decoration of the containers and bindings is inappropriate in a catalogue of this nature, some bookbinders and viewers may be interested in a brief description. In the late 1980s I began working with Japanese dyed paper and gilt paper to create decorative panels used on covers as well as doublures (decoration on the inside of the cover). As this method was refined, the panels became more complex; and some comprised hundreds of shapes. The process is begun by making a detailed drawing on tracing paper. Appropriate colors are then selected from a chart of dyed paper swatches. Next the images in the drawing are traced onto the dyed papers and cut out. When all the shapes have been cut out, they are glued to a piece of gilt paper then put under a light weight to ensure that they dry evenly. Later, each shape is carefully cut out, allowing a border of 1 /16". When all the shapes have been prepared, they are glued in position on a piece of bristol board, commencing with the sky and finishing with the foreground. The process is not unlike assem- j J -'••’iJjQ' 5 �bling a puzzle. When the panel is completed, it is trimmed to size and glued into a slightly depressed area in the goatskin cover or doublure. As I continued to become familiar with working in goatskin, I began to explore the possibilities of using it for decoration. The first experi­ ments were done with flat on-lays (thinly pared goatskin pasted onto the binding) with blind-tooled edges. Then I worked with raised on­ lays (thinly pared goatskin glued onto four-ply Bristol board shapes). When working with either type of on-lay (separately or in conjunc­ tion) I expanded the decoration with either blind or gilt tooling. At first I executed the tooling with conventional tools, then I learned of the flexibility of the Ascona tool, a specially cut brass tool used with stiff paper templates as guides. This method allows a binder to tool curvilinear lines more fluid than those made with conventional tools. By working with these tools and multiple, interlocking templates, I blind-tooled complex designs onto goatskin covers. Sometimes the blind-tooled lines do not give enough definition to the design, but I resolve this problem by gluing very narrow strips of goatskin, of a contrasting color, into the linear depressions. This allows me to draw with leather. One experiment leads to another, and sometimes another technique of decoration emerges within a relatively short period. Rarely have 1 set out to create something different. Rather, I follow a direction dictated by the content of the text, the materials, and the tools. At the risk of sounding self-serving, I must say that although my containers and bindings may appear to be nearly flawless, the proce­ dure has never been flawless. There have been occasions when I have needed to repeat a process several times before achieving a satisfac­ tory result. Bookbinding is an old-world craft that requires an essen­ tial discipline and devotion. In this computer age it is almost an anomaly to work patiently with one's hands, using simple tools. S. A. NEFF, JR., ANGLING ARTISAN Caught by Trout, Piscatorial Books, a Elisabeth R. Agro Carnegie Museum of Art of S. A. Neff, Jr., piscatorial bookbinder, is alluring for those who appreciate masterh design, high quality binding, and (perhaps) trout. At a mere glimpse of his work, the viewei mesmerized—transfixed by each binding's exacting beauty. Neff literally ensnares (or should I say hooks and reel?? > his viewer into 1 world, assembled in goatskin and Japanese paper The essence or 5. Neff, Jr., consists of three inseparable and integral elements: he is a devout angler, a collector of angling books and a piscatorial fine binde: The piscatorial bindings of S. A. Neff. Jr. illustrate not onlv his passion for angling for tn>ut and collecting books on anglinu but al* his work as a fine binder for his personal collection. Neff's fane . ~ fly-tying and angling for trout began when he w as fifteen.: in the tor five years since then, he has waded trout rivers throughout the L nit States, Ireland England and Central Europe Because he warwd .. know the trout ana its environment Neff pecan to collect old anglir books: with his ;:r*. purchase, at the age cf-twvnri he embarked or, education in aquatic entomology, the devising and dressing of flies the hand-c: at ting of fly rods, anti the under# ending *. UStorv .> \ f c id Iv . w c . ttne caught upio, ..*.-: ■ : *. ■ ■- gnlti.-t :ci c*b.’>'ks He eo tv Priisburgc t*ib!io.<'.,<*- ot ;:w-ctwOec" omtains two th w-.-rc J. csident tortwo. r1•; x* ' ■ . ■ v toe ' :.! ' <? : :* -. .me. ’> . c..<. he work �definition to the design, but I irrow strips of goatskin, of a ssions. This allows me to draw ,d sometimes another technique ely short period. Rarely have I lather, I follow a direction materials, and the tools. I must say that although my o be nearly’ flawless, the procejve been occasions when I have es before achieving a satisfac■ld craft that requires an essentnputer age it is almost an hands, using simple tools. S. A. NEFF, JR., ANGLING ARTISAN Caught by Trout, Piscatorial Books, and Fine Binding Elisabeth R. Agro Carnegie Museum of Art of S. A. Neff. Jr., piscatorial bookbinder, is alluring for those who appreciate masterly design, high quality binding, and (perhaps) trout At a mere glimpse of his work, the viewer is mesmerized—transfixed by each binding's exacting beauty. Neff I literally ensnares (or should I say hooks and reels?) his viewer into his world, assembled in goatskin and Japanese paper. The essence of S. A. Neff. Jr., consists of three inseparable and integral elements: he is a devout angler, a collector of angling books, and a piscatorial fine binder. The piscatorial bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. illustrate not only his passion for angling for trout and collecting books on angling but also his work as a fine binder for his personal collection. Neff's fancy for fly-tyring and angling for trout began when he was fifteen; in the fortyfive years since then, he has traded trout rivers throughout the United States, Ireland, England, and Central Europe. Because he wanted to know the trout and its environment, Neff began to collect old angling books: with his first purchase, at the age of twenty, he embarked on an education in aquatic entomology, the devising and dressing of flies, the hand-crafting of fly rods, and the understanding of piscatorial history. As Neff's collection of old angling books grew, he became caught up in their history' and significance as books. He joined the Pittsburgh Bibliophiles, of which he was a member for seventeen •. ears and president for two. His library' now contains two thousand volumes on fish and fishing, focusing on books prior to the twentieth he work century, with some dating as far back as 1600. This collecting enthusi­ asm propelled him to the next logical step: the care and restoration of his fine collection. In 1982—in order to make small repairs on some of the books in his growing collection—Neff took a few simple workshops on binding methods in the Pittsburgh area. Reflecting on his late start as a book­ binder, Neff often refers to T. J. Cobden-Sanderson (1840-1922), known as the Father of Modern Bookbinding, who also began his career as a bookbinder at middle age. Realizing that he would not have enough time to learn all the various methods and styles of binding, and being an autodidact by nature, Neff struck out on his own, teaching himself procedures that would be most applicable to the care and repair of his personal library. Neff soon realized that his twenty-five years as a graphic designer and illustrator, coupled with his long experience as an angler, provided him with the skills and design sensibility needed to become a bookbinder: "My development of hand-to-eye coordination during my longtime activities as a de­ signer and flytier inadvertently trained me in bookbinding." Since 1982, Neff has continually added new methods, techniques, and materials to his bookbinding repertoire. Initially, he worked in quarter- and half-leather, then in full leather with simple gilt-stamped designs (the stamping dies are of his own design). After taking a vellum workshop in 1985, he began creating half- and full-vellum *7 �J bindings. With this new skill, Neff created his first multiple set of bindings and boxes for .4 Book ofSmall Flies (Figures 1-4). This unique edition, originallv a two-volume set, comprises four volumes bound in full vellum over raised foundations with marbled paper panels and on-lavs of goatskin. Neff created two additional volumes, which include objects bevond the text such as materials used in making flies, and photographs taken bv Neff based on the text of the book. This set was the first four-volume set of angling books to contain a related grouping of all these piscatorial materials. A Book of Small Flies marks the beginning of Neff's serious commitment to bookbinding: it was the first work Neff exhibited nationally and was selected for inclusion at the juried Guild of Book Workers' 1986 national exhibition. In 1988, Neff began to experiment with Japanese dyed paper to create decorative panels, using it in conjunction with Japanese gilt paper to provide a linear definition between the shapes. He used this technique on a set of two bindings in a box, A Modern Dry-Fly Code, second edition, and In the Ring ofthe Rise, both by' Vincent C. Marinaro, published in 1970 and 1976 respectively (Figures 6 & 7). The two volumes are found within a drop-back box portraying the Cumberland Valley, which provides the viewer with a glimpse of what is contained inside. The image found on the decorative panels of each binding represents the subject of that volume. A Modern Dry-Fly Code investigates the meth­ ods of flv fishing on the Letort Spring Run in the Cumberland Valley in Pennsylvania. Neff portrays this small river, including an image of the predominant variety of mayfly, the Ephemerella dorothea (Figure 7). He depicts the stream in detail on the panels for In the Ring of the Rise, which throroughty examines the feeding habits of the Letort trout. Neff includes an illustration of a trout that has just risen to the surface for a mayfly, resulting in a rise-form, or "ring of the rise" (Figure 7). The viewer is first struck by the image of the Cumberland Valley on the box. Neff says, "The viewer moves into the valley when looking at the covers of the Code, and finally to the river's surface with the covers of the Ring." This application of pictorial panels to foretell the contents of a box and bindings was the beginning of a style formula for Neff. Neff further developed this innovative pictorial panel technique. The application of panel decoration in combination with box sets 8 • The Collector c* Bookbinder containing two or more volumes imparts a particular expression to Neff's work. He says, "I have always been interested in creating sets of books, rather than simply putting a cover, albeit a decorative one, on a book." Neff calls these sets "containers" because they usually hold items such as actual fishing flies, photographs, letters, and reels in addition to the text of a book or essay. As an observer of Neff's work, I am more inclined to call these box sets "environments." Each panel draws the viewer into the subject explored within a box and volume. The specific angling materials placed within each box further the experience of the subject. Giving the subject matter of each book careful consideration, Neff essentially documents the specific angling environment on the panels of the box set and the bindings it contains. The three-volume set Miniature Nymphs: A Chapterfrom "The Masters on the Nymph" (1989) exemplifies this angling environment (Figures 8-12). This set contains text, actual trout flies dressed by Neff and materials for making them, manuscript, photographs used in the text, and correspondence with the publisher. On the box are scenes of limestone and freestone rivers, two of the earth's three river types. The highly detailed images of a brown trout in a limestone river, rainbow trout in a freestone river, and nymphs on the bottom of the rivers appear individually on the bindings of each volume. The pictorial panels found on this set inform the viewer of the contents of each volume. In 1990, Neff began experimenting with full goatskin bindings over raised foundations, flat on-lays, raised on-lays, and blind tooling. Neff integrated these new techniques with his decorative panels and boxed-set formula. Catskill Rivers, written by Austin M. Francis (1983), was bound in 1991 and is a product of this integration (Figures 15-18). The covers on the box and volume are incredibly fine. Neff describes the design as follows: The panel on the front cover depicts the trout of the Catskill rivers; the brook trout (leaping downward) declined at the end of the nineteenth century, to be replaced by the brown trout (moving upward). The vivid colors of the panel are in direct contrast with the subtleties of the binding. The dark green on-lays quietly set the scene on the book's cover for the three bands of bright blue raised on-lay the Catskil! rivers. . mbolizin, Revealing the connection between the box and the binding, states, "There is no apparent relationship between the box cot binding [at first glance] until the book is opened to reveal the doublure portraying a scene on one of the rivers." This Catski environment is made whole by a second river scene, which a; the back doublure, and aquatic insects, which are found in th, ground of each panel. A set consisting of two volumes housed in an inner and ou( made for Rodolphe L. Coignev's Izank Walton: .4 Nor Btbliogn 1653-19S7 (1989) represents Neff's interest in creating twentis century designs based on seventeenth- and eighteenth-centur designs (Figures 23-28). "As a twentieth-centurv binder and I designer, I can immerse myself in period design, but to attem produce a similar design would simply be making a facsimile actually a personal aesthetic effort," states Neff. Therefore, he rated these bindings with a twentieth-centurv version of a sevt centurv panel design. Of particular note in this container are the interior of the ot and the cover of the inner box, which form a triptych (Figure When the viewer opens the box, he or she finds a scene depic Charles Cotton's Fishing House, Piscaforibus sacrum, on the Ri Dove in England, which ran through Cotton's estate. An angl and close friend of Walton, Cotton memorialized their friends the cypher "IWCC" inscribed on the keystone above the door Piscatoribus sacrum. Neff uses this cypher as a decorative elem the box and binding, thus linking them to Walton, Cotton, Pis sacrum, and the River Dove. Two aquatic insects found on the long before the seventeenth century' are also in full view in th: container. In this boxed set, Neff creates a twentieth-century ’ based on a seventeenth-century binding style, effectively juxt. two periods. He accomplishes this by binding both volumes i seventeenth-century style, including a doublure panel depict! angler of that period and another portraying a modern angler �rts a particular expression to ?een interested in creating sets cover, albeit a decorative one, liners" because they usually photographs, letters, and reels ly. As an observer of Neff's box sets "environments." Each :t explored within a box and ; placed within each box further re subject matter of each book documents the specific angling set and the bindings it contains. ’hs: A Chapterfrom "The Masters on ng environment (Figures 8-12). ; dressed by Neff and materials raphs used in the text, and n the box are scenes of limestone 5 three river types. The highly limestone river, rainbow trout in ?ottom of the rivers appear nlume. The pictorial panels : the contents of each volume, with full goatskin bindings over 1 on-lays, and blind tooling. Neff his decorative panels and tten by Austin M. Francis (1983), f this integration (Figures 15—18). ! incrediblv fine. Neff describes nets the trout of the Catskill iownward) declined at the > be replaced by the brown id colors of the panel are in s of the binding. The dark ne on the book's cover for the three bands of bright blue raised on-lays symbolizing the Catskill rivers. Revealing the connection between the box and the binding, Neff states, "There is no apparent relationship between the box cover and binding [at first glance] until the book is opened to reveal the front doublure portraying a scene on one of the rivers." This Catskill river environment is made whole by a second river scene, which appears on the back doublure, and aquatic insects, which are found in the fore­ ground of each panel. A set consisting of two volumes housed in an inner and outer box made for Rodolphe L. Coigney's Izaak Walton: A New Bibliography 1653-1987 (1989) represents Neff's interest in creating twentieth­ century designs based on seventeenth- and eighteenth-century panel designs (Figures 23-28). "As a twentieth-century binder and binding designer, I can immerse myself in period design, but to attempt to produce a similar design would simply be making a facsimile, and not actually a personal aesthetic effort," states Neff. Therefore, he deco­ rated these bindings with a twentieth-century version of a seventeenth­ century panel design. Of particular note in this container are the interior of the outer box and the cover of the inner box, which form a triptych (Figure 24). When the viewer opens the box, he or she finds a scene depicting Charles Cotton's Fishing House, Piscatoribus sacrum, on the River Dove in England, which ran through Cotton's estate. An angler, poet, and close friend of Walton, Cotton memorialized their friendship in the cypher "IWCC" inscribed on the keystone above the door to Piscatoribus sacrum. Neff uses this cypher as a decorative element on the box and binding, thus linking them to Walton, Cotton, Piscatoribus sacrum, and the River Dove. Two aquatic insects found on the river long before the seventeenth century are also in full view in this container. In this boxed set, Neff creates a twentieth-century version based on a seventeenth-century binding style, effectively juxtaposing two periods. He accomplishes this by binding both volumes in a seventeenth-century style, including a doublure panel depicting an angler of that period and another portraying a modern angler in the same setting, using the IWCC cypher as a decorative motif, and including contemporary photography of what he calls "the relatively unspoiled beauty" of Dove Dale and the river. Neff designed this set to be experienced in stages, which he feels makes it "more complex and interesting than a simple binding." The panel decorations, together with the binding techniques described here, aid Neff in achieving his goal of developing a sense of move­ ment through space and history within his containers. Since 1992, Neff has continued to excel at binding and creating pictorial panels. His recent bindings and containers include A Treasury of Reels (1995, Figures 36-40), The Angling Letters of S. A. Neff, ]r. and J. S. Hewitson (1997, Figures 41-44), and Angling in Hibernia (1998, Figures 45-49). A Treasury of Reels is a two-volume set that contains text and actual nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century fly reels. These are housed in a drop-back box, which is embellished by designs that mimic ten actual reel designs. The volumes are contained in a chest with a bas-relief of a brook trout on the top. Angling Letters is a grouping of correspondence, dating back to 1965, between Neff and Hewitson. Neff has organized each decade in a drop-back box. Also included are photographs Neff took to illustrate a point from one letter for each year of the correspondence. Angling in Hibernia is an autobiographical work of Neff's experiences of angling in Ireland. This impressive five-volume set contains text, related photographs, flies tied by Neff, materials used for making Irish trout flies, and a life box containing piscatorial objects. These works represent Neff's persistence in striving to perfect his skills as a binder and binding designer. The combination of Neff as artist, angler, collector, and binder—coupled with his vivacity and dedication—result in the achievement of high quality in his work. Although the combination of talents and interests Neff exhibits would seem to be unique, his work can be placed within a historical framework. Thomas Gosden (1780-1840) should easily come to mind for bibliophiles who collect sporting books. Gosden described himself as a bookbinder, publisher, and printseller. Like Neff, he was an outdoor enthusiast and a lover of books who brought his enthusiasm for angling to his work. Gosden is best known as a binder whose The Piscatorial Bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. • 9 �angling books are stamped with small piscatorial and emblematic designs. In 1819, he published T. P. Lathey's poem The Angler, which he embellished with a full-length portrait of himself outfitted with a fishing rod and net as a frontispiece. In this engraving, Gosden signals the depth of his knowledge of angling and angling literature by including the IWCC cypher of Walton and Cotton on the plinth upon which he is leaning. The portrait verifies William Loring Andrews's description of Gosden in An English XIX Century Sportsman, Bibliopole and Binder ofAngling Books (1906) as "a true disciple of Izaak Walton." As a fly-fisherman of trout, a book collector, and a binder, Neff has continued in the tradition of Gosden as a twentieth-century "sporting bookbinder" and enthusiast. Since Gosden, many' others have produced distinctive angling books. Some angling authors—such as William Blacker (1814-1856), W. H. Aldam (active mid-nineteenth century), Preston Jennings (18931962), and Charles Phair (1875-1943)—took their published works a step further by incorporating flies and fly-tying materials into their texts. Blacker and Aldam, both British, published notable works in 10 • The Collector as Bookbinder 1842 and 1843 and 1876. They were followed by the Americans Jennings and Phair in 1935 and 1937 respectively. Although these books were deluxe editions, they were commercial in nature. In the twentieth century, firms such as Robert Riviere & Son and Sangorski & Sutcliffe were known to have produced magnificent bindings, but their binders were usually not anglers. Neff has followed in the tradition of Blacker, Aldam, Jennings, and Phair by incorporating angling materials into his angling "environments." As a collector and binder, Neff can be placed in a special category of twentieth-century collectors of angling books who execute fine bindings for their personal collections. The depth of his knowledge of angling and of the content of each book in his library—along with his design expertise—brings the quality of his work to a high level. Each binding reflects his base of knowledge; each design is unique and particular to the subject of the book. His pictorial bindings are excep­ tional, superbly executed, and innovative. S. A. Neff, Jr., guides the viewer through an exploration of the history' of angling for trout. His work becomes a lens into this fascinating and special world. ANGLING BOUND The Bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. Stanley I Grand Wilkes University he "essence" of S. A. Neff, Jr., writes Elisabeth Agro of three inseparable and integral elements: being a angler, a collector of angling books, and a piscatori binder." In the remainder of her essay for this catalogue sh Neff's development as a fine binder and locates him withir historical context of artist-binders of angling literature. Nel statement likewise focuses on binding techniques and inne This essay, on the other hand, looks at the images that Netf and their relationship to the books they adorn. It is concerr fore, with iconography ("picture writing"), angling writing fishing for trout, the center link in Agro's tripartite chain. In his binder's statement, Neff observes that he has an "t sense, a keenly honed hand-to-eye coordination, a sense of and patience" along with a well-developed "sense of histoi are precisely the qualities one associates with fly fishing. Ti of the beautifully streamlined and colored trout in pure flo waters, by means most graceful and refined, is built on aes values. Moreover, it is a pursuit rich in history’. The traditio catching fish on a hook decorated with bits of feather and f ancient (Figure 12), as is the practice of writing about it. As the third century, we find an unequivocal description of fly Claudius /Elianus’s De Animalium Nalura: "The fishermen i wool around their hooks and fasten to the wool two feathe grow under a cock's wattle and which are the colour of dar After TElianus, no true angling literature is to be found unti publication of The Treatyse of Fysshynge wyth an Angle (publi �re followed by the Americans >37 respectively. Although these were commercial in nature. In the tobert Riviere & Son and Sangorski & duced magnificent bindings, but glers. Neff has followed in the ngs, and Phair by incorporating ■ "environments.'' can be placed in a special category of gling books who execute fine ions. The depth of his knowledge of i book in his library’—along with his ity of his work to a high level. Each edge; each design is unique and ik. His pictorial bindings are exceplovative. S. A. Neff. Jr., guides the the history of angling for trout. His zinating and special world. ANGLING BOUND The Bindings of S. A. Neff, Jr. Stanley I Grand Wilkes University he "essence" of S. A. Neff, Jr., writes Elisabeth Agro, "consists of three inseparable and integral elements: being a devout angler, a collector of angling books, and a piscatorial fine binder." In the remainder of her essay for this catalogue she traces Neff's development as a fine binder and locates him within the historical context of artist-binders of angling literature. Neff's own statement likewise focuses on binding techniques and innovations. This essay, on the other hand, looks at the images that Neff has created and their relationship to the books they adorn. It is concerned, there­ fore. with iconography ("picture writing"), angling writing, and fly fishing for trout, the center link in Agro's tripartite chain. In his binder's statement, Neff observes that he has an "aesthetic sense, a keenly honed hand-to-eye coordination, a sense of proportion, and patience" along with a well-developed "sense of history." These are precisely the qualities one associates with fly fishing. The pursuit of the beautifully streamlined and colored trout in pure flowing waters, by means most graceful and refined, is built on aesthetic values. Moreover, it is a pursuit rich in history. The tradition of catching fish cn a hook decorated with bits of feather and fur is ancient (Figure 12), as is the practice of writing about it. As early as the third century we find an unequivocal description of fly fishing in Claudius /Elianus's De Animalium Natura: "The fishermen wind red wool around their hooks and fasten to the wool two feathers that grow under a cock's wattle and which are the colour of dark wax."1 After /Elianus, no true angling literature is to be found until the publication of The Treatyse ofFysshynge anyth an Angle (published in 1496 but written some seventy-five years earlier), which most attribute to Dame Juliana Berners. Its importance, as John McDonald notes, is that since it "has no known antecedent in fishing history and asserts for the first time distinctive sporting attitudes toward fishing, it serves as the point of origin of modem angling."2 Earlier writings on fishing had treated the subject as a profession or occupation rather than a sport. More than simply a collection of recipes and tactics, "what is noteworthy is that Dame Juliana sets the cheerful and pious tone which is so characteristic of English books on angling."’ The 1496 printing of Dame Juliana's treatise included a woodcut famous in angling circles, a copy of which Neff has inlaid on the cover of the Catalogue of the Library of Thomas Westwood, Esq. (Figure 13). Here we see a fifteenth-century angler, who, to judge from his costume, is a member of the merchant class—a gentleman but not an aristocrat. Bending, he reaches out toward the taut line while simultaneously lifting a fish from the stream. He wields a two-piece rod to which is attached a tapered horsehair line (made by twisting together hairs from the tail of a white horse) and a cork float or bobber. The fish dangling from the end of his line is about to be swung ashore, des­ tined to join two others swimming in a short wooden barrel. If our angler has followed Dame Juliana's advice, the lower section of his rod or "rodde" is made of hazel, willow, or aspen; and the flexible tip section, a yard in length, of blackthorn, crabtree, medlar, or juniper. During the century and a half between the publication of Dame Juliana's Treatyse and the first edition of Izaac Walton's The Coinpleat Angler (1653), only a handful of new angling books appeared. One of 11 �► these, The Arte of Angling (1577), author unknown, was familiar to Walton, who "borrowed" numerous sections without attribution or credit. Having gone through five editions in Walton's lifetime and well over four hundred to date, The Coinpleat Angler is not only one of the most influential books in angling literature but also one of the most widely published books in the English language (Figures 14, 32, & 33). Keeping track of all the editions has become a cottage industry: in the nineteenth century, Thomas Westwood, the piscatorial bibliophile­ collector mentioned above, along with Thomas Satchell, published a bibliography entitled The Chronicle of the Coinpleat Angler (1864), which was followed, most notably, by Peter Oliver's A Nero Chronicle of the Coinpleat Angler (1936), Bernard S. Home's The Complete Angler 1653-1967 (1970), and Rodolphe L. Coigney's Izaak Walton: A New Bibliography (1970), 1653-1987 (1989, Figures 23-28). Until the present century, the appeal of Walton's Angler has re­ mained relatively constant—excepting only a period of obscuration between the publication of the fifth edition and his rediscovery by Moses Browne—because, as Charles Lamb observed in 1796, "It breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity and simplicity of heart.... it would sweeten a man's temper at any time to read it."4 Written in the form of a discourse between Piscator, Venator [Viator or "Way­ farer" in the first edition; Venator in all subsequent editions], and Auceps, the Angler is part of a pastoral literary tradition that includes Theocritus's Idylls, Virgil's Eclogues, and in angling literature, John Dennys's Secrets ofAngling (1613). The Angler begins with a chance encounter of three sportsmen who commence a friendly exchange on the relative merits of their respective pastimes (fishing, hunting, falconry). Following a medieval formula (utilized by Dame Juliana as well) of argument followed by instruction, a conversion occurs in the course of their discussions when Venator requests instruction in the art of angling and Piscator agrees to be his Master. The Angler's charm is enhanced by a liberal sprinkling of poems, songs, ditties, and rhymes amid an exposition on the characteristics of a wide variety of fish, their habits and preferences, and tecliniques for ensuring their capture. Walton lived through a period of civil unrest, an interregnum when Cromwell headed England. A Royalist, Walton found a respite from 12 • The Collector as Bookbinder the political divisiveness of the time in pastoral pursuits. The most famous of his pastoral retreats is Piscatoribus sacrum, a fishing house built by his friend Charles Cotton in 1674 along the banks of the River Dove in Derbyshire, which Neff represents on the inside panels of the outer box containing Coigney's Walton (Figure 24). Cotton memorialized his friendship with Walton by linking together their initials to form a cypher (Figures 14 & 23), which he had carved above the fishing house entrance. This cypher also appears at the beginning of Part Two ot the fifth edition of the Angler (1676) in which Cotton's own contribution, a supplemental manual entitled Being Instructions How to Angle in Trout or Grayling in a Clear Stream, appeared for the first time. Unlike Walton, Cotton concentrated on two fish known for their willingness to take a fly; he is consequently known as the "father of fly fishing." 1 he "mother of fly fishing," of course, is Dame Juliana, whose classic patterns for a dozen artificial flies reigned supreme for two centuries. On the back doublure of the binding for Coigney's Bibliography (Figure 27), Neff depicts a seventeenth-century angler catching a carp, a much maligned fish today, but one that Walton called the "queen of rivers."’ Reflecting Walton's observation that one must have "a very large measure of patience ... to fish for a river Carp," Neff has thought­ fully provided his angler with a three-legged stool." Ihe seventeenth­ century angler holds a rod not much changed from the time of Dame Juliana. The absence of a reel is expected since they were reserved primarily for salmon fishing (a fish that Walton claims, erroneously, will "not usually [bite] at a fly, but more usually at a worm").' Walton does note, however, that salmon fishers use a rod and reel combination. a ring of wire on the top of their rod, through which the line may run to as great a length as is needful, when he [the fish] is hooked. And to that end, some use a wheel about the middle of their rod, or near their hand."’ In the century after the death of Walton, the reel became an increas­ ingly common sight on British streams. Along with other technical innovations, there was a great advance in, and disbursement of, piscatorial knowledge. However, as Major John W. Hills wrote in A History of Fly Fishingfor Trout (1921), "When we leave them [Walton and the other seventeenth-century' writers] we leave the reign of the book, and come lo th it ot the manual typical example or ar, . .ghtei r.lh-century tr-ioi ■>! i i noteworthy exception is Cl'.irk < Bowik-■:'I ■■ 19-20). I bis volume, which first appeared in 1747 und Charles's father Richard, went through numerous edit sions, and revisions. Bowlki r is remembered tor hi;- di willingness to challenge received authorities (Berners, and original flv drvs-.ings based on his knowledge of ent, spirit ot the Enlightenment, Bowlker championed closi and scientific method over the existing, authoritative,. classical paradigm. By the end of the eighteenth if-ntui influence was preeminent: .is Arnold Gingriih <n i Cotton and Ronalds [see below], and the dawn of an e approach. Bowlker is the one main landmark." The nineteenth century v.itne- .ed not only a great V also an outpouring of titles devoted to angling, ini ludi British Angler (Figure 31). Combined with the contribu centuries, these and countless other books established as the undisputed font of da sic angling literature, loh has summarized the century's great piscatorial achieve were explored and promulgated in angling books as fc work of the nineteenth century was in the creation of e the decisive shift to upstream fishing, and the inventio which together formed the greatest revolution in flv-fi since the sport has been known.",T In this conne :tion, t innovations from the second half of the nineteenth ten of mention: floating fly lines of oiled silk and FI. S. Hal fine-wire hooks with eyes (previously all hooks were- " and snelled). Austin Francis views these developmentlarger societal change when he argues in Catskill Risers American Ely Fishing (Figures 15-18) that "Fly fishing ii England, grew out of the Industrial Revolution. And a industrialization trailed England'sby a good half centi coming of age as anglers." In the decades after the Civil War, the effects of indu immigration, and urbanization profoundly defined lhe �>f the time in pastoral pursuits. The most ■eats is Piscatoribus sacrum, a fishing house Cotton in 1674 along the banks of the River i Neff represents on the inside panels of the ey's Walton (Figure 24). Cotton memorialized i by linking together their initials to form a vhich he had carved above the fishing house appears at the beginning of Part Two of the 1676) in which Cotton's own contribution, a tied Being Instructions How to Angle for Trout appeared for the first time. Unlike Walton, ■o fish known for their willingness to take a m as the "father of fly fishing." The "mother ; Dame Juliana, whose classic patterns for a d supreme for two centuries. the binding for Coigney's Bibliography seventeenth-century’ angler catching a carp, v, but one that Walton called the "queen of s observation that one must have "a very' . to fish for a river Carp," Neff has thought'ith a three-legged stool.6 The seventeenthnot much changed from the time of Dame el is expected since they were reserved g (a fish that Walton claims, erroneously, fly, but more usually at a worm").' Walton non fishers use a rod and reel combination: f their rod, through which the line may' run edful, when he [the fish] is hooked. And to about the middle of their rod, or near their eath of Walton, the reel became an increas:ish streams. Along with other technical eat advance in, and disbursement of, vever, as Major John W. Hills wrote in A nt (1921), "When we leave them [Walton century writers] we leave the reign of the book, and come to that of the manual."’ The Gentleman Angler is a typical example of an eighteenth-century manual (Figures 21-22). A noteworthy exception is Charles Bowlker's The Art of Angling (Figures 19-20). This volume, which first appeared in 1747 under the name of Charles's father Richard, went through numerous editions, expan­ sions, and revisions. Bowlker is remembered for his direct approach, willingness to challenge received authorities (Berners, Cotton, et al.), and original fly dressings based on his knowledge of entomology. In the spirit of the Enlightenment, Bowlker championed close observation and scientific method over the existing, authoritative, and essentially classical paradigm. By the end of the eighteenth century, Bowlker's influence was preeminent: as Arnold Gingrich observes "Between Cotton and Ronalds [see below], and the dawn of an entomological approach, Bowlker is the one main landmark."10 The nineteenth century witnessed not only a great Walton vogue but also an outpouring of titles devoted to angling, including The Improved British Angler (Figure 31). Combined with the contributions of earlier centuries, these and countless other books established the British Isles as the undisputed font of classic angling literature. John McDonald has summarized the century's great piscatorial achievements, which were explored and promulgated in angling books as follows: "The real work of the nineteenth century was in the creation of entomologies, the decisive shift to upstream fishing, and the invention of the dry fly, which together formed the greatest revolution in fly-fishing history since the sport has been known."11 In this connection, two other innovations from the second half of the nineteenth century are worthy of mention: floating fly lines of oiled silk and H. S. Hall's invention of fine-wire hooks with eyes (previously all hooks were "blind," heavy, and snelled). Austin Francis views these developments as part of a larger societal change when he argues in Catskill Rivers: Birthplace of American Fly Fishing (Figures 15-18) that "Fly fishing in America, as in England, grew out of the Industrial Revolution. And as American industrialization trailed England's by a good half century, so did our coming of age as anglers."12 In the decades after the Civil War, the effects of industrialization, immigration, and urbanization profoundly defined the development of American fly fishing. As the great eastern cities, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia grew, railroad arteries spread out, linking these centers to the rest of the country and opening up new areas for commerce and recreation. By 1851, the Erie Railroad had already made the Delaware River a relatively easy destination. Twenty-one vears later, in 1872, the Ulster & Delaware and Ontario & Western rail lines each inaugurated rail service to the Catskills. Urban sportsmen no longer had to endure long, brutal, and unpleasant journeys by horse and stage to reach these pristine destinations. Such was the impact of the transportation revolution that by the end of the century great stretches of the Catskills were owned by the various captains of industry, their sporting sons, and fishing clubs like Salmo Fontinalis, established in 1873. Within a dozen years or so after the opening of the Catskills to "sports," as these fishermen were called, the fishery had declined precipitously due to a combination of factors including overharvesting of the native, eager brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis is actually a char, not a trout) and the diminution of habitat caused in part by logging which, among other things, raised water tempera­ tures, contributed to greater fluctuations in water levels, and added to pollution (Figure 37). Fish managers responded by introducing two new species to the Catskill streams: the brown trout (Salmo trutta), a European import often called the German brown, and the rainbow (Oncorhynchus mykiss, formerly Salmo gairdneri), from California (Figures 9 & 11). Neff commemorates the successful establishment of the European transplant and the decline of the brook trout on the box cover of Catskill Rivers (Figure 15). On the binding itself, he represents three Catskill rivers by means of undulating on-lays, flowing in tandem (Figure 16) (of the famous Catskill waters, three are rivers— the Beaverkill [Figures 17 & 18], Neversink, and Delaware—and three are creeks—the Willowemoc, Esopus, and Schoharie). The brown trout's successful introduction in the Catskills, and subsequently throughout the American continent, was due in part to its willingness to take a floating or dry fly (Figure 47) and its innate adaptability’ to a variety of waters. Prior to the nineteenth centurv, artificial flies were, with few exceptions, fished wet, that is, below the surface of the water. Animated by the current or the angler, most wet The Piscatorial Bindings of S. A Neff. Jr. • 13 �flies, such as the Childers salmon fly (Figure 35), act as attractors or lures. Anglers, however, had long observed that various insects on which trout fed spent a portion of their brief, ephemeral lives on top of the water. As knowledge of the various insects became more systematic and widespread, fostered by influential studies such as Alfred Ronalds's The Fly-Fisher's Entomology (1836), anglers in the British Isles began to develop dry flies specifically tied to correspond with, and imitate, particular stages in the life cycle of the mayfly. (As a general rule, subject to the usual qualifications, of all the various insects found on trout streams—caddis flies [Figure 17] which are called sedge flies in England [Figure 24], stoneflies, midges, terrestrials like ants or grasshoppers, et cetera—the mayfly is the most important.) Comprising approximately five hundred species, the mayfly is a complex, varied, and adaptable creature belonging to the order of Ephemeroptera. Like the butterfly or moth, the mayfly undergoes a series of striking metamorphoses during its life. After hatching from their eggs, most mayfly nymphs spend a year living and growing on the bottom of a stream. Depending on the type of water—moving or still, rocky or silty—the different species have developed specialized body types. Although all mayfly nymphs have heads; wing pads at the thorax, abdomen, and gills; legs; and tails (either tw'o or three part), the proportions of these components vary' depending on habitat. Neff has carefully observed and rendered these differences on the covers (Western limestone nymphs on the front and Catskill nymphs on the back) of his manuscript from The Masters on the Nymph (Figure 10). At the proper time, the nymph leaves its underwater home and drifts k or swims upward to the surface of the water where it shucks its ny'mphal shell. (A few species crawl onto rocks for this transforma­ tion.) Now called a dun (subimago), the newly emerged mayfly drifts dowmstream helplessly while its upright w’ings dry. In this vulnerable stage the dun provides a ready meal for rising trout and the inspira­ tion for the dry fly. Figure 47 shows a brown trout in an Irish stream about to take a green drake: the upwinged construction identifies the fly as a dun imitator (Ephemera danica, the green drake found in Ireland, differs somewhat from the North American green drake, Ephemera guttulata [Figure 18]). Other prominent parts include the head, body, 14 • The Collector as Bookbinder legs (simulated by hackle), and the tail. Neff clearly shows how surface tension keeps the fly afloat. Once its w ings dry, the dun tto a nearby tree or other resting spot, where it undergoes its final meta­ morphosis. Now known as a spinner (imago), the mayfly mates. its brief life ends, the female deposits her eggs back into the stream, and the cycle begins anew. (Since classical times, the Ephemeroptera—from the Greek meaning "over in a day"—have been a symbol of life and its stations, a conceit Neff revives in his boxes for the angling correspon­ dence of S. A. Neff, Jr., and J. S. Hewitson [Figures 41-44]). The spinners, their wings now down and transparent, fall back upon the water and again provide the hungry trout a meal. 1 he development of imitative dry flies, therefore, required an understanding of the life cycle of the mayfly, with an emphasis on the important postnymphal stages. The insights of Ronalds were pivotal to the development of the floating fly. Others expanded on this knowledge; and Frederic M. Halford in particular, the author of Floating Flics and How Io Dress Them (1886), was to have a tremendous impact on American fly fishing. Since the brown trout was nonindigenous, American anglers quite naturally turned to European sources for information on its habits. Here again England provided the lead; but the ecology of American streams was and is rather different from that of streams in the British Isles. Interestingly enough, Izaak Walton had recognized the need to match artificials and naturals: "there are in Wales, and other countries, peculiar flies, proper to the particular place or country; and doubtless, unless a man makes a fly' to counterfeit that very fly in that place, he i like to lose his labour, or much of it."' In the Catskills, Theodore Gordon understood this; as Francis points out, "the thing that sets Gordon apart from the other early American dry-fly enthusiasts is the fact that he scrutinized English dry' flies and dry-fly tactics and found them unsuited to American trout streams."" Cordon not only knew Halford s books, he also corresponded with him. (Neff's angling correspondence, then, should be viewed as referencing and continuing a well-established tradition.) Gordon's initiatives were continued by others, including Preston Jennings, whose landmark A Book of Trout Flies (1935) proposed new mayfly patterns based on his in-stream studio-of the iqi itn ;j ■; undi: the . r.-k states that Jennings ' -lands in the -imv n tot>■ «i-—h angling a- Ronald . do. , lo British; ea<_r> <>• them w think ot serving as a link between angling and ent. first to approach the role propt riv, and Jo it right most appropriate th it Sett has included actual file the container tor I rancis'sGtl-LL Ki r . In addition to Its willingness to take the dn tlv. unlike the brook trout- has proven retnarkabli ad types of water. Browns are nov. found in the truest Catskills (I tgure 8), the limestoners of South Ccntr (Figures ft & 7) and the spring creel s ot the West if Vincent Marinaro In the Ring of the Ri*c (Figure 7); synopsis of the differences among these waters 1 r stream originates in elevated terrain when surfaci melting snow trickles downhill and merges with o brooks, streams, and finally rivers. Water flow isei with the greatest volume occurring most often dur year. During the summer, the flow declines, and th ture tends to increase. With their rocky bottoms sc and vegetation bv spring Hoods anil winter ice jan generally much less fertile than limestoners. Limes hand, are meadow streams, flowing through areas vast, primordial seas. Unlike the freestoners, whos inorganic, the limestone streams originate in bedrc skeletal remains of the microorganisms that once ii gone ocean-.. Being both porous and easily dissolvi action, limestone makes an ideal aquifer, and the rr springs from these ancient underground reservoir' significant that the flow from these underground constant, in terms of both \ olume and temperature the limestoner does not undergo the cyclical varict stoner. Perhaps even more important, these aikalin calcium carbonate, support a wide variety of aqua! streams are less subject to the cleansing effect- of fl on their bottoms to provide anchorage for wateren �tail. Neff clearly shows how Once its wings dry, the dun flies to ■vhere it undergoes its final meta;r (imago), the mayfly mates. As its ter eggs back into tire stream, and times, the Ephemeroptera—from —have been a symbol of life and its s boxes for the angling corresponritson [Figures 41-44]). The d transparent, fall back upon the trout a meal. The development of td an understanding of the life is on the important postnymphal ital to the development of the s knowledge; and Frederic M. Floating Flies and How to Dress Them ipact on American fly fishing, enous, American anglers quite is for information on its habits, ad; but the ecology of American Tom that of streams in the British alton had recognized the need to a are in Wales, and other countries, ir place or country; and doubtless, feit that very' fly in that place, he is In the Catskills, Theodore points out, "the thing that sets American dry-fly enthusiasts is the flies and dry-fly tactics and found earns."1'' Gordon not only knew ed with him. (Neff's angling wed as referencing and continuing n's initiatives were continued by whose landmark A Book of Trout atterns based on his in-stream studies of the aquatic insect life found in the Catskill rivers. Gingrich Gingrich states that Jennings "stands in the same relationship to American angling as Ronalds does to British; each of them was, if not the first to think of serving as a link between angling and entomology, at least the first to approach the role properly, and do it right."15 It therefore seems most appropriate that Neff has included actual flies tied by Jennings in the container for Francis's Catskill Rivers. In addition to its willingness to take the dry fly, the brown trout_ unlike the brook trout—has proven remarkably adaptive to divers types of water. Browns are now found in the freestone streams of the Catskills (Figure 8), the limestoners of South Central Pennsylvania (Figures 6 & 7) and the spring creeks of the West (Figures 8 & 9). Vincent Marinaro bi the Ring of the Rise (Figure 7) provides a useful synopsis of the differences among these waters. The typical freestone stream originates in elevated terrain when surface water from rain or melting snow trickles downhill and merges with other rivulets to form brooks, streams, and finally rivers. Water flow is extremely varied, with the greatest volume occurring most often during the spring of the year. During the summer, the flow declines, and the water tempera­ ture tends to increase. With their rocky bottoms, scoured free of silt and vegetation by spring floods and winter ice jams, freestoners are generallj’ much less fertile than limestoners. Limestoners, on the other hand, are meadow streams, flowing through areas once covered by vast, primordial seas. Unlike the freestoners, whose rocks tend to be inorganic, the limestone streams originate in bedrock composed of the skeletal remains of the microorganisms that once inhabited the longgone oceans. Being both porous and easily dissolved by chemical action, limestone makes an ideal aquifer, and the modem limestoner springs from these ancient underground reservoirs of water. It is significant that the flow from these underground sources is relatively constant, in terms of both volume and temperature, which means that the limestoner does not undergo the cyclical variations of the freestoner. Perhaps even more important, these alkaline waters, rich in calcium carbonate, support a wide variety of aquatic life. Since these streams are less subject to the cleansing effects of flooding, silt remains on their bottoms to provide anchorage for watercress and other aquatic plants, which in turn add essential oxygen to the water and host whole colonies of tiny snails and bugs—the basic building blocks of the food chain. (Western spring creeks, for the most part, are comparable to the limestoners.) From an ecological standpoint, this means that more and bigger trout are likely to be found in fertile waters (although big fish are also found in large freestone waters because there is a sufficient volume, if not density, of food). Each type of stream has different conditions; and American anglers and angling authors have studied their own home waters closely. For example, fish that live in fast-moving broken water such as rapids or riffles, must decide quickly and impulsively whether to grab a passing morsel before it is swept downstream. The famous, gin-clear, slowmoving streams of Central Pennsylvania, on the other hand, produce wary trout who carefully inspect each offering for any sign of artifici­ ality (color, size, silhouette, or drag). Their selectivity has prompted numerous studies including Vincent Marinaro's In the Ring of the Rise (1976), which interprets the rise patterns of trout as a key to under­ standing their feeding habits (Figure 7). Earlier, Marinaro's studies of the Letort and other limestoners resulted in A Modern Dry Fly Code (1950). Although this work argued for the importance of terrestrials in the diet of these trout and included innovative dressings for flies based on these conclusions, Neff has chosen to represent the Ephemeralla dorothea, known to anglers as the sulpher dun, on the cover (Figure 7). Neff's homage to Marinaro includes flies tied by the master, slides, an audio cassette, and letters—all housed in boxes along with his seminal books. Marinaro's influence is felt in Angling in Hibernia. When Neff first went to Ireland in 1964, and on his return in 1966, he applied Marinaro's experimental approach to the streams of Eire and developed new designs for flies with which to imitate the full range of Irish aquatic insects (Figure 47). Memories of Ireland appear in the abstract land­ scapes of mountains, meadows, rivers, and lakes that adorn both covers of The Angler's Calendar (Figure 14). More literally, we are transported back three decades by the objects preserved in a Cornelllike life box: Mucilin, the old-reliable, pre-silicon floatant; a Hardv Lightweight reel on a simple two-ring reel seat from a cane rod; a The Piscatorial Bindings ofS. .4. Neff, Jr. • 15 �finger vise, small hackle pliers, scissors, hooks, and silk for tying flies streamside; a small glass to identify insects; photographs and pam­ phlets; an amadou for drying flies; a spool of leader material; and a combination scale and measuring tape that promises, like some Baroque allegory, the triumph of truth over falsehood (Figure 49). In Neff's time, trout fishing with the fly has undergone dramatic changes. Once mostly the sport of an elite, often Anglophile, group of men—for whom fly' fishing was an emblem of class—who fished with silk, gut, and Tonkin cane, the sport has gradually found more and more adherents. In the 1940s, after World War II, nylon leaders re­ placed gut, which required soaking prior to use. Next, modern float­ ing lines banished silk, with its confusing designations and high maintenance (C. F. Orvis invented the ventilated reel in the late nineteenth century to facilitate the drying of silk lines [Figure 40, lower center]). Finally, fiberglass at first, and now graphite rods have triumphed over hand-made, split-bamboo wands (except in the eyes of a small band of dedicated partisans). With technological advances, increased environmental awareness, and a wealth of new angling titles, fly fishing has rebounded from its nadir in the early 1950s when it appeared that spin-fishing, a postwar French import that exploited the properties of newly available nylon, would relegate it to history. Yet along with its democratization, many of the sport's traditions have been lost, or are of little interest, to its new adherents. One need only listen to an old-time fly tier talk of water-bird, forest-bird, and other feathers; water-shedding muskrat-beaver-seal furs, or hair from the woodland deer, the meadow hare, the wily fox to understand a great, interconnected cycle that comes together in the flash of a rise or the underwater wink, in Skues's immortal image, of the trout. Today, artificial materials increasingly predominate. Neff's entire endeavor is an homage to tradition and values, craft and sport; it is a studied, but natural, anachronism. In both his bind­ ings and his angling, he stresses continuity and innovation (Figures 26 & 28). He does not disdain his own time, but he moves slowly and reflectively before embracing change. His moral compass does not swing freely with the relativism of the postmodern age but remains 16 • The Collector as Bookbinder fixed. He traverses an ordered landscape where precedent and learn­ ing are the major features. In the face of the cheap, the arriviste, the tawdry, and mass culture, he flaunts his love of the handmade, the beautiful, the unique, and, of course, the trout. Like the cloistered scribes who kept alive great books during the centuries after the fall of Rome, Neff is at heart a preservationist. He is the keeper of the tan­ gible remains of friendship—the letters—for which he constructs elaborate, modern reliquaries or treasuries. Like a carefully considered garden, fly fishing is a magnificent obsession in which civilization and art elevate and transform the mundane into a conceit. It is not a simulacrum; there is really nothing else like it. NOTES 1. Quoted in Charles Jardine, The Classic Guide to Fly-Fishing for Trout (New York: Random House, 1991): 10. 2. John McDonald, The Origins of Angling, 1963 (reprinted New York: Lyons & Burford, 1997): 6. 3. Margaret Bottrall, Introduction in Izaak Walton, The Compleat Angler, 5th ed. 1676 (reprinted London: Dent, Everyman's Library, 1906,1970): viii. 4. Quoted in Bottrall, Introduction, p. v. 5. Izaak Walton, The Compleat Angler, 5th ed. 1676 (reprinted London: Dent, Everyman's Library, 1906,1970): 132. 6. Walton, Cornpleat Angler, p. 137. 7. Ibid., p. 117. 8. Ibid. According to McDonald, the first mention of the reel occurs in Thomas Barker's The Art of Angling (1651) (Origins, p. 23). 9. Quoted in Arnold Gingrich, The Fishing in Print: A Guided Tour Throng': Five Centuries of Angling Literature (New York: Winchester Press, 1974): 60 10. Ibid., p. 73. 11. McDonald, Origins, p. 106. 12. Austin Francis, Catskill Rivers: Birthplace of American Fly Fishing, HN (reprinted New York: Lyons & Burford, 1996): 22. 13. Walton, Compleat Angler, p. 8. 14. Francis, Catskill Rivers, p. 41. 15. Gingrich, Fishing in Print, p. 277. GLOSSARY Adhesives Poly vinyl acetate (PVA) is a flexible glue romi adhering cloth and paper to binder s board Wheat st for adhering leather to binder's board or to leather. Ascona tool A small brass tool with a wooden handle u« templates for blind-tooling Basswood A soft, finely grained wood that is easily rant Binder's board An extremely dense paper board (availab nesses) used for cover boards and boxes. Binding (full) 1 he entire book cover is of goatskin or oth Binding (half) 1 he spine and part of the sides and either edge are covered with goatskin; the remainder is covi decorated paper. Binding (quarter) The spine and part of the sides are cov the remainder is covered with cloth or decorated pap Bound, case A binding technique used primarily lor clotl block is sewn on linen tapes and the cover is made se and last sheets (papers or pages) of the text block are cover bv gluing or pasting. Bound by hand A technique used primarily for leather b block is sewn on linen tapes or cords which are then 1 binder’s board to form an integral unit and then cove Bristol board A stiff acid-free paper made m sec eral thicl tooling templates, bases for raised on-lays, and other Chemise folder A folder made with Bristol board and co Doublure Usually a decorative panel on the inside of the either paper or leather. Drop-back box A container made for storing rare or fraci strutted of cloth or leather over binder’s board Edge T he top edge is the top of the text block: the fore-ed of the text block. A deckle-edge is an uneven edge usi handmade paper; it may be left uncut or trimmed. Tri be treated with graphite or gold leaf and polished. End bands Hand embroidered silk bands or goat-4 in bar ends of the spine of the text block. End papers The first and last few leaves (pages; of the te1 mav be plain, colored, or decorated. �i landscape where precedent and leamthe face of the cheap, the arriviste, the flaunts his love of the handmade, the course, tire trout. Like the cloistered ooks during the centuries after the fall of -vationist. He is the keeper of the tanhe letters—for which he constructs or treasuries. Like a carefully considered icent obsession in which civilization and mundane into a conceit. It is not a thing else like it. The Classic Guide to Fly-Fishing for Trout ): 10. s of Angling, 1963 (reprinted New Y'ork: don in Izaak Walton, The Coinpleat Angler, lent, Everyman's Library', 1906, 1970): viii. :tion, p. v. Angler, 5th ed. 1676 (reprinted London: 970): 132. 137. Id, the first mention of the reel occurs in ig (1651) (Origins, p. 23). The Fishing in Print: A Guided Tour Through (New York: Winchester Press, 1974): 60. rs: Birthplace of American Fly Fishing, 1983 rford, 1996): 22. 3. 277. GLOSSARY Adhesives Polyvinyl acetate (PVA) is a flexible glue commonly used for adhering cloth and paper to binder's board. Wheat starch paste is used for adhering leather to binder's board or to leather. Ascona tool A small brass tool with a wooden handle used with stiff paper templates for blind-tooling. Basswood A soft, finely grained wood that is easily carved. Binder's board An extremely dense paper board (available in six thick­ nesses) used for cover boards and boxes. Binding (full) The entire book cover is of goatskin or other material. Binding (half) The spine and part of the sides and either the corners or foreedge are covered with goatskin; the remainder is covered with cloth or decorated paper. Binding (quarter) The spine and part of the sides are covered with goatskin; the remainder is covered with cloth or decorated paper. Bound, case A binding technique used primarily for cloth covers. The text block is sewn on linen tapes and the cover is made separately. The first and last sheets (papers or pages) of the text block are attached to the cover by gluing or pasting. Bound by hand A technique used primarily for leather bindings. The text block is sewn on linen tapes or cords which are then laced into the binder's board to form an integral unit and then covered with goatskin. Bristol board A stiff acid-free paper made in several thicknesses; used for tooling templates, bases for raised on-lays, and other applications. Chemise folder A folder made with Bristol board and covered with cloth. Doublure Usually' a decorative panel on the inside of the cover; it can be either paper or leather. Drop-back box A container made for storing rare or fragile books; con­ structed of cloth or leather over binder's board. Edge The top edge is the top of the text block; the fore-edge is the front edge of the text block. A deckle-edge is an uneven edge usually found on handmade paper; it may' be left uncut or trimmed. Trimmed edges may be treated with graphite or gold leaf and polished. End bands Hand embroidered silk bands or goatskin bands attached to the ends of the spine of the text block. End papers The first and last few leaves (pages) of the text; the first and last may be plain, colored, or decorated. Goatskin Chagrin—a hand-finished fine grain leather processed in France using South African goatskin; Chieftain—an even, large grain leather processed in Scotland using goatskin from Botswana; Oasis—medium grain leather processed in England using Nigerian goatskin. Goatskin, in-lays Shapes of goatskin pasted into position on the binding where their corresponding shapes have been removed (so the in-lays are flush with the surface of the binding); linear in-lays are very thin strips of goatskin adhered into blind tooled lines. Goatskin, flat on-lays Thinly pared shapes of goatskin pasted onto the binding. Goatskin, raised on-lays Thinly pared goatskin glued onto shapes of fourply' Bristol board, turned-in, and glued onto the binding. Italian cloth A finely woven book cloth with a paper backing. Japanese dyed paper A paper made in Japan using dyed fibers; available in a multiplicity' of colors. Japanese gilt paper A very thin paper with hand-laminated gold-colored foil; also known as Tea chest paper. Marbled paper Paper that has been colored or stained by hand with variegated patterns to resemble marble. Panel design A vertical design of rectangles and borders reminiscent of binding designs commonly used in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Polished graphite A gray metallic covering applied to the edges of the text block and brought to a high sheen bv hand polishing. Stamping A method of impressing an image into goatskin using a press that will heat a die to the necessary temperature; this plain impression is known as blind-stamping; when gold foil is used (a second time) to create an impression, it is known as gilt-stamping. Stamping die A metal block with a design (in relief) used for creating a blind or gilt impression in goatskin or other materials. Text-block All the leaves (pages) sewn on linen tapes or cords. Tooling A method of impressing a small image or line into goatskin using a hand tool or wheel; the plain image is known as blind-tooling; when gold foil or leaf is used, it is known as gilt-tooling. Tooling templates Shapes cut from Bristol board (to the binder's design) are used as guides with the Ascona tool. Vellum, calf Calf-skin treated with lime to produce a strong, cream-colored material for bindings. 17 �1 S. A. Neff, Jr., et al. A Book of Small Flies. Arlington, Vermont, 1983. Created in 1986. Two drop-back boxes containing a unique four-volume set; in full calf vellum with panels of marbled paper and raised bands; gilt-stamped Oasis goatskin on-lays and spine label. k 21.6 x 16.5 cm. 2 Each box contains two volumes; uniformly case-bound in full calf vellum with panels of marbled paper and raised bands; gilt-stamped onlays and spine labels. Vols. I and III are sewn on Oasis covered vellum strips; silk endbands and marbled endpapers. Contents: Vol. I: text; Vol. II: actual flies; Vol. Ill: color photographs; Vol. IV: feathers and furs for dressing small flies. 7.5 x 6 cm. (each volume) R �i 1 2 �3 S. A. Neff, Jr., et al. A Book of Small Flies. Arlington, Vermont, 1983. Created in 1986. A drop-back box containing No. 54 of the original edition of 60 numbered two-voiume sets; in full calf vellum with a panel design of raised vellum, marbled paper, piscatorial devices and spine label gilt-stamped on Oasis goatskin. 26.9/18.4 cm. 4 Box opened to show the original two-volume set bound by Gray Parrot for the publisher and portraits of the four authors. Also contains a vellum back cloth chemise with the manuscript for Mr. Neff's essay, the publisher's correspondence and announcement, and associated items. ��5 Vincent C. Marinaro. f I A Modem Dry-Fly Code. New York, 1950. II Hies, Letters and Photographs. Sewickley, Pennsylvania, 1973. III "A Limestone Challenge." Sewickley, Pennsylvania, 1973. Created in 1988-89. Three drop-back boxes in Italian cloth with marbled paper panels and giltstamped paper spine labels. Box I contains the 1st and 2nd issues of the 1950 edition of the Code. Box II contains a drop-back box with five flies dressed by .Mr. .Marinaro and a portrait; two chemise folders containing an unbound suite of photographs of the author; and five of his letters. Box III is on': of a set of two, each of which contains a tray of 35 mm. slides and an audio cassette documentary on Marinaro; it functions horizontally and is contained in a cloth slip-case. I: 24.1 z 16 8 cm.; II: 30.1 x 24 cm.; Ill: 26.8 z 28.5 cm. ��7 t 6 Vincent C. Marinaro. A Modern Dry-Fly Code. New York, 1970 (new edition), and In the Ring of the Rise. New York, 1976. Created in 1989. A drop-back box containing two volumes; with Italian cloth back and edges; panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers and gilt-stamped paper spine labels. 30 / 24 cm. 7 Both volumes are case-bound with Italian cloth back and edges with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, gilt-stamped paper spine labels, silk endbands and color endpapers. The panels on the box portray the Cumberland Valley in Pennsylvania; the Code shows the Letort Spring Kun and a mayfly; th<- Ring reveals a feeding brown trout in that stream. Code: 21.5 / 13.8 cm.; Ring: 28 x 21.2 cm. �•iSk>3^CMK_4. -, H I L if r/ . r ^: �8 S. A. Neff, Jr. Essay from The Masters on the Nymph. New York, 1979. Created in 1989-90. A drop-back box containing three volumes; with green Chieftain goatskin back and edges with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers and giltstamped goatskin spine label. The back panel portrays a Catskill river, and the front panel a Western limestone creek. 28.2x19.7 cm. �8 �f 9 Vol. I: Text. Green Chieftain goatskin back and edges with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label, silk endbands and color endpapers. The panels show a brown trout in a Western limestone creek. 25.9 x 17.3 cm. t 10 Vol. Ill: Manuscript and Photographs. Green Chieftain goatskin back and edges with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label. Contains a cloth chemise with typed manuscript, photographs, and publisher's correspon­ dence. The panels reveal nymphs on the bottom of a Catskill river and a Western limestone creek. 25.9 x 17.3 cm. �9 10 �11 Vol. IF. Flies and Materials. Green Chieftain goatskin back and edges with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label. Contains a cloth folder. The panels depict a rainbow trout in a Catskill river. 25.9x 17.3 cm. 12 Vol. Il: Cloth folder. Actual trout flies; furs, feathers and hooks, mounted on printed plates. �11 12 > * * -b4 < - �13 Catalogue of the Library of Thomas Westwood, Esq. New York, 1873, and Charles M. Wetzel. American Fishing Books. Stone Harbor, New Jersey, 1990. Both bound in 1990. Left: bound in full dark red Chieftain goatskin with horizontal raised goat­ skin on-lavs of two shades, and gold leather; pictorial paper in-lay, giltstamped goatskin spine label, leather endbands and marbled endpapers. 24x17.8 cm. Right bound in full dark red Chieftain goatskin with raised horizontal bars, gilt-stamped facsimile of author's signature, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label, leather endbands and marbled endpapers. 25.1 x 18.4 cm. 14 Hi Regan. The Angler's Calendar. London, 1896, and Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton. The Complete Angler. London, 1836. Both bound in 1991. Left bound in full green Oasis goatskin with on-lays of various goatskins, blind tooling, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label, leather endbands and marbled endpapers. Panels contain shapes symbolizing Ireland's moun­ tains, meadows, rivers, and lakes. 24.6 z 18 cm. Right: bound in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with flat and raised on­ lays of various goatskins, blind tooling, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label silk endbands and marbled endpapers. The IWCC cypher was devised bv Charles Cotton in 1674. 17.5x10.5 cm. ��f 15 Austin M. Francis. Catskill Rivers: Birthplace of American Fly Fishing. New York, 1983. Created in 1991. A drop-back box in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with panel of Japanese dyed and gilt papers and gilt-stamped goatskin raised on-lay spine label. The panel depicts the trout of the Catskill rivers: the brook trout (leaping downward) declined near the end of the nineteenth century, to be replaced by the brown trout imported from Europe (moving upward). 40 x 24.5 cm. 16 Bound in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with title in raised on-lays of the same leather; three on-lays of various blue goatskins, pictorial doublures, leather endbands and color endpapers. The three flowing shapes symbolize the major Catskill rivers. 28.5 z 21.5 cm. ��I J 17 Front doublure portraying the upper Beaverkill River and a caddis th panel of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, goatskin edges and hinge. 18 Back doublure showing the East Branch of the Delaware Rix er and a mayfly; panel of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, goatskin edges and hinge. ��19 Charles Bowlker. The Art of Angling. Birmingham, 1792, and Ludlow, 1826. Created in 1992. A drop-back box containing two volumes; in full brown Chieftain goatskin with blind tooling, goatskin on-lays and gilt-stamped goatskin spine label. 19.2 x 13 cm. 20 Uniformly bound in full brown Chieftain goatskin with blind tooling, goatskin on-lays, gilt-stamped goatskin spine label, silk endbands and marbled endpapers. The pattern is a twentieth-centurv version of an eighteenth-century panel design. 17.1 X 10.8 cm. ��21 Anonymous. The Gentleman Angler. London, 1726; 3rd. ed., n.d.; 1786. Created in 1992. A drop-back box containing three volumes; in full dark red Chagrin goatskin with blind tooling, goatskin on-lays and gilt-stamped goatskin spine label. 18.5x12.2 cm. 22 Bound uniformly in dark red Chagrin goatskin with blind tooling, goatskin on-lays, gilt-stamped goatskin spine labels, leather endbands and marbled endpapers. The pattern is a twentieth-century version of an eighteenth-century panel design. 1:16.2 x 9.5 cm. 2:16.4 x 9.6 cm. 3:15 x8.8 cm. ��24 f 23 Rodolphe L. Coigney. Izaak Walton: A New Bibliography 1653-1987. New York, 1989. Created in 1992. A center-opening box containing an inner box with two volumes; in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with cypher of raised on-lays of various goatskins. The IWCC cypher has appeared in numerous editions of The Complete Angler beginning with the 5th edition in 1676. 28.2 x 20.3 x 9.5 cm. 24 Outer box open to reveal triptych of Japanese dyed and gilt papers with goatskin edges and hinges. The center panel is the cover of tire inner box. The panels portray Charles Cotton's Fishing House on the River Dove, built in 1674. ��25 Volumes I and II: uniformly bound in full red hand-finished goatskin with blind tooling, flat goatskin on-lays, raised goatskin on-lays with giltstamped piscatorial images, gilt-stamped goatskin spine labels, pictorial doublures. Vol. I contains the text; leather endbands with multiple color on-lays and color endpapers. Vol. II contains a chemise with Mr. Neff's color photographs of the River Dove and the Fishing House. 26.1 x 17.2 cm. 26 Front doublure of Vol. I: Japanese dyed and gilt papers, leather edges and hinge. The panel depicts a seventeenth-century angler on an English river. 27 Back doublure of Vol. I: Japanese dyed and gilt papers, leather edges and hinge. The panel shows a seventeenth-century angler catching a fish. 28 Front doublure of Vol. II: Japanese dyed and gilt papers, leather edges and hinge, a cloth chemise is attached to the inside of the back cover. A twentieth-century angler replaces the seventeenth-century angler on the same river. ��► 29 Rev. Joseph Adams. Angling in Ireland. London, 1938. (A unique copy.) Created in 1993. A drop-back box in full green Chieftain goatskin with blind tooling and gilt-stamped title. 23.7x15.8 cm. 30 Bound in full green Chieftain goatskin with goatskin on-lays, gilt tooling on covers, spine and top and bottom edges, leather endbands and color endpapers. The blind-tooled design of a flowing river on the box intro­ duces the more developed decoration on the binding. 21.8 x 13.7 cm. ��31 Robert Huish. The Improved British Angler. Derby, 1838. Created in 1990; decorated in 1994. Bound in full gray-blue Oasis goatskin with goatskin in-lays, gilt tooling, gilt-stamped devices and goatskin spine label, silk endbands and marbled endpapers. Contained in a cloth chemise with a goatskin back and a quarter goatskin slip-case, with gilt-stamped goatskin spine labels. This is a r.ventieth-century interpretation of an eighteenth-century panel design. 5bp-ca~e: 14.4 x 11.5 cm.; Chemise: 13.8 x 11.2 cm.; Binding: 13.6 x 10.4 cm. f 32 Izaak Walton and Charles Cotton. The Complete Angler. London, 1797. Created in 1994. A drop-back box in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with linear goatskin in-lays and gilt-stamped goatskin spine label. 20.3 / 13.3 cm. 33 Bound in full dark green Chieftain goatskin with panels of goatskin onlavs. linear goatskin in-lays, gilt tooling, gilt-stamped device and spine label, leather endbands with on-lays, marbled endpapers and polished graphite on top edge. This is a twentieth-century version of a seventeenth­ century panel design. The simple design on the box introduces the developed design on the binding. 18 / 10.4 an. �����I 37 ■i ���41 The Angling Letters ofS. A. Neff, Jr. and J. S. Hewitson. 1965-1999. Sewickley, Pennsylvania, 1997. Created in 1996-97. A uniform set of four drop-back boxes containing letters and photographs from the mid-1960s to the end of the 1990s. 1960s Box: Full dark red Chagrin goatskin with a twentieth-century panel design of concentric circles of linear goatskin in-lays, a raised goatskin onlay on each cover with linear goatskin in-lay circles and a gilt-stamped device, and gilt-stamped raised goatskin on-lay spine label. Contains two cloth chemise folders: one with letters written during the decade and the other with photographs by Mr. Neff that illustrate an angling experience. The gilt-stamped device depicting a mayfly nymph becomes a metaphor for the relationship between the two anglers. 30.7 z 24 cm. 42 1970s Box: The gilt device becomes a mayfly dun as the relationship develops. 30.7x24 cm. ■ ��- )•> 43 1980s Box: The gilt device becomes a mayfly spinner as the anglers mature. 30.7 z 24 cm. 44 1990s Box: The gilt device remains a mayfly spinner. 30.7 z 24 cm. ��45 S. A. Neff, Jr. Angling in Hibernia. Sewickley, Pennsylvania, 1998. Created in 1998. A uniform set of five volumes; in full brown Chieftain goatskin with a Celtic device blind-tooled on each cover, gilt-tooled dots, pictorial doublures with panels of Japanese dyed and gilt papers, on front and back of Vol. I and front only on other volumes. I Vol. I; Text. Vol. II: Contains a cloth chemise with 30 photographs taken by the author. Vol. Ill: Fold-out container with 158 Irish flies devised and dressed by the author. Vol. IV: Fold-out container with the author's fly patterns and the feathers, furs and hooks for dressing Irish flies. Vol. V: Life-box containing the author's Irish angling memorabilia. A pull-out drawer contains Irish angling pamphlets and correspondence. �■ \ J 45 I 1 § I' k F » s ! I !• 11 5’ i i - § ili co 3 co 3- S’ t a i S’ :i’ I'I ■ ■ �46 Vol. Ill: Irish trout flies. 30.8 x 21 cm. 47 Vol. Ill: Panel of Japanese dyed and gilt papers and fold-out container with 158 Irish trout flies. The panel depicts an Irish brown trout about to rise to the author's Green Drake fly. �46 47 1 -» »» - A _ �■ 48 Vol. V: Memento hominem. 30.8 x 21 cm. 49 Vol. V: Panel of Japanese dyed and gilt papers and life box with angling memorabilia and tools. The panel depicts an Irish brown trout in the landing net. �48 49 Wir ‘^Sv: fci �a ACKNOWLEDGMENTS S. A. NEFF, JR. Resides: Sewickley, Pennsylvania EXHIBITIONS 1986 80 Years Later [Guild of Book Workers' 80th Anniversary Exhibition] (juried), Center for the Book, University of Iowa Museum of Art, Iowa City, Iowa; Detroit Public Library, Detroit, Michigan; MIT Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts; Institute for the Book Arts, University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa, Alabama; Folger Shakespeare >r.' f\ ■ Massachusetts 1993 Exhibition of Design for Communications (invitational). West Virginia Library, Washington, D. C. University, Morgantown, W'est Virginia 1988 Bound To Learn: An Invitational Exhibit of the Book Arts, West Virginia University, Morgantown, West Virginia 1992-1993 Fine Printers Finely Bound Too [Guild of Book Workers' 86th Anniversary Exhibition] (juried), Explore Print!, San Francisco, California; Scripps College, Claremont, California; Dallas Public Library, Dallas, Texas; Minnesota Center for the Book Arts, Minneapolis, Minnesota; The University of Michigan Library, Ann Arbor. Michigan; Newberry Library, Chicago, Illinois; Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pennsylvania 1989 ,'L ■ 1992 10th Anniversary Exhibition of the New England Chapter of the Guild of of Our National I k-ritage, 1Lexington, Book Workers (juried), Museum c. Members' Exhibition, Guild of Book Workers, New England Chapter, Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, Rhode Island ic? II.' ■ 1990 The Collector As Bookbinder: The Piscatorial Bindings ofS. A. Neff, Jr., Fine & Rare Book Room, Hunt Library, Carnegie Mellon University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 1990-1991 Contemporary American Bookbinding; An Exhibition Organized by the Grolier Club at the Invitation of Les Amis de la Reliure Originate (juried), Bibliotheque de TArsenal, Paris, France; Bibliotheca Wittockiana, Brussels, Belgium; The Grolier Club, New York, New York 66 ARTICLES Robert H. Boyle. "Design: A Tier Who Binds in the Angling World," Sports Illustrated (January' 1991). The bookbinder wi-h> to express he. gratitude te hi her support and patience: to Philip R. Bishup for 1>: . tion of the catalogue manuscript and ter his w ise un friends Tom Alden, Elisabeth R. Agro, Robert!! Boy 1.. F. Boker Doyle, Richard A. I uller, Stanley I Grand, ai Elisabeth Agro wishes to thank Tracy Mvers for a i her essay. The Sordoni Ail < ..tilery thanks the artist tor mati possible. In addition, the Gallery wishes to thank Su enthusiasm; 1 lisabeth Agro lor her insightful rs iv. (. hristopher N. Brei eth's and Robert J. Fleaman’s e<; on my essay. Nancy L. Krueger bus provided invalu. all aspects of the exhibition. Finally we thank the following individuals and in will be hosting the exhibition: Nancy Kelley, Coordh rary Exhibits, New York State Museum: James E. Kii Cleveland Museum of Natural History. ( raig Morri American Museum of Natural History; David Peril i Roche ,ter Institute of Tec hnology, Can. Collection: C Director, and Sean Sonderson, Curator, The America Fishing. �ACKNOWLEDGMENTS liter of the Guild of Iritage, Lexington, il). West Virginia 86th Anniversary difomia; Scripps \ Dallas, Texas; innesota; The i; Newberry Library, Pennsylvania The bookbinder wishes to express his gratitude to his wife, Sue, for her support and patience; to Philip R. Bishop for his critical examina­ tion of the catalogue manuscript and for his wise counsel; and to his friends Tom Alden, Elisabeth R. Agro, Robert H. Boyle, Jeff Cornelia, L. F. Boker Doyle, Richard A. Fuller, Stanley I Grand, and Linda Tonetti. Elisabeth Agro wishes to thank Tracy Myers for a critical reading of her essay. The Sordoni Art Gallery thanks the artist for making this exhibition possible. In addition, the Gallery wishes to thank Sue Neff for her enthusiasm; Elisabeth Agro for her insightful essay. I appreciate Christopher N. Breiseth's and Robert J. Heaman's editorial comments on my essay. Nancy L. Krueger has provided invaluable assistance on all aspects of the exhibition. Finallj' we thank the following individuals and institutions who will be hosting the exhibition: Nancy Kelley, Coordinator of Tempo­ rary Exhibits, New York State Museum; James E. King, Director, Cleveland Museum of Natural History; Craig Morris, Dean of Science, American Museum of Natural History; David Pankow, Curator, Rochester Institute of Technology, Cary Collection; Gary Tanner, Director, and Sean Sonderson, Curator, The American Museum of Fly Fishing. —SIG Angling World/' 67 �ADVISORY COMMISSION Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Fleaman, Ph.D. Marv Jane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O'Neal Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Adams Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Stemlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Thomas H. van Arsdale Joel Zitofsky EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Mellon Bank Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The Piscatoribus Press The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Mr. and Mrs. David C. Hall Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. STAFF Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Krueger, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator 4.. 68 Gallery Attendants Deidre Blake Marcy Fritz Jon Geller Jill Klicka Allison McGarvey �«IBE. ? i �ill S � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1999 The Collector as Bookbinder: The Piscatorial Bindings of S.A. Neff, Jr. Subject The topic of the resource Exhibition programs Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource S.A. Neff Jr. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Sordoni Art Gallery; Wilkes University Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition Book https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/06acbd8f841db45ba7a7bf7852fb00de.pdf a103e537ed99e86d2b82f5fc447f8666 PDF Text Text ������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1999 March 7 Gregory Conniff:Twenty Years in the Field Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Gregory Conniff Tom Bamberger Stanley I. Grand Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999 March 7 - April 11 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Attempting to make sense of our attachment to the world, George Conniff is a documentary photographer. His landscapes in black and white are ethereal reminders of the world we leave behind. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Gregory Conniff black and white photographer photograph documentary Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/2ca182a7a83865d91a813c56c69d6d3b.pdf 0f8728532b1ecc1489686f600b4371c1 PDF Text Text ���������������������������������������������������� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/b89ebc4afb9c884ca4fba1b91a98044e.pdf 84839e1211c2a0ed68d6d0fb6941bf05 PDF Text Text I vuiONJorco JACK KEKOUA ARCHIVES SORD GA ’075.5 B33A.4 1599 I �THE GRAPHIC ART OF PAUL BACON �THE GRAPHIC ART OF PAUL BACON Exhibition Curated by Stanley I Grand Essays by Hank O’Neal Stanley I Grand Introduction by Bob Greene E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA May 8 through June 6,1999 • Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes Universit}- • Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania �INTRODUCTION Bob Greene Copyright T 1999 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University All rights reserved 1500 copies were printed by Becotte &f Company, Inc. Catalogue design: John Beck Typeface: Electra ISBN G-94294 5-16-6 TT seems I’ve known him through many lives, both his I own. We met through my good friend Billv Grauer. E J- have skiffle sessions on Friday nights, wav back in 194 Jane had just been married, and they were living at 42s R Drive, near Columbia. Bacon appeared and leaned over with his comb and cellophane, joining me, Grauer, Bob’ Bob Lee on jug, sometimes Connie Janis on trombone. Bob Orrin Keepnews in what now sounds to me like controlled r But at the time we thought it sounded pretty good. Bacon was an ex-marine, tall and tanks —smoking ciga lighting them with a heavy Parker butane lighter. Later h to wondering why he went. “First it was curiosity." he sail began to enjoy it.’’ I think it was the companionship. Grauer—he died th< month as Kennedy—had a talent for bringing people tog he divined who we were 1 don’t know. We were so young sionable, in our early twenties, and there was little to dist Yet each of us, in his way, made a mark, and we all rema friends long after Billy died. Bacon was already established as an artist. His early Re Changer covers and Blue Note covers are collectors’ iten went on to become the most distinguished book jacket d America. But don’t take my word for it. This exhibit is al you. He’s terribly knowledgeable about even thing: sport personnel on old 78s, books, the arts. Clearly he should �INTRODUCTION Bob Greene TT seems I've known him through many lives, both his and my I own. We met through my good friend Billy Grauer. Bill used to JL have skiffle sessions on Friday nights, way back in 1949. He and Jane had just been married, and they were living at 425 Riverside Drive, near Columbia. Bacon appeared and leaned over the piano with his comb and cellophane, joining me, Grauer, Bob Thompson, Bob Lee on jug, sometimes Connie Janis on trombone, Bob Sann, and Orrin Keepnews in what now sounds to me like controlled mayhem. But at the time we thought it sounded pretty- good. Bacon was an ex-marine, tall and lanky—smoking cigarettes and lighting them with a heavy Parker butane lighter. Later he confessed to wondering why he went. “First it was curiosity7,” he said, “Then I began to enjoy it.” I think it was the companionship. Grauer—he died the same month as Kennedy—had a talent for bringing people together. Flow he divined who we were I don’t know. We were so young, so impres­ sionable, in our early twenties, and there was little to distinguish us. Yet each of us, in his way, made a mark, and we all remained close friends long after Billy died. Bacon was already established as an artist. His early Record Changer covers and Blue Note covers are collectors’ items, and he went on to become the most distinguished book jacket designer in .America. But don’t take my word for it. This exhibit is all around you. He’s terribly knowledgeable about everything: sports, the personnel on old 78s, books, the arts. Clearly he should have had too much sense to be a musician. And yet it nibbled at him. I le and his brothers had always been singers. The voice held a fascination for him. But, largely, he kept it hidden behind the cellophane and Left TO right: Paul Bacon (kazoo), Conrad Janis (trombone), Bob Lee (jug), Bob Thompson (washboard), Bob Greene (piano), Bob Sann (banjo), c. 1950 5 / i i >4 1 b . �In 1976 I had the opportunity to bring my “World of Jelly Roll Morton" show into Carnegie Hall. I had seen Benny Goodman’s concert there in 193S. It seemed unbelievable that I would be performing on the same stage. The band, however, deserved it. Tomins Benford. Jellv’s old drummer, was on drums. Herbie Hall the clarinet. Milt Hinton plaved bass. Ernie Carson was on cornet. We had scored well with a RCA Victor record and at concerts in Lincoln Center. Now we were in the shrine. And so I thought of Ri o people: Bill Russell in New Orleans and Bacon here in New York. Both were sentimental thoughts. Bill Russell had been so instrumental in reviving early jazz, rediscover­ ing Jelly, finding Bunk and recording him. And he played good violin and would add the right flavor to “Someday Sweetheart.” I wanted Bill to set foot on the stage of Carnegie Hall and play there. 1 felt the same way about Bacon. By this dine we had become close friends, but even that was not the point. I wanted to pay homage to an older time, to those Friday night skiffle sessions, to Grauer and his gang, to our younger selves and our dreams. From 425 Riverside Drive to Camegie Hall. A salute to our ghosts. And maybe send a message to Grauer, wherever he was, that we had made it Bacon svmbolized those days, and so I invited him to join. “Paul Bacon plays Kazoo at Carnegie Hall!” wasn’t on the mar­ quee, but it was on a poster I think both of us drew in our hearts. And he did play, too—well and beautifully. That Swiss comb with the cellophane as a reed. We stomped on that stage where Goodman had held forth, and played for Jelly, for Grauer, for all of us. Bill Russell was magnificent. But I still didn’t know- what a singer Bacon was. I want to do that whole evening over again. Have him sing “Bolden” and “Whinin’ Boy.” Let him shuffle along with “Alabama Bound.” Give him a big spotlight and play colors at him. And when he hits “Dr. Jazz” let him bring the house down. Lie’s that good. I wish I had known it then, but I know it now. The beauty' of it is that we all know' now'. Listen to his CDs, take a good look at his book jackets, go up and say hello and meet one of the finest talents that ever graced the New York scene. And then, if you can, find a piano and summon those of us still able to get around, and get him to show' you what a Friday night is supposed to sound like. New York March 12,1999 THIS IS NOT A COMB, OR HAVE PENCIL, WILL TIL' Hank O’Neal /V USIC MADE the difference. It did for Paul Ba \ /1 me, and I pity the person for whom it didn't. .A _L V JL difference for both of us early, as teenagers. W it is even younger—it has to if it’s going to shape your lifi something you’ve never heard before, and somehow. 1 everything connects, something stirs within vou and v same. Those first sounds, exciting, visceral, heart-pom begin a process that never stops—that stays with you f< some, the music is the dominant force in their lives, ll professionals, music is their life. For others, it become avocation — for most as listeners, for others as produce lucky few like Paul—as semi-pro performers who play joy of it. For me, the sound I'd never heard burst forth from . Shaw Bluebird -S-rpm record, one rm mother bough! 1939. I heard it years later, in 1933. Paul Bacon got his years earlier, in 1938, when he heard a Chick Webb C band played an old operetta classic. “Indian Love Cal that astounded im thirteen s ear old ears; Webb’s banc hotter, playing a new Benm Carter arrangement of "1. Gershwin standard, hr then nearly ten years old. And was ever the same. Paul once wrote: “Jazz is powerful seizes you at the same time as sex. and it is deeply afre 6 • 1 Graphic Art of Paul Bacon �all!" wasn't on the marus drew in our hearts. . That Swiss comb with hat stage where Goodman auer, for all of us. Bill now what a singer Bacon . Have him sing “Bolden with “.Alabama Bound." him. And when he hits le’s that good. I wish 1 Listen to his CDs. take a > hello and meet one of York scene. .And then, if f us still able to get iday night is supposed to New York March 12.1990 THIS IS NOT A COMB, OR HAVE PENCIL, WILL TRAVEL Hank O’Neal /F t’SlC made the difference. It did for Paul Bacon, it did for \ /1 me, and I pity the person for whom it didn’t. And it made a J- V _L difference for both of us early, as teenagers. With some people it is even younger—it has to if it’s going to shape your life. You hear something you ve never heard before, and somehow, unexplainably, everything connects, something stirs within you and you’re re never the same. Those first sounds, exciting, visceral, heart-pounding sounds begin a process that never stops—that stays with you forever. For some, the music is the dominant force in their lives, they become professionals, music is their life. For others, it becomes a driving avocation—for most as listeners, for others as producers, or—for a lucky few like Paul—as semi-pro performers who play for the sheer of its converts throughout their lives—enough so to make bearable a slight alienation. . . . [But] whatever the emotional responses to jazz are, wherever they come from, they are unifying in their strength.” You meet people along the way because of the music, people with whom you might not otherwise associate, people who can and do shape your entire life. I know it happened to me and I know it happened to Paul Bacon. I don’t know about today, but once upon a time, in the 1930s and 1940s, being a serious jazz fan was almost like being in a secret society, with its own passwords, language, and code of conduct. People who passionately liked what then was called “hot” music congregated in “hot clubs”; and these clubs were all over the world, from New York to Paris to Bangkok. Jazz enthusiasts joy of it would come together, listen to records, sponsor concerts by their For me. the sound I’d never heard burst forth from an old Artie favorite artists, or whoever was available, and sometimes even issue Shaw Bluebird yb-rpm record, one my mother bought by mistake in records. 1939. I heard it years later, in 1953. Paul Bacon got his first taste a few A legendary hot club congregated regularly on Monday nights in years earlier, in 1938, when he heard a Chick Webb Decca. Shaw’s Newark, New Jersey, and in 1940 one of its hottest new members was Paul Bacon. Another member was a friend who lived not far away, Phil band played an old operetta classic, “Indian Love Call,” in a way Stein; and yet another hot jazz fan was Phil’s striking teenage sister, that astounded my thirteen year old ears; Webb’s band was even Lorraine. Paul recently referred to her as the “glamour puss of the hotter, playing a new Benny Carter arrangement of “Liza,” the Newark Hot Club,” but that was long ago, and the same Lorraine is now Gershxs in standard, bv then nearly ten years old. And neither of us was ever the same. Paul once wrote: “Jazz is powerful stuff; it usually the glamour puss of tire Village Vanguard. Someone else for whom seizes you at the same time as sex, and it is deeply affecting to many music made the difference, forever. �t I -- It was always the music, a shared, not so secret passion, that brought these three people together, not the Newark Bears, even though they were a pretty good baseball team in tire early 1940s, with the likes of Tommv Byrne and Hank Sauer. Hot jazz, the hotter tire better, was the common denominator. An old Jabbo Smith record, "Sweet and Low Blues” or maybe “Decatur Street Tulti,” scavenged for a dime in a junk shop, could and did forge a common bond among impressionable teenage listeners, a bond that could and did last a lifetime. Even with Jabbo. Jazz, at least a certain kind of jazz, could bring people together, and keep them together forever. If vou speak with those who know Paul well, they all will tell you he could always draw. By his own admission he had skills, just no particular vocation, no way to translate his skill into a decent meal. He was just another teenager without direction; but within a few vears. he found a vocation and got better as the years went by. Yet according to those in the know, he started off pretty well. His situa­ tion reminds me of something one of Joe Venuti’s cousins once said to me. when I asked him if it was true Joe was born on a ship coming from Italy to America. ‘Yeah,” he replied, “and he was playing prettygood when he got off the boat.” Paul’s first drawings were made for The Newark Hot Club s Jazz Notes, Bob Thiele’s Jazz and other small magazines, but his search for a life’s work was rudely- interrupted; he was just the right age for the Marines and the Corps proved it for the next three years. Paul traveled extensively during his stint with the Marines, kept his pencil in his pocket, but with little opportunity to use it, except to hand­ letter various items for officers and, after the War, create some stands fora service band while he was stuck on the island of Peleliu. His experiences overseas were undoubtedly broadening; but unlike Peggy Sawyer, lie didn’t come back a star. He left as a y-oungster, passionate about music and art and came back the same thing. It was now .April 1946. Things were relatively peaceful in the world, and Paul Bacon, along with a million other GIs, came home 8 • The Graphic Art of Paul Bacon looking lor work. 1 le had a fantasy of working at a doing superfine hand lettering, when suddenly I k with his brother, had a Bauhaus-influenced desigi town Manhattan, took him in. Almost overnight. I a reality. Zamboni encouraged his voung apprenti classes with Lewis Daniel, gave him varied assignr him $30 a week for his time. \nd it could have en basic design work, illustrating magazines, creatine But it didn't, because of the music. The Newark Hot Club was pretty much a thing war chewed up millions and millions of old -S-rp dreaded shellac drives, more records were being r were just around the corner. But bv 1947, there w; the faithful, a wonderful monthly publication, Th This inexpensively produced magazine featured 1 and (best of all; sales of rare records. 'I here was a nary independent jazz label. Mthougli not exact!' doing well enough to regularly issue 78-rpm sing] which needed designs. The label was Blue Note, and onetime model Lorraine Stein was now l.orr to Alfred Lion, who had founded the company in Wolff. Paul Bacon, Tsing-Tao, China, 1945 His life began to tall into place, a Paul Bacon 1 appeared on Sidney Bechet’s Blue Note Jazzmen manv more were to follow (Figures 47.48). But t happened, primarily because even though Paul 1 and Jabbo, he wasn’t what was known in those ye fyggc. 1 le also liked Fats, Dizzy, and Miles; and t attention of Alfred Lion, who suggested to the tv. Record Changer. Bill Grauer and Orrin Keepncv designer friend might make a tine modern jazz c could relate to the old and the new. Bill and Orr enough to pay attention to their elders (they wer �looking for work. He had a fantasy of working at a drawing board, doing superfine hand lettering, when suddenly Hal Zamboni, who, with his brother, had a Bauhaus-influenced design studio in mid­ town Manhattan, took him in. Almost overnight, the fantasy became a reality'. Zamboni encouraged his young apprentice, sent him to classes with Lewis Daniel, gave him varied assignments, and paid him $30 a week for his time. And it could have ended there, doing basic design work, illustrating magazines, creating advertisements. But it didn't, because of the music. The Newark Hot Club was pretty' much a thing of the past, the war chewed up millions and millions of old 78-rpm discs during the dreaded shellac drives, more records were being reissued, and LPs were just around the corner. But by 1947, there was a new focus for the faithful, a wonderful monthly publication, The Record Changer. This inexpensively produced magazine featured articles, reviews, and (best of all) sales of rare records. There was also one extraordi­ nary- independent jazz label. Although not exactly thriving, it was doing well enough to regularly issue 78-rpm singles and albums, which needed designs. The label was Blue Note, and Paul’s jazzpal and onetime model Lorraine Stein was now Lorraine Lion, married to Alfred Lion, who had founded the company in 1939 with Francis but Alfred was at least thirty-five), and took on the kid, as he sug­ gested. Since Paul was gainfully, though modestly employed else­ where, lie was expected to provide reviews for a very modest fee (often just being allowed to keep the record he was called upon to review). Bill and Orrin ran The Record Changer on a shoestring, but they were destined for bigger things —and dragged Paul along with them without so much as a whimper. By the time the little magazine ceased publication, Bill and Orrin had begun producing reissues for RCA’s new label “X”and launched their own Riverside label. Almost all the initial releases for “X” and Riverside featured cover designs by Paul Bacon (Figures 45, 46). In fact, Paul eventually became chief designer for Riverside in its early and middle years. Wolff. His life began to fall into place, a Paul Bacon design suddenly appeared on Sidney Bechet’s Blue Note Jazzmen, and more, many, many more were to follow (Figures 47, 48). But then something else happened, primarily because even though Paul loved Louie, Bix, and Jabbo, he wasn’t what was known in those years as a mouldie fygge. Fie also liked Fats, Dizzy, and Miles; and this caught the attention of Alfred Lion, who suggested to the two proprietors of The Record Changer, Bill Grauer and Orrin Keepnews, that his young designer friend might make a fine modern jazz critic, one who could relate to the old and the new. Bill and Orrin were wise enough to pay attention to their elders (they were in the twenties, Left to right: Conrad Janis (trombone), Paul Racon (combi, Orrin Keepnews (comb), Rill Grauer (comb), Rob Greene (piano), c. 1950 This Is Xof a Comb • 9 �It was fun to design jackets for jazz LPs, and it undoubtedly provided a much needed creative outlet, but it was not possible to pay many bills with the meager proceeds derived from a few jackets a month. Yet the jazz connection ultimately led Paul to the design field where the demand for his work soon allowed him to open his own studio, raise a family, pay the mortgage, and do all the other mun­ dane things to which most people, even the finest creative artists, aspire — at least when they are honest with themselves. In 1950, Bill Westley asked Paul to provide some illustrations for a book about chimpanzees he was writing (Figures 1-3). The art director of E. P. Dutton, the publisher, asked if the artist could possible do a dust jacket to complement the drawings (Figure 4). The artist could and did, thus producing the first of thousands of dust jackets that grace many of the most notable books of the second half of this century. Chimp on My Shoulder was a modest success, and in 1999 it is best remembered by Paul Bacon and on the Inter­ net. Bibliofind.com current!}' lists seven copies in varying condition, with prices ranging from $12.00 to $45.00. In the description of one of the copies can be found the following unsolicited testimonial: “The text is clean, Paul Bacon’s illustrations are wonderful, bright I' L started to come in. There were enough clients to open his own studio i 1955, and he worked for anyone who would call. Fie confessed, “If thev had a dime, I’d draw.” But it’s not that simple. Paul’s career in jacket design started slowly but built steadily, never stopped, and is now in its forty-ninth year. He hit the big time in 1956 with Meyer Levin’s Compulsion (Figure 5). He’d done important books before, but this was the first he’d been given that and clean.” Muggsy Spanier once sang, ‘You’re bound to look like a monkey when you grown old,” but Paul didn’t have to worn'. He started with the monkeys, so there was no problem winding up that way—the chimps had, after all provided a beginning. Still, there were no other immediate freelance jacket designs on the horizon and Zamboni was still his home base. A year or so later, however, prior to Riverside or label “X,” Bill and Orrin, who paid his bills by being an editor at Simon and Schuster, had the idea to package a record with holiday literature. They needed some action on the cuff and asked Paul to produce a dummy for the overall package. It must have been a good one; the art director at Simon and Schuster, Tom Bevans, asked, “Who is this guy?" and the work jo • I he Graphic /\rt of Paul Bacon Left to right: Unidentified woman, Seymour Berg, Alfred Lion, unidentified woman, Paul Bacon, Lorraine Lion (on floor), 1947 everyone knew was going to be a best seller before it was issu Paul’s design made its way to the movie titles, but unfortuna without proper credit. There are some legends about Paul. One is that he is able on three conversations simultaneously while hand lettering jacket. Another is that he is in such control of his mind, eye, an that he can not only recall obscure type faces from memory improve on them in the process. The most noteworthy is that read all the thousands of books for which he’s designed dust jac it’s true. In his words: “I’ve read them all. Even the junk. If thei key to a book, something that could be considered a graphic k was going to find it myself 1 knew it was buried somewhere manuscript. The publisher would send me a manuscript to I’d do. It was much more carefree at the beginning, there w restraints, but there was also a sense of freedom.” His friend and long-time associate, Harris Lewine, recent “Paul could read a manuscript and no matter how good or 1 was, could find a kernel of honest}' and wotdd try to replica a jacket. The graphic key often revolved around Paul’s pers identification with something. This might be completely bi quality of a so-so novel, but would mesh with the quality of better writing in it.” Paid once commented, “It was all very informal in those read the manuscript, think about it, and make some sketch went to a place with a sketch under my arm. The publishe ver}' honorable, and it was a relaxed way to make a living, £ though the life of a freelancer is never carefree. They usua me away from the authors, they didn’t want me to get too c them. The publisher didn’t want the author to influence tl design.” This is borne out by Joseph Heller, who recently said of “He’s done all my jackets, other than that I don’t really km We’d meet occasionally at a book party, say hello and shak �ients to open his own studio in Id call. He confessed, “If they pie. lowly but built steadily', ith year. He hit the big time (Figure 5). He’d done : first he'd been given that ymoz/r Berg, Alfred Lion, w Lion (on floor), 1947 everyone knew was going to be a best seller before it was issued. Paul’s design made its way to the movie titles, but unfortunately, without proper credit. There are some legends about Paul. One is that he is able to carry on three conversations simultaneously while hand lettering a book jacket. Another is that he is in such control of his mind, eye, and hand that he can not only' recall obscure ty'pe faces from memory but improve on them in the process. The most noteworthy is that Paul's read all tire thousands of books for which he’s designed dust jackets. And it’s true. In his words: “I’ve read them all. Even the junk. If there was a key to a book, something that could be considered a graphic key, then I was going to find it myself. I knew it was buried somewhere in the manuscript. The publisher would send me a manuscript to see what I’d do. It was much more carefree at the beginning, there were some restraints, but there was also a sense of freedom.” His friend and long-time associate, Harris Lewine, recently said, “Paul could read a manuscript and no matter how good or bad it was, could find a kernel of honesty and would try to replicate this on a jacket. The graphic key' often revolved around Paul’s personal identification with something. This might be completely' beyond th,le quality of a so-so novel, but would mesh with the quality' of the better writing in it.” Paul once commented, “It was all very informal in those days. I’d read the manuscript, think about it, and make some sketches. I often went to a place with a sketch under my' arm. The publishers were very honorable, and it was a relaxed way to make a living, even though the life of a freelancer is never carefree. They usually kept me away from the authors, they didn’t want me to get too close to them. The publisher didn’t want the author to influence the jacket design.” This is borne out by' Joseph Heller, who recently said of Paul, “He’s done all my jackets, other than that I don’t really' know him. We’d meet occasionally' at a book party, say hello and shake hands. I liked him because the publisher liked him. With Catch-22 there were several things that came in before Paul’s (Figure 7). I’m never shown a design until the publisher finds something exciting; and Paul has always been original, surprising, and wonderful.” Catch-22 was in 1961, and thirty-five years later Paul designed the dust jacket for the sequel, Closing Time. This is what he said about that, in the liner notes for an album featuring Nat Adderley, for which he also designed the booklet cover: “One of the perks of living long enough is, if you’re around and don’t quit, you get to do things like create a Nat Adderley cover in 1958 and 1996, or create the original design for Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 and then thirty-three years later design the jacket for the sequel, Closing Time. You don’t get to do that very often but when the opportunity comes it's very gratifying, to have the opportunity of being involved with a Nat Adderley or Joseph Heller after thirty' years is kind of great. Everyone is getting a little thin on top, but that’s part of the deal.” Neither Heller nor Bacon mentions that it took a good deal of work on Paul’s behalf to get to the final Catch-22 jacket. The first sketch, featuring a hand and finger proffering a universal gesture, scandalized all concerned. The dangling red hubba-hubba man that appears on the dust jacket was in the next sketch, and many subsequent sketches, but it was a long road. With each sketch, Heller’s name and Catch-22 grew and the little red man shrank, until the final version emerged. Harris Lewine: “Paul never gave up. Most illustrators would have given up, but he would never say ‘go away.”’ Paul Bacon’s “big book look” emerged about the same time. It is unclear if he developed the concept on his own, but Paul popular­ ized it and became famous as a result. The “big book look” was the antithesis of dust jackets up to that time, with type laid on bleed illustrations and a wrap-around spine. Paul’s dust jackets featured the name and title in large typeface at the top of the jacket and a centered spot illustration on a field of white, black, or a solid color. This Is Not a Comb • n I ■ l $ \ .1 I ■ Ji I 1 �I I This was the form often used for a noted author. For an author’s first book the concept might be reversed —a larger illustration might be required to catch a bookstore browser’s attention. The range of his work is remarkable. The forty-four selections highlighted at this exhibition, from Chimp on My Shoulder (Figures 1-4) to Thomas Jefferson and Sally Flemings: An American Contro­ versy (Figure 44) have something for any taste. Blockbusters, cult favorites, literary' classics, scandalous titles, and more. I’m amazed at the prominent authors and books listed in this catalogue. One could list these books and pose this question: What do the following fortyone noted writers have in common? And then you could make a longer list, mans' hundreds, and ask the same thing. The easy answer is that most of these books might be found in a good public library', but the right answer is they' all have dust jackets created by' Paul Bacon—in common with thousands of other books. Other questions to ask: Apart from the “big book look,” what is unique about a Paul Bacon design? What sets him apart? Joseph Heller used the words “original, surprising, and wonderful.” True enough—but his designs also show a quiet but elegant simplicity, a clean, focused utility. In the language of the bopster, words that Paul would understand and appreciate, The Scene Is Clean. Yet, one must remember, Paul may appreciate bop, but be doesn’t play it. Lots of notes, played very' fast, funny' harmonies, insider music. That’s not the kind of music or art he creates. The line of the New Orleanstinged music featured in a Paul Bacon performance is much like that of his dust jackets—sparse, accessible, to the point, and com­ pletely lacking in gratuitous ornamentation. Just as there are no heaving bosoms on Paul’s dust jackets, his music-making is not embellished with nonmusical effects—each note counts. Just before I wrote these words, I went to a shelf and removed six books by E. L. Doctorow. In chronological order, Ragtime (Figure 30), Loon Lake, Lives of the Poets, World’s Fair, Billy Bathgate, and The Waterworks. Paul designed the jackets for the first five and the 12 • The Graphic Art of Paul Bacon cover illustration for the sixth. I’ve read the books; he found the graphic key to each and translated it into a succinct design. He cL() found a marvelous graphic key in The Waterworks, maybe the best of Paul Bacon, 1998 the six, but the publish'ter used unly the illustration (which he’d like to redraw). The wish to redraw the horse-drawn trolley is indicative Bacon’s consummate professionalism—he wants the work correct and he will fight for it. Quietly. I larris Lewine calk “self-effacing fighter,” an artist who was not schooled in an tional manner, but who emerged from the fine arts backgr the times. lake a look at Jack Kerouacs Visions of Cody (Figure 23 sets the design apart, what makes it a Paul Bacon design, i: understanding of the book, his presentation of Jack Duluoz; Pomeray in a seamless linear landscape that begins with the s continues across the front of the book. Lester and Billie, a dir mobiles, the two main characters, all “Groovin’ High.” Or leaning trumpet player on the cover of Ross Russell’s The . Someone once said, “You can’t judge a book by its cover" clearly hadn’t seen Paul Bacon’s dust jacket for Visions of What about his other primary design activity, covers for albums and LPs, as well as CD booklets? Paul’s other artis in full bloom for a dozen years, roughly 1947 to 1959, hibe a few years, and then took off again in the mid-1980s. It wi course, be possible to ask the same question about jazz m about writers: What do the following two hundred noted j have in common? It would be a laundry list of the great 0 the pioneers in New Orleans and Chicago to young artist Or maybe the number is three hundred, but it doesn’t me did the work, remarkable work, creating designs that arc t his finest dust jackets. There is, however, one important c Paul knew—and still knows —many of the musicians. Wil jackets it was them and us, but with the musical projects ; cians it was us and us. Orrin Keepnews tells the story of signing the legendary onions Monk to Riverside. l ie and Bill Grauer made cert �the books; he found the j a succinct design. He also 'atenvorks, maybe the best of the six, but the publisher used only the illustration (which Paul says he’d like to redraw). The wish to redraw the horse-drawn trolley is indicative of Paul Bacon’s consummate professionalism —he wants the work to be correct and he will fight for it. Quietly. Hanis Lewine calls him a “self-effacing fighter,” an artist who was not schooled in any tradi­ tional manner, but who emerged from the fine arts background of the times. Take a look at Jack Kerouac’s Visions of Cody (Figure 23). What sets the design apart, what makes it a Paul Bacon design, is his understanding of tire book, his presentation of Jack Duluoz and Cody Pomeray in a seamless linear landscape that begins with the spine and continues across the front of the book. Lester and Billie, a diner, auto­ mobiles, the two main characters, all “Groovin’ High.” Or look at the leaning trumpet player on the cover of Ross Russell’s The Sound. Someone once said, “You can’t judge a book by its cover” but they clearly hadn’t seen Paul Bacon’s dust jacket for Visions of Cody. What about his other primary' design activity', covers for 78-rpm albums and LPs, as well as CD booklets? Paul’s other artistic life was in full bloom for a dozen years, roughly 1947 to 1959, hibernated for a few years, and then took off again in the mid-1980s. It would, of course, be possible to ask the same question about jazz musicians as about writers: What do the following two hundred noted jazz artists have in common? It would be a laundry list of the great ones, from the pioneers in New Orleans and Chicago to young artists of today'. Or maybe the number is three hundred, but it doesn’t matter. He did the work, remarkable work, crealiting designs that are the equal of his finest dust jackets. There is, however, one important difference: Paul knew—and still knows—many of the musicians. With the dust jackets it was them and us, but with the musical projects and musi­ cians it was us and us. Orrin Keepnews tells the story' of signing the legendary' Thelonious Monk to Riverside. He and Bill Grauer made certain they took Paul along to the meeting. They knew (and they knew Monk knew) that back in the 1940s when some of New York’s alleged finest suggested that Monk should go downtown, against his wishes, Paul was one of the people who put up the money to gain his release. This is not to suggest that Monk signed with Riverside because of Paul’s presence, but there’s nothing wrong with insurance—and Monk signed the contract. Paul set standards for LP jacket design. He was, after all, there at the very beginning, and his work for Blue Note, Riverside, and RCA’s label “X” has become as legendary' as those companies and the music they released. And what made this early work so remark­ able was that he had a different signature style, for three different companies—simultaneously. A Paul Bacon Blue Note design was instantly recognizable in the early' 1950s, as was one for Riverside or “X”. Even a casual glance at a jacket in a bin at Sam Goody’s, or even Big Joe’s on 46th Street, would say Paul Bacon, but it would also identify' the company. Which was the idea, because even though the product issued by each company was jazz, it was often very' different. And the same rules applied to the album covers as the books, he listened to them all. The main difference was that Thelonious Monk’s Mysterioso LP required about forty' minutes of listening, with repeated playing a distinct bonus, while 398 pages of convoluted Kerouacian prose, set in tiny type on the pages of Visions of Cody, took a little longer to digest. Paul claims he reads quickly'. Not that quickly. Then there’s Paul’s purely musical life, the life of a jazz musician playing the most lowly of instruments, a comb, amplified by a sheet of cellophane. A certifiable genius like Thelonious Monk had a hard time finding gainful employment. What if you are an enthusiastic art director with a comb? It would, of course, be possible to make another list of musicians, equally long, though perhaps not quite as diverse, with whom Paul made music for half a century. In the dogeat-dog world of live jazz, he managed to survive with a hot comb This Is Not a Comb ° 13 �and mostly sentimental vocals-just vocals—just the right combination of swee sweet and hot. But his musical work paid few bills and was not particularly gainful. Thank goodness he had a day job and owned the studio. If there was a session and it had been a particularly good night, Paul could be grateful that as he pulled himself off the bandstand just in time to make it to the office, the only person who could fire him was himself. Paul was a tentative performer, and it all began with the same gang that revolved around The Newark Hot Club, The Record Changer, and the assorted record labels for whom he produced album designs. Bill Grauer was the primary- culprit. He organized I : I 'I st g got ] H ‘Willie the Weeper’ or ‘Cake Walking Babies from bullfrOggin’ it. There was only one micro stl|dio and j had to stand ()n , ,a [ .lt basket to get close enough Io it to be heard. There was The Washboard Five, and the I lot Damn Jug Band of New York, and much traveling in search of musical activity (in and out of New York City, but rarely much further than New Jersey or Connecticut). By the late 1950s, however, the Paul Bacon Studio was much expanded, there were seven employees, and with the added responsibility, Paul cut back on his musical activity. Bui lie always kept his comb in his pocket, ready for action, cither improvised or regular Friday night musicales at the home of his wife’s parents on Riverside Drive (yes, that’s where the name came from). Grauer was an unabashed champion of the comb as a hot jazz instrument. A small comb, a bit of cellophane, the ability' to hum a tunc and a loosely scheduled. A most pleasant bit of musical action occurred in the 1960s, when sense of rhythm and timing were all that was required. Some people don’t approve of the comb as an instrument; and before he began his career, Paul Bacon was solidly in the anti-comb camp. He went to a musicale and “put up with tins old-fashioned and somehow I got the courage to let him know 1 had a comb and stuff, sneering inwardly all the while, unwilling to do anything but observe." Then a funny' thing happened. Grauer suggested he try' it. great night.” Bob Greene rekindled Paul’s interest in live performance in 1976 He did, and he found he was a natural if ever there was one. He went every Friday night, creating musical mayhem with Grauer, and explains the circumstances in remarks that can be found Conrad Janis, and four guys named Bob: Greene on piano, Thomp­ son on washboard, Sann on banjo, and Lee on jug. The Hot Club of nanstine, told him about a band that was being organized to play straight New Orleans jazz, for fun. A bit later came the chance to he found himself at the justifiably legendary Earthquake McGoon’s in San Francisco. “Turk Murphy was playing ‘Shake That I hing’ he asked me to sit in. When we finished he said. Don’t go way’ and then Clancy [Hayes] came over and said. ’I thought everybody in the [Mound City] Blue Bowers was dead.’ We played for the rest of a elsewhere in this catalogue. In 19S0, another friend, Charlie Son- Riverside Drive was often overloaded with combs, but all the partici­ play at 1 he Cajun, a New Orleans—sty le restaurant in New York pants had a little more hair in those days. On at least one occasion Orrin joined Paul and Bill for a comb trio, and complaints were City. 1 he job was to last eight weeks, but in one form or another, it has lasted nearly two decades. Tuesday nights at The Cajun, with heard from as far away as the Jersey shore. Paul kept making music and got a little serious about it. He even appeared on a record in 1951, four selections with cornet player Carl Halen, which were eventually released on Riverside. In his own Stanleys Washboard Kings, often is musical magic. The small bandstand comfortably holds aboutt seven guys, but I’ve seen as many as fourteen crowded into the sp;lace. On the right night, its as good as anything in town-and there’s some pretty good stuff in this words, “I sang on ‘Heebie Jeebies’ and ‘Dr. Jazz.’ They' didn’t let me town. 14 • The Graphic Art of Paul Bacon Paul is a modest guy. I le do ■ t’l guess is there are two mam reasons he doesn’t. One is tiler much to remember, and if you focus excessively on vour p achievements, there probably won’t be many in the future important, he learned long ago that while you’re talking it Io do anything else. And in an ever-lengthening career, wl has merrily combined literature and music for six decades still much Io do. I lis pen and comb are still poised, ready If you live long enough, are creative enough, and keep yo order, you can accomplish a great deal. Patil isn’t inelinec on. he once wrote the barest of biographic details about h two scraps of paper purloined from an unsuspecting W est innkeeper. A barely adequate Aubrey entry. The foregoing offers a few more details, but the followi: for those who are concerned, a few biographical specifics from the two scraps of paper: �r’ or ‘Cake Walking Babies from Home.’ I gin’ it. There was only one microphone at rsity studio and 1 had to stand on a wasteto it to be heard.” ird Five, and the Hot Damn Jug Band of ling in search of musical activity (in and rarely much further than New Jersey or :950s, however, the Paul Bacon Studio was e seven emplovees, and with tire added k on his musical activity. But he always t. ready for action, either improvised or isical action occurred in the 1960s, when tifiablv legendary Earthquake McGoon’s urphy was playing ‘Shake That Thing’ rage to let him know I had a comb and i we finished he said, ‘Don’t go way’ and over and said. ‘I thought everybody in the was dead.' We played for the rest of a Paul is a modest guy. He doesn’t say much about himself, and my guess is there are two main reasons he doesn’t. One is there’s just too much to remember, and if you focus excessively on your past achievements, there probably won’t be many in the future. Equally important, he learned long ago that while you’re talking it’s difficult to do anything else. And in an ever-lengthening career, which so far has merrily combined literature and music for six decades, there is still much to do. His pen and comb are still poised, ready for action. If you live long enough, are creative enough, and keep your wits in order, you can accomplish a great deal. Paul isn’t inclined to ramble on. he once wrote the barest of biographic details about himself on two scraps of paper purloined from an unsuspecting West Coast innkeeper. A barely adequate Aubrey entry. The foregoing offers a few more details, but the following outlines, for those who are concerned, a few biographical specifics, taken from the two scraps of paper: Paul Bacon was born on Christmas day in 1923. The Bacon family is very old and dates back to 1640, with Michael Bacon in Dedham, Massachusetts. The family grew, parts of it prospered, and others didn’t. A few members achieved some success in fields as diverse as civil service, architecture, growing roses or even acclaim, in book jacket design. Paul was educated at various schools, finally graduating from Newark New Jersey’s Arts High School in 1940. After a couple of years of seasoning, he joined the Marine Corps in April 1943 and remained with that august organization, visiting assorted Pacific and Far Eastern locations, until April 1946. He returned to New York City and got busy with his pencil and a comb. Paul’s career can, of course, come crashing down in a moment, if the Internet makes books redundant, CDs become microchips that don’t need booklets, lawsuits force cigarette manufacturers to cease using cellophane, and Speert stops making nifty combs. All very unlikely, at least for the time being. It’s been a good ride, Heller and Hellman in the morning, Morton and Monk at night. And even if the Testarossa didn’t make it out of the garage, the clunks that did are still chugging along just fine. ul’s interest in live performance in 1976 ices in remarks that can be found In 1980, another friend, Charlie Sonrand that was being organized to play >r fun. A bit later came the chance to )rleans-style restaurant in New York lit weeks, but in one form or another, it :s. Tuesday nights at The Cajun, with often is musical magic. The small s about seven guys, but I’ve seen as ito the space. On the right night, it’s as ind there’s some pretty good stuff in this This Is Not d Comb • 15 i 4 •i i �“JACKET DESIGN BY PAUL BACON Stanley I Grand the New York literary and A sideman, Paul Bacon has played on /% jazz scenes for decades. Rarely center stage, he is an accomJ- A. panist and collaborator whose solos interpret, expand upon, color, and otherwise modify' and amplify' the main melodic theme. In so doing, his vision has become an inseparable part of countless compositions. As a long-time designer of dust jackets and record albums, Bacon has performed an essential role in the creation, positioning, and marketing of cultural products. Without doubt every literate American has seen and held his work. Every serious jazz fan has slipped a record into an album cover he designed or a CD into one of his jewel cases. His contributions to the cultural icons of our time are unparalleled. Yet he lives in his own Catch-22 C (for which he designed the cover, Figure 7): everybody knoi>ws the l. • I work, nobody knows the name. Well not exactly. Authors have nothing but the highest regard for Bacon’s work. Ira Levin (Rosemary’s Baby, Figure 15) wrote: “I know of no designer whose book jackets stand so strongly as independent art works while at the same time conveying perfectly the mood and content of the books they serve. Paul Bacon is to jacket design what Ella Fitzgerald is to singing.” Concerning the cover for his novel Ragtime (Figure 30), E. L. Doctorow stated that it is “a classic of book jacket design—simple and immensely evocative at the same time.” In a letter dated May 19,1998, William Styron wrote, “I recall the excitement I felt when I first saw Paul Bacon’s design for Nat 16 Turner [Figure 16]. It still seems to me a masterpiece of jacket design and has remained prominently framed in my house for thirty' years.” Robert Gottlieb, the legendary editor at Simon and Schuster, recalled that “the first great jacket [Bacon] did for S & S was for Meyer Levin’s Compulsion (Figure 5). Like all brilliant jackets, it was utterly effective and utterly unlike any other jacket The same was true of his work for Catch-22 [and] The Andromeda Strain" (Figures 7,19). Paradoxically, anonymity has given Bacon freedom to employ his urbane and understated wit, which abounds with subtle visual puns. I lis wit is dry, sharp, playful, and at times erudite, but never biting. When asked for a blurb, Joseph I Idler, for whom Bacon designed numerous dust jackets, responded with a pun of his own: “The coverage of my life as an author from ‘Catch-22,’ in 1961, to ‘Closing Time,’ 33 years later, may be unique in publishing.” The “coverage" of books with paper wrappings is a nineteenth­ century innovation that assumed a new' role in the twentieth cen­ tury. As Steven Heller and Seymour Chwast point out in Jackets Required (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1995), the venerable English firm of Longmans & Co. first introduced the dust wrapper or jacket in 1833 to protect their books from London’s ubiquitous soot and smog. For the next seventy or eighty years, the unadorned, for the most part plain brown wrapper was the standard book cover­ ing. I hen, around 1910, publishers started to include “blurbs — short quotations from recogui.wd authorities affirm excellence of the work at hand— on the jackets as; the prospective buyer. Willi the shift from protects design assumed an important role. Broadly speaking, jacket designs may be classific consisting of pure (although seldom simple) letteri containing illustrations. The best designers, like Pr design a cover either typograpically or pictorially. 1 jackets that relied solely on lettering, Bacon brougl master}' of freehand lettering (he relied on calligra set type), a linear sensibility, a broad knowledge of and historic type faces, and a delight in the challei within the constraints of designing small rectangul conjunction of these factors is readily apparent in 1 1 lenry Pleasants’s T/ie Great Singers: From the Dai Our Own Time, 1966 (Figure 15). Bacon has taken format, much favored by the countless dignitaries ' stare out at us from old engravings, to create a perioi has decorated further with shells and swags, garlanc die, and of course, beautiful lettering. In his picto number of which will be considered in this essay, was to distill an essential characteristic of the work Although Bacon had designed a number of recc in the late 1940s, his first book project was the jack tions for Bill Westley’s Chimp on My Shoulder, 19: Westley had gone to Africa on behalf of the high-r Anthropoid Ape Research Foundation, which was raising chimps for laboratory' experiments. Findinj short of good breeding stock, the foundation dispa the Belgian Congo, where he had many adventun flora and fauna — including snakes, missionaries, r chimps—large numbers of which he trapped and Florida. �e a masterpiece of jacket design d in my house for thirty years.” at Simon and Schuster. icon] did for S &' S was for . Like all brilliant jackets, it : any other jacket The same j The Andromeda Strain' Bacon freedom to employ his lounds with subtle visual puns, nes erudite, but never biting, r, for whom Bacon designed i a pun of his own: ‘‘The ‘Catch-22,’ in 1961, to ‘Closing 1 publishing." wrappings is a nineteenthv role in the twentieth cenhwast point out in Jackets ooks, 1995), the venerable introduced the dust wrapper from London’s ubiquitous eight}'years, the unadorned, was the standard book cover­ ted to include “blurbs”— short quotations from recognized authorities affirming the overall excellence of the work at hand —on the jackets as an inducement to the prospective buyer. With the shift from protection to marketing, design assumed an important role. Broadly speaking, jacket designs may be classified as either those consisting of pure (although seldom simple) lettering or those containing illustrations. The best designers, like Paul Bacon, could design a cover either typograpically or pictorially. In designing jackets that relied solei}' on lettering. Bacon brought to the process a mastery of freehand lettering (he relied on calligraphy rather than set type ), a linear sensibility, a broad knowledge of contemporary and historic type faces, and a delight in the challenge of working within the constraints of designing small rectangular spaces. The conjunction of these factors is readily apparent in his jacket for Henn Pleasants s The Great Singers: From the Dawn of Opera to Our Own Time. 1966 (Figure 13). Bacon has taken the oval portrait format, much favored by the countless dignitaries whose visages still stare out at us from old engraxings, to create a period design, which he has decorated further with shells and swags, garlands and a cartou­ che. and of course, beautiful lettering. In his pictorial designs, a number of which will be considered in this essay, Bacon’s objective was to distil] an essential characteristic of the work into an image. .Although Bacon had designed a number of record album jackets in the late 1940s, his first book project was the jacket and illustra­ tions for Bill Westley’s Chimp on My Shoulder, 1950 (Figures 1-4). Westlev had gone to .Africa on behalf of the high-minded-sounding .Anthropoid Ape Research Foundation, which was in the business of raising chimps for laboratory experiments. Finding itself running short of good breeding stock, the foundation dispatched Westley to the Belgian Congo, where he had many adventures with the local flora and fauna —including snakes, missionaries, natives, and chimps—large numbers of which he trapped and shipped off to Florida. Bacon’s illustrations for this book project contain the essence of his fully developed style and sensibility. First and foremost, as Levin observed above, Bacon has an ability to capture the mood and content of the work. This he did with playful line drawings, strong graphic design, economy of means, and subtle humor. The spare, expressive linework of Figure 1 recalls that of the caricaturist Al Hirschfeld, while Figure 2, shows Bacon’s ability to exploit the expressive power of negative space. Mostly, however, the drawings abound in a gentle lampooner}' that recalls a time, a half-century ago, when vivisection, colonialism, and racism were viewed differently. The jacket for William Styron’s The Confessions of Nat Turner, 1967, an explosive novel published during the height of the civil rights movement, provides an example of the high-quality design admired by others (Figure 16). Bacon, who always reads the book prior to designing the jacket, knew that the novel centered on events surrounding an 1831 Virginia slave rebellion led by Nat Turner, a slave and preacher. The jacket design with its mixture of different type faces recalls the typography found on the era’s escaped slave notices. Although the lettering is freehand, it is based on the old wooden type used in such notices. The irregular lines separating the text elements further suggest hand-set wooden type. Bacon replaced the American eagle that sometimes adorned these broadsides with the silhouette of an avenging angel. This black angel not only evokes countless representations of the Expulsion from the Garden of Eden but also refers specifically to the fact that Turner, at the time of his surrender, was armed only with “a small light sword.” In William Styron’s view “the fiery red background and the black avenging angel were matchlessly suited to the theme of slave insur­ rection.” As a design, the jacket subtly balances Styron’s story of a cataclysmic event that left fifty-nine whites dead and shattered forever the illusions, if not the innocence, of the slave owners. Thirty years later, Bacon designed the jacket for another contro­ versial book dealing with race relations in old Virginia: Annette “Jacket Design by Paul Bacon" ® 17 �Gordon-Reed’s Thomas Jefferson and Sally Flemings: An American Controversy, 1997 (F igure 44). Because of its scandalous, if not altogether new, argument that the black slave Sally' Flemings bore children to the third president of the United States, practically' every eminent Jeffersonian historian blasted the book when it first ap­ peared. Recent DNA studies, however, have persuaded most, if not all, of Gordon-Reed’s critics to abandon their objections. Bacon s jacket depicts a three-quarter view of a tight-lipped Jefferson and a profile silhouette of Flemings, whose features are unknown to the artist. The portrait of Jefferson has a clear linear simplicity'. Values are modulated bv scratching through the drawn lines and exposing the white board underneath: some of Jefferson’s bangs, for example, show simple hatching while others are cross-hatched. This design, in which Hemings’s profile appears as a shadow cast by the great man, subtlv echoes and reinforces the book’s thesis while simultaneously creating a multiple visual pun on the concepts of secrets kept in the dark and dark secrets. Finally, that he manages to produce such an effective dust jacket within the economic limitations of two-color printing is especially' admirable. Bacon’s drawing facility is well demonstrated in the pen and ink jacket design for Georges Simenon's The Little Saint, 1965 (Figure 12). A recently deceased French national treasure, whose passing is mourned by all Francophiles, Simenon produced an astonishing stream of mvsteries featuring Inspector Maigret. In this novel, however, Simenon created, in his own words, a “perfectly serene character,” namitely Louis, a child of the Paris slums at the start of the twentieth century. Unperturbed by the squalor of his surroundings, Louis maintains a happy, aloof, and detached outlook, which continues even after he starts working in les Halles —the legendary' food markets of central Paris now replaced by a shopping mall — while struggling to become a painter. Bacon captures well Louis’s gray monochrome world: the little boy in a frock standing on the cobblestones beside his mother and her pushcart brimming with j8 • The Graphic Art of Paul liacon "gures, which occupy only the bottom qu; . r of vegetables. The. figi ibined with an atmosphere that evokes bone chilling, the jacket, comb.... wintry rainy days in Paris, could easily convey a m<lood of desperation and hardship, except for the bits of local color in the hair. At times, like the jazz musician he is, Bacon exploits the physical properties of color to create an unexpected effect. His jacket for Norman Mailer’s An American Dream, 1965, contains a detail of the American flag rendered in red, black, and blue (Figure 11). Accord­ ing to Bacon, if one stares intently at the flag for a while and then looks at a white wall, one will ‘see’ a true representation of Old Glory. Thus the colors are more than an optical trick; they represent, on a fundamental level, the perversion of the American dream, which is the theme of Mailer’s book. But also, in subtle and punning ways, the jacket does more. The story' concerns tire unmaking of Stephen Richard Rojack, a war hero, ex-congressman, and all-around aging golden boy, who (like Mailer himself) had basked in youthful acclaim. Our hero, however, begins to self-destruct when he decides to run as a Progressive Party' candidate during the election of 1948. After this political debacle, he becomes a college professor, a popular author, a television personality, and the husband of a rich but difficult woman, whom he murders. Thus, properly, begins our story of Rojack’s tortuous 32-hour odyssey through the hells of New York City'. The cover, which seems to include a life-preserver from the S.S. American Dream, evokes the desperation of a man overboard and struggling to survive while simultaneously suggesting a clock face with time running out. The late addition of a photograph of the author’s girlfriend, at the request of Mailer himself I am told, com­ pletes the design and seems to symbolize, on some level, the wide­ spread challenges to authority' and received wisdom that character­ ized the mid-1960s. Bacon s ability' to capture the essence of a work is seen as well in his jacket for William Golding’s The Spire, 1964 (Figure 9). 1 his, Golding s third novel —he had previously enjoyed great succes de scandale with Lord of the Flies—is concerned with tire fu tragedy of the human spirit. The protagonists, one an ide who seeks to add an immense steeple to his mighty cathe the other a practical master-builder whose vision, unlike dral’s somewhat shaky foundations, rests solidly on the gr represent the eternal struggles between spirit and materi; and modesty, soaring and plodding. The jacket with one heavenward, blue like the sky, holds or perhaps offers the unseen deity while the other, an angel or devil, looks ear thee behind me, Satan! And yet was not Lucifer once th. When is the line between worship and rivalry crossed? A different type of worship is the subject of Ira Levin’s Baby, 1967 ( Figure 15), a Gothic tale set in the Bramford West Side building with a gargoyle facade and a long his unpleasant events (murder, suicide) and people (baby er ers). Into this milieu move the newlyweds Guy, an actor Rosemary'. After the older couple next door befriend the als, Guy’s career begins to take off. But the price is steep mary learns when she becomes pregnant. Bacon’s ink ar illustration depicts a rambling brownstone, complete wi gables, and tower, whose distorted perspective and upwa alludes to, if ever so discreetly, Rosemary’s ritual impreg Ritual impregnation and more play a kev role in Thoi Harvest Home, 1973; but here the final scene takes place woods just outside a Norman Rockwellesque town (Figi story follows Ned Constantine, a Madison Avenue type ’ from the city to build a new and better life for his family New England hamlet of Cornwall Coombe. His dream vision come to a shattering conclusion when he stares u forbidden mysteries of Harvest Home, a modern chapte old, and often bloody, worship of Demeter. Bacon’s agit pen-and-ink drawing stacks up all the elements of the frenz the Moon of No Repentance, the black crow, idyllic C< �he bottom quarter of it evokes bone-chilling, y a mood of desperation r in the hair. n exploits the physical feet. His jacket for contains a detail of the re (Figure 11). Accordfor a while and then esentation of Old ?al trick; they represent. American dream, a subtle and punning the unmaking of isman, and all-around 1 basked in youthful uct when he decides to election of 1948. After fessor, a popular nd of a rich but rperlv, begins our storv he hells of New York (-preserver from the of a man overboard ' suggesting a clock of a photograph of the nself I am told, comome level, tire widcsdom that characterork is seen as well in 14 (Figure 9). This, yed great succes de scandale with Lord of the Flies—is concerned with the fundamental tragedy of the human spirit. The protagonists, one an idealistic dean who seeks to add an immense steeple to his mightv cathedral and the other a practical master-builder whose vision, unlike the cathe­ dral’s somewhat shake foundations, rests solidlv on the ground, represent the eternal struggles between spirit and material, hubris and modesty. soaring and plodding. The jacket with one figure, eyes heavenward, blue like the sky. holds or perhaps offers the spire to an unseen deity while the other, an angel or devil, looks earthward. Get thee behind me. Satan! And yet was not Lucifer once the favorite? When is tire line between worship and rivalry’ crossed? A different type of worship is the subject of Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby. 196- (Figure 15). a Gothic tale set in the Bramford, an Upper West Side building with a gargoyle facade and a long history' of unpleasant events (murder, suicide) and people (baby eaters, conjur­ ers,. Into this milieu move tire newlvweds Guy, an actor, and Rosemary. After the older couple next door befriend the new arriv­ als. Guy’s career begins to take oft. But the price is steep, as Rose­ man' learns when she becomes pregnant. Bacon’s ink and gouache illustration depicts a rambling brownstone, complete with gargoyles, gables, and tower, whose distorted perspective and upward thrust alludes to. if ever so discreetly. Rosemary’s ritual impregnation. Ritual impregnation and more play a key role in Thomas Tryon’s Harvest Home, 1973; but here the final scene takes place in the woods just outside a Norman Rockwellesque town (Figure 25). The storv follows Ned Constantine, a Madison Avenue type who escapes from the citv to build a new and better life for his family in the small New England hamlet of Cornwall Coombe. His dream and his vision come to a shattering conclusion when he stares upon the forbidden mysteries of Harvest Home, a modern chapter in the ageold, and often bloody', worship of Demeter. Bacon's agitated, colored pen-and-ink drawing stacks up all the elements of the frenzied ritual: the Moon of No Repentance, the black crow, idyllic Cornwall Coombe, corn stalks and ears, the wild celebrants, the barn, tomb­ stones, a death’s head scarecrow, and the raised sickle commencing its bloody rendezvous with the Harvest Lord’s throat. While the rituals in Harvest Home have ancient roots, Thomas Berger’s novel Regiment of Women, 1973, looks forward to relations between tire sex'es in 2125 (Figure 24). Things have changed and not changed; women rule but no social improvement is apparent. Men have silicon enhanced breasts; and one of them, Georgie Cornell (a twenty-nine year old secretary' being treated for frigidity' by a psychia­ trist who favors paste-on beards and dildos) is having difficulties adjust­ ing. To capture the topsy-turvy structure of the new world order, Bacon appropriated Ingres’s famous tondo of The Turkish Bath, 1863, and switched genders in this harem scene of erotic fantasy. But perhaps the final word on the gender wars might well be Harry' Crews’s mordant The Gypsy’s Curse, 1974 (Figure 27). The eponymous curse, paraphrased and sanitized a bit, is “may you find a woman who fits you.” The curse falls upon Marvin Molar, a deaf mute with withered stumps (or more precisely appendages) in place of legs, who has found a home at the Fireman’s Gym in Tampa, Florida, where he handwalks around, reads upscale magazines and authors like Graham Greene, or entertains children and housewives with his marvelous balancing acts. When a woman enters Marvin’s halcyon world, it undergoes a drastic dislocation. His fate is sealed; the curse is fulfilled; there is nothing he won’t do! Bacon captures the humor of Crews’s novel by depicting Marvin’s head dangling between his leg-like arms like misplaced (or not) genitalia. In 1930, Henry' Pits observed that “A collection of contemporary book jackets serves as a barometer of interest and taste. They will carry' the flavor of our age as effectively as the Victorian valentines or the early English chapbooks do theirs.” (Quoted in Heller and Chwast, Jackets Required.) Whereas many of the great jacket designs from the 1920s and 30s reflected a knowledge of art modems, Bauhaus, or Constructivist design principles, the covers produced by "Jacket Design by Paul Bacon" • 19 ? �! Paul Bacon show none of that commitment to a particular school of design. Rather his designs tend to be more individualized; they respond to the specifies of individual commissions. But then ours is an eclectic era that is not dominated by any single style, so it is not unexpected that designers would have a variety of expressions. This flexibility also reflects a period in publishing that is fast disappearing. During most of Bacon’s career, designers were free­ lancers. who could produce professional results on tight deadlines and at a relatively low cost. (Typically, Bacon spends three weeks on a jacket design: two weeks for reading the book and making a full­ blown sketch and one week for finalizing the design once it has been approved.) Working closely with editors, these artists and 20 • The Graphic Art 0/ Paul Bacon designers enjoyed a great degree of freedom and frequently ei; j irony, humor, or visual puns as in the jackets for E. J. Kahn, ' . Big Drink: The Story of Coca-Cola, i960 (Figure 6). Hank O’Neal has argued persuasively that Bacon’s career is intimately and inextricably linked to the world of jazz. Those interconnections between music and art epitomize a time when the literary and musical worlds were less balkanized, or, for that matter, specialized. Now, as the publishing industry increasingly consoli­ dates, as advances to authors reach the stratosphere, as movie rights become increasingly lucrative, and as promotion budgets swell, layers of management have proliferated, and independents such as Paul Bacon are becoming anachronisms. It is a loss. ra— 2? 7T 1-4 Bill Westley Chimp on My Shoulder E. P, Dutton, 1950 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio �edom and frequently employed jackets for E. J. Kahn, Jr’s. The ;6o (Figure 6). ely that Bacon’s career is the world of jazz. Those art epitomize a time when the jalkanized, or, for that matter, idustiy increasingly consolie stratosphere, as movie rights promotion budgets swell, ■d, and independents such ns. It is a loss. -■j 1-4 Bill Westley Chimp on My Shoulder E. P. Dutton, 1950 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio W �Com5! ft B ■ anove^Z)^. AtHYCR EEVlN 5 Meyer Levin Compulsion Simon and Schuster, 1956 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. 6 E. J. Kahn, Jr. The Big Drink: The Story of Coca-Cola Copyright 1950, © 1959, i960 by E.J. Kahn, Jr. Reprinted by permission of Random House, In, 7 Joseph Heller Catch-22 Simon and Schuster, 1961 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. �I <■ i .1 .1 lb K 8 7 >ry of Coca-Cola 9, i960 by EJ. Kahn, Jr. jd of Random House, Inc. Joseph Heller Catch-22 Simon and Schuster, 1961 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. Ken Kesey One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Copyright © 1962,1990 by Ken Kesey Used by permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Putnam, Inc. �Arthur Hailey >TAX,,VI^ I Hollo 9 William Golding The Spire Harcourt, Brace & World, 1964 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio 10 ■ MM Arthur Hailey Hotel Doubleday, 1965 Courtesy Bantam Doubleday Dell 11 Norman Mailer An American Dream Dial Press, 1965 Courtesy Bantam Doubleday Dell �« fair s L'S? r '^.,s !,.. SSS ... NS-S’,!' ilcv wJ filb ■ M Owl NOVEL . >lel " 1 i O. 'S'': ' SV 't -j.Z is ISHlii fc r' ■ ^...,S . 's. SSS^^SNsS^sS. s Vs-s 11 oubleday Del] Norman Mailer An American Dream Dial Press, 1965 Courtesy Bantam Doubleday Dell 12 Georges Simenon The Little Saint Harcourt, Brace & World, 1965 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio ■■ ■ �TH E TIME OF FMEiWW The first collection ol short stories since THE DELICATE PREY Paul Bowles 13 Henry Pleasants The Great Singers: From the Dawn of Opera to Our Own Time Simon and Schuster, 1966 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, In 14 Paul Bowles rhe lime of Friendship Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio 15 Ir* Levin ^rnary . Bq, R()Pyr,g|lt y ( printed b. ' ’<■-■ 1lra Ptnni l<‘VIn �A .1 l I a A Novel by IK A LI XIX b s A darkly brilliant tile uf modern ikrihn that, like James' I . > RX OF THE SCRFM, induces the reader to believe the tinbelievible. 1 believe.! it and was altogether enthralled.” M THE -TRUMAN CAPOTE 1 --.T I ■: Confessions OF BA i N«A Turner Hohs >• 11 ■S 4 KISS BEFORE L’ViXi; 1 A i BY I WILLIAM STYRON KAX I> <» M HOI s 1: BOOK J 15 Ira Levin Rosemary’s Baby Copyright © 1967 by Ira Levin Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. 16 William Styron The Confessions of Nat Turner Copyright © 1966,1967 by William Styron Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. I -■ — IS �I OR The Children's crusade a w DOQDEiaCCKXECCCCDGOKltO............ ,.., .OOGuCGOKS OQDDDQOQnD^aGGODCCO. >, .CQDQKK ccnnDEjucnnnnijDGDcDa ■.■...•...•.•..i 1221 .dec .112211.. CCCCDClCGGuCOGCO... >............. 11123321 11..........EC 12332111 DCCCOCC2CCCCDQ. ...... |1223211......... .11223211 ...... ... 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Knopf, In T 20 Philip Roth The Andromeda Strain Portnoy’s Complaint Alfred A. Knopf, 1969 Copyright © 1969 by Philip Roth ■ �N P I 4 ’4 --- l* a* s ' . ... g V1JIONJ [ | ©foody / \n< zlfSEflllKg ^v\.mw _ ________________________________________ ■ _ . ■ ! _____ h. ■ 111 fete ■■ : MK KEROU/K < IKSKrtW-HU 23 21 Ernest Hemingway Islands in the Stream Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970 Courtesy Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 22 S. J. Perelman Baby, It’s Cold Inside Simon and Schuster, 1970 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc, JACK KEO Jack Kerouac Visions of Cody McGraw-Hill, 1972 Used with permission of John Sampas, literary rc of the Estate of Jack and Stella Kerouac �7° aster, Inc. REGIMENT OF WOMEN THOMAS BERGER 3 A - j Mr A < 1 s 23 Jack Kerouac Visions of Cody McGraw-Hill, 1972 Used with permission of John Sampas, literary representative of the Estate of Jack and Stella Kerouac 24 Thomas Berger Regiment of Women Simon and Schuster, 1973 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. �I Ii, • ■ • --T ■ I ■ xjWSfy H I: fS M SI i II i I I ---------- ----- h n0Vt'l h' author of The Other ■^HARVEST K- home & R''THOMAS xSKSjTRTON \;*Sk ■ III 25 Thomas Tryon Harvest Home Alfred A. Knopf, 1973 Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Ini w ■Ki WH -j, �i J n the author of Other RVEST HOME IOMAS IRYOA i row® i 1 - I RobertMoses andtheFallofNewark t »! 26 Robert A. Caro The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York Alfred A. Knopf, 1974 Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. 27 Harry Crews The Gypsy's Curse Alfred A. Knopf, 1974 Reprinted by permission of .Alfred A. Knopf, In< �r~—■.---------- ZEN I AND ! SHOGII A NOVEL OF JAPAN JAMES CLAVELL book of Dai I MOTORCYCLE [MAINTENANCE I, J An Inquiry into Values E.- L DOCTOKO' ROBERT M. PIRSIG 28 Robert M. Pirsig Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values William Morrow & Co., 1974 Courtesy William Morrow & Company, Inc 29 James Clave]] Shogun Atheneum, 1975 ourtesy Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 30 E. L. Doctorow Ragtime Copyright © 1974,1975 by E. L. Doctorow Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. �Bl KUN LOF JAPAN I JAMES CLAXELL MargaretAhvood ! I ft novel 6Y THE AUTHOR Of eje) ^ book of Darviel :A ■ I.BOIA ELDOCTOKOW ision of Simon & Sell uster, Ini 30 E. L. Doctorow Ragtime Copyright © 1974,1975 by E. L. Doctorow Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. H a novel 31 Margaret Atwood Lady Oracle Simon and Schuster, 1976 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. HHHI H ituw i'Mjgr idotct �dB I I n L Lo^S rT\ |A / X< 'j 1 S4 Robb* CooV Courtesy^' ’ lcAoss tou'sMcA Cove'1*1’1 ()\w<-r Vj.hA . ■ 'I he Rembrandt Panel V Brossn miA (,<>rap t’>1 (.•,<>urt</,y \.»nV Hr«>v.n «Ws4’ �COOK A THE REMBRANDT PANEL A NOVEL OLIVER BANKS THE TREASURE OF SAINTE FOY A NOVEL MacDonald Harris 34 Oliver Banks The Rembrandt Panel Little, Brown and Company, 1980 Courtesy Little, Brown and Company 35 MacDonald I larris The Treasure of Sainte Foy Atheneurn, 1980 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio �If I “A tense, shrewdly modulated sea adventure in which a quartet of indentured Scandinavians attempt < ■. ajx from Russian America (1858 Alaska) in a stolen canoe, a Pacific journey far more rugged ‘than tl>r plain arithmetic of its inilti' . Doig deftly pilot* [hi,i] crew through a punishing journey to Ardorin (Oregon), maintaining a high level of tension, prate nwn. testing the rocky emotional water* of draper Readers wlin hailed Thii Hatue of Sky and H'l.itrr Brothen will find | tint] Doigcuntinu*.*a-, «pr writer of exulting originality . . . A polishhad chronicle of physical and spiritual endurance.’’ Knuct •> Rrvn axovu by ihi \i iHoitoi IVAN DOIG 1- 36 Ivan Doig The Sea Runners Atheneum, 1982 Courtesy Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Gill r"r' |e(l Atiu ’"I r'V Scr �I OR i •J f'i A i \ 0 V E L mers OUSE OF SKY )IG GaryJennings 37 Gary Jennings Aztec Atheneum, 1980 Courtesy Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 38 Mario Puzo The Sicilian Simon and Schuster/Linden Press, 1984 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. �i g I "1 s r I S-1 Obmutms SELECTED SPEECHES AND ESSAYS 1982-1984 PACO. STOW Henry Kissinger i HIG F A NOV E I. LARRY HEINEMANN AUTHOR OF CLOSE QUARTERS 39 Henry Kissinger Observations: Selected Speeches and Essays, 1982-1984 Little, Brown and Company, 1985 Courtesy Little, Brown and Company 40 Larry’ Heinemann Paco’s Story Farrar Straus Giroux, 1986 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio 41 Jack Higgins The Eagle Has Flown Simon and Schuster, 1991 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, �OS •RY HIGGINS ' E'ER rriE author of The Eagle Has Landed LEEWUEEE f The Essential Wisdom and Lore fl J <EMANN ® from a Lifetime of Salmon Fishing MWOHOH 4 ELY-. Edited byJOHN MERWIN™ E QUARTERS 41 Jack Higgins The Eagle Has Flown Simon and Schuster, 1991 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. 42 Lee Wulff Salmon on a Fly Simon and Schuster, 1992 Courtesy Simon & Schuster, Inc. �T f eddie condor9! SALLY HEMINGS LrOOTT SHOT! featuring JACK TEAGARDEN GLENN MILLER COLEMAN HAWKINS PEE WEE RUSSELL red McKenzie A AN AMERICAN IF CONTROVERSY Annette Gordon-Reed _____J 43 Steven Goldberg Culture Clash: Law and Science in America New York University Press, 1994 Courtesy Paul Bacon Studio 44 Annette Gordon-Reed Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy University Press of Virginia, 1997 Reprinted with permission of the University Press ofVirginia 45 Eddie Condon Eddie Condon’s Hot Shots “X” Vault Originals (a product of RCA) Used courtesy of The RCA Records Label, A Unit of BMG Entertainment ��g E g L El I vibes 47 Bud Powell The Amazing Bud Powell Blue Note Courtesy Capitol Records I 48 Milt Jackson Wizard of the Vibes Blue Note Courtesy Capitol Records ■ 49 John Eaton Made in America Chiaroscuro Courtesv Chiaroscuro Records �? E NOTE LP 5011 J ZZJ \ WASHINGTON, D.C. ^p= J\ §wI/zG .1 4 1 MADE IN AM ERICA i ■Zi c J FLOATING 49 John Eaton Made in America Chiaroscuro Courtesy Chiaroscuro Records JAZZ 50 New York Swing Live at the 1996 Floating Jazz Festival Chiaroscuro Courtesy Chiaroscuro Records FESTIVAL f �EXHIb ACKNOWLEDGMENTS “The Graphic Art of Paul Bacon” continues the tradition of “Cel­ ebrations of Music and Art” at Wilkes University. Previous “Celebra­ tions” have highlighted the musical and artistic talents of Bob Haggart (1984), Pee Wee Russell and George Wettling (1986), and Mel Powell (1987). Working on the current exhibition has been a pleasure. Not only have I had the privilege of getting to know Paul Bacon—a gentleman if ever there was one—graphic artist extraodinaire, smooth swing vocalist, and master of the hot comb, but 1 have also come to under­ stand why so many authors, editors, and musicians have such a special regard for Paul. The generosity and warmth with which these individuals have responded to queries have been enlightening. Special thanks must go to E. L. Doctorow, Robert Gottlieb, Ira Levin, Frank Metz, and William Styron. In addition, Hank O’Neal 46 specifically wishes to thank Lorraine Gordon, Bob Greene, Joseph Heller, Conrad Janis, Orrin Keepnews, Harris Lewine, and, of course, Paul Bacon, for supplying facts, quotes and encouragement in the preparation of his article. The Sordoni Art Gallery is most grateful to Flank O’Neal and Bob Greene for their wonderful, informative, evocative, and heartfelt essays; and to Andrew J. Sordoni, III; whose commitment to this project has been wholehearted and unwavering. The Gallery wishes to thank the publishers and copyright holders who have graciously allowed it to reproduce jackets or album covers designed by Paul Bacon. As always I appreciate the willingness of my colleagues Nancy L. Grand, Robert J. Heaman, and James L. Merryman to ' read' and’ critique my essay. -SIG >n underwriters Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University �EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS :ene, Joseph id, of course, ment in the lost grateful to ormative, ni, III; whose d unwavering. Tight holders album covers Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Mr. and Mrs. David C. Hall Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, In ies Nancy L. ad and -SIG 47 �ADVISORY COMMISSION Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary Jane Henry' Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michae] Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O’Neal Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Adams Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Sternlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitofsky STAFF Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Grand, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator Gallery Attendants Deidre Blake Marcy Fritz Sarah Karlavage Jill Klicka Allison McGarvey Casey Williams Beth-Ann Witkowski ��; • 10 n - sll ■w » r-Z XT I y :.-. ... < . • < ■.;? ■ ..... I ■;/r^ " • • - —. * 1 •" -- ■ � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1999 May 8 The Graphic Art of Paul Bacon Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Paul Bacon Hank O'Neal Stanley I. Grand Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999 May 8 - June 6 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Known for his music, Paul Bacon is also known for his astounding illustrations. Illustrating the covers of books such as Catch-22 and Rosemary's Baby, Bacon's work is well known throughout the art and literary world. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Paul Bacon illustration illustrator musician music Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/ac8f3e55bcb8fd3202c873f1204a9233.pdf f147c1b33a31e1f79d6176f9a8bec6aa PDF Text Text rh (J z FE{ -l * F*{ trl F ct) z lqr{ F-i -l '-l lr{ - ��MOODS AI.{D STRUCTURES The Paintings of William Sterling Exhibition Curated by Stanley I Grand Essays by Stanley I Grand William Sterling September 7-October ry, rggg Sordoni Art Gallery Wilkes University Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania �I !\, I, l *il i{u i NN'N ; "t : Photo Stanley I Crand Copyilght @ 1999 Sordoni Art Galiery, Wilkes Universi!v �William Sterling: An Apprnciation Stanley I Grand rNcn 1976, wnsN Wlrrtena SrsRI-INc began teaching at Wilkes College (now Wilkes University), I're l-ras l-rad a profound ir-rfluence on the area's artistic and intellectual life. As Professor of Painting and Art History, Chair of the Art Department (ry76-ry9o), and Director of the Sorcloni Art Gallery Q979-ryBz); Sterling l-ras been a teacher and mentor of young artists. As a curator and author ofexhibition catalogues on a wide variety ofsubjects, he has sought to expand ottr rtnclerstanding of historical and contemporary artists. In addition, he has continued to paint and cxhibit his own work, participating regr-rlarly in faculty and regional exhibitions. Stcrling's career has straddled the line between artist-creator and art historian-curator. After gracluating in 1959, with a degree in Fine Arts from The College of Williarn and Mary, he attended gracluate school at the University of Iowa. Although initially he planr-red to concentrate in sculpture, painting and, increasingly, art history captured his energies. Duiing the late r96os, he taught art history at Lawrence University, a small, liberal arts school in Appleton, Wisconsin (1967-1969). After conrpleting his Ph.D. at Iowa with a dissertation entitled "The Iconography of the Wedding at Cana in Western Art of the r4th, r5th, and r6th Centuries," Sterling taught at Arizona State University Q97o-rg77) and at Chathanr College, Pittsbr-rrgh (1973-1976) before moving to Wilkes, where he was thc sole art historian in a department consisting primarily of studio artists. In this environment, Stcrling rediscovered his own commitment to creating art and begar-r to paint anew. As a working artist, Sterling is involved primarily with aesthetic issues, which is to say that his 1>aintings deal with formal, compositional concerns and color relationships. He is more interested in ctlges and how they meet than with expressing his own emotions. He has no particular interest in cxtrinsic matters such as narrative, symbolism, iconography, or social messages. With few exceptions, lrc has worked in a restrained, abstract manner, investigating the syntax of a formalist language. lncleecl, these investigations frequently involve a series of paintings on a particular theme. His is a rcfinecl, elegant, art for art's sake aesthetic that since Whistler has been a dominant leitmotif in twcntieth-century vanguard art. Blue Floater (1979, F igure r) illustrates a number of Sterling's concerns. A small canvas, verging on rrrirtirnalisrn, it is sensuously painted with the surface animated by subtle contrasts that appear to flicker or pulse. To the right, floats an open-ended square or lozenge with blurred edges. Although Stcrling regards the square as a very neutral format, he recognizes that his placement of a square withir-r a square recalls the modernist vocabulary of Kasimir Malevich or Josef Albers. This awareness is the crux of his ongoing struggle to separate his individual vision from his knowledge of art history. Whereas Blue Floater looks back to Mark Rothko and Color Field painting, Enter Spring Q986, F igure z), with a bisected, vertical composition suggestive of two canvases, seems thoroughly charac- �teristic of its decacle. The top portion of the painting contains geometric motifs tl'rat he had explorc<l in his earlier "stair" series. Tl-rese are juxtaposecl witl-r the more expressive, dynamic sqtriggles otr llrt' lower section, not totally ur-riike the "automatic writing" that so fascinatecl tl.re Strrrealists, which Sterling woulcl subsequently explore further in his "Ravelir-rg" series. 'logetl-rer, the two "panels" olEnter Spring create an overall balance betrveen the conflicting irnperatives of rational desigr-r-stlrlctl by flat, hard-edged surfaces-and intr-riiive expression, u,hich is looser and more painterly. Or, prrt somewhat differently, this arcl-ritectonic, hierarchical painting suggests Sterling's resolution of thc classic theme of dualism. Althor-rgh Sterling would prefer not to iitle his paintings, believing that so doing detracts fron.r tlrt' pr-rrely aesthetic experience, he does recognize ihat a title can provide an introduction to pair-rtings llkeTuscany (1994, Figure 3), ufiich are informed by specific locales. Painted six months after a visil to ltaly, Tuscany evokes the sumr-nery light of central Italy falling on tl-re trnsaturated, rnatte colors ol the regior-r's weatherecl, stucco buildiirgs. Althougl-r the cornposition migl'rt strggest a flattcned or forward-tiltecl fragrnent of the patterned floors so beloved by Renaissance artists, the painting morc properiy refers back to an trntitlecl work fronr 1989. 1'his, the lirst of tl.re "Lozenge" series, expanclctl on works srrch as BhrcFloater, by introclucing muitiple quadrilatcrals and triangles to forn a pattclrr or field of intersecting cliagonals. Curiousl,v, considerir-rg the series' later developtnent, the earlicst "lozenge" painting has a plastic quality that, or-r sonre level, recalls David Smith's Cubi sculptures. Fields After Rain Q99g, Figure 4) seems to herald a new dircction in Sterling's art. Having retirctl in 1999, he and his wife have moved to and are restoring an olcl stone hor-rse in Berks County. Although he has alwavs drawn inspiration from nature, now, slrrrollnded by fields and the undulalirrg countryside, landscape has become an increasingly in-rportant subject for hin-r. Nonetheless, l-re renders tl-re landscape in a mo<lernist manner; his cor-nmitment to formalist concerns like pattenr irrrrl design, color and the interaction of colors, tmth to n-raterials, and maintaining the tu,o-dimensiorr:tl integritir of the canvas, remains unchanged. He bclieves, like all orthodox moderuists, that to pirirrl ar.r illtrsion of tliree-climensional space is inhercr-rtlv contradictorl'ancl trntnrthful. His lartclscapcs rer.n:rin al>stractions: l.re has no clesire to clcpict every pecrtliarity of his su1>ject in a rcalistic rlt:lt)lr('r, but rathcr he seeks the esscrrcc or core of the scene rvhicl.r, ir-r turn, he converts into a fornral courl)o sitior. Anrong the esse ntial components, of coursc, is the senst-rotts e lcnretrt, the be:ruty of thc physical aspect, which he interprets not only'u'ith color but u,ith tcxture ancl sttrf:rcc as rvcll. Thror-rghout his career as a painter, Sterling l-ras remained a steadlast Modernist. Hc has rettiaittt'tl true to the ide:rls advocated by' Clement Greenberg and shunned the temptations o[ tl-re rnyriatl movements-Pop, Minimalisrn, Conceptual, and all the Neos (Geo or Expressionisn-r), and thc varieties of Postn-rodernism-that like u,aves breaking on the beach have swept across the cottlctrt;rrt rary art scene. T'his has beer-r a conscious choice: he is u,ell acquainted rvith conternporary artistit' theory, but his involverrent lvith these directions has been as a teacher and r-rot as an artist. IIr a recent interview, Sterling noted "l lre\/er approached art ir-r a cloctrinaire nay. I atn a dernocrat irr tenns of u4rat peoplc clo in their art.'l'hose lvho are sincere ideologucs shotrld do ideological n,orks. Btrt I'nr a sincerc fon.nalist ancl so shoulcl bc doir-rg fornralist tork." TI.re paintings in this cxhil;ilion unclerscore his long-stancling pursuit of this ideal. �t r I)lue F'loater, ry7g L, �Enter Sping, ry86 �:-t;Fl 5,o:f ilr 'tf1jij.,,,,t?;,,,,,,:t::, S;:rrtor::1ii;;: ':;;::ta::::::t::11,:::17':l);::11:::l Tuscany, :794 �Fields After Rain, ry99 �Moods and Stntctures William Sterling T FIRST GLANCE, my painting over the past twenty-five years may look inconsistent. Like many artists who are also teachers or administrators, I have, perforce, been a part-time painter. The obligations of the classroom meant an irregular schedule in the studio, which frequently led to cletours and delayed actions in my creative work. I think, however, the works in this exhibition relate to a common center which one could call my "style" or, at the very least, my temperament and rnodus operandi. In fact, style, in the sense of visual form, is very much at the heart of my work. Philosophical messages or realistic representation have rarely been my aims. I have followed that tradition of Modernist Formalism which accepted that artistic form might resonate with a whole world of experiences and emotions but in the end would sublimate that world within an abstract visual language. Expression and communication of ideas were allusive and metaphorical while the visual experience (or in music, say, the aural one) was "real" and essential from an aesthetic point of view. What then is the common center of my particular style? I think it revolves-in a purely intuitive, unprogrammatic way-around a basic duality that might be expressed as improvisation and design or entropy and structure. One is always pulling at the other, like orbiting bodies. This is a not uncommon theme in art, but it can be expressed in many ways. My geometric shapes, for example, are rarely hard edged or flatly colored like printed forms; by the same token, my spontaneous passages are usually short bursts, or accents, within a more structured context. Close tones in hues are usually played off against a greater range of warmth and intensity. Balance and harmony are often precarious. Whatever motifs ("sub jects," if you will) I might be using, some kind of tensive equilibrium is sought between these dualities. Sometimes they are more or less evenly matched (e.g., Scaffolds Il and Enter Spring). At other times, the design, like a superego, will seem to predominate (e.g., Tuscany or Fields). Rarely, if ever, do I go to the other-expressionist-extreme. I used the word equilibium ralher than balance because the former connotes a more dynamic relationship. Movement, whether linear or coloristic, is important in my work. Often I feel it to be kinesthetic, an abstract reflection of a posture or gesfure. Again, my procedure is infuitive. Some inrage (r-rot a "thing," more like a compositional motifl implants itself, and I begin to draw with it. Most of my paintings are based on preliminary compositional sfudies where the exact positioning of the various forms and nuances of color undergoes many changes. Nevertheless, despite any kinesthetic component in rny procedure, the inspirations usually come from the natural environment of landscape and weather ar-rd the design environment of architecture and pattern. Even music may play some kind of role. Although I spent many years teaching art history, the art historical influences on my work are cqually intuitive and are based on their compatibility with my aesthetic preferences rather than any �ideological connection. For example, I admire Mondrian's minimalist play with equilibrium, but the philosophical underpinnings of his style are not directly or specifically relevant to me. Like a good mannerist, I pick up the forms that interest me visually, but not necessarily the messages. Still, at some deeper level there is probably a connection, a similarity of temperament or attitude. Obviously there are also important differences. Using the example of Mondrian again, his intense adjustments of space were intentionally carried out at the expense of variations in color. In my work, the aesthetic adjustments of color are at least as important as those of dimension. (The problem for the realist is to see color, for the abstractionist it is to feel color.) Looking back chronologically, I can see my work swinging like a pendulum between the quieter, more structured mode and the brasher, more improvisational mode (e.g., from the Fragments of the late r97os to the bisected compositions of the mid-rg8os, then back to the Zpirals and BluBlox types of the late r98os, and so forth). I haven't tried to relate my artistic evolution to life events in general. Perhaps, as an art historian, I could; but as the saying goes, doctors shouldn't treat themselves. In composing this statement about my art, I have felt a curiously disjunctive connection between my historian's ob jectivity and my artist's intuitiveness. I don't know if there is huth in any of it. Lest my titles imply a more deliberaie subject matter, except in the occasional representational works, they are usually afterthoughts, sometimes merely descriptive, sometimes suggestions for interpretation. I hope the viewer won't try too hard to find meaning in my abstractions, but will rather attempt to sense their moods and shuctures. �Checklist of the Exhibition i' Dimensions are given in inches, height precedes width t, Scaffolds ll zr. Tuscany r97' z, 1994 oil on canvas pastel on paper oil on 74x 2c x2c 48x4o 34 Fragments of a Square 11 p. oil on 76x76 6oxz8 3. October 13, r979 canvas 14 r979 oil on canvas 36x76 Arc Angle 16. 24. Fields 1998 pastel on paper ryYz x z4 25. Tumover x 7l+ oil on 1983 1992 pastel on paper oil on t2Xt2 )6x42 oil on canvas 1.,6xz4 Passage 1985 oil on canvas +8r14 to. Enter Sping r986 8. 16x16 I 6oxz8 oil on After Rain canvas 34x44 lll 28. Creensward 1993 pastel on paper r8 x. zo rg. Etergreen: Day 1999 oil on )4x 6 Night 199) canvas 44 29. Untitled pencil & pastel on paper 1999 pastel on paper rox16 21x14 zo. Cloud andYew Bushes 1994 canvas 27. Fields 1999 canvas Ra'veling lI pastel on paper canvas ?.6x+ r98+ colored pencil & pastel on paper 26. Tumover rgg8 ry. Raveling I 1gg8 16x16 Zpiral pastel on paper 8. Phaeton canvas 36x44 oil on canvas 54x 24 r990 oil on 1997 r989 r98r Shorelines Breaking Points oil on Long l-nzenge 6Yz tzxt2 9. 4. r990 gouache & ink on paper o'0"' 6. ,\rid Zone 7. BluBlox 15. Hemispheres r98r canvas +x30 t6xz4 4. Blue Floater l;'il"'" oil on canvas r989 oil on canvas 6oxz4 5. r996 oil on canvas oil on zz. Bruges Noyember 1989, ry78 canvas oil on 3o. Untitled 1999 canvas 44x76 pastel on paper 9x13 �Exhibition (Jnderwriters Advisory Commission Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. M&TBank Freddie Bittenbender Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The fohn Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. r\ )ponsors The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary )ane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. f. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O'Neal Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Adams Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Staff Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Grand, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator Gallery Attendants Helen Farr Sloan Andrew ]. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Sternlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitofsky Deidre Blake Peter Czwalina Marcy Fritz )ill Klicka Christopher Rehmann Casey Williams rooo copies were printed by Llewellyn & McKane Catalogue design: )ohn Beck Photography: Michael Thomas Typeface: Electra ISBN o-9429+S-r7-4 This catalogue has been made possible through the generous support of Wilkes University, including the Offices of the President, the Vice President for Academic Affairs, and the Dean of the College of Arts, Sciences & Professional Studies. ��� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/46a959be3c601d4a03d5839cbb93d8da.pdf 6addc9546dc6523dd7b9b841ddd42896 PDF Text Text } 1 -t ~ ■■ • § \ I « prv I SORD GA N6512.5 M63S838 1999 �1 MOODS AND STRUCTURES i1 The Paintings of William Sterling Exhibition Curated by Stanley I Grand Essays by Stanley I Grand William Sterling E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA ■1 1 September 7-October ly, 1999 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania t'l 1 �r.; William Sterling. I 1 Stanley’ I Grand 1976, when William Sterling began teaching he has had a profound influence on the areas artist k.J' Painting and Art History, Chair of the Art Depart™ Sordoni Art Gallery (1979-1982); Sterling has been a teacl curator and author of exhibition catalogues on a wide vari our understanding of historical and contemporary artists, exhibit his own work, participating regularly in faculty an Sterling’s career has straddled the line between artist-c graduating in 1959, with a degree in Fine Arts from The ( graduate school at the University of Iowa. Although initia painting and, increasingly, art history' captured his cnergii history at Lawrence University, a small, liberal arts school completing his Ph.D. at Iowa with a dissertation entitled in Western Art of the 14th, 15th, and 16th Centuries,” Ster (1970-1973) and at Chatham College, Pittsburgh (1973-K the sole art historian in a department consisting primarily Sterling rediscovered his own commitment to creating ar As a working artist, Sterling is involved primarily with ; paintings deal with formal, compositional concerns and < edges and how they meet than with expressing his own ei extrinsic matters such as narrative, symbolism, iconograp he has worked in a restrained, abstract manner, investiga Indeed, these investigations frequently involve a series of refined, elegant, art for art’s sake aesthetic that since Wlr twentieth-century vanguard art. Blue Floater (1979, Figure 1) illustrates a number of St minimalism, it is sensuously painted with the surface ani flicker or pulse. To the right, floats an open-ended squari Sterling regards the square as a very neutral format, he r< within a square recalls the modernist vocabulary' of Kasir is the crux of his ongoing struggle to separate his individ Whereas Blue Floater looks back to Mark Rothko and Figure 2), with a bisected, vertical composition suggests ince $0 Copyright © 1999 Sordoni Art Callery, Willea University '/L5& s f SS3» I S �William Sterling: An Appreciation Stanley' I Grand HIVES -;7£5 3 S 3 IS 0 ince 1976, when William Sterling began teaching at Wilkes College (now Wilkes University) he has had a profound influence on the area’s artistic and intellectual life. As Professor of " ’ O Painting and Art History, Chair of the Art Department (1976-1990), and Director of the Sordoni Art Gallery (1979-1982); Sterling has been a teacher and mentor of young artists. As a curator and author of exhibition catalogues on a wide variety of subjects, he has sought to expand our understanding of historical and contemporary artists. In addition, he has continued to paint and exhibit his own work, participating regularly in faculty and regional exhibitions. Sterlings career has straddled the line between artist-creator and art historian-curator. After graduating in 1959, with a degree in Fine Arts from The College of William and Mary, he attended graduate school at the University of Iowa. Although initially he planned to concentrate in sculpture, painting and, increasingly, art history captured his energies. During the late 1960s, he taught art history at Lawrence University', a small, liberal arts school in Appleton, Wisconsin (1967-1969). After completing his Ph.D. at Iowa with a dissertation entitled “The Iconography of the Wedding at Cana in Western Art of the 14th, 15th, and 16th Centuries,” Sterling taught at Arizona State University (1970-1973) and at Chatham College, Pittsburgh (1973-1976) before moving to Wilkes, where he was the sole art historian in a department consisting primarily of studio artists. In this environment. Sterling rediscovered his own commitment to creating art and began to paint anew. As a working artist, Sterling is involved primarily with aesthetic issues, which is to say that his paintings deal with formal, compositional concerns and color relationships. He is more interested in edges and how they meet than with expressing his own emotions. He has no particular interest in extrinsic matters such as narrative, symbolism, iconography, or social messages. With few exceptions, he has worked in a restrained, abstract manner, investigating the syntax of a formalist language. Indeed, these investigations frequently involve a series of paintings on a particular theme. His is a refined, elegant, art for art’s sake aesthetic that since Whistler has been a dominant leitmotif in twentieth-century vanguard art. Blue Floater (1979, Figure 1) illustrates a number of Sterling’s concerns. A small canvas, verging on minimalism, it is sensuously painted with the surface animated by subtle contrasts that appear to flicker or pulse. To the right, floats an open-ended square or lozenge with blurred edges. Although Sterling regards the square as a very neutral format, he recognizes that his placement of a square within a square recalls the modernist vocabulary of Kasimir Malevich or Josef Albers. Phis awareness is the crux of his ongoing struggle to separate his individual vision from his knowledge of art history. Whereas Blue Floater looks back to Mark Rothko and Color Field painting, Enter Spring (1986, Figure 2), with a bisected, vertical composition suggestive of two canvases, seems thoroughly charac- I j ■ i 1 !» �teristic of its decade. The top portion of the painting contains geometric motifs that he had e ./ in his earlier “Stair” scries. These are juxtaposed with the more expressive, dynamic squiggles lower section, not totally unlike the "automatic writing” that so fascinated the Surrealists, whit: Sterling would subsequently explore further in his “Raveling” series. Together, the two “pane! Enter Spring create an overall balance between the conflicting imperatives of rational design— . by flat, hard-edged surfaces—and intuitive expression, which is looser and more painterly. Or, pul somewhat differently, this architectonic, hierarchical painting suggests Sterling’s resolution of the li'i ■ classic theme of dualism. Although Sterling would prefer not to title his paintings, believing that so doing detracts from the purely aesthetic experience, he does recognize that a title can provide an introduction to painting like Tuscany (1994, Figure 3), which are informed by specific locales. Painted six months after a visit to Italy, Tuscany evokes the summery light of central Italy falling on the unsaturated, matte colors of the region’s weathered, stucco buildings. Although the composition might suggest a flattened or forward-tilted fragment of the patterned floors so beloved by Renaissance artists, the painting more properly refers back to an untitled work from 1989. This, the first of the “Lozenge” series, expanded on works such as Blue Floater, by introducing multiple quadrilaterals and triangles to form a pattern or field of intersecting diagonals. Curiously, considering the scries’ later development, the earliest “lozenge” painting has a plastic quality that, on some level, recalls David Smith’s Cubi sculptures Fields After Rain (1999, Figure 4) seems to herald a new direction in Sterling's art. 1 laving retired in 1999, he and his wife have moved to and are restoring an old stone house in Berks County. Although he has always drawn inspiration from nature, now, surrounded by fields and the undulating countryside, landscape has become an increasingly important subject for him. Nonetheless, he renders the landscape in a modernist manner; his commitment to formalist concerns like pattern and design, color and the interaction of colors, truth to materials, and maintaining the two-dimensional integrity of the canvas, remains unchanged. He believes, like all orthodox modernists, that to paint an illusion of three-dimensional space is inherently contradictory and untruthful. His landscapes remain abstractions: he has no desire to depict every peculiarity of his subject in a realistic manner, but rather he seeks the essence or core of the scene which, in turn, he converts into a formal compo­ sition. Among the essential components, of course, is the sensuous element, the beautv of the physical aspect, which he interprets not only with color but with texture and surface as well. Throughout his career as a painter, Sterling has remained a steadfast Modernist. He has remained true to the ideals advocated by Clement Greenberg and shunned the temptations of the myriad movements Pop, Minimalism, Conceptual, and all the Neos (Geo or Expressionism), and the varieties of Postmodernism —that like waves breaking on the beach have swept across the contempo­ rary art scene. I his has been a conscious choice: he is well acquainted with contemporary artistic theory, but his involvement with these directions has been as a teacher and not as an artist. In a recent interview, Sterling noted I never approached art in a doctrinaire way. I am a democrat in terms of what people do in their art. Those who are sincere ideologues should do ideological works. But I’m a sincere formalist and so should be doing formalist work.” The paintings in this exhibition underscore his long-standing pursuit of this ideal. Blue bloater, 1979 �ains geometric motifs that he had explored more expressive, dynamic squiggles on the hat so fascinated the Surrealists, which ing” series. Together, the two “panels” of cting imperatives of rational design —stated ich is looser and more painterly. Or, put ting suggests Sterling’s resolution of the ;, believing that so doing detracts from the can provide an introduction to paintings ific locales. Paiirted six months after a visit falling on the unsaturated, matte colors of nposition might suggest a flattened or ry Renaissance artists, the painting more !ie first of the “Lozenge” series, expanded adrilaterals and triangles to form a pattern re series’ later development, the earliest 1, recalls David Smith’s Cubi sculptures. direction in Sterling’s art. Having retired n old stone house in Berks Count}'. iv, surrounded by fields and the undulating ant subject for him. Nonetheless, he nent to formalist concerns like pattern and ds, and maintaining the two-dimensional ke all orthodox modernists, that to paint dictory and untruthful. His landscapes iarity of his subject in a realistic manner, in turn, he converts into a formal compoensuous element, the beauty' of the t with texture and surface as well. :d a steadfast Modernist. He has remained unned the temptations of the myriad eos (Geo or Expressionism), and the e beach have swept across the contempoacquainted with contemporary artistic as a teacher and not as an artist. In a a doctrinaire way. I am a democrat in ideologues should do ideological works, t work." The paintings in this exhibition Blue Floater, 1979 ��Tuscany, 199^ �Moods and Structures i- • \Wam Sterling •a * T FIRST GLANCE, my painting oxer the past tv.t. A artists who are also teachers or administrators. 1 ! yVobligations of the classroom meant an irregular w detours and delayed actions in my creative work I think to a common center which one could call my “ style or. modus operandi. In fact, stvle, in the sense of visual form i ver1 muwi messages or realistic representation have rare)', been my Modernist formalism which accepted that art tic form experiences and emotions but in the end would suhhim language. Expression and communication of idea "■ r . experience (or in music, say. the aural one; was ‘ rial a What then is the common center of rny particular st’, unprogrammatic wav — around a basic duality that mild entropy and structure. One is always prilling at the -ahe rnon theme in art. but it can be expre cd in man-, w . rarely hard edged or flatlv colored like printed form.': lz. are usually short burst . or accents, w ithin a ini re truct played off again* t a greater range of warmth and ii.tv'ci ous. Whatever motif;. f ” .ubjec b., ’ is ■;• ■■ W sought between these dualities. Sometimes the; arc m and Enter Springy At other times, the design, like a ii[ hrccitiy or Fields). Rarely, if ever, do 1 go to the otherI used the word equilibrium rather than balance bee; relationship. Movement, whether linear or colon-tie. b i ( "r* C’abrtTact reflection of a posture or gesture . tnot a thing, more like a compositional motif; implant. paintings , - are based ----- on preliminary compositional studies a d nuances of color undergoes many changes Xevertl andflre design ‘nSpHa,ions usua11' ^e from me Although 1 enuronnicnt of architecture and patten equalk munti^i ndr nVed? teachin? -rt hi^are based on their compatibility v �Moods and Structures William Sterling A T FIRST GLANCE. my painting over the past twenty-five years may look inconsistent Like many /A artists who are also teachers or administrators, I have, perforce, been a part-time painter The 2 lobligations ot the classroom meant an irregular schedule in the studio, which frequently led to detours and delayed actions m my creative work. I think, however, the works in this exhibition relate to a common center which one could call my “style” or, at the very least, my temperament and modus operandi. In fact style, in the sense of usual form, is very much at the heart of my work. Philosophical messages or realistic representation have rarely been my aims. I have followed that tradition of Modernist Formalism which accepted that artistic form might resonate with a whole world of experiences and emotions but in the end would sublimate that world within an abstract visual language. Expression and communication of ideas were allusive and metaphorical while the visual experience (or in music, say, the aural one) was “real” and essential from an aesthetic point of view. What then is the common center of my particular style? I think it revolves—in a purely intuitive, unprogrammatic way—around a basic duality that might be expressed as improvisation and design or entropy and structure. One is always pulling at the other, like orbiting bodies. This is a not uncom­ mon theme in art. but it can be expressed in many ways. My geometric shapes, for example, are rarelv hard edged or flatly colored like printed forms; by the same token, my spontaneous passages are usually short bursts, or accents, within a more structured context. Close tones in hues are usually played ott against a greater range of warmth and intensity. Balance and harmony are often precari­ ous. Whatever motifs ("subjects,” if you will) 1 might be using, some kind of tensive equilibrium is sought between these dualities. Sometimes they are more or less evenly matched (e.g., Scaffolds II and Enter Sprang ). At other times, the design, like a superego, will seem to predominate (e.g., Tuscany or Fields). Rarelv, if ever, do I go to the other—expressionist—extreme. 1 used the word equilibrium rather than balance because the former connotes a more dynamic relationship. Movement, whether linear or coloristic, is important in my work. Often I feel it to be kinesthetic, an abstract reflection of a posture or gesture. Again, my procedure is intuitive. Some image not a tiling,’ more like a compositional motif) implants itself, and I begin to draw with it. Most of my paintings are based on preliminary compositional studies where the exact positioning of the various fomrs and nuances of color undergoes many changes. Nevertheless, despite any kinesthetic component in rny procedure, the inspirations usually come from the natural environment of landscape and weather and the design environment of architecture and pattern. Even music may play some kind of role. Although I spent many years teaching art history, the art historical influences on my work are equally intuitive and are based on their compatibility with my aesthetic preferences rather than any I I ! �I! I i|‘ '> ■ l! i ’ I ideological connection. For example, I admire Mondrian's minimalist play with equilibrium, but the philosophical underpinnings of his style are not directly or specifically relevant to me. Like a good mannerist, I pick up the forms that interest me visually, but not necessarily the messages. Still, at some deeper level there is probably a connection, a similarity of temperament or attitude. Obviously there are also important differences. Using the example of Mondrian again, his intense adjustments of space were intentionally carried out at the expense of variations in color. In my work, the aesthetic adjustments of color are at least as important as those of dimension. (The problem for the realist is to see color, for the abstractionist it is to feel color.) Looking back chronologically, 1 can see my work swinging like a pendulum between the quieter, more structured mode and the brasher, more improvisational mode (e.g., from the Fragments of the late 1970s to the bisected compositions of the mid-1980s, then back to the Zpirals and BluBlox types of the late 1980s, and so forth). I haven’t tried to relate my artistic evolution to life events in general. Perhaps, as an art historian, I could; but as the saying goes, doctors shouldn’t treat themselves. In composing this statement about my art, I have felt a curiously disjunctive connection between my historian’s objectivity and my artist’s intuitiveness. I don’t know if there is truth in any of it. Lest my titles imply a more deliberate subject matter, except in the occasional representational works, they are usually afterthoughts, sometimes merely descriptive, sometimes suggestions for interpretation. I hope the viewer won’t try too hard to find meaning in my abstractions, but will rather attempt to sense their moods and structures. Checklist of the Exhibitio Dimensions are given in inches, height precedes width. 1. Scaffolds II ‘975 oil on canvas 34 x 34 -> Fragments of a Square II " ‘9/8 oil on canvas 36 x 36 11. Chainlink 1989 pastel on paper 3. October ‘979 oil on canvas 60 x 24 13. BluBlox 1989 oil on canvas 36x24 4. Blue Floater ‘979 oil on canvas 36 x 36 14. Long Lozenge >989 oil on canvas 54X24 15. Hemispheres 199° gouache &- ink on pa[ 614 x 714 5. Arc Angle 1981 pastel on paper 12 x 12 6. Arid Zone 1981 pastel on paper 12 x 12 7. Shorelines ‘983 pastel (on paper 12 x 12 20 x 20 12. November 1989 oil on canvas 60 x 28 16. Zpiral 199° oil on canvas 36x42 17. Raveling I ‘992 oil on canvas 36 x 42 8. Phaeton 1984 oil on canvas >6 x 24 18. Raveling III ‘993 pastel on paper 9- Passage ‘985 oil on canvas 48 x 14 19. Evergreen; Day & Nig ‘993 pencil & pastel on pa Enter Spring oil on canvas 60 x 28 18 x 20 10 x 16 20. Cloud and Yen’ Bushe ‘994 oil on canvas 44X 36 �Mondrian’s minimalist play with equilibrium, but the it directly or specifically relevant to me. Like a good visuallv. but not necessarily the messages. Still, at 5 Checklist of the Exhibition Dimensions are given in inches, height precedes width. on, a similarity of temperament or attitude. Obviouslv example of Mondrian again, his intense adjustments epense of variations in color. In my work, the aesthetic ; those of dimension. (The problem for the realist is to i. II oil on canvas iid-ig8os. then back to the Zpirals and BluBlox types 34x 34 z. Fras~::n:£s ofa Square II 19'S oil on canvas 36 x 36 1 relate my artistic evolution to life events in general, 3. October ■) vork swinging like a pendulum between the quieter, nprovisational mode (e.g.. from the Fragments of the 24. Fields 1998 pastel on paper 5. At Angle 19S1 pastel on paper ’5- Hemispheres >99° gouache & ink on paper 656 x y!4 25. Turnover I 1998 colored pencil & pastel on paper 16 x 16 6. Arid Zone 1981 pastel on paper 16. Zpiral 26. Turnover II 1998 pastel on paper 16 x 16 oil on canvas 60 x 24 es. 4. Blue Floater 1979 oil on canvas 36x56 Shorelines 1985 paste] on paper 12 X 12 8. Phaeton >9’4 oil on canvas 56x24 9. Passage J05 ” oil on canvas 48x14 io. Enter Spring 1986 oil on canvas 60x28 199° oil on canvas 36 x 42 17J/2 X 24 17. Raveling I 1992 oil on canvas 36 x 42 27. Fields After Rain 18. Raveling III 28. Greensward 1999 oil on canvas 34x44 ’999 oil on canvas 1993 pastel on paper 18 x 20 } I fl 1 flfl I 34 x 44 19. Evergreen: Day Ci Night ’993 pencil & pastel on paper 10 x 16 20. Cloud and i 22. Bruges 1996 oil on canvas 42x30 M Long Lozenge 1989 oil on canvas 54x24 elt a curiously disjunctive connection between mv ss. I don’t know if there is truth in any of it. ard to find meaning in mv abstractions, but will November 1989 oil on canvas 60 x 28 23. Breaking Points !997 oil on canvas 36x44 19'9 s merely descriptive, sometimes suggestions for 20 x 20 21. Tuscany 1994 oil on canvas 48 x 40 ’3- BluBlox 1989 oil on canvas 36 x 24 aving goes, doctors shouldn’t treat themselves. In t matter, except in the occasional representational Chainlink 1989 pastel on paper Yen' Bushes ’994 oil on canvas 44X 36 29. Untitled >999 pastel on paper 21 x 14 3°- Untitled ■‘ pl ’999 pastel on paper 9X ’3 i1 If �Exhibition Underwriters Advisory Commission Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary' Jane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O’Neal Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Adams Shoemaker, Esq. Sponsors bl The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. William Shull Staff Uu:l Ip; H j Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Grand, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator Gallery Attendants Deidre Blake Peter Czwalina Marcy Fritz Jill Klicka Christopher Rehmann Casey Williams Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Stemlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitofsky 1000 copies were printed by Llewellyn & McKane Catalogue design: John Beck Photography: Michael Thomas Typeface: Electra ISBN 0-942945-17-4 This catalogue has been made possible through the generous support of Wilkes University, includ­ ing the Offices of the President, the Vice President for Academic Affairs, and the Dean of the College of Arts, Sciences &• Professional Studies. �.1, Me illlllllljM* i 1 GaVLOSD fg �•AA g A .-A"'A ' A‘AAA' A • ss A* a ■f A AA A ‘ A A 5 f1 1I ■ A ■I � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1999 September 7 Moods and Structures: The Paintings of William Sterling Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Sterling StanleyI.Grand WilliamSterling Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999 September 7 - October 17 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource William Sterling, a former Wilkes Universtiy professor of painting and art history, has had a profound influence on the area's artistic and intellectual life. This survey of his work encompasses the artists primary focus, which is to say that his paintings deal with formal, compositional concerns and color relationships. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource William Sterling painter painting Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/15094ca5a33ff7356f3a80614fe1dffd.pdf cd365ac77046293538fc8235b4a30020 PDF Text Text ��MANIFESTATIONS OF THE INDIGO SPIRIT SHIBORI WORKS OF RICHARD FULLER EXHIBITION CURATED STANLEY BY I GRAND ESSAYS BY STANLEY I GRAND RICHARD FULLER OCTOBER 24_DECEMBER I5, I999 SORDONI ART GALLERY, WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PENNSYLVANIA �Photo: Stanley I Crand Copyright O 1999 Sordoni Art Gallery, Will<cs I lrivorilr �ITI(]HARD FULLER: SHIBORI RITUALS Sl,rttlcy I Crand r J^- r,1S1, uhile orr sabbatical leave lrorn the Art Department ! ,rl Wilkcs College, Richard F'uller u'ent to fapan to leanr I tl,. rrrt of shibori. 'l'here, under the tLrtclage olmaster textile ,rrlisl rrrr<l dvcr Hiroyuki Shindo, he studied the fr-rndamentals of rlrilror.i, ulrich inr,.oh,es resist-dveing textiies so as to crcate prrlllrrrs. l,'rrller h:rs described the process as lollou.s: Slrilrrrri torncs fron the Japanesc r,erb root shiboru, "to riring, \(lu( ( z(' or prcss"-lvords th:rt enrphasize the action or process of rrrrrrrigrrrlrrlirrg cloth. In shibori the cloth is first shaped and secured rillr llrrcrrtl bcforc being irnmersed in the dvc. The cloth is then r. rrrovt rl fi-orrr thc vat and allori'ed to oridize in the air. This cicle is rr'pcrrltrl rrrrlil thc clcsired shade is attained. Once the dreing is r orrrplt.lc, tlrc cloth is untied and returncd to its original hro,lirnt rrsiornl shape. The cloth sensitivelv records both thc shape ,rrr,l llrr' plcssrrreexertcd bv the thrcads during thc er.posure to the rlr r'; llrt' "rrcnror\," of the shape remains imprinted in the cloth. I lrc t rrrplusis on \,ing the cloth and manual nanipulation rlislirrgrrislrcs shibori frorn the lr,ax-rcsist and clamping processes, l,,,llr ol u,lrich are also practiced in lapan. ,\lllrorrglr ancient, the origin of shibori is somervhat olrscrrrt'; ancl scholars disagree as to whether the technique is rrrrligt'rrorrs b Japan or carrie origir-rally from the mainiand. 'llrt'c:rrlicst surviving pieces of shibori are ir )apan, but r.ve lrrnrol srv rvith certaintl, rvhere they were rtade. Wl-rat is lcrl:rirr, lrowcvcr, is that the character lor shibori (ffi) is of ( )lrirrcsc origin. l,orrg rr st:rplc of the traclitional decorative arts in Japan, rlrilrrrli is rrrcntioned irt Man'yoshu, ari eighth-century rrrrllrologl of 1;oenrs that includes this coriplet: \\'/rcrr / rlrr"- u child with hair dowt I tttrc rt slaat,ed robe of shibori tct cbtlt.' my shoulders Incleecl, the clemand for shibori cloth g:rrments, inclucling const:nt turtil thc present century uhen it lell r,ictinr to thc nranv chlngcs that occnrred in Jap:mese socich,after the encl of World War II. Bv the latc r97os, interest in shibori had for all practical purposcs ceased. In other u'orcls, u'hen Fullcr t-ent to learrn the craft it lras practicalh' a de:rd art sfiose practice r,vas maint:rined bv Shindo and a fei,r, others. Sincc then, hou,er.er, shibori ]ras eniol'ed a revival of interest. F'uller's interest in textile design is ir.r part an outgrorvth of his background in ihe Neu, York advertising u,orld, where behveen 1956 and 1965, he u,as Art L)irector at Gardner Adr,ertising. His experiences thcre gave him a solicl grounding in hlo-dimensional design, u,hich he brought to Wilkcs kir-r-ronos, rcnrainecl rclativelr. in 1969. The major stimulus for his interest in textile clesign, hori,ever, came four vears later. ,A.fter losing all his possessions to tlre Susqrrehanna Rir.e r fl,ood of t972, Fuller voluntcered lbr a -r,ear of missionarv- work and u,as assigned to the Schutz Arnerican School in Alexandria, Egvpt, r,i4rere he becarne f:iscinated rvith "the aesthetic potential of local clyes." He has observ.ed il-rat "Exposure to Egyptian textiles and the great traditions ofresistdved fabrics in the N{iddle East stirnulated rne to clevelop and enhance my visual vocabulary in this me<lium." Returning to Wilkes-Barre, he sper.rt the next nine ,vcars ir-rvestigating the possibilities of batik rvhile also taking cor-rrses in textiles at The Pennsyh'ania State Universitl'(1976) and Parsons School of Design (r98z-83). Nter his trip to fapan, he decided that shibori rvoul<l be his primary rnedium and has explored its aeslhelic possibililies erer sirrr.e. Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box (1984, Figure r) is one of the first pieces con-rpleted after F'uller's rehrrn from Japan. It consists of hvo halves of a small box covered in shibori ar-rd placed on a base ofurpolished rice, which evokes the raked �in a fapanese rock garden. In the boftom section ofthe box, Fuller has placed eight elegantly formed paper sacks that have been carefully stitched along their edges and secured with knotted purple strings. Side by side, in hvo rows, their bright cadmium red light contrasts with the deep rich indigo of the sand box. The overall effect is of a ceremonial offering of an ideal box, an impression furthered by the fact that the lid cannot be employed witl-rout crushing the paper sacks. What seems to be important is the ritual presentation, or rather the effort and care-note the mitered corners-that went into the preparation. Fuller has often taken a concept and explored it from various angles while maintaining a set of seltimposed limitations. In r99o he began a number of pattern pieces of whichTeh6n Series 4 (Figure z) is representative. The "Teh6n" or pattern in this work consists of three horizontal bands. Tl-re upper and lower bands are r-rearly identical and suggest rippling waves. The center panel contains an abstract arrangement of regular geometric shapes, primarily triangles, forming patterns of light and dark that recall the jagged edges created when great masses of ice collide and buckle on wintry northern lakes. Water fluid, water solid, water moving, water frozen: icy crystalline patterns held motionless between two rivers. Along with the series (think of Monet's cathedrals or Warhol's personalities), another quintessential element of modernist art is the gnd (Sol LeWitt's pristine white sculptures). Fuller's lndigo Crid Series 6 (rgg1, Figure 3) contains thirty-six squares ofshibori-dyed paper arranged to form a square. Some of the smaller squares contain pieces of dyed paper stitched together. He has allowed a slight looseness to enter tl-re composition: threads now extend beyond the paper instead of being cut flush with the surface. Also new is Fuller's incorporation of photographs (or, more precisely, fragments of photographs) of rural fapan that he has cut into thin bands. Like the strip of cloth on the lid of Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box, these photographic relics bisect the indigo squares. Whereas in lndigo Crid Series 6, Fuller created a tension by contrasting the static grid with a circular movement caused by tonal shifts; in 9o/zz5 Q998, Figure 4) he contradicted the inherent flatness of the grid by raising some of his color squares off the surface. The grid itself is subtly delineated by embossed lines that divide the ground into zz5 squares (r5 on a side). The title simply indicates the number of units covered. In these most recent works, Fuller has continued to make shibori expressive of his own sensibilities by substituting photographs of dyed cloth for the original and introducing readymade objects like toy clothespins. Several factors distinguish Fuller's art from traditional )apanese processes. Most obviously, he does not use the dyed cloth to create garments or wall hangings. Rather, he uses shibori as a beginning, as a color palette, to create collages, grids, or boxes. These he designs according to Western, rather than Oriental, conventions. The content, as opposed to the design, combines the two traditions. The spiritual component seems to evoke traditional fapanese values: the tea ceremony, theZen o[arranging. Fuller's work has a ritual quality. Objects or patterns are delicately arranged. The boxes are microcosms of order. Randomness and expressionism have been banished. His cool, indigo compositions bespeak a cerebral, unemotional aesthetic. In his art, Fuller has created a controlled world, a refined parallel reality, beyond the accidents oflife and the ravages of nature. He draws inspiration from nature, but nature humanized and beneficent, controlled and ordered, devoid of wilderness and unpredictability. Yet fundamentally, his is a reconstructing, affirmative, healing art. Doubtless the predilection for order existed in his art before the deluvian chaos. Now that element of order predominates: calamity changes, calamity confirms. r. Quoted in Yoshiko Wada, Mary Kellogg Rice, and Jane Barton, Shibori: The lnventive Art of lapanese Shaped Resist Dyeing (Tokyo, 1983), 4. �r l t I lt,igltl Papcr Sac/is in tut huligo Box r r,1!i1 �Telfin 1990 Series I �NffiIf,XE IilNIGffi fl::trilfiI rtrr=fl IffiTreHI rcilr3$= �nilffii il iffiffiim ffi''' xffi ffi re ffii *I* ,!tr..,. .ffin Iru 9o/zz5 t998 mffi M "nff* wr �F :t,.,. MANIFESTATIONS OF THE INDIGO SPIRIT llicltard h'uller ,Tl I I p & IIE woRK in this exliibition rcflccts nrv intcrcst in thc llcatrq oIprittcrn. rr rcl-inccl scrt'itirih lrr u:rtrrrc. rrrr<l rr deep respect lor the )apanese dvc-rcsist proccss callccl slrilxrri. Wherr I retrrnrecl frorrr ny lirst trip to Jaltarr irr tc7ll4, I tliscoverecl thert living in Japan changccl nrv vicu's about Icirclring ancl set rlre on a new colusc rcgarding thc hrhrrc of rrrv aestl.retic clevelopn.rent. Mucl.r of rvhat I hacl rc:rcl about IIrc Ja1>anese culture an<l Zen phiIosophl' sudclenlr' bccaunc :r vital l>art of my everyclay experience. I found mvself in an t'nvironrnent in which the notion of tl.re inseparable link lrctrveen nature ancl man becarne more clcarlv defined. While rvorking with the indigo d1'er, Hiroi,uki Shindo, I pcrceived the profound forces of nature rvhich surrounded me in Miyarna, a little farn'ring village in the mountains of Northern K1,oto. Nah,rre, the origin of all life, was a source of inspiration ftrr nry creative u,ork. The patterns in rny work do not copy rrithrre, but are intuitively derived through m1, intelpretation of tlrc cssence of natural form. For rne, beautiful patterns syrnbolizc nature, and are n-ranifest during the d1'eing process. Slrinclo oltcrr s1>okc of thc (locl of incligo (Aizen Sltin) in rclatiorr to his r.r,ork. Ilottlcs of sakc, which werc introclucccl into his incligo vats, u,crc tnkcn to thc villagc sltrinc to bc blesscd by thc Iltrcldhist pricsts. 'l'hc ()ocl of incligo ltrotcctecl the shrdio, arrd the sake u':rs one ingrcdient, anrong others, tlrat allowcd thc clotlr to receive a cleep incligo huc rvith strbtle variations of light ancl clark. My journal refcrcnccs of that tine suggest that an e\,er-present "spirit" prer,:rilecl ir.r Shinclo's studio. It rnav be said that the "indigo spirit" is the rnysterious energv that gives life to the work. Tl.re beauty found in these incligo patterns, not unlike the beaut,v lound in natnre, requires time to appreciate. It is m1, desire that you vieu' m1, work as you rvould a flou'er slow1y opening its petals for the first tin're. ,{lls11, yourself to be drau,n into the alluring color of indigo, the nattrral qualities ofpaper and cloth, and the bcautiful patternsall of which l-rave inspired rne to explore thc essence of nature wl-rile hor-roring a dl'e-resist process rooted in fapanese tradition. �CHECKLIST OF THE EXHIBITION Dimensions are given in inches, height precedes width precedes depth. Unless otherwise indicated, works are courtesy of the artist. t Eight Paper Sacks in an lndigo Box, ry84 rc foamcore, indigo dyed cotton, paper, rice 5x5 TxtSVzxSYz z Five lndigo Boxes, ry84 foamcore, indigo dyed cotton, rice, wood 4X20Xt2 3 Four Wrapped Boxes, ry84 foamcore, indigo dyed cotton 3zxSxzYz 4 r Untitled Collage 7, ry9o indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Rainforest, r99z indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori) n Untitled Collage 8, rygo indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5x, 6 Untitled Collage z, ry89 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5x5 4 7 Untitled Collage 4, ry89 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) \ 5x5 9 Untitled Collage 5, ry89 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5x5 $ rygz Untitled Collage z, r99z indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik ttx14 Untitled Collage D, tggo Untitled Collage 4, rygz indigo dyed cotton (shibori) indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik t4x Series 4 r99o indigo dyed cotton (shibori) t6 4 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11X14 5x5 ry Teh6n 5x, 8 1990 Untitled Collage indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5x5 5x5 Untitled Collage 3, ry89 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 4Yz x 89 ry Untitled Collage rr, indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5x5 Sxro Collection of Dr. Darlene Miller-Lanning 5 Untitled Collage 4 ry8g Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Stuart Richardson Teh6n Series 5, r99o indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Collection of Dr. Robert W Bohlander Flower Box 4 :,988 wood, indigo dyed cotton, thread 5Yzx6Yzx6Yz Untitled CoIIage 6, ry8g indigo dyed cotton (shibori) t7 Untitled Collage 5, rygz indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 5xro 14xrr Teh6n Series z, t99o indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Untitled Collate 6, ry92 5xro 14x Teh6n Series 3, tggo indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Untitled Collage 7, ry92 SXto 14xrl indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik Lt indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik Teh6n Series 4, r99o indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Untitled Collage 8, rygz 5x10 rrx14 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik �z8 Untitled Collage rc, r9g2 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11x14 zg lJntitled, ryg3 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 18 x z4Yz 7o Untitled, ry93 indigo dyed paper (shibori), handmade paper 4Yz y x zoY+ lndigo Box 4 rg94 indigo dyed thread (shibori), glass, wood TxTxzYz 7z lndigo Box z, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), rice, glass, wood TxTxzYz Collection of Mr. Herbert B. Simon 33 lndigo Box 3, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), glass, wood 7x7xzlz 34 lndigo Box 4, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), rice, glass, wood TxTxzVz 75 lndigo Box 5, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), glass, wood TxTxzYz 36 lndigo Box 6, ry94 indigo dyed thread, rice, glass, wood TxTxzYz 77 lndigo Box 7, 1994 indigo dyed wood (clothespins), glass, 45 lndigo Gid Series 7, 996 indigo dyed paper, batik nYz x nYz wood TxTxzYz 46 lndigo Gid Series 8, ry96 38 lndigo Box 8, 994 indigo dyed handmade paper, rice, indigo dyed paper, batik, thread nYz x nYz Collection of Ms. Laura Moses glass, wood TxTxzYz 47 67/225, ry98 19 lndigo Crid Series 4 ry95 indigo dyed paper, batik oYz x pYz Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 4o lndigo Grid Series z, x nYz Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 4r lndigo Cid Series 3, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography rzt/z x rz/z 4z Indigo Grid Series 4, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography nYz x pYz 43 lndigo Grid Series 5, t995 indigo dyed paper, photography vVz x ul/z 44 lndigo Grid Series 6, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography pYz x uYz 48 67/225, ry98 procion dyed paper, foamcore, acetate, color Xerox 15x15 1995 indigo dyed paper, batik uYz procion dyed paper, foamcore 15x15 49 7/n5, ry98 photography, foamcore, paper, wood, thread 15x15 5o 8z/zz5, :9g8 photography, foamcore, paper, thread r5x15 5r go/225, ry98 photography, foamcore, acetate, wood, thread 15x15 5z 9z/225,998 photography, foamcore, wood, thread 15x15 �EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS ADVISORY COMMISSION Friends of tl're Sorcloni Art Gallery Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. M&TBank ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This catalogue has been made possible Freddie Bittenber-rcler Maslorv Lr-rmia Bartorillo Aclvcrtising Pcnnsylvania Council ol the Arts Christopher N. llreiseih, Ph.D The )ohn Sloar-r Mer.nori:rl Virginia C. Davis, Chair Star-rley I Grand, Ph.D. I,bunclirtion, hrc. Ardrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes Uriversity Marior-r M. Conynghan-r Robert f . He:rm:rn, Ph.L). Mary )ar-re Henry Keith A. I{ur.rter, Esc1. Michael Lennor.r, Pl.r.D. Mclanie Maslow Lumia SPONSORS J. 'l'hc Business Cour.rcil 'I'l.reo Lunria Keureth Marcluis CBI-Creative Business Intcriors Marcluis Art :incl l,'rarre PNC Bank, NA Parrzittir Euterprises. Irrc. STAFF Starrley I Grar-rd, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Cranci, Coordinator Earl W. Lehrnan, Preparator Callery Attendants Deiclre Blake Peter Czwalina Natalee Felten Marcy Fritz lill Klicka Christopher Rehmann Casey Williams Hank O'Neal Arnolcl Ilifkin Charles A. Shaffer, rooo copies were printed by Llewellyn & McKane lrsc1. Shoenaker, Willian Shull Strs:rn Aclams Ileler Esc1. F-arr Sloan Anclrew ). Sordoni, III Sanforcl B. Sterr-rlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitolsky tl.rrough the generous srlpport olWilkes Ur.riversity, including the Offices of the President, the Vice President for Acaderric Affairs, and tl.re L)ean of the College of Arts, Scicnces & Professional Stuclies. The Sordoni Art Gallery appreciates the generosity of tl-re followilg indivicluals who lent works to this exhibition: Dr. Robert W. Bohlau-rdcr, Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance, Dr. D:irlcne MiIIer-Lanr-rir.rg, Ms. Laura Moses, Dr. and Mrs. Stuart Richarclson, ancl Mr-. Flerbcrt B. Simorr. Catalogue design: Johr Beck Pl.rotography: Michael'l'hornas Calligraphy: 1 F r-ryoko Umed:r ypefaces Display: Ccntaur (Bruce Rogers, r9r5) Text: Electra (W. A. Dwiggins, 1937) ISBN o-942945-rB-z ��� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/9a3501aaaf5cd609420df9a7950bc07a.pdf 09dfad0e965a242be4a5ce77fd68c625 PDF Text Text �1 i MANIFESTATIONS OF THE INDIGO SPIRIT SHIBORI WORKS OF RICHARD FULLER 3 1 ,T A EXHIBITION CURATED BY STANLEY I GRAND ESSAYS BY E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA STANLEY I GRAND RICHARD FULLER OCTOBER. 24-DECEMBER 15, 1999 SORDONI ART GALLERY. WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE. PENNSYLVANIA �"‘kj- ■- :•••• ARCHIVES £ ARCRD 5 ScRR i\j \ q5 oH • RICHARD FULLER: SHIBORI R ~7 Stanley I Grand r7 TJ“n 1984, while on sabbatical leave from the Ari Department I at Wilkes College. Richard fuller went to Japan to learn JL the art of shibori. There, under lire tutelage of master textile artist and dyer Hiroyuki Shindo, he studied the fundamentals of shibori, which involves resist-dyeing textiles so as to create patterns. Fuller has described the process as follows: Shibori comes from the Japanese verb root shiboru, “to wring, squeeze or press”—words that emphasize the action or process of manipulating cloth. In shibori the cloth is first shaped and secured with thread before being immersed in the dye. The cloth is then removed from the vat and allowed to oxidize in the air. This cycle is repeated until the desired shade is attained. Once the dyeing is complete, the cloth is untied and returned to its original twodimensional shape. The cloth sensitively records both the shape and the pressure exerted by the threads during the exposure to the dye; the “memory” of the shape remains imprinted in the cloth. The emphasis on lying the cloth and manual manipulation distinguishes shibori from the wax-resist and clamping processes, both of which arc also practiced in Japan. Photo: Stanley' I Grand Although ancient, the origin of shibori is somewhat obscure; and scholars disagree as to whether the technique is indigenous to Japan or came originally from the mainland. The earliest surviving pieces of shibori are in Japan, but we cannot say with certainty’ where they were made. What is certain, however, is that the character for shibori ($■£) is of Chinese origin. Long a staple of the traditional decorative arts in Japan, shibori is mentioned in Manydshu, an eighth-century' anthology' of poems that includes this couplet: Copyright © Sordoni Art Callcry. Wilier Urmerrity When I was a child with hair down to my shoulders 1 wore a sleeved robe of shibori cloth.' �RICHARD FULLER: SHIBORI RITUALS Stanley I Grand 19S4. while on sabbatical leave from the Art Department at Wilkes College, Richard Fuller went to Japan to leam the art of shibori. There, under the tutelage of master textile artist and dyer Hiroyuki Shindo, he studied the fundamentals of shibori. which involves resist-dyeing textiles so as to create patterns. Fuller has described the process as follows: Shibori comes from the Japanese verb root shiboru, “to wring, squeeze or press"—words that emphasize the action or process of manipulating cloth. In shibori the cloth is first shaped and secured with thread before being immersed in the dye. The cloth is then removed from the vat and allowed to oxidize in the air. This cycle is repeated until the desired shade is attained. Once the dyeing is complete, the cloth is untied and returned to its original twodimensional shape. The cloth sensitively records both the shape and the pressure exerted by the threads during the exposure to the dye: the "memory” of the shape remains imprinted in the cloth. The emphasis on tying the cloth and manual manipulation distinguishes shibori from the wax-resist and clamping processes, both of which are also practiced in Japan. I Grand Although ancient, the origin of shibori is somewhat obscure; and scholars disagree as to whether the technique is indigenous to Japan or came originally from the mainland. The earliest surviving pieces of shibori are in Japan, but we cannot say with certainty' where they were made. What is certain, however, is that the character for shibori ($£) is of Chinese origin. Long a staple of the traditional decorative arts in Japan, shibori is mentioned in Man’yoshu, an eighth-century anthology of poems that includes this couplet: Copyright , 1999 Sordoni Art Callen. Wilkes University When I was a child with hair down to my shoulders I wore a sleeved robe of shibori cloth.' Indeed, the demand for shibori cloth garments, including kimonos, remained relatively constant until the present century when it fell victim to the many changes that occurred in Japanese society' after the end of World War II. By the late 1970s, interest in shibori had for all practical purposes ceased. In other words, when Fuller went to learn the craft it was practically' a dead art whose practice was maintained by Shindo and a few others. Since then, however, shibori has enjoyed a revival of interest. fuller’s interest in textile design is in part an outgrowth of his background in the New York advertising world, where between 1956 and 1965, he was Art Director at Gardner Advertising. His experiences there gave him a solid ground­ ing in two-dimensional design, which he brought to Wilkes in 1969. The major stimulus for his interest in textile design, however, came four years later. After losing all his possessions to the Susquehanna River flood of 1972, Fuller volunteered for a year of missionary' work and was assigned to the Schutz Ameri­ can School in Alexandria, Egypt, where he became fascinated with “the aesthetic potential of local dyes.” He has observed that “Exposure to Egyptian textiles and the great traditions of resistdyed fabrics in the Middle East stimulated me to develop and enhance my visual vocabulary in this medium.” Returning to Wilkes-Barre, he spent the next nine years investigating the possibilities of batik while also taking courses in textiles at The Pennsylvania State University' (1976) and Parsons School of Design (1982-83). After his trip to Japan, he decided that shibori would be his primary' medium and has explored its aesthetic possibilities ever since. Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box (1984, Figure 1) is one of the first pieces completed after Fuller’s return from Japan. It consists of two halves of a small box covered in shibori and placed on a base of unpolished rice, which evokes the raked �: •1 sand in a Japanese rockgarden. In the bottom section of the box, Fuller has placed eight elegantly formed paper sacks that have been carefully stitched along their edges and secured with knotted purple strings. Side by side, in two rows, their bright cadmium red light contrasts with the deep rich indigo of the box. The overall effect is of a ceremonial offering of an ideal box, an impression furthered by the fact that the lid cannot be employed without crushing the paper sacks. What seems to be important is the ritual presentation, or rather the effort and care—note the mitered corners—that went into the preparation. Fuller has often taken a concept and explored it from various angles while maintaining a set of self-imposed limitations. In 1990 he began a number of pattern pieces of which Tehdn Series 4 (Figure 2) is representative. The “Tehdn” or pattern in this work consists of three horizontal bands. The upper and lower bands are nearly identical and suggest rippling waves. The center panel contains an abstract arrangement of regular geometric shapes, primarily triangles, forming patterns of light and dark that recall the jagged edges created when great masses of ice collide and buckle on wintry northern lakes. Water fluid, water solid, water moving, water frozen: icy crystalline patterns held motionless between two rivers. Along with the series (think of Monet’s cathedrals or Warhol’s personalities), another quintessential element of modernist art is the grid (Sol LcWitt’s pristine white sculp­ tures). Fuller’s Indigo Grid Series 6 (1995, Figure 3) contains thirty-six squares of shibori-dyed paper arranged to form a square. Some of the smaller squares contain pieces of dyed paper stitched together. He has allowed a slight looseness to enter the composition: threads now extend beyond the paper instead of being cut flush with the surface. Also new is Fuller’s incorporation of photographs (or, more precisely, fragments of photographs) of rural Japan that he has cut into thin bands. Like the strip of cloth on the lid of Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box, these photographic relics bisect the indigo squares. Whereas in Indigo Grid Series 6, Fuller created a tension by contrasting the static grid with a circular movement caused by tonal shifts; in 90/225 (1998, Figure 4) he contra­ dicted the inherent flatness of the grid by raising some of hicolor squares off the surface. The grid itself is subtly delin­ eated by embossed lines that divide the ground into 225 squares (15 on a side). The title simply indicates the number of units covered. In these most recent works, Fuller has continued to make shibori expressive of his own sensibilities by substituting photographs of dyed cloth for the original and introducing readymade objects like toy clothespins. Several factors distinguish Fuller’s art from traditional Japanese processes. Most obviously, he does not use the dyed doth to create garments or wall hangings. Rather, he uses shibori as a beginning, as a color palette, to create collages, grids, or boxes. These he designs according to Western, rather than Oriental, conventions. The content, as opposed to the design, combines the two traditions. The spiritual component seems to evoke tradi­ tional Japanese values: the tea ceremony, the Zen of arrang­ ing. Fuller’s work has a ritual quality. Objects or patterns arc delicately arranged. The boxes are microcosms of order. Randomness and expressionism have been banished. His cool, indigo compositions bespeak a cerebral, unemotional aesthetic. In his art, Fuller has created a controlled world, a refined parallel reality, beyond the accidents of life and the ravages of nature. He draws inspiration from nature, but nature human­ ized and beneficent, controlled and ordered, devoid of wilderness and unpredictability. Yet fundamentally, his is a reconstructing, affirmative, healing art. Doubtless the predilection for order existed in his art before the deluvian chaos. Now that clement of order predominates: calamity changes, calamity confirms. 1. Quoted in Yoshiko Wada, Mary Kellogg Rice, and Jane Barton. Shibori: The Inventive Art of Japanese Shaped Resist Dyeing (Tokyo. 1983), 14. Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box 1984 �225 (1998. Figure 4) he contra>f the grid by raising some of his The grid itself is subtly delindivide the ground into 225 tie simply indicates the number >st recent works, Fuller has tpressive of his own sensibilities )f dved cloth for the original and :ts like tor* clothespins. Fuller's art from traditional iouslv. he does not use the dved all hangings. Rather, he uses olor palette, to create collages, igns according to Western, rather > the design, combines the two ronent seems to evoke tradia ceremony, the Zen of arrangqualitv. Objects or patterns are :s are microcosms of order. ;m have been banished. His tpeak a cerebral, unemotional •d a controlled world, a refined cidents of life and the ravages of Tom nature, but nature human?d and ordered, devoid of ty. Yet fundamentally, his is a •aling art. Doubtless tire in his art before the deluvian rder predominates: calamity Jan* Kellogg Rice, and Jane Barton. ?se Shaped Resist Dyeing (Tokyo, Eight Paper Sacks in an Indigo Box 1984 �.... ... ... ..... ... . �Indigo Grid Series 6 ■995 �MANIFESTATIONS Or THE INDIGO Sil Richard Fuller ni □ i it L_—u 90/225 1998 kkaii HE WORK in this exhibition reflects mv interest in the beauty of pattern, a refined sensitivity to nature, and a deep respect for the Japanese dye-resist process called shibori. When I returned from my first trip to japan in 1984,1 discovered that living in japan changed mv views about teaching and set me on a new course regarding the future of my aesthetic development. Much of what I had read about the Japanese culture and Zen philosophy suddenly became a vital part of my everyday experience. I found myself in an environment in which the notion of the inseparable link between nature and man became more clearly defined. While working with the indigo dyer, 1 liroyuki Shindo, I perceived the profound forces of nature which surrounded me in Miyama, a little farming village in the mountains of Northern Kyoto. Nature, the origin of ah life, was a source of inspiration for my creative work, The patterns in my work do not copy nature, but are intuitively derived through my interpretation of the essence of natural form. For me, beautiful patterns symbol­ ize nature, and are manifest during the dyeing process. Shindo often st relation to his wo into Ins indigo va blessed bv the Bn the studio, and th that allowed the i subtle variations 1 that time suggest Shindo’s studio. I mysterious energ The beauty fo the beauty fount is my desire that slowly opening i be drawn into tl qualities of papr all of which has nature while hoi tradition. �MANIFESTATIONS OF THE INDIGO SPIRIT Richard Fuller HE WORK in this exhibition reflects my interest in the beaut}’ of pattern, a refined sensitivity to nature, and a deep respect for the Japanese dye-resist process called shibori. When I returned from my first trip to Japan in 1984, I discovered that living in Japan changed my views about teaching and set me on a new course regarding the future of my aesthetic development. Much of what I had read about the Japanese culture and Zen philosophy suddenly became a vital part of my every-day experience. I found myself in an environment in which the notion of the inseparable link between nature and man became more clearly defined. While working with the indigo dyer, Hiroyuki Shindo, I perceived the profound forces of nature which surrounded me in Miyama, a little farming village in the mountains of Northern Kyoto. Nature, the origin of all life, was a source of inspiration for mv creative work. The patterns in my work do not copy­ nature, but are intuitively derived through my interpretation of the essence of natural form. For me, beautiful patterns symbol­ ize nature, and are manifest during the dyeing process. Shindo often spoke of the God of indigo (Aizen Shin) in relation to his work. Bottles of sake, which were introduced into his indigo vats, were taken to the village shrine to be blessed by the Buddhist priests. The God of indigo protected the studio, and the sake was one ingredient, among others, that allowed the cloth to receive a deep indigo hue with subtle variations of light and dark. My journal references of that time suggest that an ever-present “spirit" prevailed in Shindo’s studio. It may be said that the “indigo spirit" is the mysterious energy- that gives life to the work. The beauty' found in these indigo patterns, not unlike the beauty found in nature, requires time to appreciate. It is my’ desire that you view my work as you would a flower slowly opening its petals for the first time. Allow yourself to be drawn into the alluring color of indigo, the natural qualities of paper and cloth, and the beautiful patterns— all of which have inspired me to explore the essence of nature while honoring a dye-resist process rooted in Japanese tradition. n■I I B■ �CHECKLIST OF THE EXHIBITION .io-.-x ,;r-c s:\cn in inches, height precedes width precedes depth. 1 u'ess ctccrwise indicated, works are courtesy of the artist. Riper Such' in an Indigo Box. 1984 1 ilwncore. indigo dyed cotton, paper, rice - x iSSS x 13^2 z Fnv Indigo Boxes. 19S4 foamcore. indigo dyed cotton, rice, wood 4 x 20 x 12 2 Four Wrapped Boxes, 1984 tbamcore. indigo dyed cotton -xSx:h 4 Flower Box 1. 19SS wood, indigo dyed cotton, thread 572 X 6^2 X 6/2 5 Untitled Collage 1, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X5 Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Stuart Richardson 6 Untitled Collage 2, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X5 7 Untitled Collage 3, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X5 8 Untitled Collage 4, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5'5 9 Untitled Collage 5, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5'5 IO Untitled Collage 6, 1989 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X5 19 Tehon Series 5, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) Collection of 5 x 10 Collection of Dr. Robert W. Bohlander Dr. Darlene Miller-Lanning 11 Untitled Collage 7, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X 5 28 Untitled Collage 10. 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11 x 14 29 Untitled, 1993 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori.. batik 20 Bainforest, 1992 18 x 24/2 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori) 23I/2 x 89 30 Untitled, 1993 indigo dyed paper (shibori), 12 Untitled Collage 8, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X 5 13 Untitled Collage 11, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5X 5 14 Untitled Collage 12, 1990 21 Untitled Collage 1, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik handmade paper 4V2 x 2014 11 x 14 22 Untitled Collage 2, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 31 Indigo Box 1, 1994 indigo dyed thread (shibori), glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2/2 11 x 14 23 Untitled Collage 4, 1992 32 Indigo Box 2, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), rice, glass, indigo dyed cotton (shibori) indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik wood 5X5 H x 11 7 X 7 X 214 15 Tehon Series 1, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5 x 10 16 Tehon Series 2, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5 x 10 24 Untitled Collage 5, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 25 Untitled Collage 6, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 Collection of Mr. Herbert B. Simon 33 Indigo Box 3, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), glass, wood 37 Indigo Box 1994 indigo dyed wood (clothespins), glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2Y2 38 Indigo Box 8, 1994 indigo dyed handmade paper, rice, glass, wood 7 X 7 X 2*/2 39 Indigo Grid Series 1. 1995 indigo dyed paper, batik 12/2 x 12I6 Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 40 Indigo Grid Series 2. 1995 indigo dyed paper, batik iz’/i x 12*6 Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 41 Indigo Grid Scries 3, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12H x 12'16 42 Indigo Grid Scries 4. 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12V2 x 12V2 wood 17 Tehon Series 3, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5 x 10 18 Tehon Series 4, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5 x 10 26 Untitled Collage 7, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 27 Untitled Collage 8, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik n x 14 7 X 7 x 2/2 35 Indigo Box 5, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), glass, wood 7 X 7 X 2I6 36 Indigo Box 6, 1994 indigo dyed thread, rice, glass, wood 7 x 7 x 216 46 Indigo Grit indigo dye1212 x 12F2 CoHecfion 4- 67/225, 199 procion d\ 15X 15 48 6-/225, >9< procion d\ color Xerc 15x15 49 73/225, 194 photograp thread 15 x 15 50 82/225. 194 photograp 15x15 7 x 7 x 2V2 34 Indigo Box 4, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), rice, glass, 45 Indigo Gric indigo d\e< 43 Indigo Grid Series 5, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12J6 x 12V2 44 Indigo Grid Series 6, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography x 12V2 51 90/225. 194 photograp thread 15 x 15 52 92/225, 19 photograj 15x15 �19 Tehon Series 5, 1990 indigo dyed cotton (shibori) 5 x 10 Collection of Dr. Darlene Miller-Lanning 20 Rainforest, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori) 23% x 89 21 Untitled Collage 1, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11x4 22 Untitled Collage 2, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11 x 14 23 Untitled Collage 4,1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 24 Untitled Collage 5, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 25 Untitled Collage 6, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14 x 11 26 Untitled Collage 7, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 14x11 27 Untitled Collage 8, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11 x 14 28 Untitled Collage 10, 1992 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 11 x 14 29 Untitled, 1993 indigo dyed paper (arashi shibori), batik 18 x 24% 30 Untitled, 1993 indigo dyed paper (shibori), handmade paper 4% x 2014 31 Indigo Box 1, 1994 indigo dyed thread (shibori), glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2% 32 Indigo Box 2, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), rice, glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2% Collection of Mr. Herbert B. Simon 33 Indigo Box 3, 1994 indigo dyed cotton (shibori), glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2V2 34 Indigo Box 4, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), rice, glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2% 35 Indigo Box 5, 1994 indigo dyed paper (shibori), glass, wood 7x7x2% 36 Indigo Box 6, 1994 indigo dyed thread, rice, glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2% 37 Indigo Box 7, 1994 indigo dyed wood (clothespins), glass, wood 45 Indigo Grid Series 7, 1996 indigo dyed paper, batik 12% X 12% 7 X 7 X 2% 38 Indigo Box 8, 1994 indigo dyed handmade paper, rice, glass, wood 7 x 7 x 2% 39 Indigo Grid Series 1, 1995 indigo dyed paper, batik 12% x 12% Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 40 Indigo Grid Series 2, 1995 indigo dyed paper, batik 12% x 12% Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance 46 Indigo Grid Series 8, 1996 indigo dyed paper, batik, thread 12% x 12% Collection of Ms. Laura Moses 47 67/225, 1998 procion dyed paper, foanicore 15 x 15 48 67/225, 1998 procion dyed paper, foamcore, acetate, color Xerox 15 x 15 49 73z—5. ‘99s photography, foanicore, paper, wood, thread i5x 15 41 Indigo Grid Series 3, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12% x 12% 50 82/225, 1998 photography, foanicore, paper, thread 42 Indigo Grid Series 4, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 51 90/225, 1998 photography, foanicore, acetate, wood, thread 15x15 12% x 12% 43 Indigo Grid Series 5, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12% x 12% 44 Indigo Grid Series 6, 1995 indigo dyed paper, photography 12% x 12% x 15 52 92/225, 1998 photography, foamcore, wood, thread 15 x b �-^ggggsag EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Marquis /\rt and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. STAFF Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Grand, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator Gaiter)' Attendants Deidre Blake Peter Czwalina Natalee Felten Marcy Fritz Jill Klicka Christopher Rehmann Casey Williams advisory COMMISSION Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiscth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley 1 Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary Jane I lenry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O’Neal .Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan /Adams Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Sternlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitofsky ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This catalogue has been made possible through the generous support of Wilkes University, inchiding the Offices of the President, the Vice President for Academic Affairs, and the Dean of the College of Arts, Sciences & Professional Studies. The Sordoni Art Gallery appreciates the generosity of the following individuals who lent works to this exhibition; Dr. Robert W. Bohlander, Mr. and Mrs. Paul Chance, Dr. Darlene Miller-Lanning, Ms. Laura Moses, Dr. and Mrs. Stuart Richardson, and Mr. Herbert B. Simon. 1000 copies were printed by Llewellyn & McKanc Catalogue design: John Beck Photography: Michael Thomas Calligraphy: Fuyoko Umcda Typefaces Display: Centaur (Bruce Rogers, 1915) Text: Electra (W. A. Dwiggins, 1937) ISBN 0-942945-18-2 �■J /■, r1.- ■■■■■I WILKES UNIVERSITY LIBRARY t GAYLORD FG r �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1999 October 24 Manifestations of the Indigo Spirit: Shibori Works of Richard Fuller Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Richard Fuller Stanley I. Grand Richard Fuller Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999 October 24 - December 15 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource In 1984, while on sabbatical leave from the Art Department at Wilkes College, Richard Fuller went to Japan to learn the art of shibori. There, under the tutelage of a master textile artist and dyer Hiroyuki Shindo, he studied the fundamentals of shibori, which involves resist-dyeing textiles as to create patterns. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource shibori Japan Japanese dyeing dye Richard Fuller Wilkes College https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/5b6ece92173b1a84c239dd3fda85d8d3.pdf 13dfe29e39fdf96d374208f64a6556f8 PDF Text Text �������������������������������������������������������� https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/f4a5a6a977d6f1884c1a05f842fa4ee7.pdf df888bd881e0fe01a92617160edf5823 PDF Text Text M I SORD GA ND1290 S349 2000 ��- ' V.- Portrait of Edward Schmidt Drawing by D. Jeffrey Mims T1 Sordoni Art Gz �~Edward Schmidt i MYTHOLOGIES Exhibition Curated with Commentaries by Stanley I Grand E.S. FARLEY LIBRARY WILKES UNIVERSITY WILKES-BARRE, PA February 20-March 26, 2000 The Year 2000 Dr. Roy E. Morgan Exhibition Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University • Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania �ARCHIVES The r LENDERS TO THE EXHIBITION Mr. and Mrs. David Berelson (California) Thomas Cornell (Maine) Tracy' Freedman (California) Fredric Goldstein (New York) Mark and Lisa Helprin (Virginia) Innes Collection (Virginia) Mark Lupke (Pennsylvania) Mariano and Celia Pacheco (New York) Mary' Salstrom and Brent M. Porter (New York) Edward Schmidt (New York) Henry and Amanda Vandeveer (Massachusetts) David B. Wolf (New York) Three Private Collections (California, Florida, Oregon) ADDITIONAL THANKS The American Academy in Rome Tracy Freedman David and Audrey Ginenthal Adolph and Esther Gottlieb Foundation Inc. Nancy L. Grand Michael Hackett Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Steven Harvey Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Arnie Lizan James L. Merryman, Ph.D. Jonathan Schmidt Jane Schoelkopf Jeremy Sheldon Jennifer and John Sheridan Elizabeth Tops Oona von Spier Cheryl Wheat Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Nor The Sordoni Art Gallery's annual exhibition in honor of Dr. Roy E. Morgan (1908—2000) celebrates the accomplishments of a journalist, administrator, and broadcaster, who left an indelible imprint on the civic and cultural life of his community. Among many other honors, he was an inductee into the Pennsylvania Association of Broadcasters Hall of Fame. Dr. Morgan's ' 'long involvement ' ‘ with ‘the arts included twenty-five years of thoughtful and generous reviews of local art exhibitions, concerts, and theatrical performances. Cover: Seduction of Callisto (Detail) Copyright & 2000 Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University 2000 copies were printed by Becotte & Company Catalogue design: John Beck Photography: Michael Thomas, except photos on pp. 21, 22, 2S, 30, and 39 Typeface: Palatine ISBN 0-942945-19-0 Edward Schmidt's Mythologies present an oblique, cultu modern modern way way of of looking looking at at reality. reality. Informed Informed by by erudition, erudition, inspiration from the Classical tradition, and paying freqt to the Old Masters, Schmidt's paintings conjure up an an literally timeless, reality in which the past and present si: neously exist. His time spent in Rome clarifies this. An historian of It and gardens, the late Georgina Masson repeatedly likene to a palimpsest, a vellum manuscript where generations pletely scraped-off writings insistently reappear and pok later scribblings. Schmidt, winner of the 1983 Prix de Roi frequent subsequent visitor to The American Academy, k a reality where the omnipresence of the past coexists ana and harmoniously with the present, where fashionably d women talk animatedly on cell phones in the intercolum of an antique temple filled in by a Baroque architect. Or, another example, a reality where the distinctions betwee and Christian seem to blur, where the church of Mary' Sts �al exhibition in honor of Dr. Roy E. the accomplishments of a journalist, who left an indelible imprint on the imunity. Among many other honors, nsylvania Association of Broadcast­ ing involvement with the arts loughtful and generous reviews of ad theatrical performances. di) y, Wilkes University >t photos on pp. 21, 22, 28, 30, and 39 The Timeless Present Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton" Edward Schmidt's Mythologies present an oblique, cultured, yet modem way of looking at reality. Informed by erudition, drawing inspiration from the Classical tradition, and paying frequent tribute to the Old Masters, Schmidt's paintings conjure up an anachronistic, literally timeless, reality in which the past and present simulta­ neously exist. His time spent in Rome clarifies this. An historian of Italian villas and gardens, the late Georgina Masson repeatedly likened that city to a palimpsest, a vellum manuscript where generations of incom­ pletely scraped-off writings insistently reappear and poke through later scribblings. Schmidt, winner of the 1983 Prix de Rome and frequent subsequent visitor to The American Academy, knows well a reality where the omnipresence of the past coexists anarchisticly and harmoniously with the present, where fashionably dressed women talk animatedly on cell phones in the intercolumnar spaces of an antique temple filled in by a Baroque architect. Or, to give another example, a reality where the distinctions between pagan and Christian seem to blur, where the church of Mary stands on the site of a temple dedicated to Minerva. Schmidt is part of that world. He is not a parochial artist; he is not a New York artist. Rather he is Western artist who is both heir to and perpetuator of a great artistic tradition. That tradition is Classical Humanism, which in visual terms is always concerned with the human figure in the sense that the concerns of Humanism are expressed by means of and through the figure. Historically, the first great era of the human form in Western art spans the centuries between roughly 600 B.c. and 300 B.c. At the onset, we see the gestalt of a younger civilization coming into contact with an older culture and transforming its conventions to express new truths. In the monumental stone sculptures that epito­ mized permanence and stability for the Egyptians, the Greeks found the essence of movement and change. At first, the Greeks freed the Egyptians' stylized, striding forms from the confines of the stone block. Within a century, however, these delightful, perpetually smiling, rigid slim youths of the Archaic period give way to a more sober and mature type of the Severe or early Classical style, who are followed by the High Classical remote, ideal deities, whose reign ends around the time of the final defeat of Athens in the Peloponnesian war. The fourth century b.c. begins with a new sensuality and ends with an expanded range of subjects, types, and ages in the Hellenistic era. In this progression from youthful ideal­ ism to duty to compassion we see a microcosm of the human condition, a coming of age. We also see, as has been often observed, 5 JU '< ij/g, �l I I that the Greeks made their gods human and their humans divine. Perfection of physical form became synonymous with divinity. How different from the Christian viewpoint! After two and a half millennia, the expressive possibilities of the human form have not been exhausted. (That the figure fell out of favor among certain artists during part of the last century is, rela­ tively speaking, of small import.) Indeed, as our civilization has become ever more complex, the tradition of figurative art has become ever more nuanced, self-referential, and weighty. The old tension between idealism and realism, between improving on nature instead of merely "aping" or copying nature, is now but one of many historical and aesthetic subtexts to be discovered in the archaeology of painting. Understanding a tradition, of course, presupposes knowledge. When the tradition is as old and venerable as literature or painting, a certain erudition is to be expected. In the Renaissance tradition, Schmidt is an artist educated in the liberal arts who deals with ideas. Selecting from a large lexicon of forms and subjects, Schmidt employs visual and literary quotes, puns, and narrative distortions, to create multireferential paintings. Unlike the pure abstractionists, his hermeticism is not one of form but of subject. In this he is closer to the Surrealists and Metaphysical painters than to the Formal Modernists. His emphasis on subject matter, however, should not be viewed as reactionary. As Edward Lucie-Smith observed in discuss­ ing Schmidt's Nocturne: "Contemporary artists have, in fact, made an interesting discovery: that, thanks to the chasm opened by Modernism between the art of the twentieth century and that of the more distant past, Old Master sources now share the kind of 'other­ ness' which was once attributed only to non-Western art."1 Schmidt's relationship to the Old Masters is not an appropriation strategy. His is a sincere, not ironic, investigation of meaningful, universal, and inexhaustible themes. Nor should he be seen as a pure history painter: His ends and means are both more ambiguous and less didactic. Rather he seeks an intensification and deepening of the visual experience. We should not be surprised that this requires some work on our part as we go from being primary to second-level viewers. 6 The Timeless Present Schmidt's own maturation in terms of technique and subject is manifest in this exhibition. His stylistic development is clear if one compares Conversation bi/ the Sen (1991) with Psyche and Venus (1995). In the former, the many characters are disposed as if on a stage. A narrow ground separates their space from ours and reinforces the impression of formality. The figures are drawn in clear relief, and their individuality is heightened further by a limpid, defining light. The atmospheric clarity associated with a dry, bright environment—one thinks of Central Italian light, for example—is reflected in Schmidt's limited palette of unsaturated colors applied with a minimum ot medium. The paint itself is opaque and frequently left unblended, which gives the painting's surface a modern, vigorous energy. Psyche and Venus, on the other hand, is quite different The number of figures has been severely restricted while their scale has become more massive. Close cropping creates a claustrophobic space in which the viewer changes from spectator to intruder Night has begun to fall on Arcady, as twilight replaces midday. With this change, the contrast of light and shade has become more pro­ nounced. The overall tonality of the painting sounds a darker chord. The paint itself has become juicy. Venetian opulence and sensuality have displaced Tuscan lucidity and intellect: The geometry and rigor of Piero della Francesca has yielded to the languor and carnality of Giorgione. Unity replaces multiplicity as a few large interconnected forms define the abstract, simplified composition. The overall finish is higher. Glazing further enhances the unitv: Surfaces are more uniform and blended. Although colors are saturated and glow with a jewel-like intensity, it should be noted that Schmidt remains a tonal painter: Line and value, not color, organize all his paintings. Indeed, here as elsewhere, his choice of hues is mostly limited to the primary triad, their complementaries, and earth colors. Finally, the scale of the paintings themselves has increased. Along with Schmidt's stylistic development, his narrative struc­ ture has changed. In the earlier paintings, he addresses universal themes such as Departure, Return, or Death allegorically and lyrically. In these canvases, the actors tell their story more directly and comprehensively, even when the narrative is somewhat unclear: An accident has occurred, workmen build, classical figures gambol in Arcadia. In contrast, the narrative paintings from the mid-19-a tend to be more ambiguous and brooding. Although the titles appear to be quite specific, Schmidt often chooses to play with and modify the original literary sources. Coincident with the other changes is Schmidt’s choice of narrative moment. In paintings sue! as the Rape of Persephone or Departure, Schmidt shows the moment when the drama is most intense. Subsequently, in the Seduction of Callisto for example, he substitutes psychological introspection for dramatic activity by showing quiet moments of no action. In this strangely still painting, we experience both tranquillity and vulner ability, repose and threat. The seducer's ambiguous, transgenderal sexuality furthers the unsettling mood. Schmidt's paintings are subject to multiple readings. Like an orator, Schmidt has become increasingly proficient al both clarifyir �tion in terms of technique and subject is i. His stylistic development is clear if one the Sea (1991) with Psyche and Venus (1995). aaracters are disposed as if on a stage. A their space from ours and reinforces the le figures are drawn in clear relief, and their further by a limpid, defining light. The ted with a dry, bright environment—one ht, for example—is reflected in Schmidt's ited colors applied with a minimum of s opaque and frequently left unblended, ; surface a modern, vigorous energy. ! other hand, is quite different. The number ly restricted while their scale has become ring creates a claustrophobic space in from spectator to intruder. Night has ; twilight replaces midday. With this it and shade has become more prolity of the painting sounds a darker chord, e juicy. Venetian opulence and sensuality idity and intellect: The geometry and rigor is yielded to the languor and carnality of multiplicity as a few large interconnected simplified composition. The overall finish mhances the unity: Surfaces are more lough colors are saturated and glow with >uld be noted that Schmidt remains a ue, not color, organize all his paintings, his choice of hues is mostly limited to the jmentaries, and earth colors. Finally, the selves has increased. ylistic development, his narrative strucrlier paintings, he addresses universal Return, or Death allegorically and the actors tell their story more directly i when the narrative is somewhat unclear: (workmen build, classical figures gambol in Arcadia. In contrast, the narrative paintings from the mid-1990s tend to be more ambiguous and brooding. Although the titles appear to be quite specific, Schmidt often chooses to play with and modify the original literary sources. Coincident with the other changes is Schmidt's choice of narrative moment. In paintings such as the Rape of Persephone or Departure, Schmidt shows the moment when the drama is most intense. Subsequently, in the Seduction of Callisto for example, he substitutes psychological introspection for dramatic activity by showing quiet moments of no action. In this strangely still painting, we experience both tranquillity and vulner­ ability, repose and threat. The seducer's ambiguous, transgenderal sexuality furthers the unsettling mood. Schmidt's paintings are subject to multiple readings. Like an orator, Schmidt has become increasingly proficient at both clarifying and obscuring his art. His sense of invention has become less illustrative and more suggestive; his deportment of figures on the canvas has become simpler and stronger; his elocution or manner has become more refined; his memory more focused on essentials, and his technique more refined, subtle, and pronounced. What has remained unchanged is his gravitas. Schmidt's reality, timeless and vaguely antique, seeks the universal and permanent in a world of constant change. This essay and the commentaries are dedicated to the memory of W.trren G. Moon, Professor of Art I tistory and Classics, University of Wisconsin -Madison. 1. Edward Lucie-Smith, Art Today (London: Phaidon Press, 1995), 234. The Timeless Present 7 �Workers (square), 1974 8% x 8% Workers (vertical), 1975 10% x 7 Although modest in scale, the two Workers provide inklings of Schmidt's future development. Perhaps most important, they clearly underscore his commitment to abstract composition, his fluent vocabulary of artistic forms, his knowledge of and respect for the history of art, and his methodical approach to mastery. Like Mondrian, Schmidt has divided his canvases into tightly interlock­ ing squares and rectangles. Unlike Mondrian, however, he relieves the architectonic structure with occasional diagonals, contrasts of void and mass—light projecting forms and dark receding holes— and a three-dimensionality that derives, ultimately, from the archi­ tectural illusionism associated with Pompeian second-style painting. On the controlling horizontals and verticals, Schmidt has added movement. In the square painting, the eight figures are disposed in a circular pattern that flows from the foreground cement mixers to the seated architect, up the rising steps, and then downward through the figure standing on the ladder. Movement in the vertical painting 8 comes from the zigzag line that sweeps upward from the wheel of the barrow through the head of the climbing figure with upraised arms and then horizontally through the three figures above. In both works, the animating line simultaneously moves forward and back through space. Schmidt's highly regularized, geometric figures— which trace their ancestry back through Balthus, Seurat, and Pierofurther demonstrate his eclectic, synthesizing approach to painting. Although the paintings have a deliberate, constructed, almost didactic quality, the solutions are elegant, respectful, and confident without being brash. At this point in his development he is con­ cerned with mastering multifigure compositions. His solution recalls the isolated forms of the Italian primitives; subsequently he will develop a more Baroque integration of figural elements. In these modem yet timeless narratives, Schmidt wears his learning lightly. The paintings maintain a vitality and freshness that is a direct consequence of his brushwork and avoidance of excessive finish. �I I l 2 ■ J I■ II I ■ ■■ I ’ jag line that sweeps upward from the wheel of . the head of the climbing figure with upraised zontally through the three figures above. In both ig line simultaneously moves forward and back nidt's highly regularized, geometric figures— icestry back through Balthus, Seurat, and Piero— ? his eclectic, synthesizing approach to painting, ntings have a deliberate, constructed, almost ■ solutions are elegant, respectful, and confident i. At this point in his development he is con­ ing multifigure compositions. His solution recalls >f the Italian primitives; subsequently he will oque integration of figural elements. ret timeless narratives, Schmidt wears his learning 5 maintain a vitality and freshness that is a direct irushwork and avoidance of excessive finish. 9 �-10x50 In the left foreground, a figure cloaked in a dark hooded robe turns back impatiently from a flight of stairs in response to a restraining hand. He pulls his hood tightly and glares grimly. One slippered, stockinged foot extends beyond the tread of the top step as if to underscore the urgency of the departure. The other figure, recalling Donatello's Zuccone, is elderly, barefoot, and dressed in a green toga­ like garment that falls in wide, flat folds. He has the veristic, topo­ graphic features found in ancestor busts of the Roman Republic: cropped hair, aquiline nose, no beard. Yet his head appears overly small for his attenuated body. He carries a walking staff, a symbol of both the traveler and the aged. In the middle distance, a small silhouette of a bent-over figure, also leaning on a staff, slowly ascends a zigzag staircase to a small plateau before an ochre ruin. The land is uniformly barren, arid, and devoid of vegetation, excepting only a few stunted trees and bushes. One thinks of a Greek island from which heroes set sail upon the wine-dark sea. Much like the staff that bisects the space between the men, the flowing course of a dry arroyo divides the painting. The contrast of active men on one side of the composition and reactive woman on the other, separated by a charged space, recalls David's Oath of the Horatii. The grieving, seminude woman sits on a solid cube and bows her head. Neither of her companions offers any gesture of comfort. Despite its rational composition, planar recession, limited palette, and clear division into foreground, middle ground, and background, 10 the entire scene is decidedly unclassical in mood. One recalls antique departure scenes on red-figure vases such as Munich 2415, where the protagonists include an old, bearded man, women, and a young warrior. No emotion is shown although all realize that death might well await the young scion. Rather the scene is treated with quiet dignity, as befits a solemn occasion. No exaggerations, no pantomimes, no gestures taken from a Charles Lebrun treatise intrude on the tableau. One also thinks of a melancholic statue of Penelope in the Vatican Museum. Like our weeping woman, she sits on a cubic seat. But whereas Penelope and her gestures are selfcontained, here the woman's gesture points toward the outward source of her great grief—Death leading the old man on his final journey. The steps lead down the steep cliff to a harbor; the destination involves crossing water; Charon is the guide. We sense his impa­ tience as he pulls his body away. The balance of convex and concave contours echoes the action of moving forward and pulling away. In Departure, Schmidt employs continuous narration to show the old man at the moment of his death and subsequently ascending a staircase, a vision laden with Biblical and personal meanings. Painted at the time his mother was dying, this work seeks to univer­ salize a personal sorrow. The light from the right indicates that the sun is still climbing, an offshore breeze is blowing clouds inland; it is time to go. �edly unclassical in mood. One recalls s on red-figure vases such as Munich 2415, ndude an old, bearded man, women, and a ion is shown although all realize that death mg scion. Rather the scene is treated with solemn occasion. No exaggerations, no s taken from a Charles Lebrun treatise )ne also thinks of a melancholic statue of Museum. Like our weeping woman, she sits reas Penelope and her gestures are selflan's gesture points toward the outward —Death leading the old man on his final he steep cliff to a harbor; the destination Charon is the guide. We sense his impaly away. The balance of convex and concave >n of moving forward and pulling away, employs continuous narration to show the )f his death and subsequently ascending a with Biblical and personal meanings. lother was dying, this work seeks to univerit indicates that the sun is still climbing; an ig clouds inland; it is time to go. �Figures in a Forest, 1981-82 36x60 In the foreground, two ample, semicloaked females, their bodies forming a triangle, pause momentarily. The reader marks her place in the book and looks up at the listener, who—seated under a large tree—touches her own breast. From the right, an aged man, pre­ ceded by his walking staff, enters the glen. His face concealed and body wrapped tightly against an inner chill suggest that the fire has departed his bones long ago. He is an ominous presence, a memento mori, an unpleasant reminder that Death too dwells in Arcadia. In the center, framed by the trees, a nude youth runs, his movement indicated by both his posture and his spreading red cloak, which flies behind and offsets the form of his body. A couple proceed to the stately pace of their private minuet. The woman, with her cloak falling to expose both breasts, points at the fleeng youth. Her partner, dressed in a short loincloth, raises his arms like a more restrained version of the famous Dancing Satyr from Pompeii. Whatever is going on matters not to the two old anchorites, one of whom sleeps while the other, like a hooded Giotto interlocutor, rests his back against a slender tree and drifts in reverie. The artist has provided an explanation: "In my picture the two women represent reader and listener. Behind and around [them] are the imagined characters of this imagined book. The whole scene, 12 then, is the product of the imagination of the listener."1 The painting, therefore, combines "real" and fictitious characters simultaneously, as Edgar Wind believed Titian (?) had done in his Concert Champetre, which Schmidt had copied during his student days in Paris. Schmidt's interest in different levels of reality, in the separate but unseparable realities of life and literature, furthers the allegorical reading of this work from which emerges no single narrative or myth. All that might be noted is the contrast between the vitality of youth, underscored by the strong light, with the melancholy and shadow of age. It is typical of Schmidt that he here expresses his meaning by gesture rather than facial expression. Indeed, he has left most of the faces in a state of generalized finish. The composition embodies multiplicity, not unity, which adds to the impression of multiple realities overlapping in time. Recession into space is planar and orderly, with alternating bands of light and dark that provide easy access to the scene. Although abundant drapery evokes the Classic past, Schmidt handles the drapery folds most unclassically, further obscuring a literal reading of this allegorical painting. 1. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, February 2, 2000. �iroductof the imagination of the listener."1 The painting, mbines "real" and fictitious characters simultaneously, nd believed Titian (?) had done in his Concert Champetre, idt had copied during his student days in Paris, terest in different levels of reality, in the separate but realities of life and literature, furthers the allegorical is work from which emerges no single narrative or it might be noted is the contrast between the vitality of ■scored by the strong light, with the melancholy and 1 of Schmidt that he here expresses his meaning by i than facial expression. Indeed, he has left most of the te of generalized finish. The composition embodies not unity, which adds to the impression of multiple lapping in time. Recession into space is planar and alternating bands of light and dark that provide easy scene. Although abundant drapery evokes the Classic t handles the drapery folds most unclassically, further iteral reading of this allegorical painting. Schmidt, letter to author, February 2, 2000. 13 �— •I The Tempest, 1981-82 24x36 In The Tempest, a storm assails eight figures on a desolate promon­ tory bv the sea. The windswept trees, bending under the gale's lash, express the violence. Two men struggle with billowing cloaks that flare like the pitiful sails on that "brave vessel... Dash'd all to pieces!'' off Prospero's island.1 In the middle ground, a nude figure wearing a leafy garland on his head (we presume it's ivy, sacred to Bacchus) incongruously appears to assault a maiden or nymph. In front of this pair, at the base of a twisted tree trunk, a woman in a blue cloak protectively hunches over her swaddled child. To the left, a figure in a tan robe huddles in the meager shelter provided by a few convenient boulders. The contrast between standing and notstanding figures—between contrasting responses to the gale—adds tension and disorientation to the composition. This dynamic equilib­ rium of opposing elements is manifested as well in the landscape's sloping diagonal rebuffed by the wind's countering force. Schmidt has recalled a violent storm that hit Brooklyn when he was living there. He describes venturing out to Prospect Park, a neighborhood fixture, and witnessing the havoc caused by the winds: "I was in the park (a beautiful grand place, similar in scale to 14 Central Park) when the strong winds came up fast. The suddenness and intensity of the storm, and the physical force against my body, making it difficult to stand, much less get home, made a deep impression."2 In the The Tempest Schmidt has stripped these memo­ ries of specificity in favor of a distilled essence. Consequently, he relies on rhetorical gestures and poses instead of facial expressions to convey sentiment, and thus he leaves the faces concealed or sketchily rendered. At the time he painted this canvas, Schmidt was experimenting with various underpainting techniques. The first layer consists of a charcoal drawing which he then covered in a greenish-grey oil grisaille. The figures in the monochrome layer were nude. The final layer added both color and clothing, excepting only the nude figure in the middle ground. We recall Schmidt's interest in levels of reality and wonder if the tempest is more psychological or meteorological. 1. Shakespeare, The Tempest, 1: 2, 6-8. 2. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, March 3, 2000. �e strong winds came up fast. The suddenness ton, and the physical force against my body, tand, much less get home, made a deep ie Tempest Schmidt has stripped these memoror of a distilled essence. Consequently, he turns and poses instead of facial expressions nd thus he leaves the faces concealed or ed this canvas, Schmidt was experimenting nting techniques. The first layer consists of a -h he then covered in a greenish-grey oil i the monochrome layer were nude. The final ' and clothing, excepting only the nude figure interest in levels of reality and wonder if the ological or meteorological. "pest, 1: 2, 6-8. iter to author, March 3, 2000. �Dies Irae—Destruction of a City, 1982 36x48 Few words are more chilling than Dies Irae, the Day of Wrath described by John in Revelation. For John had seen in the right hand of God a scroll with seven seals whose unsealing inaugurates the beginning of the end: When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, and the stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale; the sky vanished like a scroll that is rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place. Then the kings of the earth and the great men and the generals and the rich and the strong, and every one, slave and free, hid in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling to the mountains and rocks, "Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb; for the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand before it?"1 Dies irae has had a particularly significant role in Western Chris­ tianity since at least the fourteenth century, when a poetic text attrib­ uted to Thomas of Celano (active first half of the thirteenth century) was included in the Requiem Mass and inserted into the Roman Missal during the sixteenth. With an important role in the Mass for the Dead, Thomas's poem has inspired a rich tradition of sacred 16 music with earlier compositions by Antoine Brumel, Ockeghem, Giammateo Asola, Orfeo Vecchi, G. F. Anerio, and G. O. Pitoni, as well as works created after the Council of Trent (1545-1563) by Mozart, J. C. Bach, Cherubini, Verdi, Faure, and Britten, to name only the most famous. In addition, the plainsong motif of the Dies irae has haunted many composers through the years, including Berlioz, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff. Although Penderecki's Dies Irae (1967) does not depend on Thomas's text, it finds in the tradition a way to memorialize the victims of Auschwitz. Painted during a time of "major fires, cities being bombed, [and] varieties of urban destruction," Schmidt desired to create "a 'heroic' subject, a picture with seriousness and gravity."2 Equally fascinating to him were formal concerns: "the wonderful possibilities of odd, broken walls born of invention, geometry, and accidental views, the free form abstraction of the smoke with its value and color rich­ ness."3 Schmidt's painting continues a rich tradition of cataclysmic works that include the Classical sculptural group, now dispersed, of Niobe and Her Children being slaughtered by the arrows of Apollo and Artemis, Raphael's Fire in the Borgo, and Poussin's Massacre of the Innocents and Rape of the Sabine Women. 1. Revelation 6: 12-17. 2. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, February 3, 2000. 3. Ibid. �ositions by Antoine Brume], Ockeghem, > Vecchi, G. F. Anerio, and G. O. Pitoni, a ter the Council of Trent (1545-1563) by jbini, Verdi, Faure, and Britten, to name i addition, the plainsong motif of the Dies jmposers through the years, including raninoff. Although Penderecki's Dies hue >n Thomas's text, it finds in the tradition a victims of Auschwitz. of "major fires, cities being bombed, [and] ction," Schmidt desired to create "a 'heroic' riousness and gravity."2 Equally fascinating ;ms: "the wonderful possibilities of odd, mtion, geometry, and accidental views, the he smoke with its value and color richg continues a rich tradition of cataclysmic assical sculptural group, now dispersed, of ing slaughtered by the arrows of Apollo ire in the Borgo, and Poussin's Massacre of he Sabine Women. to author, February 3, 2000. �Rape of Persephone, 1982 51x67 I I We read of the Rape of Persephone in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, an epic poem once believed to have been composed by the author of the Iliad. In the hymn, the anonymous author relates how Hades, son of Cronos and Lord of the Underworld, swept away Demeter's "trim-ankled daughter" while she was out "gathering flowers over a soft meadow."1 Having wandered away from her companions, "the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus," Persephone was set upon suddenly by Hades: "wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her [and] caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting." The story is repeated subsequently in the hymn; when Demeter asks Persephone to describe what happened, she replies "we were playing and gathering sweet flowers in our hands ... but the earth parted beneath, and there the strong lord, the Host of Many, sprang forth and in his golden chariot he bore me away, all unwilling, beneath the earth." Although the versions differ slightly—in the second we learn that Persephone was taken underground—both include Hades' chariot. Artists, on the other hand, have often preferred the dramatic possibilities inherent in distilling the scene to its essence of strug­ gling figures—eliminating the horses and chariot. Completed in Italy during his Prix de Rome fellowship, Schmidt's sketchlike painting reflects a firsthand knowledge of Bernini's well-known marble 18 Apollo and Daphne in the Villa Borghese. Compared to this dynamic, lusty conflict, Schmidt's abduction seems rather chaste and tender as Hades grasps his quarry and she pivots on her left foot to face him. A dynamic equilibrium is established between the pursuer's movement to the right and the diagonally inclined trees behind. Schmidt has populated his version with additional friezelike figures not mentioned as being present at the abduction. To the lefts woman—"dark-robed" Demeter we surmise—bends over in grief. She is balanced by a second female, with Michelangelesque biceps, who might be "tender-hearted Hecate," who heard Persephone's "shrill cry." Although the identity of the two naked youths is uncertain—they serve as witnesses to the event—their presence furthers the Classical mood by recalling the compositions on antique sculptural reliefs, including sarcophagi, and establishing a stable, triangular arrangement of the figures. The Rape of the Maiden, her eventual liberation from the Dark Realm, and her obligation to return there for a third of each year became the basis of an elaborate fertility mystery. Centered on t gift of grain, the cycles of the seasons, and the disappearance an reappearance of the deity, the myth retains its vitality to this day. 1. All quotations from the Homeric Hymns, II (to Demeter), Loeb Class'01 Library translation. �ilia Borghese. Compared to this dynamic, ibduction seems rather chaste and tender ry and she pivots on her left foot to face am is established between the pursuer's d the diagonally inclined trees behind, his version with additional friezelike being present at the abduction. To the left a emeter we surmise—bends over in grief, id female, with Michelangelesque biceps, irted Hecate," who heard Persephone's identity of the two naked youths is vitnesses to the event—their presence d by recalling the compositions on antique ig sarcophagi, and establishing a stable, the figures. 1, her eventual liberation from the Dark to return there for a third of each year, borate fertility mystery. Centered on the the seasons, and the disappearance and the myth retains its vitality to this day. Homeric Hymns, II (to Demeter), Loeb Classical 19 �The Shepherd's Dream, 1989 50x60 In The Shepherd's Dream, Schmidt again revives the old tradition of continuous narration whereby a figure appears two or more times within the composition. In the left middle ground, the shepherd with his staff reclines like an antique hero or god on his rustic, rocky throne. In the foreground, across a small stream—the River Lethe?— he appears again, with upraised arm, gazing at a ministering woman in perfect equipoise attended by a nude youth. The two narratives, however, exist in different realms. The only "real" personage in the composition is the seated shepherd since, accord­ ing to the artist, the "foreground ensemble is meant as a projection of the back shepherd's imagination."1 Schmidt emphasizes the power of imagination by painting the ensemble in greater detail than the rather sketchily rendered dreamer. The reverie of desire is more vivid than life. Originally titled The Shepherd's Dream—Thirst and Desire, the painting is a study in contrasts: active-passive, tension-relaxation, dream-reality, consciousness-unconscious. Even the values continue this dichotomy: foreground in shade, the back figure in the sun. Yet both episodes are linked by images of the alma mater or nourishing 20 mother. At the shepherd's feet, a lamb suckles. In the foreground, it is the shepherd himself who receives a proffered plate, while the ephebe holds a primitive vase that lacks handles. Both the plate and vase appear to be unglazed and undecorated. We wonder whether spiritual or corporeal nourishment is being offered. Slightly apart from the central triangular composition, a young woman rests her knee on a boulder, draws a red cloak around her waist, and turns away from both the central scene and the dog that leaps up play­ fully. The dog's shadow falls on her covering and on the rock. The juxtaposition of the sheep and the goat recalls Christ's parable of the separation of the Blessed and Damned on Judgment Day (Matthew 25: 31-46). The two creatures, one light the other dark, also evoke conflicting values: The goat represents lust, one of the seven deadly sins, while the nursing sheep might be seen both as a metaphor for the Virgin and the sacrifice of Her innocent child and, more generally, as Charity. But we are left uncertain. 1. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, January 24, 2000. �pherd's feet, a lamb suckles. In the foreground, it nself who receives a proffered plate, while the mitive vase that lacks handles. Both the plate and unglazed and undecorated. We wonder whether eal nourishment is being offered. Slightly apart iangular composition, a young woman rests her draws a red cloak around her waist, and turns e central scene and the dog that leaps up playadow falls on her covering and on the rock. n of the sheep and the goat recalls Christ's parable f the Blessed and Damned on Judgment Day 6). The two creatures, one light the other dark, ing values: The goat represents lust, one of the while the nursing sheep might be seen both as a 'irgin and the sacrifice of Her innocent child and. Charity. But we are left uncertain. It, letter to author, January 24, 2000. �Conversation by the Sea, 1991 4316 x 56 Mystery' prevails in Conversation by the Sea. The identities of the figures are unknown, as is their reason for coining together. The absence of any softening vegetation or architectural details provides no clues to the setting's locale. The time of day is unclear: We don't know if the light that falls from the right is from a rising or setting sun or if the ominous sky in the background is darkening or clear­ ing. Time appears to have stopped as the players assume and hold Classic poses, which serve to transform further the scene from the quotidian into an eternal realm. Painted contemporaneously with "its compositional doppel­ ganger,"1 Four Muses and Pegasus, in Memory ofM.A. (not in exhibi­ tion), Conversation shares that work's underlying elegiac mood. The death of Milet Andrejevic, a painter and Schmidt's close friend, which is specifically noted in the title of Four Muses, here seems to inform Conversation with a quiet and understated sense of loss. The figures resolve themselves into pairs. One grouping rests firmly on the ground; the other is silhouetted against the sky. The upper and lower groups are linked by a gracile dance of arms that flows diagonally downward from the right. In the disposition of her legs, the line of her back, face in profile, and outstretched arm; the rightmost woman pays homage to Raphael's Venus and Cupid in the Villa Famesina, Rome. Her upraised arm, however, differs from the prototype. And what, we wonder, does the gesture itself signify: Is she cupping her ear to hear better above the roar of the sea, or is she—like the seer from the pediment of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia—reacting to some disquieting vision? Looking at the small red poppy—a classic symbol of death—held by the comparable 22 figure in Four Muses, we might answer that she brings the same sad tidings. As she delivers her message to the woman in white, an enigmatic figure, whose elaborate hat and scarf recall those of some Tanagra figurines, stares out to sea—or eternity—like some lonely visionary in a Caspar David Friedrich painting. On the ground level, the leftmost figure squats in an elaborate equilibrium of tension and relaxation, motion and countermotion: The rotation of her head is balanced by the opposing twist of the torso; the upward motion of one knee is countered by the other; the bent and extended arms neutralize each other. Totally self-contained within a closed, oval contour, the figure, so reminiscent of antique Crouching Venuses, turns inward to reflect upon the words just read. Her downward gaze, face in shadow, and compact form are opposed by the figure draped in white, a balance of opposites that continues in the coloration and attitudes of the sleek dogs or in Schmidt's employment of primary and secondary colors in the draperies. Conversation represents a refinement of Schmidt's homage to Andrejevic. The gestures are less exaggerated and dramatic than those in Four Muses; symbols have been eliminated; and a more Classical restraint and order prevail. Seriousness has replaced emotion; the dross has been burnt away. Typifying this new attitude is the transformation of the leftmost figure from a pleasant girl into a dark and melancholic sibyl. 1. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, January 22, 2000. 1 ! �we might answer that she brings the same sad irs her message to the woman in white, an ose elaborate hat and scarf recall those of some ires out to sea—or eternity'—-like some lonely' • David Friedrich painting. ?1, the leftmost figure squats in an elaborate n and relaxation, motion and countermotion: ?ad is balanced by the opposing twist of the ition of one knee is countered by the other; the ms neutralize each other. Totally' self-contained contour, the figure, so reminiscent of antique urns inward to reflect upon the words just gaze, face in shadow, and compact form are ’ draped in white, a balance of opposites that ation and attitudes of the sleek dogs or in nt of primary and secondary' colors in the ents a refinement of Schmidt's homage to ires are less exaggerated and dramatic than ymbols have been eliminated; and a more i order prevail. Seriousness has replaced s been burnt away. Typifying this new attitude of the leftmost figure from a pleasant girl into ic sibyl. 2tter to author, January 22, 2000. �Nereids, 1991 40x50 Two Nereids, each bare to the waist, bask side by side near the calm ocean. One closes her eyes from the intense sun overhead. The other simultaneously shades her own face with an upraised arm and pulls a blue, wavelike coverlet over the nude body of the sleeping child whose head rests on her left thigh. We know of the Nereids from many sources, both literary and visual. In his genealogy' of the gods, Hesiod (Theogony 240-264) writes that Nereus, the son of Pontus (Sea) and Gaea (Earth) married Doris, a daughter of Oceanus and Tethys, and from their union were bom fifty daughters. Known individually (Hesiod lists the names of all fifty’) and collectively as Nereids after their eponymous father, these sea nymphs appear frequently in Classical art—paired with Poseidon, cavorting with Tritons, or (on a charming kylix [Boston 00.335, Museum of Fine Arts]) surrounded by lively dolphins whose Minoan ancestors (c. 1450 b.c.) grace the walls of the Palace at Knossos. In the Renaissance, Raphael painted his great Galatea (1513), one of the Nereids, for the Sienese banker and bon vivant Agostino Chigi. Inspired by Poliziano's poem "La giostra," Raphael depicts a dynamic, triumphal sea nymph fleeing from the jealous Polyphemus, a cyclops who had just surprised the Nereid and her lover Acis, soon to fall victim to the one-eyed giant's well-aimed stone. Schmidt's Nereids are strangely still. They neither drive scallop­ shaped water chariots, nor dance, nor frolic with sea creatures. They merely repose on the beach. Even their identities are uncertain. One might imagine, however, that the Nereid protecting the child is Thetis who, along with Amphitrite and Galatea, is one of the best known of the sisters. Like Galatea, Thetis was unlucky in love. Sought after by both Zeus and Poseidon (who ultimately married Amphitrite), Thetis found the ardor of her divine suitors cooled upon hearing Themis prophesy that her son would eclipse his father. Zeus, in particular, would have been sensitive to such a prophecy; he had overthrown his own father, Cronos, who in turn had over­ thrown his father, Uranus. The father destined to be outshone was the hero Peleus—a mortal, an Argonaut alongside Jason, and a participant with Meleager in the Caledonian Boar Hunt—whose deeds of courage and marriage to Thetis are depicted on the famous Francois Vase (c. 570 b.c.) from Chiusi, now in Florence. Their son was Achilles who, despite his mother's best efforts to cloak him with immortality; was fated never to enter the Olympian pantheon. Although the precise identity of the foremost Nereid is ambigu­ ous, her pose specifically echoes that of the Barberini Faun (Glyptothek, Munich), a Hellenistic nude, spread-legged sleeping satyr dozing in a drunken state. The explicit eroticism of the Munich sculpture, so atypical of the preceding Classic era, has been jetti­ soned and replaced by concern expressed in a protective gesture. A metamorphosis, but this is typical of Thetis herself who, like her father, had the power to assume different shapes. �the beach. Even their identities are uncertain. One awever, that the Nereid protecting the child is ; with Amphitrite and Galatea, is one of the best ers. Like Galatea, Thetis was unlucky in love. □th Zeus and Poseidon (who ultimately married is found the ardor of her divine suitors cooled mis prophesy that her son would eclipse his father, r, would have been sensitive to such a prophecy; ti his own father, Cronos, who in turn had over­ Uranus. The father destined to be outshone was a mortal, an Argonaut alongside Jason, and a Teleager in the Caledonian Boar Hunt—whose and marriage to Thetis are depicted on the famous 70 b.c.) from Chiusi, now in Florence. Their son , despite his mother's best efforts to cloak him with fated never to enter the Olympian pantheon. recise identity of the foremost Nereid is ambiguifically echoes that of the Barberiiti Faun (Glyptolellenistic nude, spread-legged sleeping satyr en state. The explicit eroticism of the Munich ical of the preceding Classic era, has been jetti•d by concern expressed in a protective gesture. A mt this is typical of Thetis herself who, like her wer to assume different shapes. 25 �Dryads, 1993 50x52 In discussing the fate of Areas in the Seduction of Callisto, Ovid was the source. But Pausanias, the second-century traveler and geogra­ pher, recounts a different destiny for the son of Callisto and Jove. Upon the death of Nyctimus, Areas became king of Pelasgia, which thereafter was known as Arcadia, and married Erato, "no mortal woman but a Dryad nymph."1 The Dryads were woodland nymphs, minor female deities or spirits who watched over and protected oak trees. Along with the Oreads (who guarded hills and mountains), the Naiads (who dwelt beside springs, rivers, and fountains), and the Nereids (who frol­ icked in the sea), the Dryads possessed youth and beauty and frequently' aroused the ardor of gods, mortals, sileni, and satyrs, those naughty followers of Pan. Typical of the latter is a scene on a red-figure kylix [Boston 01.8072 Museum of Fine Arts] in which satyrs attack a sleeping nymph. Like Schmidt's, this nymph has a hand behind her head in a pose common to sleepers whether on vases or sculpture (the famous Ariadne that de Chirico appropriated comes most readily to mind). When we think of Dryads and other nymphs, the kingdom of Areas most often comes to mind. As to how "that particular, not overly' opulent, region of central Greece, Arcady, [came] to be 26 universally accepted1 as an ideal realm of perfect bliss and beauty, a dream incarnate of ineffable happiness, surrounded nevertheless with a halo of 'sweetly sad' melancholy"1 we turn to Erwin Panofsky. The answer Panofsky' advances in his famous essay is Virgil, in whose Eclogues is resolved that "vestpertinal mixture of sadness and tranquillity."2 With Virgil the pastoral becomes elegiac. In painting, the quintessential representation of the elegiac is, of course, Poussin's second Et hi Arcadia ego, now in the Louvre. As Panofsky' has convincingly' shown, Poussin compels the viewer to mistranslate the title: the meaning of the phrase becomes "I, too, [lived] in Arcady" rather than "Even in Arcady [there am) 1 (i.e., death personified)." In Poussin's fully developed interpretation of the theme, the speaking tombstone becomes a memento mori, just as the ruins in Schmidt's painting remind us that even in Arcadia, where Dryads peacefully sleep, time devours all. 1. Pausanias, Descript ion of Greece 8.4.2, Loeb Classical Library translation. 2. Erwin Panofsky, "Et in Arcadia ego: Poussin and the Elegiac Tradition, Meaning in the Visual Arts (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1955), 297. 3. Ibid., 300. �deal realm of perfect bliss and beauty, ■ happiness, surrounded nevertheless melancholy"1 we turn to Erwin sky advances in his famous essay is esolved that "vestpertinal mixture of Vith Virgil the pastoral becomes elegiac, al representation of the elegiac is, of in Arcadia ego, now in the Louvre. As hown, Poussin compels the viewer to ■aning of the phrase becomes "I, too, tn "Even in Arcady [there am] I (i.e., sin's fully developed interpretation of bstone becomes a memento mori, just as ng remind us that even in Arcadia, 'ep, time devours all. reece 8.4.2, Loeb Classical Library translation. 'din ego: Poussin and the Elegiac Tradition," City, N.Y: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1955), 297. �Nocturne, 1993 4114 x 6414 Their passion spent, two lovers lie together in a small clearing in the woods. Their bodies overlap, blend together, and seem to form a new entity in a closed, or enclosing, contour. Within the single shape their clavicles join in a continuous curve offset by the angular rhythm of their bent elbows and arms. Their faces, separated by an obscuring, in one case, upraised arm, repose like some cubist visage in which the profile and frontal views appear simultaneously. So closely are these figures linked that only the fall of light isolates one from the other. Regarding his arrangements with figures, Schmidt has observed that "compositionally, two bodies can be placed in opposition, in order to heighten or contrast—or 'doubled,' or posed similarily, as an echoing of line and shape, to reinforce and enrich a composi­ tional element."1 In Nocturne, Schmidt reinforces the composition by "playing with a repetition of bodies, a double rhythm" that he further enhances by having the "landforms echo the women's outlines."2 How these two women arrived here is clearly indicated by the rough pathway that catches a bit of stray light as it curves back into the woods and sky. The dark shapes of the guardian trees, the indistinct forms of the massed foliage, and the sky all possess an atmospheric quality that, like the title, reminds one of Whistler. The green sky evokes the silence and desolation of a de Chirico piazza transformed by the misty light of a late George Inness landscape. A 28 curious mix of artificial and natural lighting further dislocates the viewer. Edward Lucie-Smith has noted that Nocturne ... pays homage to the Italian Baroque, but as much in stylistic terms as in those of content. The probable source is Guido Cagnacci (1601-81). Cagnacci has caught the fancy of twentieth-century art historians because his paintings, espe­ cially those of the female nude, have a presence and an immediacy of impact that make them seem anachronistic, in terms of the sensibility of their time. Schmidt has obviously felt this attraction, but his reaction has been to distance the material once again? Commenting on this observation, Schmidt notes that "I long ago established a belief that all art exists in the present. Maybe I lack that filter, common to artists and others of my time, which rejects the past art's relevance and finds an unbridgable chasm. I was always seeking a bridge to connect to my artistic ancestors."4 1. 2. 3. 4. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, January 29, 2000. Ibid. Edward Lucie-Smith, Art Today (London: Phaidon Press, 1995), 234. Schmidt, letter to author, January' 29, 2000. �rural lighting further dislocates the id that the Italian Baroque, but as much af content. The probable source is 'agnacd has caught the fancy of ans because his paintings, espeie, have a presence and an ake them seem anachronistic, in dr time. Schmidt has obviously felt )n has been to distance the tion, Schmidt notes that "I long ago xists in the present. Maybe I lack d others of my time, which rejects the i unbridgable chasm. I was always ty artistic ancestors."4 lor, January 29, 2000. / (London: Phaidon Press, 1995), 234. rry 29, 2000. �Ariadne, 1994 50x65 On the beach at Naxos, Ariadne awakes with a start. She raises her hand in a gesture of shock. The Athenians' ship is not in the quiet harbor. She is alone. For love Ariadne had thwarted the will of her father Minos, the lord of Crete. She assisted Theseus when he entered the Labyrinth, the handiwork of Daedalus, wherein dwelled the Minotaur, a monster born of the unnatural union between her mother Pasiphae and a bull. After Theseus slew the monster, Ariadne fled the palace at Knossos with her lover and the other tribute youths. She was to be his bride. Their boat reached Naxos, the Cycladic island known in ancient times for its wine and Dionysian worship, and heaved-to. Now she is alone, abandoned by the fickle Theseus. This version of the story was popular in the Renaissance. In ancient times, however, it was not the canonical version. Homer, for example, states that Artemis slew Ariadne on the island of Dia (which Diodorus Siculus subsequently' identified with Naxos) while en route with Theseus to Athens.1 The Roman biographer Plutarch records several differing and conflicting traditions, including the legend that after Theseus abandoned Ariadne on Naxos she gave birth to his children Staphylus and Oenopion.2 Apollodorus, on the other hand, states that Dionysos fell in love with Ariadne and carried her off to Lemnos where she bore Thoas, Staphylus, Oenopion, and Peparethus.3 In any case, retribution befell Theseus. When he set sail for Crete, King Aegeus had told his son Theseus to hoist white sails upon his' 3° return as a sign that he was unharmed. But Theseus forgot. Seeing a black (or scarlet) sail on the approaching ship, Aegeus presumed that Theseus had perished and flung himself to his death, either from the Athenian acropolis or into sea, which thereafter was known as the Aegean Sea. Just as the sea holds many secrets, Schmidt's Ariadne is not wholly what it appears to be. Beneath the surface is a subpainting that Schmidt has described as "complete, more complex, and more finished" than the present work.1 The original painting, titled Danae—a subject favored by Titian—had an interior setting in which Jove appeared as "golden light (no coins)" to ravish the wholly nude, splay-legged Danae.5Schmidt's decision to repaint and simplify his composition, to layer the abandonment of Ariadne over the impregnation of Danae (which resulted in the birth of Perseus), and to move from boudoir to landscape, produces a haunting archeology of symbols and paint. 1. 2. 3. 4. Homer, The Odyssey 11: 321-325. Plutarch, Lives: Theseus 20. Apollodorus, Epitome 1.9. Edward Schmidt, letter to author, January 30, 2000. �i that he was unharmed. But Theseus forgot. Seeing !t) sail on the approaching ship, Aegeus presumed ad perished and flung himself to his death, either tian acropolis or into sea, which thereafter was known Sea. :a holds many secrets, Schmidt's Ariadne is not wholly s to be. Beneath the surface is a subpainting that :scribed as "complete, more complex, and more the present work.4 The original painting, titled set favored by Titian—had an interior setting in which as "golden light (no coins)" to ravish the wholly ;ged Danae.’Schmidt's decision to repaint and nposition, to layer the abandonment of Ariadne over on of Danae (which resulted in the birth of Perseus), am boudoir to landscape, produces a haunting ymbols and paint. Odyssey 11: 321-325. ves: Theseus 20. s. Epitome 1.9. imidt, letter to author, January 30, 2000. �Demeter and Persephone, 1994 50x60 Mother and daughter sleep peacefully on sandy soil near the sea. In the foreground, Persephone reaches out and gently touches her mother's wrist. On the earth between them sit an open book and a linen-lined basket—two white points of light, one hard and geomet­ ric, the other soft and convoluted. The story of Hades' abduction of the Maid has been told previ­ ously in conjunction with The Rape of Persephone. Now mother and daughter are reunited. At her daughter's disappearance, Demeter had forsaken Olympus and for nine days neither bathed nor ate as she sought the whereabouts of Persephone. Despite her grief, Demeter rewarded those who treated her hospitably, her greatest gift being the art of plowing and wheat cultivation that she taught to Triptolemus on the Rharian Plain. Schmidt's basket (should we call it an artophorion?) symbolizes Demeter's great gift to Triptolemus. When Demeter finally learned the awful truth—and of the complic­ ity of Zeus, father and uncle to the unfortunate girl—she ordered that a temple be built for her at Eleusis. In sorrow, she retreated into her sanctuary and no longer watched over the fields. All the crops 32 withered, and the gods became alarmed that mankind would perish from the earth. To the gods, who sought to placate her with gifts, she would not yield. Finally, great Zeus sent Hermes to demand the return of Persephone, but as she had already eaten seeds of the pomegranate, she was unable to leave the underworld until Rhea brokered the great compromise between her children Hades and Demeter. Henceforth, Persephone would spend a third of the year in the chthonic realm and the remainder with her mother. By her actions, Demeter unshackled her daughter from the fetters of the Host of Many. Although the Mysteries celebrated in her honor at Eleusis have remained inviolate and hidden down through the centuries, they doubtless concerned death, rebirth, and the initiates hope of immortality. Schmidt alludes to the cycle of life by quoting a famous Hellenis­ tic sculpture of a Hermaphrodite, now in the National Museum, Rome. Combining the sexual attributes of both male and female, the hermaphrodite represents a perfect, but flawed, manifestation of the generative principle. �red, and the gods became alarmed that mankind would perish the earth. To the gods, who sought to placate her with gifts, she 1 not yield. Finally, great Zeus sent Hermes to demand the i of Persephone, but as she had already eaten seeds of the granate, she was unable to leave the underworld until Rhea red the great compromise between her children Hades and ter. Henceforth, Persephone would spend a third of the year chthonic realm and the remainder with her mother. By her is, Demeter unshackled her daughter from the fetters of the if Many. Although the Mysteries celebrated in her honor at s have remained inviolate and hidden down through the ies, they doubtless concerned death, rebirth, and the initiate's )f immortality. nidt alludes to the cycle of life by quoting a famous HellenisIpture of a Hermaphrodite, now in the National Museum, Combining the sexual attributes of both male and female, the phrodite represents a perfect, but flawed, manifestation of the itive principle. �Echo, 1995 50x60 Once, loquacious Echo had a form. A nymph then, she would often sit beside Juno, spinning long stories, while Jove, taking advantage of his wife's distraction, would pursue his amorous escapades on earth. When Juno finally realized cunning Echo's true motive, she curtailed the nymph's power of speech, allowing her only to repeat the last few words uttered by others. Such was Juno's wrath. One day Echo came upon Narcissus, a youth of transcendent beauty', hunting in the fields. In that moment, she fell in love and, concealing herself from sight, followed him stealthily. She longed to win his heart with sweet declarations. But unable to speak first, she only echoed and repeated back his own shouts to his hunting companions. Finally she approached him, longing to embrace his neck, but at the sight of the nymph, Narcissus fled, declaring Death a better mistress. Shamed and shunned, Echo abandoned the bright mountainsides and dwelt apart in dark woods and darker caves. Fueled by grief, her love ultimately consumed her body, leaving naught but a disembodied voice. In Schmidt's painting, Echo's metamorphosis is in the future. For the present her body remains full. Her pose is complex-—the head in profile and the torso frontal. The force of gravity causes one breast 34 to appear almost in profile. The deportment of her legs and arms in the pinwheel manner of a triskelion seems to set the body in motion. She rests her curiously masculine, almost Deco, head on curled fingers. Though the gesture is closely associated with Melancholy (Durer's engraving comes readily to mind), it here lacks that conno­ tation. In the background, a tree fallen in its prime echoes the quiescent figure's fate. Echo sleeps beside still waters that foretell the watery mirror of Narcissus's destruction and her retribution. For Narcissus could love only himself, but unable to possess his own image, he was destined, like Echo, to wither away.1 To Ovid's poetic story, Pausanias provides a skeptical rejoinder: "They say that Narcissus looked into this water, and not understanding that he saw his own reflection, unconsciously fell in love with himself and died of love at the spring. But it is utter stupidity to imagine that a man old enough to fall in love was incapable of distinguishing a man from a man s reflection."- And yet where love exists, utter stupidity is often to be found. 1. Ovid, Metamorphoses 3.344 ft. 2. Pausanias, Description of Greece 9.31.7, Loeb Classical Library translation. �. The deportment of her legs and arms in triskelion seems to set the body in motion, sculine, almost Deco, head on curled e is closely associated with Melancholy readily to mind), it here lacks that connoa tree fallen in its prime echoes the to sleeps beside still waters that foretell ssus's destruction and her retribution. For himself, but unable to possess his own ce Echo, to wither away.1 To Ovid's poetic i skeptical rejoinder: "They say that water, and not understanding that he saw ciously fell in love with himself and died : is utter stupidity to imagine that a man vas incapable of distinguishing a man And yet where love exists, utter stupidity 44 ff. Greece 9.31.7, Loeb Classical Library translation. �T'-s £ ■I Psyche and Venus, 1995 44 x 56 Human hubris always annoyed the gods. When Marsyas picked up Athena's pipes and challenged Apollo, "Lord of the Silver Bow, to a musical competition, his reward was a flaying. When Psyche's incomparable beauty caused men to neglect their worship of Venus, the goddess determined to punish the interloper. After all, how could she, whom Paris had pronounced the most beautiful in a contest among goddesses, be surpassed by a mortal! In The Golden Ass, Lucius Apuleius recounts the travails of Psyche. At first, jealous Venus simply instructed Cupid (Eros) to employ one of his mischief-making darts and cause Psyche to fall in love with the most ugly, vile, and miserable man imaginable. But on beholding Psyche, Cupid felt the sting of his own arrow and—ignoring his mother's instructions—took Psyche as his wife. This disobedience further enraged the goddess, who then set upon Psyche three seem­ ingly impossible tasks, of which the last involved descending to Hades to obtain some of Proserpina's beauty. Then—having paid Charon twice for ferrying her across the River Styx and back, having thrown both sops to Cerberus, the three-headed guardian hound of hell, and indeed having returned to the world of the living—Psyche, against all advice, opened the box she bore. Instantly, she was overcome by deep and deathlike sleep, and remained so until Cupid finally awoke her. The story, much abbreviated here, has long inspired artists. Among paintings, the classic rendering is Raphael's on the ceiling 36 and spandrels of the Villa Farnesina loggia. The scene that Schmidt depicts of Psyche sleeping while Venus watches, however, does not correspond exactly to any in Apuleius or by Raphael. The conflict and its outcome are well expressed in the underlying abstract design of Schmidt's painting. The opposition of the concave arc of Venus's body, suggestive of confidence and sexual openness, with the convex arc of Psyche's back, denotative of self-protection and closeness, implies dominance and subjugation. Psyche is earthbound, not only by sleep but symbolically by the color of her drapery. Venus, the goddess of love, lies on a deep red cloth, the color recalling her attribute, the rose, with a golden yellow cloth wrapped turban-like about her head. Her dominant light tonality further enhances the Triumph of Venus over a broken, dejected, and exhausted Psyche. Venus's triumph, however, is short lived. Distraught, Cupid pleads his case to Jove and secures divine approbation for his marriage to Psyche. Perhaps then the golden cloth heralds a new golden age, when mother-in-law is reconciled with daughter-in-law, when peace returns to the family, and when even the gods can smile on a most unlikely union. One recalls Plato's Phaedrus, where Socrates instructs llissus how love (Eros) gives wings to the soul (Psyche). Here Schmidt prolongs the moment just before the soul awakens by the power of love and takes flight. �1 1 ! loggia. The scene that Schmidt us watches, however, does not is or by Raphael. ell expressed in the underlying The opposition of the concave nfidence and sexual openness, , denotative of self-protection id subjugation. Psyche is 'mbolically by the color of her lies on a deep red cloth, the , with a golden yellow cloth . Her dominant light tonality ms over a broken, dejected, and t lived. Distraught, Cupid livine approbation for his e golden cloth heralds a new econciled with daughter-in-law, id when even the gods can smile Is Plato's Phaedrus, where Eros) gives wings to the soul e moment just before the soul akes flight. i �•sj Seduction of Callisto, 1995 50 x 70 Among the constellations in the nighttime sky, none recalls a more poignant story than Ursa Major. As retold in Ovid's Metamorphoses, Callisto was a woodland nymph whose beauty smote omnipotent Jove. One day, when the sun had passed its apogee, Callisto retired to a secluded spot, known to her, and laying aside her bow and arrows "she took her quiver from her shoulder, unstrung her tough bow, and lay down upon the grassy ground, with her head pillowed on her painted quiver."1 Consumed with passion, Jove approached her after having "put on the features and dress of Diana and ... kissed her lips, not modestly, nor as a maiden kisses."2 In Schmidt's painting, the seduction has begun: Jove, disguised as Diana, gently pulls back a red cloak to expose Callisto's breast. In perfect profile, he stares at what one writer quaintly called the point of her belly, while she covers her eyes against the light that falls from the left. Only his slightly darker skin, which follows an ancient Egyptian convention that men are dark and women light, contra­ dicts what our eyes perceive. The mood is calm; the pace relaxed. We are witnesses to seduction, not rape. That Jove's legs are immersed in water is a small detail that foreshadows Callisto's undoing. Pregnant, she seeks to avoid the bosky baths that Diana so loved: "when the goddess ... came to a cool grove through which a gently murmuring stream flowed over its smooth sands. The place delighted her and she dipped her feet into the water. Delighted too with this, she said to her companions: 'Come, no one is near to see; let us disrobe and bathe us in the 38 brook.' [Callisto] blushed, and, while all the rest obeyed, she only sought excuses for delay. But her companions forced her to comply, and there her shame was openly confessed."3 When Callisto gave birth to Areas, Juno, consort of Jove, flew into a rage, denouncing her as an adulteress whose son would "publish my wrong by his birth, a living witness to my lord's shame."1 In punishment, Juno transformed her into a bear. Callisto spent the next fifteen years wandering the woods, alternately hiding from hunters and from savage beasts, until one day the boy, out hunting "chanced upon his mother, who stopped still at sight of Areas, and seemed like one that recognized him. He shrank back at those unmov­ ing eyes that were fixed forever upon him, and feared he knew not what; and when she tried to come nearer, he was just in the act of piercing her breast with his wound-dealing spear."5 Then Jove "stayed his hand, and together he removed both themselves and the crime, and together caught up through the void in a whirlwind, he set them in the heavens and made them neighbouring stars."6 1. Ovid, Metamorphoses 2: 420ff. All quotations are from the Loeb Classical Library translation. 2. Ibid, 2: 425ff. 3. Ibid., 2: 453ff. 4. Ibid, 2: 472ff. 5. Ibid, 2: 500ff. 6. Ibid, 2: 505ff. �I ■ vhile all the rest obeyed, she only r companions forced her to comply, confessed."3 teas, Juno, consort of Jove, flew into ilteress whose son would "publish vitness to my lord's shame."4 In ter into a bear. Callisto spent the woods, alternately hiding from until one day the boy, out hunting topped still at sight of Areas, and lim. He shrank back at those unmovpon him, and feared he knew not > nearer, he was just in the act of nd-dealing spear."5 Then Jove le removed both themselves and the irough the void in a whirlwind, he le them neighbouring stars."6 j •f 1 11 quotations are from the Loeb Classical 39 �Terpsichore and Erato, 1995 46x58 How different from Courbet's working girls sleeping by the Seine are Terpsichore. Muse of dance and song, and Erato, Muse of lyric and love poetrv? Of their birth in Pieria, Hesiod tells us in the TTtecyctr.. that great Olvmpian Zeus had lain with Mnemosyne i Memory) for nine nights; when a year had passed and the seasons run their cycle, she bore nine daughters, the Muses. Protectoresses of the arts, the Muses frequented Hippocrene on Helicon, Castalian on Parnassus, and other magical springs whose waters possessed powers of inspiration. For company, they kept the lovely Graces, Htmerns (Desire), and Phoebus Apollo. The Muses combine primordial inspiration with the rise of the r.ew anthropocentric Olympian deities. Memory, henceforth, as­ sumes order and discipline, rather than existing in a great chaotic mix. The Muses determine how the past is preserved and under­ stood. Thus Clio eventually came to oversee history, Melpomene tragedy, Thalia comedy, and Urania the heavens. The other sisters concentrate on poetry, whether epic, lyric, pastoral, or love, along with music, song, and dance. When the Muses first appear in Hesiod, Homer's epics had existed in written form for only two centuries. Prior to the eighth century b.c., the Iliad and Odyssey had been transmitted orally from generation to generation for hundreds of years. The birth of the Muses signals the end of the era of memory, 4« the end of the oral epic tradition, and the ascendancy' of the text. The Muses too reflect the beginnings of a new, more personal era, in which a softer lyric genre expressive of more private feelings and moods coexists with the public, heroic epic poem. In the Iliad Homer sings of the final year of a decade-long struggle between aggrieved Greeks and defending Trojans. Although many gods actively partici­ pate in the events on the Ilian plain, Dionysos and Aphrodite appear infrequently. Indeed, when Aphrodite ventures onto the furious battlefield, she suffers a blow from mighty Diomedes and promptly retires from the fray'. But then Aphrodite and Dionysos, gods of love and wine, are more appropriate to Ivric poetrv (although, it should be noted, Aphrodite receives her due in Virgil's great epic poem). Which Muse is which in Schmidt's painting? Characteristically, he avoids depicting the attributes that identify them. Neither viol nor lyre nor harp lies at the side of Terpsichore. No garland of flowers crowns her head. Likewise, Erato has no tambourine or Ivre. and no mischievous potto frolics at her feet. Still, the deep red drapery and open pose suggest the heat of love and by extension Erato. If this conjecture be so, then it must be Terpsichore who, encircled by a bit of golden cloth, begins to stir, to stretch, to wake her sister from a peaceful dream. Unlike Goya’s Sleep of Reason, that of the Muses produces no monsters. �? tradition, and the ascendancy of the text, thebeginnings of a new, more personal era, enre expressive of more private feelings and ■ public, heroic epic poem. In the Iliad Homer a decade-long struggle between aggrieved rojans. Although many gods actively partici’ Ilian plain, Dionysos and Aphrodite appear ren Aphrodite ventures onto the furious blow from mighty Diomedes and promptly t then Aphrodite and Dionysos, gods of love ropriate to lyric poetry (although, it should eives her due in Virgil's great epic poem), i in Schmidt's painting? Characteristically, he ributes that identify them. Neither viol nor side of Terpsichore. No garland of flowers rise, Erato has no tambourine or lyre, and no cs at her feet. Still, the deep red drapery and leaf of love and by extension Erato. If this must be Terpsichore who, encircled by a bit to stir, to stretch, to wake her sister from a Goya's Sleep of Reason, that of the Muses �I Checklist of the Exhibition (Dimensions are given in inches, height precedes width) The Accident, 1969 oil on paper, 1214 x 10 Courtesy of the Artist The Accident, 1969 oil on linen, 50 x 41 Courtesy of the Artist Composition with Fallen Figure, 1969 oil on paper mounted on cardboard, 12 x 11 Courtesy of the Artist Dance, 1969 oil on cardboard, 15 x 20 Courtesy of the Artist Judgment of Paris, 1969 oil on paper, 11 x 1316 Courtesy of the Artist The Philosopher (composition sketch), 1969 oil on paper, 11 x 1614 Courtesy of the Artist The Tempest, 1981-82 oil on linen, 24 x 36 Collection of David B. Wolf Workers (square), 1974 oil on board, 816 x 816 Collection of Thomas Cornell Destruction of a City (small version), 1980 oil on linen, 18 x 27 Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Workers (vertical), 1975 oil on masonite, 1014 x 7 Collection of Thomas Cornell Family at Rest (Flight into Egypt), 1980 oil on masonite, 1014 x 19 Collection of Mary Salstrom and Brent M. Porter Departure, 1981-82 oil on linen, 40 x 50 Innes Collection Figures in a Forest, 1981-82 oil on linen, 36 x 60 Innes Collection Dies Irae—Destruction of a City, 1982 oil on linen, 36 x 48 Private Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Rape of Persephone, 1982 oil on linen, 51 x 67 Collection of Mark and Lisa Helprin The Shepherd's Dream, 1989 oil on linen, 50 x 60 Private Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco 43 �Conversation by the Sea, 1991 oil on linen, 43H x 56 Private Collection Courtesv of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Nereids, 1991 oil on linen, 40 x 50 Fredric Goldstein Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Drwids, 1993 oil on linen, 50 x 52 Tracv Freedman Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Nocturne, 1993 oil on linen, 4114 x 6414 Collection of Mr. and Mrs. David Berelson Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco 44 Edward Schmidt Ariadne, 1994 oil on linen, 50 x 65 Courtesy of the Artist Demeter and Persephone, 1994 oil on linen, 50 x 60 Collection of Mariano and Celia Pacheco Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Echo, 1995 oil on linen, 50 x 60 Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Psyche and Venus, 1995 oil on linen, 44 x 56 Collection of Henry and Amanda Vandeveer Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Seduction of Callisto, 1995 oil on linen, 50 x 70 Collection of Mark Lupke Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco EDUCATION SOL( 1978 2000 Atelier 17, Paris (Studied with S. W. Hayter) 1972-74 M.F.A., Brooklyn College, Brooklyn, New York "Drai Oe: "Edw Art Wil 1998 Terpsichore and Erato, 1995 oil on linen, 46 x 58 Private Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco 1967-68 Oreads, 2000 oil on linen, 42 x 84 Courtesy of the Artist 1966—71 Hamadryads at Rest, 2000 oil on linen, 50 x 74 Courtesy of the Artist 1964-71 Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris "Figu Gal 1967 1997 Skowhegan School of Painting, Maine "Drat Phi The Art Students League, New York City (Studied with Robert Beverly Hale) B.F.A., Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, New York (Honors) 1962—63 1995 "Rece Gal 1993 "Rece rar Ecole Internationale, Geneva, Switzerland 1992 Boni: Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1946 "Worl Ne’ �I Edward Schmidt I i EDUCATION Seduction of Callisto, 1995 oil on linen, 50 x 70 Collection of Mark Lupke Courtesv of Hackett-Freedman Gallery; San Francisco 1978 2000 Atelier 17, Paris (Studied with S. W. Hayter) 1991 "Drawings & Works on Paper," Marguerite Oestreicher Fine Arts, New Orleans Edward Schmidt: Mythologies," Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania New York Academy of Art, New York City 1972-74 M.F.A., Brooklyn College, Brooklyn, New York 1998 a Pacheco Gallery; Gallery, a Vandeveer Gallery, Terpsichore and Erato, 1995 oil on linen, 46 x 58 Private Collection Courtesy of Hackett-Freedman Gallery, San Francisco Oreads, 2000 oil on linen, 42 x 84 Courtesy of the Artist Hamadryads at Rest, 2000 oil on linen, 50 x 74 Courtesy of the Artist I SOLO EXHIBITIONS 1967-68 Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris "Figures & Landscapes," Lizan-Tops Gallery, East Hampton, New York 1967 1997 Skowhegan School of Painting, Maine "Drawings & Paintings," The More Gallery, Philadelphia 1966-71 The Art Students League, New York City (Studied with Robert Beverly Hale) 1995 "Recent Paintings," Contemporary Realist Gallery, San Francisco 1990 "Muses of Music—Paintings for Riverbend," Gallery West, Suffolk County Community College, Brentwood, New York 1988 "Drawings & Paintings," Brooklyn College of Art, Brooklyn, New York 1983 "Drawings," Temple University' Tyler School of Art in Rome, Italy 1982 Robert Schoelkopf Gallery' New York City 1964-71 B.F.A., Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, New York (Honors) 1993 "Recent Paintings & Drawings," Contempo­ rary Realist Gallery, San Francisco 1962-63 Ecole Internationale, Geneva, Switzerland Bom: Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1946 1992 "Works on Paper," Stiebel Modern, New York City 1980 "Images & Ideas," Bayly Art Museum, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Virginia Salve Regina Gallery, Catholic University, Washington, D.C. �Museum, Charleston, South Carolina (traveling exhibition) "Chateaux Bordeaux," Palais de Beaulieu, Lausanne, Switzerland 1989 Suffolk County Community College, Brentwood, New York 1998 s'. "The Artist as Subject," The Art Students League, New York City "Mural Projects—The National Society of Mural Painters," The Art Students League, New York City 1997 "10th Anniversary Exhibition," HackettFreedman Gallery, San Francisco "Contemporary Drawing," Shasta College Art Gallery; Redding, California "The Derriere Garde," The Kitchen, New York City' "Re-presenting Representation III," Arnot Art Museum, Elmira, New York "Instructor Exhibition," The Art Students League, New York City 46 Edward Schmidt 1995 "Eight Artists: Eight Views of the Figure," Koplin Gallery, Santa Monica, California "NYAA Graduate Faculty Exhibition," Plaza Gallery, Fordham College, New York City 1994 "Centennial Banners," The American Acad­ emy in Rome, Italy "Gallery Artists," Stiebel Modern, New York City "Parallax Views," Koplin Gallery, Santa Monica, California "Art Miami," Contemporary Realist Gallery at the Miami Convention Center, Florida 1993 "Drawing on the Figure," Carlsten Art Gallery, University of Wisconsin, Stevens Point 1992 "New American Figure Painting," Contem­ porary Realist Gallery, San Francisco (traveled to Rudolph E. Lee Gallery, Clemson University, Clemson, South Carolina) 1991-92 "Artists from the Contemporary Realist Gallery, San Francisco," New York Academy of Art, New York City "The Modern Pastoral," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City Union League Club, New York City "Drawing: Points of View," Belk Art Gallery, Western Carolina University, Cullowhee, North Carolina "Design U.S.A.," United States Information Service, Moscow, USSR (traveling exhibi­ tion) 1988 "Works on Paper," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Chateaux Bordeaux," Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris (traveling exhibition) 1987 1991 "Gallery Artists," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City 1990 "Figure," Contemporary Realist Gallery, San Francisco "The Italian Tradition in Contemporary Landscape Painting 1960-90," Gibbes "Storytellers," Contemporary Realist Gallery, San Francisco Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Modem Myths: Classical Renewal," Boise Gallery' of Art, Idaho (traveling exhibition) "Studies from Life: Paintings by Contempo­ rary Artists," Bayly Art Museum, Univer­ sity of Virginia, Charlottesville 1986 "Short S Penn "Michaf Solwc "Figure Galle 1985 "Art &. Pega; Muse "Michai Colla York "Artists labor Cleve 1984 "Clos P Univ Prine Robert "Figura Phila "Instru Leag 1983 Americ �'4I ’ z. ■? A 5 of Figuration: Selections From the fork Academy of Art," Contempoealist Gallery, San Francisco igs by American Artists," Contemr Realist Gallery, San Francisco gs III," Koplin Gallery, Monica, California " Contemporary Realist Gallery at s Angeles Convention Center, igeles nerican Figure Painting," ContemRealist Gallery, San Francisco ed to Rudolph E. Lee Gallery, m University, Clemson, Carolina) rom the Contemporary Realist ', San Francisco," New York ny of Art, New York City Museum, Charleston, South Carolina (traveling exhibition) "Chateaux Bordeaux," Palais de Beaulieu, Lausanne, Switzerland 1989 "The Modem Pastoral," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City Union League Club, New York City "Drawing: Points of View," Belk Art Gallery, Western Carolina University, Cullowhee, North Carolina "Design U.S.A.," United States Information Service, Moscow, USSR (traveling exhibi­ tion) 1988 "Works on Paper," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Chateaux Bordeaux," Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris (traveling exhibition) 1987 Artists," Robert Schoelkopf ' New York City Contemporary Realist Gallery, mcisco an Tradition in Contemporary ape Painting 1960—90,' Gibbes "Storytellers," Contemporary Realist Gallery, San Francisco Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Modem Myths: Classical Renewed," Boise Gallery of Art, Idaho (traveling exhibition) "Studies from Life: Paintings by Contempo­ rary Artists," Bayly Art Museum, Univer­ sity of Virginia, Charlottesville 1986 Short Stories—Narrative Painting," One Penn Plaza, New York City "Michael Graves & Edward Schmidt," Carl Solway Gallery, Cincinnati "Figure in Architecture," John Nichols Gallery, New York City 1985 "Art & Architecture & Landscape, The Clos Pegase Competition," San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, San Francisco "Michael Graves/Edward Schmidt: A Collaboration," Academy Gallery, New York Academy of Art, New York City "Artists & Architects: Challenges in Col­ laboration," Contemporary Arts Center, Cleveland 1984 "Clos Pegase Winery Designs," Princeton University School of Architecture, Princeton, New Jersey Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Figurative Drawings," The More Gallery, Philadelphia "Instructors Exhibition," The Art Students League, New York City 1983 American Studies Center, Naples, Italy "Alumni Exhibition," Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, New York "Prix de Rome Fellows," The American Academy in Rome, Italy Grand Central Gallery, New York City Academy Gallery, New York Academy of Art, New York City "Realistic Directions," Zoller Gallery, Pennsylvania State University, University Park •■'i A 1982 "Contemporary Arcadian Painting," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City "Juried Biennial Exhibition," National Academy of Design, New York City First Street Gallery, New York City "Casts and Cast Drawings," Bayly Art Museum, University of Virginia, Charlottesville "A Painter's Appreciation of Realism," Williams Proctor Institute, Utica, New York Albright-Knox Gallery, Buffalo, New York "Art on Paper," Weatherspoon Gallery, University of North Carolina, Greensboro 1981 "Contemporary Figure Drawings," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City Mythologies 47 �•• -.i- ■ I >979 "Huit Voyages a Ners," Musee de la Grande Combe, Ales, France "Toward a Renewal of Classicism," Tatistcheff and Co., New York City Bayly Art Museum, Charlottesville, Virginia 1978 "Mural Projects for New York," Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace Museum, New York City "Metaphor in Painting," Federal Memorial National Hall, New York City ■ I IJ I I i >977 "Art on Paper," Weatherspoon Gallery, University of North Carolina, Greensboro Mount Saint Vincent University Art Gallery, Halifax, Nova Scotia Bayly Art Museum, University of Virginia, Charlottesville >975 "Annual Invitation," First Street Gallery, New York City "New Talent," Robert Schoelkopf Gallery, New York City The Residence, Pratt Institute, Ners, France 1974 "Annual Invitation," First Street Gallery, New York City 48 Ii 1 Edward Schmidt >973 "Annual Invitation,” I 11.1 Street Gallery. New York City "Drawings,” Viterbo College Ari Gallery. 1 aCrosse. Wisconsin M U R A t C O M MIS S10 N S >989 I 1 her 1 foils*-, ' HONORS, (.RAN I Pratt Manhattan Art Center < iallery. NewYork( it. >97° Brooklyn Museum of Art, Bmol.h n. Nev. 'mrl "The Representational Spirit,' Univ.-rsilv Art Gallery, SUNY, Albany, New York 1968 Le Salon National des Beaux Art-.. Pan SELECTED PUBLIC COLL1X I IONS Arkansas Art Center, Little Rock Bayly Art Museum, University of Virginia. Charlottesville The American Academy, Rome, Italy The National Academy of I tesign, New York Citv The Elizabeth Greenshields Memorial Foundation, Montreal Crown .America Corporation, Johnstown, Pennsylvania i'ork < it . Quantum Corporation. N<-w Award 111 P New Y01 k < il, y . Cm. >9®7 l<J7fe Art! 1 Grae 11)9<> Nati<ii 1 il * >< xietyof Mm >11'nni,., . I Intel Giorgio, 16-n*. er I 1 mural.; 1994 >985 Al II'.f■. < •! .11 II, A 1 li >• Irafalgar 1 Ion , New York ( it-, <Ki.hn Peder ert I ov. Arihitix!’.) •984 Cm* mn.iti Symphony 1 tra Pax ilion, Cincinnati, (Mi* had Grave.. Art hitixtj Alwyn Court l andmark Butldm New York City >977 Ahgr.i industri •9*3 l‘|r* lie 16,r Academ* H)<)8 19HH >972 G \RDS I >.fh.-I ( . ttlub I emulation, ! ho a \ ( i‘7 *99'» AfA Honor. Av- rdf..-' t ■, pi ,■■■ ■ Wmt 1 •; ( ollaboi.ilmn (with Mi- heel Crave 1 1972 Artist , Gr, I oundati MI I ( ff '985 Competition Win loi < >974 f J Brookjyi . P ) rd ■■ I ). sign < oil-.txir.it 1 . 1 r .1 I a o Mu ..-urn of Modern Art Visual J eilov. ship <.rant,.'. ition.il Endow­ ment for the Arts, Wa-iiingtoii, D.C >984 So; iety of 1 >-lit, . ., I hr American Academy in Rome, New York City Artist'-. Grant, Ingram Merrill f ounda.. New York City Bratt, Phyll lurv.” 7/;. Bresson, ,M Paint," I '■ ■■' i > ■, San I ran Gallery, Campbell, Schoelko 19S3). Ch : Interior h 1988. �AL COMMISSIONS House, New York City am Corporation, New York Citv Siorgio, Denver (4 murals) ar House, New York City (Kohn ■rsen Fox, Architects) HONORS, GRANTS, & AWARDS 1983 199s Prix de Rome Fellowship, The American Academy in Rome, Italy Award in Painting, Arthur Ross Foundation, New York City 1976 1996 Artist Grant, Change, Inc., New York City National Society of Mural Painters 1974 Graduate Fellowship, Brooklyn College, Brooklyn, New York 1994 Artist's Grant, Adolph and Esther Gottlieb Foundation, New York City 1990 1972 Artist's Grant, Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation, Montreal ALA Honors Award for Clos Pegase Winery Collaboration (with Michael Graves) nati Svmphony Orchestra Pavilion, innati, (Michael Graves, Architect) Court Landmark Building, York City Industries, New York City (2 murals) SELECTED LITERATURE 1985 Competition Winner (with Michael Graves) for Gos Pegase Winery, Architect—Artist Design Collaboration, San Francisco Museum of Modem Art Visual Fellowship Grant, National Endow­ ment for the Arts, Washington, D.C. 1984 Society of Fellows, The American Academy in Rome, New York City Artist's Grant, Ingram Merrill Foundation, New York City Braff, Phyllis. "Classicism in the 20th Cen­ tury," The New York Times (October 20,1997). Bresson, Michael. "Telling Stories with Paint," The New York Times (July 25,1986). Bolt, Thomas. New American Figure Painting. San Francisco: Contemporary Realist Gallery, 1992. Campbell, Lawrence. "Edward Schmidt at Schoelkopf," Art in America (February 1983). Cass, Caroline. Grand Illusions—Contemporary Interior Murals. London: Phaidon Press, 1988. Clubbe, John. Cincinnati Observed: Architec­ ture and History. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1993. Cohen, Ronny H. "The Symbolist Renewal," Drawing (September-October 1985). Cooper, James F. "Contemporary Artist Linked to 17th Century French Painting," Weekend World (June 11,1982). Delman, Frederic E. "Au Clos Pegase," Gazette des Beaux Arts (January 1985). Filler, Martin, and Helen Fried. Art & Architecture & Landscape: The Clos Pegase Design Competition. San Francisco: San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 1985. Fort, Ilene Susan. "Contemporary Arcadian Painting," Arts Magazine (February 1983). Godfrey, Robert. "Art Exhibitions Say As Much about Curators As Artists," Asheville Citizen-Times (January 24,1989). Goldberger, Paul. "Too Much Italian Flavor in a California Winery," The New York Times (October 11,1987). Gordon, Douglas E. "AIA Corporate Honor Award, Clos Pegase Winery," Architecture (March 1990). Grand, Stanley I. Drawing on the Figure. Stevens Point, Wisconsin: Carlsten Art Gallery, University of Wisconsin, 1993. --------- . Edward Schmidt: Mythologies. WilkesBarre, Pennsylvania: Sordoni Art Gallery, Wilkes University, 2000. Mythologies 49 �Helprin, Mark. "In Appreciation of Edward Schmidt," Edward Schmidt. San Francisco: Contemporary Realist Gallery, 1993. —----- . "The Arcadian Lyricism of Edward Schmidt," American Arts Quarterly (Spring 1993). Hollander, John. The Italian Tradition in Contemporary Landscape Painting, 1960-90. Charleston, South Carolina: Gibbes Museum, 1990. Jencks, Charles. Post-Modernism: The New Classicism in Art and Architecture. London: Academy Editions, 1987. --------- . I Mia* Is Post-Modernism? London: Academy Editions; New York: St. Martin's Press, 1986. Kaufman, Jason. "Academy of the Future," American Arts Quarterly (Spring 1988). Kohn, Benjamin. The Centennial Directory of The American Academy in Rome. New York: The American Academy in Rome, 1995. Ligare, David. "Premodernism," Artweek (August 19, 1993). 50 Edward Schmidt --------- . Art Today. London: Phaidon Press, 1995. Merkel, Jayne. Michael Graves and the Riverbend Music Center. Cincinnati, Ohio: Contemporary Art Center, 1987. O'Hern, John D. Re-presenting Representation III. Elmira, New York: Arnot Art Mu­ seum, 1998. Perl, Jed. "How Simple Everything Could Be," The New Criterion (May 1989). --------- . "Still Life Painting Today," ACM: The Journal of Artists' Choice Museum (Fall 1982). --------- . "Life of the Object," Arts Magazine (December 1977). Phillips, Patricia C. "Figure in Architecture: Michael Graves, Edward Schmidt, Ray­ mond Kaskey," Artforum (March 1986). Rosenthal, Deborah. "Metaphor in Painting: The Struggle for a Tradition," Arts Magazine (June 1978). Russotto, Ellen Romano. The Representational Spirit. Albany, New York: University Art Gallery, SUNY Albany, 1970. Stabler, Wendy. "Mural Painting," Interiors (September 1985). Stanger, Karen. "Edward Schmidt: Images of Arcadia," American Artist (December 1993). Tapley, George M., Jr. "The Arcadian Ethos in Contemporary Painting," Arts Maga­ zine (February 1983). Taylor, Julie. "That's Italian," The Designer (January 1989). Thorton, Gene. "In Praise of Academic Drawing," American Artist (December 1982). Who's Who in American Art, 20th Edition. New Providence, New Jersey: R. R. Bowker, 1994. Wolfe, Tom. "The New Radicals in the Fine Arts," American Arts Quarterly (Fall 1990). Woodbridge, Sally. "The Mountain of Pegasus," Progressive Architecture (Decem­ ber 1984). EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS AD Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Bon Free SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Funding for this exhibition and catalogue is provided by the Commonwealth of Penn­ sylvania through grants administered by the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, a state agency funded by the Pennsylvania General Assembly, and the National Endowment for the Arts, a federal agency. Chr Mai Virj Star Rob Mai Keil J.M Mel The Ker Hai Arr Ch; Sus Wil Hel An Sar Mil Joe �hwartz, J. P. Artists & Architects, Challen'gt’s in Collaborations. San Francisco: San Francisco Museum of Modem Art, 19S5. nith, James E. American Ethos in Contemporary Drawing, Drawing Points of View. Cullowhee. North Carolina: Belk Art Gallery, Western Carolina University, 1989. abler, Wendy. "Mural Painting," Interiors (September 1985). anger, Karen. "Edward Schmidt: Images of Arcadia," American Artist (December 1993). pley, George M., Jr. "The Arcadian Ethos in Contemporary Painting," Arts Maga­ zine (February 1983). ylor, Julie. "That's Italian," The Designer (January 1989). torton, Gene. "In Praise of Academic Drawing," American Artist (December 1982). ho's Who in American Art, 20th Edition. New Providence, New Jersey: R. RBowker, 1994. olfe, Tom. "The New Radicals in the Fine Arts," American Arts Quarterly (Fall 1990). oodbridge, Sally. "The Mountain of Pegasus," Progressive Architecture (Decem­ ber 1984). EXHIBITION UNDERWRITERS ADVISORY COMMISSION STAFF Friends of the Sordoni Art Gallery M & T Bank Maslow Lumia Bartorillo Advertising Pennsylvania Council on the Arts The John Sloan Memorial Foundation, Inc. Andrew J. Sordoni, III Wilkes University Bonnie C. Bedford, Ph.D. Freddie Bittenbender Christopher N. Breiseth, Ph.D. Marion M. Conyngham Virginia C. Davis, Chair Stanley I Grand, Ph.D. Robert J. Heaman, Ph.D. Mary Jane Henry Keith A. Hunter, Esq. J. Michael Lennon, Ph.D. Melanie Maslow Lumia Theo Lumia Kenneth Marquis Hank O'Neal Arnold Rifkin Charles A. Shaffer, Esq. Susan Adams Shoemaker, Esq. William Shull Helen Farr Sloan Andrew J. Sordoni, III Sanford B. Sternlieb, M.D. Mindi Thalenfeld Joel Zitofsky Stanley I Grand, Ph.D., Director Nancy L. Grand, Coordinator Earl W. Lehman, Preparator SPONSORS The Business Council CBI-Creative Business Interiors Marquis Art and Frame PNC Bank, NA Panzitta Enterprises, Inc. Funding for this exhibition and catalogue is provided by the Commonwealth of Penn­ sylvania through grants administered by the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, a state agency' funded by the Pennsylvania General Assembly, and the National Endowment for the Arts, a federal agency. I i •A Gallery Attendants Deidre Blake Peter Czwalina Natalee Felten Marcy Fritz Jill Klicka Christopher Rehmann Casey Williams 1 - 51 ��^--•■ .. s <?is5 g *.•'ib^, V- d ■ ItA^feas « ■ *1^1/’-‘T & � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 2000 February 20 Edward Schmidt: Mythologies Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Edward Schmidt Stanley I. Grand Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2000 February 20 - March 26 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Edward Schmidt's Mythologies prsesnt an oblique, cultured, yet modern way of looking at reality. Informed by erudition, drawing inspiration from classical tradition, and paying frequent tribute to Old Masters, Schmidt's paitnings conjure up an anachronistic, literally timeless, reality in which the past and present simultaneously exist. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Edward Schmidt old masters painting painter mythology Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/ed4855a99076ad69df69b2b5107b4c8f.pdf 239c62c26b21d6d2cf82057342d0ba01 PDF Text Text Tiains That Passed in the Night The Railroad Photographs of O. Winston Link AN ExrmmoN oRGANTZED BY Srmroox Mruonrer Anr Genrny exl Scurprunr GenoBN Uxnrrnsrry or NTSRAsKA-LTNCoLN FoR TRAVEL THRouGHour rm UNrreD Srerrs, 1998-2000 Thomas H. Garver Guest Curator / January 7- March 22, 1998 Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery Lincoln Nebraska April 21- Jane 21.,1998 Virginia Museum of Transportation, Roanoke, Mrginia Jriy 21.- September 20,'1,998 / Virginia Historical Sociery Richmond, Mrginia October 20- December 20,7998 Huntington Museum of Art, Huntington, 'West Virginia January 1.2- March 1.4, 1.999 / Art Museum of South Texas, Corpus Christi, Texas April 13- June 13, L999 Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio July 13- September 1,9, 1999 Gibbes Museum of Art, Charleston, South Carolina October 15- November 26, 1,999 Cantor-Fitzgerald Gallery Haverford, Pennsylvania January 11- March 1.2,2000 New York State Museum, Albany, New York April 18- June 18, 2000 Sordoni Art Gallery, rJflilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania August 20- November 5,2000 Stanford Museum of Art, Stanford, California / / I / / / / I !mrllmI f,rr" Jl' -E^..*I-, ^ 12*tmdRStleetUnimityof o rP. P"^*J$ "r, N€bmsk&Linol&6858&mm �The Photographs of O. Winston Link inston Link was a young practitioner of an old photographic tradition, one still much used, but which now colrlmands little public notice. He developed a strong personal style within the technique of using cameras that were usually fixed in place, mounted on heavy tripods and using large negatives, typically 4 x 5 inches in size. The dynamic qualities of photographs made this way came through their careful planning: the precise placement of the camera, and equally careful placement of the lighting sources, with people and objects also being arranged with an eye for the final effect. Photographs using this technique were (and still are) made by the millions for advertising and illustrative purposes. \X4rile this manner of photography is still widely used, we have come more often to think of photographic "truth" through another aesthetic, one created by photographers using small hand held cameras. Sometimes described by the generic term "street photography," photographers who work in this way usually move rapidly and invisibly through their surroundings, making images using only the light available and leaving the environment untouched and unchanged. Not only did \Winston Link use a different photographic technique, his motivations were different from street photographers. His interest, in all his work, was to create as precise and careful a record as possible of the scene being photographed. Using lessons he learned from his commercial advertising photography, Link had less interest in documenting life as he found it than in creating images of life as he (or his clients) might wish it to be. Thus in his railroad photos, Link built a record that not only documented the locomotives and trains themselves, but emphasized the benefits of the railroad to the life of the communities through which it passed. He was, in his way, preparing and executing an advertising campaign for the "American Sream Railroad," and the good life in the United States which it ,upport.d. In many of his photographs, the passing train is incidental to the activity in the foieground, be it buying groceries, taking a swim or herding cows. Yet, even in the background, the steam railroad was still the essential element which stitched together'$Tinston Link's personal vision of this good life in America' Sometimes the Electricity Fails, Vesuvius, Virginia, 1956 �O. Winston Link and the Norfolk and Western Railway inston Link has loved railroads for just about as long as he can remember. As a teenager, he and his friends would take the subrvay from Brooklyn to Manhattan and cross the Hudson on a ferr,v to spend the day in the Jersey Central or Baltimore & Ohio railyards in New Jersey. He photographed the railroads then, and continued to do so during the early part of his professional photographic career, but just for pleasure. Gradually, however, Link realized that the steam locomotive was disappearing, and with it a network of railroad towns and repair shops which it supported. Also disappearing was a quality of life that he saw as a personalized relationship benveen the railroads, their employees and the powerful but very labor intensive steam locomotives. The desire to preserve a record of this time and these places was the basis of the motivation that gave him the energy to create a visual document of a whole manner of life that was fast disappearing. It was a massive private undertaking, financed entirely by the photographer, that resulted in the creation of a five year long cycle of photos of the last years 'West of steam railroading on the Norfolk and \Testern Railway (N&\7) in Virginia, Virginia and North Carolina. N&\7 was the last major American railroad to operate exclusively with The N&W (since merged with the Virginian Railroad and the Southern By 1955, the sream power. Railroad and now known as Norfolk Southern) was one of the country's major coal haulers, moving coal from the mines in'West Virginia east to Norfolk, Virginia, for ocean shipment up and down the coast and overseas) and west to users in the Midwest. The railroad was true to its major customers, but the steam locomotive is a hugely labor intensive machine, and despite the cheap fuel available, parts were becoming scarce and by the mid1950s it was clear that its days were numbered. Early in 1955 Y/inston Link was sent to Virginia on assignment, and he took the opportunity to watch N6C\ff/ steam trains at'Waynesboro, nearby. After one night of watching, he activated an idea which had been a fantasy in his mind for more than a decade. He would photograph the railroad at night, using flashbulbs synchronized to the camera's shutter. This way he would be able to stop or slow the motion of the train, while being able to control the light on his subject, just as a cinematographer controls light, to emphasize certain areas while making distracting elements disappear. He went back to Waynesboro the next night, January 21., andtried his ideas by photographing an arriving passenger train. They worked perfectly. Link approached the management of the N&'!7 with a proposal. He asked for no compensation, but wanted permission to enter onto railroad property to make photos. The president of the N&IX/ at rhe time, R. B. Smith, had been with the railroad more than 40 years and loved his steam locomotives. The N6cW responded positively and in March, 'S7inston Link made the first of at least 20 trips to the N&S7 to begin the project 1955, which continued until March, 1960, just a few weeks before the N&'S7 terminated all sream operations. He financed the entire five year cycle of photographs from the profits of his successful photographic practice, and recovered almost none of his expenses until his work began to be exhibited and collected in the early 1980s. Link began his task by spending the first year photographing along the railroad's right of way or in its shops and yards. He worked mostly at night, but photographed in daylight as well, primarily along the railroad's mountainous Abingdon Branch, a 55 mile spur that ran 'West one rrain a day, six days a week, from Abingdon, Virginia to Jefferson, North Carolina. He perfected his flash equipment during this time and in its final form this flash power supply could fire 60 flash bulbs synchronized to the shutters of up to three cameras in an instantaneous blaze of light equal to 50,000 watts of illumination. He also spent days traveling on the railroad's passenger trains, watching for possible photo sites from each side of the train. Maps and suggestions from railroad men also provided leads for good spots to photograph. As he came to know the railroad, its often rugged environment and the colorful people who worked for the road or lived along it, Link expanded his vision. In many of the pho- �tos he made beginning in 1956. the trains became the background to the life lived along the tracks. Whether chatting quietlr, pumping gas or going to the drive-in, the train was always there. He also returned to the Abingdon Branch that r-ear to create some of his most memorable photos made during davlight hours. By 1957,steam had been removed from several divisions of the railroad, and Linkconcentrated on recording the splendid J class streamlined passenger engines before they were withdrawn from service on most runs. B,v 1958 steam u,as regularly found only in the western end of the N&\X/, working in the coal fields of Vest Virgini a. By 1,959 there was not much steam left, and \Tinston Link again concentrated on rhe engines themselves, so soon to be gone, bur this time photographing them in a more expressionisric way, trying to record in static images some sense of that incredible surge of flailing, ground shaking energy as these engines, some weighing upwards of one million pounds, thundered past in the dark. sr=! ,;.f ( t.l.,F r {<, Hawksbill Creek Swimming Hole, Luray, Virginia, 1956 (i I �O. Winston Link and History ne lesson \Tinston Link learned from his father was how to tell a good story. His skills at weaving a tale were transposed into his photographic vision as well. He was able to see an image in his mind that would exist in reality only for the split second it took for the flashbulbs to ignite and record the event on film. He often worked in all but perfect blackness, on occasion spending days to make a single photo-all for the benefit of adding a page or chapter to his story of this steam railroad. While he loved railroads, Link never considered himself to be a "rallfan." He didn't travel around the country to visit railroads, nor was he interested in making static photos 'lfhen he was shown such photos, he dismissed of as many steam engines as he could find. them as "hardware shots," because the locomotives were no longer in their normal environment of their life on the tracks or along the line. Like a good story teller, Link was also willing to wait until his audience was ready for the tale. He made little effort to have his railroad work seen, beyond publication of a few photos reproduced in railroad magazines, until the mid-1970s, and it was not until 1983, almost thirty years after he started the project, that these photographs received their first museum exhibition. Since that time they have been widely exhibited and published, and many people who otherwise would have no interest in photographs of railroads have warmly responded to them. The reason for their wide appeal must lie in the breadth of the project's conception, and in the care taken in its execution. These photographs are period pieces, bits of another time and place, but they are also images created with deep respect for the people photographed, the places where they iived and worked, and the splendid machines they operated. T. H. G. Maud Bows to the Virginia Creeper on the Ahingdon Branch, Green Cove, Virginia, 1956 �O. Winston Link Winston Link was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1.9L4, the son of a school teacher. Early on, Link showed an aptitude for technology, and his father, a demanding man but a good instructor, introduced him to a variety of options. The elder link trained his son to handle tools well and encouraged his interest in photography. It was at this time that he also developed an interest in steam railroading which was to remain with him for life. Link attended the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn, where he was a good student and a popular one, being particularly well known for his practical jokes. He graduated in 1,937 with a degree in civil engineering, but photographrwas to claim him before engineering could. Engineering jobs were scarce in Depression America, but Link was offered a position as photographer for a large public relations firm. His job was to make photos for his clienrc which were submitted for free use in newspapers and magazines. The photos had to carn' the clients' messages, and do it with such cleverness and wit, or be so unusual, that photo editors couldn't resist using them. In this job he learned to use people to animate his pictures, and how to give them both compositional "punch" and the vivacin' editors rvanted. '!7ith the onset of World \\ar [. Link used both his engineering and photographic skills as a photographer and researcher for a secret militanproject, designing and building der-ices to detect submerged eneml-submarines from airplanes flring orerhead. The research laboraton'rvas located in Long Island. adiacent to rhe tracks of the Long Island Rail Road which was porvered br- steam ar that point. Link reneu'ed an interest in steam locomotives and railroads that had been all but dormant tbr some years, and began to phorograph them. In 1,945, with the end of the s'ar. he chose to become an independenr tree lance photographer and opened hi> own photographic studio. tirsr in Brooklyn and later in \Ianhaman. His clients included manl' major ^\merican companies and leading adr-errising agencies who called him s'hen therneeded a photographer with a knowledge of large cameras and complex lighting serup":. It was during this time, from January, 1955 to March, 1960, that he created the da-umenra'Western Railrvar'. He rerired tion of the last years of steam railroading on the Norfolk & from active practice in 1983, and now lives in ITestchester Counry Nerv York. 'Western Railway are documenred in Winston Link's photographs of the Norfolk & two books, Steam, Steel dt Stars, L987, with text by Tim HensleS and Tbe La-<t Steent Railroad in America, 1,995, with text by Thomas H. Garver. Both are published br HarnN. Abrams, Inc., New York, and both are in print. 0. Winston tink (left) and George Thom, and Night Flash Equipment, New York, Cover: Hot Shot Eastbound, laeger, West Virginia, 1956. 1956 �Checklist of the Exhibition Photographs are listed chronologically, with the negative index number following the photo title. Most of the prints in the exhibition are black and white, gelatin silver photographs printed either L6x20 or 20x24 nches in size. Ten color coupler prints printed 16x20 inches are indicated by the "C" or "K" in the negative numbers. AII the prints in the exhibition have been lent ZidegPortola Valley, Califomia. either by the photographer or Cheryl and Robert The title for this exhibition is taken from a video program on O. \Tinston Link created and direaed by Paul Yule, Berwick Universal Pictures, London, England, for presentation on British televisiont Channel Four in 1990, and is used by permission. All photographs in the exhibition and desigrations reproduced here are O O.'STinston Link, and are used by permission. 1. Station Interioq Waynesboro, Virginia, 1955 (N!73) 2. J.W. Dahlhouse Polishes a Headlight, Shaffers 11. J. O. Hayden, Engine Greaser at Bluefield Lubritorium, Bluefield,'West Mrginia, 1955 (N\)f330) Crossing Yard, Roanoke,Mrginia, 1955 (NWB) 12. Y6 Locomotive Moving out of the Wash Bay, Bluefield Yard, Bluefield, West Mrginia, 1955 (N$f342) 3. VashingJ Class Locomotive 605, Shaffers Crossing 4. 13. A Summer Evening With Tiain No. 2, Lithia, Virginia, 1955 (NIf362) 5. Y5 Virginia, 1955 (NW419A) 5. Troy Humphries and a Cracked 15. Locomotive 104 Thking Water, Bristol Roundhouse, Bristol, Virginia, 1955 (N!f612) Yard, Roanoke, Virginia, 1955 (NW13) Filling a Tender with Water, Shaffers Crossing Yard, Roanoke, Virginia, 1955 (N!f14) Locomotive on the Turntable, Shaffers Crossing Yard, Roanoke, Virginia, 1955, (NW28) S7indow, lTaynes- boro Station, rWaynesboro, Virginia, 1955 (N!f32) Locomotive Drive \Wheels, Lubritorium, Bluefield Yard, Bluefield, \X/est Virginia, 1955 (NX786) 8. Abingdon Branch, Ralph lil/hite, Conductor, and 7. Fresh Laundry, Damascus, Virginia 1955 (N$f114) 9. Abingdon Branch, Children at Nella, North Carolina, Wait for Lollipops, 1955 (NI7149) 14. Ghost Train - Freight, Moving'West at Norfolk, 16. R. E. Boother Polishes the Bell, Locomotive 104, Bristol Roundhouse, Bristol, Virginia, 1955 (NW617) 1.7. l. H. Pope Washes Locomotive 104, Bristol Roundhouse, Bristol, Virginia, 1955 (NW620) 18. Abingdon Branch, Train No. 201 Arrives in Alvarado, Virginia, 1955 (Nlf639) 10. Abingdon Branch, Locomotive Taking Water at 19. Abingdon Branch, Train No.202 Passing over Bridge 8, South of Abingdon, Mrginia, 1955, 'West (N!r666) Jefferson, North Carolina, 1955 (N!7152) A Class Locomotive and Fast Freight on a Foggy Day, Blue Ridge, Bonsack, Virginia,1959 �20. Abingdon Branch, Tiain No. 202 Crossing Keller's Field at Harvest Time, Watauga, VA, 1955 (N!(/573) 5.[. Locomotive 104 on the Turntable, Bristol Roundhouse, Bristol, Virginia, 1.9 57 (NW 1 372) 52. The Birmingham Special Passes Max Meadows 21. Coaling Locomotives, Shaffers Crossing Yard, Station, Max Meadows, Virginia, 1957 (NW1518) Roanoke, Virginia, 1955 (NW691) 53. The Birmingham Special Gets the Highball at 22. Father and Son Watch Rural Retreat, Virginia, 1957, (N!71635) a Coal Extra, Montgomery Tunnel, Christiansburg, Virginia, 1 955 (NW704) 54. 23. Mrginia, 1957 (NWl537) Hester Fringer's Living Room on rhe Tracks, Lithia, Virginia, 1955 (N!7720) Christmas Time at Bridge 322, Seven-Mile Ford, 24. Norvel 55. Giant Oak and the Birmingham Special, Max Meadows, Mrginia, 1957 (NW1643) 25. Train, Max Meadows, Mrginia, 1957 (NW1648) Ryan and His Son Herd Cows as Train No. 3 Passes, Shawsville, Virginia, 1955 (N$f723) S7inston Link, His Assistant George Thom, and Night Flash Equipment, New York, 1955 (N!7792) 26. Locomotive Backing Past Hager Toweq Hagerstown, Maryland, 1956 (N!7798) 27. Archie Stover, Crossing Guard at Luray, Virginia, 1956 (N$r817) 28. Loray Crossing at 3 AM, Luray, Virginia, 1956 (N!7821) 29. Winston Link and George Thom Making the Photo of Archie Stover, Luray, Virginia, 1955 (NW829) 30. Train No. 2 Arrives at Natural Bridge Station, Natural Bridge, Mrginia, 1956 (N!f873) 31. Train No. 2 and Gooseneck Dam on the Maury River, Near Natural Bridge, Virginia, 1955 (N!7883) 56. The Popes Watch the Last Steam Powered Passenger 57. Uncoupling on the Fly (Six Photo Sequence), Blue tudge Grade, Virginia 1958 N$f1909, N!f1916-1920) 58. Swimming Pool,'Welch, \7est Virginia, 1958 (N!r1963) 59. Main Line on Main Street, North Fork, West Mrginia, 1958 (N!f1955) 60. The Honey Hole: Waiting for the Next Train, Boaz Siding, Vinton, Mrginia, 1958 (NW1977) 61. S1a Switch Engine and its Crew, Shaffers Crossing Yards, Roanoke, Virginia, 1958 (N!71980-93) 62. A Class Locomotive and Freight on a Foggy Day, Blue Ridge, Bonsack, Mrginia, 1958 (NW1998) 63. Contact Sheet. The Cavalier Leaves Williamson, Virginia on a Rainy Day, 1,959 (N\f2018-2029) Tiain No. 2 Passes in the Background, Lithia, Mrginia, 1956 (N'S71081) 'West 33. Hot Shot Eastbound at the Iaeger Drive-In, Iaeger, rVest Vrginia, 1956 (NX71103) 34. Tiain No. 2 on Bridge 425 (Back View), Arcadia, on a Rainy Day,1,959 (NXf2024) 32. The Keith Children Fish as Virginia, 1955 (N!71107) 35. Trairr No. 2 on Bridge 425 (Front View), Arcadia, Virginia, 1956 (N!f1108) 36. Sometimes the Electricity Fails, Vesuvius, 64. The Cavalier Leaves W'illiamson, West Mrginia, 65. A Class Locomotive in a Hurry, Near Bonsack, Virginia, 1959 (NW2128) 66. Coal Extra \Testbound Hauling Empty Hoppers, Near Bonsack, Virginia, 1959 (N!72129) 67. Joe Estis, Fireman on a Y5 Locomotive, Near 'lfilliamson, (N$f2159) West Virginia, 1960 Virginia, 1956 (NW1122) 68. The Second Pigeon, on a Kermit-Bound Mine Run, 37. Hawksbill Creek Swimming Hole, Luray, Virginia, 1955 (NXf1126) Near I7illiamson, West Mrginia, 1,960 (l{W21,771 38. Abingdon Branch, Maud Bows to the Virginia 69. Y6 at the Massey Mine, Near Gilbert, West Mrginia, 1960 (NW2222) Creeper, Green Cove, Virginia, 1955 (N\71230) 39. Abingdon Branch, Train No.201 Leaving Green Cove, Virginia, 1956 (NW1236) 40. Abingdon Branch, Train No.201 Leaving Green Cove, Wginia, Ford Car in Foreground, 1955, (Nlf1238) 41. Abingdon Branch, Folks Wait for the Creeper at the Station, Green Cove, Virginia, 1955 (N!71248) 42. Abingdon Branch, Creeper, Tuckerdale, Joe Dollar'Waits for the North Carolina, 1956 (N\71252) 43. Abingdon Branch, Train No. 202 Arrives Late at Bridge 7, Near \Watauga, Mrginia, 1956 (NSfl1264) Color Photographs 70. The Powhatan Arrow on the Bridge West of Cooper Tunnel, West Mrginia, 1955 (NI75K) 71. Colonna Shipyards at Night, Norfolk, Virginia, 1955 (NW10K) 72. Abingdon Branch, Maud Bows to the Virginia Creeper, Green Cove, Mrginia, 1956 (NW39K) 73. Coal Train Moving Westbound, Montgomery Tunnel, Christiansburg, Virginia, 1956 (N]X/121K) Branch, Train No. 201 Passing by Overlook, South of Damascus, Virginia, 1955 (N$f1291) 74. Two Class A Locomotives Hauling a Coal Extra Eastbound, Blue Ridge Grade,Yirginia, L957 (NW26C) 45. The Meet of N&'S7 Tiain No.2 and B&O Tiain No. 7 at Shenandoah Junction, Maryland, 1957 (NIf1333) 75. Abingdon Branch, Train No. 201 44. Abingdon 45. Ghost Town, Stanley, Virginia at3 AM,1,957 (N'{r1345) 47. The Volunteer Fire Department and Train No.2, Grottoes, Virginia, 1957 (NI71349) 48. Solitude Siding and Train No. 2,Yirginia,1,957 (NW1350) 46. and Train No. 2. Vesuvius, Virginia, 1957 Cloverdale, Virginia, 1957 Crosses a Forked North Carolina, 1957 (Nlf44K) 76. Abingdon Branch, Train No. 201 at Creek Junction, Virginia, 1957 (NW64K) 77. Abingdon Branch, Train No.202 Passing the General Store, HuskAJella, North Carolina, 1.957 (NW7sK) 78. The Pocahontas Eastbound, Blue Ridge Grade, Egg Stove and Bananas, Vesuvius General Store 50. The Lone Star Shifter Stream, Tuckerdale, (N!f1352) Passing the Station, (NIf1359) Virginia, 1958 (N!f34C) 79. Highball for the Double Header, Blue Ridge Grade, Virginia, 1959 (N$f32K) � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 2000 April 18 Trains That Passed in the Night: The Railroad Photographs of O. Winston Links Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource O. Winston Links Thomas H. Garver Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2000 April 18 - June 12 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource Winston Link was a young practitioner of an old photographic tradition, one still much used, but which now commands little public notice. In this exhibition, he uses a different photographic technique to capture life as he might wish it be. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource O. Winston Link train trains photography photos train photography https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/724178dd6791013b5aebddb9d124a166.pdf 3ce65d0b044aa765e96398277ef1e7b1 PDF Text Text �������������������������������������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 2000 September 5 Hank O'Neal Portraits 1971-2000 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Hank O'Neal A.D. Coleman Stanley I. Grand Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2000 September 5 - October 15 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource In this comprehensive exhibition, Hank O'Neal's portrait photography and the endearing stories they tell are on display. Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Hank O'Neal photography photos photographer portraiture https://omeka.wilkes.edu/omeka/files/original/adf90d0e40fc7a40070b4b6e7c06d128.pdf 8efbc7056150a559a3df803c24527ff8 PDF Text Text �������� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Exhibition Programs, 1973-present Description An account of the resource Exhibition programs created by the Sordoni Art Gallery from 1973 to the present. Digitized by Wilkes University Archives interns, Zachary Mendoza and Sophia Kruspha. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The Sordoni Art Gallery Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wilkes University Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The Sordoni Art Gallery Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-present Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Wilkes University retains copyright of these exhibition programs. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition programs, flyers, and calendars. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 2001 January 15 Michael Thomas: Cables Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Michael Thomas Stanley I. Grand William Sterling StanleyI.Grand KarenEvansKaufer Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2001 January 15 - February 25 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Description An account of the resource As a designer, Michael Thomas has chosen to engage in architectural issues primarily through the medium of photgraphy. This choice has allowed him to focus on the essential components of the most practical of the fine arts. This exhibition is a show of his photographic series of architectural structures from around Pennsylvania Type The nature or genre of the resource Exhibition program Subject The topic of the resource Michael Thomas photography photograph architecture Pennsylvania Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource SAG