Showing posts with label Marlene Dumas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marlene Dumas. Show all posts

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

On Reflection: Marlene Dumas, Richard Diebenkorn & Frank Stella




Frank Stella, 'Inflated Star And Wooden Star', Polished & Patinated Aluminium And Teakwood,
2014, (Detail)


Back in May, I spent a day catching up with a couple of major exhibitions in London.  At the time, I was tied up in my own work, and with exhibition preparations, and just never found time to write a blog post about my trip.  In fact, I even felt a little guilty about taking a whole day away from my work at the time.  However, the two shows I attended were both significant retrospectives of work by two painters I rate very highly, namely Richard Diebenkorn and Marlene Dumas.  I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t make the effort.


Royal Academy Of Arts, London, May 2015

Marlene Dumas, 'Jule - The Woman', Oil On Canvas, 1985


It feels too late to revisit either show in detail here now.  Suffice it to say that, in the event, I didn’t regret sacrificing my time (or money) in either of them.  ‘Marlene Dumas: 'The Image As Burden’, at Tate Modern [1.] was a surprisingly badly hung, and somewhat uneven show, but was still full of terrific stuff.  It was a reminder that Dumas is often up there with the best, as regards pushing paint around or distilling a resonant image.  ‘Richard Diebenkorn’, at The Royal Academy [2.] was just a once-in-a-blue-moon chance to catch up for real with the work of an artist I’ve been consistently drawn to, - ever since I first encountered him in my Teens.



Richard Diebenkorn, 'Berkeley #57', Oil On Canvas, 1953


Diebenkorns almost never appear on this side of the Atlantic.  Indeed, for many years, he was a painter whose work I studied longingly, without actually having encountered any hanging on a wall.  I attended the Whitechapel Gallery’s 1991 retrospective with some trepidation therefore, and was delighted to find that the paintings were even more satisfying than any reproduction could have implied.  Since then, I had only seen two or three more during a visit to San Francisco in 2000.  Diebenkorn is, above all, a painter’s painter, and one who demands first-hand engagement, so I was hardly going to forego this second opportunity to see a representative cross-section of his oeuvre.  It proved a conviction that was justified all over again.  Who knows if I’ll ever get another chance in this country?




Anyway, instead of spending too much time discussing exhibitions that have been over for some time, here are some photographs of a work by another, even bigger name American artist, namely Frank Stella.  It detained me for a few minutes on my way into the R.A., making for some striking images in the process.  Stella is an artist whose early, monochrome works have always appealed to me, not least for their austere geometric minimalism, but whose subsequent output seemed sometimes to succumb to the twin demons of bombast or empty decoration.  Perhaps it was always going to be difficult to work out of such sublimely distilled starting point, without appearing to be just adding stuff for the sake of it [3.].


Frank Stella, 'Empress Of India', Metallic Powder & Emulsion On Canvas, 1965

Frank Stella, 'Inflated Star And Wooden Star', Polished & Patinated Aluminium And
Teakwood, 2014 


Judging by his large sculpture, ‘Inflated Star And Wooden Star’ dominating the R.A. forecourt when I visited, he seems to have arrived at the point, late in his career, of producing large, grandiose sculptural statements for public spaces.  I’ll confess to sometimes feeling pretty underwhelmed by this kind of thing, although one must always remember not to get distracted by sheer scale and to judge each piece on it’s individual merits.  For every mirrored, amorphous blob of Anish Kapoor’s somewhat vacuous, international style, there’s a monumental, rusted Serra that still gives me a physical thrill, or a bonkers Oldenberg Pop intervention that makes me smile.




My initial impression was that the Stella might belong in the first category, - even down to its use of high-visual impact, polished metal surfaces.  Despite my reservations, I was soon relishing, and photographing in close-up, the wonderful distorted surface reflections on the larger of its two star forms.  Of particular appeal were the quasi-psychedelic distortions of the R.A.’s Neo-Classical façade, (with all that implies), and the dramatic contrasts and vivid colour afforded by the sublime early summer sunshine.





Having grabbed a few choice shots, I gave ‘IS&WS’ little further thought and moved indoors to immerse myself in Diebenkorn’s far more limpid world, (one that is reflective in a completely different way).  Looking back at the images however, I wonder if I was a little too dismissive of Stella’s efforts.  It seems to me that, in two rather different star forms, he plays with the idea of something having considerable mass, weight and materiality, but simultaneously made of light and gas.  The heavy timber of his smaller star, is essentially just a space frame, - a delineation of a polygonal portion of air, whilst, for all its metallic solidity, its larger partner is purely about the light it reflects.  Each also demonstrates what are essentially just conventions for describing something supremely intangible.  Any star we depict or make, can only ever be a mental construct.




The more I think about it, the more this seems like an intelligent, even philosophical, way to comment on the true nature of stars.  They’re undeniably there, on an astronomical and yet unapproachable scale.  Paradoxically, there’s really no ‘there’ at all, - just a massive concentration of energy we can only interact with in terms of the impression it exerts at a distance.  Cosmic!







[1.]:  'Marlene Dumas: The Image As Burden', Tate Modern, London.  5 February - 10 May, 2015

[2.]:  'Richard Diebenkorn', Royal Academy Of Arts, London.  14 March - 7 June, 2015


[3.]:  Is this something that could be said to have also plagued Jasper Johns’ later output?  Is it better to start out a bit rough and ready and allow increasing refinement to arrive with the passing years?  Is it ever possible, or even desirable, to plan these things anyway?




Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Thinking About Marlene Dumas



Marlene Dumas, 'Evil Is Banal', Oil On Canvas, 1984


As an artist, what Marlene Dumas does is some distance from my own work, (I should be so lucky or accomplished).  Nonetheless, I’m massively impressed by her achievements as a painter.  Like all the medium's best contemporary practitioners, she combines heartfelt emotion with philosophy and psychological insight; explores the relationship between painting and mass-media reproduction; and still fully exploits the sheer plasticity of paint as material.


Marlene Dumas, 'The Painter', Oil On Canvas, 1994



I have a nice coffee-table book [1.] full of Dumas’ work, to which I often turn when I want a reminder of what grown-up painting can do.  Like most such books, it contains relatively objective commentaries on her output, but also includes many of her own intriguing, often oblique writings.  Here’s an example that jumped out at me while browsing through the other day.


Forget  Love and art used to be places where all of this [naming and identification] could be forgotten, disappear, break down.  As Paul Valéry says, seeing is when you forget the name of what you are looking at.  This can be a frightening and alienating experience if you’re an anxious existentialist.  But it could also be a wonderful ego-vanishing sensation – a liberation from prejudice and retrospection.  Why do I draw? To remember or to forget?

First Name  You draw before you can write.  The child’s doubt about what it is he’s doing is not there from the start.  The critical moment for the child and his drawing arises when he writes his name for the first time.  The letters still struggle to represent themselves as autonomous shapes instead of referring to something else.  After that moment, drawing and writing go their own ways.  I don’t long for childhood or innocence lost.  Even though some of the most touching drawings have been made by children, mental patients and prisoners.”  [2.]


Marlene Dumas, 'Young Boys', Oil On Canvas, 1993-94


Although my own current work doesn’t necessarily reflect it, I have sometimes thought that the purest, (if impossible), thing an artist could strive for is to see the world as if for the first time, without knowing what anything is.




[1.]:  Dominic Van Den Bloogerd/Barbara Bloom/Mariucca Casidio/Ilararia Bonacossa, ‘Marlene Dumas’, London, Phaidon Press Ltd, 1999.

[2.]:  Marlene Dumas, ‘Name No Names’ (Extract), Centre Pompidou, Paris, August 2001.  In: Dominic Van Den Bloogerd/Barbara Bloom/Mariucca Casidio/Ilararia Bonacossa, ‘Marlene Dumas’, London, Phaidon Press Ltd, 1999.