Jasper Johns: Painting By Numbers

Jasper Johns, '0 Through 9', Oil on Canvas, 1961, Tate Gallery Collection

Writing the previous post caused me to reflect a little more on the aesthetic/poetic aspects of numbers (or more precisely, 'numerals' - I suppose), in opposition to, or in parallel with, their purely functional aspect.  For all my childhood alienation from the operations of 'number-machines', as experienced through the discipline of mathematics, the intrinsic beauty of  numerals, as visual signs/symbols (or even, more simply - as shapes) cannot be denied. And, just as the combination of individual letters into words, sentences, and whole texts provides an infinitely variable system for explaining experience, so does the sequencing of numbers, and their operations one upon another, supply a means of accounting for it of equally boundless scope. Thus, it becomes impossible not to find oneself drawn into a kind of semiotics of the numerical.

Even the simple ordering of numbers into the standard counting sequence suggests a sense of both expansion and forward motion expanding beyond the simple quantifying of goods or financial beans. Viewed in this manner, we must soon recognise their vital role in rationalising our apprehension of both space and time. This clearly leads, in one direction, towards physics - a realm in which the entirely consistent system of numbers quickly becomes paramount in the service of understanding the universe. However, in another direction, it may just as easily  lead to Philosophy - a field in which strictly striated/gridded structures give way to more rhizomatic conjunctions, and the fraught relationship between quantitive and qualitive world views comes into full focus [1.].

 

Jasper Johns, 'Numbers In Colour', Encaustic & Newspaper on Canvas, 1958-59, 
Albright-Knox Gallery, Buffalo, New York

...Which mostly just makes me think - what a wonderful excuse to revisit the work of Jasper Johns for a brief spell. He is, after all, an artist in whose work the deployment of numerals and numerical sequences as visual motifs, often seems to point to such ideas with far more intrinsic poetry then any stumbling verbal attempt might achieve. For all that one might feel some sorrow over a certain perceived dilution of Johns' powers as the decades rolled by, there is a distilled intensity and philosophical scope in his earlier work which I still find irresistible. The many and various number-based pieces he produced throughout his career are often the purest epitome of that. Certainly, there can be few other artists who have quite so seductively united the worlds of visual beauty, semiotics and functional numbering systems within their work.

Jasper Johns,  'Zero To Nine', Encaustic & Newspaper on Canvas, 1959,
Museum Ludwig, Cologne

Jasper Johns, '0 Through 9', Lithograph, 1960, Minneapolis Institute of Art

Jasper Johns, 'Figure 5' (From 'Black Numeral' Series), Lithograph, 1968, Museum of Modern Art, NYC

Jasper Johns, 'Numbers', Cast Aluminium, 2007, Courtesy: Matthew Marks Gallery, NYC

[1.]: This also makes me value my childhood notion of 'Twenteen' all the more. Not only did it feel/sound right at the time - but might also be seen as a valuable randomising factor, and essential disruptor of the grid.

Completed Studies & Screen Prints In Progress

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

For some time now, I’ve been trying to expand my own art practice in a number of directions beyond simply painting.  As I mentioned a few weeks back, printmaking is one such, and I’ve been able top make a bit more progress with that over recent months.

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

My previous post on the subject dealt with a two-day screen printing course I undertook at Leicester Print Workshop, but since then I’ve jumped through the necessary hoops, (both financial and practical), and am now a paid-up member.  This will give me the freedom to use their facilities as and when I need to.  My hope is that, by putting in the hours at various points over the coming months - I’ll finally develop the instincts, muscle memory and store of experience necessary to feel really comfortable as a printer.  For now, I’m concentrating on screen printing, not least because it seems ideally suited to the crossover between painting, collage photography and mechanical reproduction, already existing in my work.  I certainly wouldn’t rule out other forms of print in the future though, so watch this space.

'Untitled', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Adhesive Tape & Spray Enamel
On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016.  (Original Source Image)

Anyway, I’ve already spent quite a few hours moving forward with some imagery derived from one of the paper-based studies I produced towards the end of last year.  As ever, there’s nothing very purist about my approach.  In fact, just as I seem to be something of a hybrid painter in terms of media, - I'm as likely to rip up a print and collage it back into something else; or to screen a fragmented image onto the surface of an already painted panel; as I am to produce a pristine edition of pure prints.

'Untitled', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Screen Print, Ink, Spray Enamel, Pencil & Ballpoint Pen
& Various Solvents On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Screen Print, Ink, Spray Enamel, French Polish, Pencil
Ballpoint Pen & Various Solvents On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

In fact, that process is already under way, with several sacrificial versions from my first serious print run having become part of the mulch of a second group of four collaged/painted studies.  These were in turn scanned and digitally manipulated to create stencils for another, increasingly multi-layered run.  This process is distinctly fractal in nature, with each study or digital reworking offering numerous new alternatives, and even within a single print, just altering the number of contributing colour layers, or the order in which they are laid down, creates yet more potential variants.  I’m still only dipping my toe in the water with all this really, but already feel slightly boggled by how expansive it might potentially become.

'Untitled', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Screen Print, Ink, Spray Enamel, French Polish, Pencil,
Ballpoint Pen & Various Solvents On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Screen Print, Ink, Spray Enamel, French Polish,  Pencil,
Ballpoint Pen & Various Solvents On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Digital Manipulation, 2016

'Untitled', Digital Manipulation, 2016

'Untitled', Digital Manipulation, 2016

'Untitled', Digital Manipulation, 2016

With that in mind, it’s probably worth mentioning that the images of actual screen prints shown here represent stages in an ongoing process - far more than final definitive versions.    My process seems to be to periodically pull out certain prints - allowing them to rest as milestones in a larger process, but for many to go back into the pot for further development.  I have a certain four-colour version in mind as another possible ‘result’ but am already wondering how much further one might just keep layering and increasing the overall density before an image needs to be drastically broken down and recycled all over again.  One strategy I've found to avoid an image from just becoming clogged in excess visual texture, (at any stage), is to periodically apply a stronger graphic motif in an almost arbitrary manner.  Examples of this include elements of text lifted straight out of my pre-existing photos, and blocks of colour derived from grids found within the original studies.   The whole process is far from the traditional printer’s model of the numbered edition, but complies with my mantra of ‘The Same But Different’, and a commitment to the process of mutated evolution.

West Leicester, May 2012

Of course, the real key to much of this lies with the translation of any given image into the digital realm.  It’s hardly an original revelation to point out how many new avenues of replication, versioning, or reproduction, open up as soon as digital manipulation is involved.  Whilst this is also true of more traditional, hand-made printing media, I do suspect the majority of screen prints, for instance, have already been through Photoshop at some point in their image development, nowadays.  The bigger picture is that, for a while, I’ve been talking not only about moving my own practice into a wider range of media, but beyond that - to also take account of the whole issue of translation.  This is envisaged, not only between individual media, but between the realms of the hand-made one-off, traditional/analogue reproduction, and digital imagery too [1.].

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

Some pointers to this can still be found in previous posts, about the work of Dan Perfect, for instance, or about Tate Modern’s ‘Painting AfterTechnology’ Exhibit, (to which I’ve referred on several occasions).  Talking about this with a younger colleague at work, the other day, I was led to wonder whether there’s a generational aspect to take into account here.  I’m definitely of an age where I can look back and see my life being divided into two, distinct phases: namely, pre mass-use-of-digital-technology, and post same.  It feels a bit like being a nineteenth century senior remembering a time before the steam engine totally reshaped the world.

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

I can’t help wondering if that’s why the technologically orientated art that interests me most is still that which consciously explores some of the intrinsic qualities of its specific medium, of speaks of the interface between the analogue and the digital.  The majority of those artists who engaged me so much at Tate Modern are, I suspect around my age, or older.  I wonder if a younger generation, through whose lives the digital dimension is more seamlessly woven, might find this idea of it as still something novel and worthy of comment, quaintly outmoded?

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

'Untitled', Screen Print On Paper, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2016

For all that, I do believe it remains the job of the artist to interrogate their chosen media, and anyway - we’re all where (and when) we are, and can only proceed on the basis of our own experience.  The point at which you stop at least asking some questions about the changing technologies of image production, and how your own methods do or don’t relate to it is probably the point at which you’ve really rendered yourself properly obsolete.

[1.]:  It seems important to reassert that, for me, this is definitely a two-way process.

'Pop Art To Brit Art' At Djanogly Gallery, Nottingham

Joe Tilson, 'Gagarin, Star, Triangle', Screen Print, Oil, & Polyurethane On
Wooden Reliefs,  1968

Early 2014’s busy round of gallery-going continued for me with a visit to the exhibition, ‘Pop Art To Brit Art: Modern Masters From The David Ross Collection’ at The University Of Nottingham’s Djanogly Gallery.  Whilst there, I also caught David Manley’s ‘Epidemic’ And ‘Black North’ paintings and went on to view ‘Since 1843 In The Making’, a selection of work by Nottingham Trent University Alumimni) at that institution’s Bonnington Gallery.  For now, I’ll deal with the first of those exhibitions.

‘Pop Art To Brit Art’ showcases the private collection of David Ross, University Of Nottingham graduate and co-founder of Carphone Warehouse.  The phone racket obviously pays well, (no surprise there), as in little more than twelve years, he has amassed a representative survey of British art from the last half century, (i.e. his own lifetime), the artists included being the usual, high profile suspects.  The clue is in that ‘Modern Masters’ tag line.

Jonathan Yeo, 'Portrait Of David Ross', Oil On Canvas, 2005

It’s impossible to avoid the thought that this is all just a rich man’s hobby and, if the news media are to be believed, there’s plenty about Ross to feel queasy over, (Tory party donations, playboy lifestyle, country gent affectations, alleged financial irregularities, - all the usual stuff).  However, no one ever claimed that art collectors (or artists for that matter) must all be admirable people.  The quality of much of the actual work here is impressive, which could suggest a degree of genuine engagement on Ross’ part, rather than just an exercise in ticking a list of prestigious and expensive names.  If nothing else, he may deserve credit for making it available to the public like this, unlike an increasing number of ‘investors’ nowadays.  I actually made two visits to the show over successive weekends, in the company of different friends, and it’s testament to its scope that I found plenty to engage me on both occasions.

David Hockney, 'Wilshire Boulevard, L.A.',  Oil On Canvas, 1964

The exhibition itself divides fairly neatly into three distinct groups, namely: Pop and Op Art from the 1960s and 70s, (Blake, Hockney, Hamilton, Caulfield, Riley, etc.); The more traditionally painterly, but roughly concurrent ‘School Of London’ work, (Auerbach, Kossoff Hodgkin, etc.); and the more recent YBA stuff, in much of which the Pop legacy clearly prevails through a rather more conceptual filter, (Hirst, Quinn, etc.).  The significance of, and connections between, all this have been thoroughly documented elsewhere, so, (as is my wont), I’ll just highlight a few individual pieces that caught my attention for different reasons.

Peter Blake, 'Babe Rainbow', Screen Print On Tin, 1968

• Peter Blake, ‘Babe Rainbow’, Screen Print On Tin, 1968:  I guess Blake is the jolly, favourite uncle of British Pop and the fact that this is one of his best-known images seems to establish the serious credentials of Ross’ collection.  Despite its familiarity, there’s something charming about Blake’s very British take on Pop.  It’s full of parochial nostalgia but also backed up by his undoubted skill as a figurative artist and formidable illustrative draughtsman.

Gerald Laing, 'Number Sixty Seven', Oil On Canvas, 1971

• Gerald Laing, ‘Number Sixty Seven’, Oil On Canvas, 1967:  I’ll admit Laing is an artist who has slipped under my radar until now.  His emulation of Ben-Day dots and flat colour to depict his bikini-clad model seems a straightforward enough comment on the nature of both popular imagery and mechanical reproduction now, but I can see why Ross was drawn to it.  I’m still a bit of a sucker for such references to print technology, be it in the work of Sigmar Polke or the actual fragments of fallen posters I regularly collage into my own work.

David Hockney, 'Rubber Ring Floating In A Swimming Pool', Acrylic On Canvas, 1971

• David Hockney, ‘Rubber Ring Floating In A Swimming Pool’, Acrylic On Canvas, 1971:  Like Blake, Hockney can seem a bit too accessible and over-familiar until one is confronted by his actual work and reminded just how accomplished a painter he actually was all along.  This is an unusual Hockney in its elegant near abstraction, depicting a precisely delineated, hot pink floating ring, seen from above in deep turquoise water, with a narrow, golden brown strip of mottled poolside along the lower edge.  Hockney was amongst the early painters who exploited the specific qualities of acrylic paint and his use of staining, modulation, subtle watery detail and general flatness is highly seductive here.  The painting feels like a distillation of the light-saturated, hedonistic Dolche Vita Hockney found in California at the time.

Patrick Caulfield, 'Cafe Interior: Afternoon', Acrylic On Canvas, 1973

• Patrick Caulfield, ‘Café Interior: Afternoon’, Acrylic On Canvas, 1973:  I overheard a fellow gallery goer dismissing this as tragically dated but I disagree.  Granted, Caulfield’s flat colour, crisp black outlines and sense of period design anchor his work to a particular time, but I generally find them to be full of more timeless formal concerns too.  His colour is artificial but actually deeply atmospheric and well judged here, whilst his chosen style seems as much a methodical exploration of a specific pictorial convention as a mere search for facile graphic impact, (much like the American Lichtenstein).  As is often the case, Caulfield also includes certain perceptual conundrums such as the perplexingly solid diagonal shadow extending right across this image, and lower black band cutting through the chair legs.  Both serve to disrupt the image while conforming to its overall system.

Frank Auerbach, 'To The Studios II', Oil On Board, 1977-78

• Frank Auerbach, ‘To The Studios II’, Oil On Board, 1977-78:  I no longer embrace all that existential struggle and hewing-at-the-coal-face approach to painting as much as I once did.  However, I still find something compelling in Auerbach’s work and this is a good one.  It’s interesting to see The School of London painters included here, persevering in wresting an image from the materiality of paint alongside all those concurrent references to mechanical reproduction, facile glamour and glossy modernity.  Nowadays, generally, I find Auerbach’s encrusted surfaces and space-carving brush marks far more suited to landscape subjects than the figure.  I also find in his painting all the things I fail to see in the work of Leon Kossoff, (also represented).  These closely allied painters appear similar in some ways and yet so very different in others.

R.B. Kitaj, 'Yona In Paris', Charcoal On Paper, 1982

• R.B. Kitaj, ‘Yona In Paris’, Charcoal On Paper, 1982:  Whether or not Kitaj lost the plot big-style towards the end, as some critics contend, I’m still engaged by his construction of composite images and the narrative threads that run through them.  It’s all very Jewish, but I’m mostly interested in the way he seemed to provide a bridge between the Bacon/Auerbach/Freud axis and the Pop sensibility, without ever losing his own identity.  Actually, there’s little of all that to see in this piece, - it’s just a terrific  piece of fairly traditional portrait drawing.  I was massively impressed by his drawings during my Foundation studies and still don’t know of many better draughtsmen/women, (draughtspersons?).

Richard Hamilton, 'I'm Dreaming Of A Black Christmas', Screen Print On Collotype,
Printed In Colour With Collage, 1971

• Richard Hamilton, ‘I’m Dreaming Of A Black Christmas’, Screen Print On Collotype, Printed In Colour With Collage, 1971:  Hamilton was often regarded as the presiding genius of British Pop and his work does contain a conceptual underpinning not always so evident in that of his compatriots.  The exhibition includes four of his prints, including ‘Cristea 81’, - the famous image of Mick Jagger and Robert Fraser in handcuffs after a drugs bust, and an icon to the massive attitudinal changes overtaking 1960s Britain.  This one interests me more though, being the most sophisticated comment on mass media and the technology of reproduction in the show.  Having reversed an original negative movie still, Hamilton made a photorealist painting which was then further recycled into the final print.  Although immediately accessible both in subject and as an image, there’s an essential weirdness about the appearance of Bing Cosby and his environment, which speaks volumes about the translation between media.

Marc Quinn, 'Wintergarden Series', Pigment Transfer Print, 2000

• Marc Quinn, ‘Winter Garden Series’ (6 of 8), Pigment Transfer Prints, 2000:  Quinn made his name as part of the YBA set with the genuinely arresting ‘Self’, a self portrait bust cast from several pints of his own frozen blood.  These lurid and highly synthetic-looking flower photos can’t claim the same gruesome shock value but do continue his interest in suspended animation through cryogenics.  Each literally frozen arrangement comprises a selection of blooms from diverse global sources, thus commenting upon the artificiality both of their means of indefinite preservation, and the floristry trade in general.  The effort and resources required to import and then freeze the flowers is clearly an environmental nightmare, coupled with the bizarre synthesis of the whole enterprise.  What may initially appear merely kitsch and decorative actually becomes a pointed comment on our distance from ‘nature’ and preference for immortality, however misplaced, over transient beauty.

Marc Quinn, 'Wintergarden Series', Pigment Transfer Print,  2000

If one or two of the final pieces in this exhibition look like they were purchased for reasons of fashion or celebrity, this doesn’t spoil the overall exhibition, and it’s a show that should appeal to practicing artists and the casually curious alike.

‘Pop Art To Brit Art: Modern Masters From The David Ross Collection’ continues until 9 February at: Djanogly Gallery, Lakeside Arts Centre, University Park, Nottingham, NG7 2RD.