Branch 'IV '. library Lending Page 8 of 18 8 Ariel IP: 129.82.28.195 Status Pending Branch Name Rapid Code TFW Tisch Library Start Date 7/13/2011 8:51:08 AM CALL #: LOCATION: TYPE: JOURNAL TITLE: USER JOURNAL TITLE: TFW CATALOG TITLE: ARTICLE TITLE: ARTICLE AUTHOR: VOLUME: ISSUE: MONTH: YEAR: PAGES: ISSN: OCLC #: CROSS REFERENCE ID: VERIFIED: Nl .A6 TFW :: Tisch Library Article CC:CCL ARTnews Art news. ARTnews. The American action painters Harold Rosenberg, 01 1952 0004-3273 2392716 [TN: 105209] [ODYSSEY: 206.107.42.225/ILL] ISSN crossmatch found using OCLC number :: Tisch Bound Periodicals BORROWER: PATRON: PATRON ID: PATRON ADDRESS: PATRON PHONE: PATRON FAX: PATRON E-MAIL: PATRON DEPT: PATRON STATUS: PATRON NOTES: BMU :: Main Library meredith hoy 0003427121 RAPID This material may be protected by copyright law (Title 17 U.S. Code) System Date/Time: 7/13/2011 10:46:21 AM MST http://www. rapidill.org/Ill/ViewQueue. aspx?ViewType=PendingByBranch&ld=141 7/13/2011 129.82.28.195 -4575242 BY HAROLD ROSENBERG The American action painters "J'ai fait des gestes blanc parmi les solitudes." apollinaire "The American will is easily satisfied in its efforts to realize itself in knowing itself." wallace stevens What makes any definition of a movement in art dubious is that it never fits the deepest artists in the movement—certainly not as well as, if successful, it does the others. Yet without the definition something essential in those best is bound to be missed. The attempt to define is like a game in which you cannot possibly reach the goal from the starting point but can only close in on it by picking up each time from where the last play landed. MODERN ART? OR AN ART OF THE MODERN? Since the War every twentieth-century style in painting is being brought to profusion in the United States: thousands of "abstract" painters—crowded teaching courses in Modern Art —a scattering of new heroes—ambitions stimulated by new galleries, mass exhibitions, reproductions in popular magazines, festivals, appropriations. Is this the usual catching up of America with European art forms? Or is something new being created? . . . For the question of novelty, a definition would seem indispensable. Some people deny that there is anything original in the recent American painting. Whatever is being done here now, they claim, was done thirty years ago in Paris. You can trace this painter's boxes of symbols to Kandinsky, that one's moony shapes to Miro or even back to Cezanne. Quantitatively, it is true that most of the symphonies in blue and red rectangles, the wandering pelvises and birdbills, the line constructions and plane suspensions, the virginal dissections of flat areas that crowd the art shows are accretions to the "School of Paris" brought into being by the fact that the mode of production of modern masterpieces has now been all too clearly rationalized. There are styles in the present displays which the painter could have acquired by putting a square inch of a Soutine or a Bonnard under a microscope. . . . All this is training based on a new conception of what art is, rather than original work demonstrating what art is about to become. At the center of this wide practicing of the immediate past, however, the work of some painters has separated itself from the rest by a consciousness of a function for painting different from that of the earlier "abstractionists," both the Europeans themselves and the Americans who joined them in the years of the Great Vanguard. This new painting does not constitute a School. To form a , School in modern times not only is a new painting consciousness needed but a consciousness of that consciousness—and even an insistence on certain formulas. A School is the result of the linkage of practice with terminology—different paintings are affected by the same words. In the American vanguard the words, as we shall see, belong not to the art but to the individual artists. What they think in common is represented only by what they do separately. GETTING INSIDE THE CANVAS At a certain moment the canvas began to appear to one American painter after another as an arena in which to act— rather than as a space in which to reproduce, re-design, analyze or "express" an object, actual or imagined. What was to go on the canvas was not a picture but an event. The painter no longer approached his easel with an image in his mind; he went up to it with material in his hand to Jo something to that other piece of material in front of him. The image would be the result of this encounter. It is pointless to argue that Rembrandt or Michelangelo worked in the same way. You don't get Lucrece with a dagger out of staining a piece of cloth or spontaneously putting forms into motion upon it. She had to exist some place else before she got on the canvas, and the paint was Rembrandt's means for bringing her here. Now, everything must have been in the tubes, in the painter's muscles and in the cream-colored sea into which he dives. If Lucrece should come out she will be among us for the first time—a surprise. To the painter, she must be a surprise. In this mood there is no point in an act if you aready know what it contains. "B. is not modern," one of the leaders of this mode said to me the other day. "He works from sketches. That makes him Renaissance." Here the principle, and the difference from the old painting, is made into a formula. A sketch is the preliminary form of an image the mind is trying to grasp. To work from sketches arouses the suspicion that the artist still regards the canvas as a place where the mind records its contents—rather than itself the "mind" through which the painter thinks by changing a surface with paint. If a painting is an action, the sketch is one action, the painting that follows it another. The second cannot be "better" or more complete than the first. There is just as much significance in their difference as in their similarity. Of course, the painter who spoke had no right to assume that the other had the old mental conception of a sketch. There is 22 A poet gives his answers to the increasingly difficult and important questions raised by the paintings which have been produced in such confusing quantity in America since the War and which have been labeled variously "Abstract-Expressionism," "Drip School," "The most significant contribution of America to modern civilization" and "Pretentious mockery." Here the clue comes from the motives of the painters, many of whom are friends of our author, and sharp distinction is made between sheep and goats, art and the Modern Art cult. f no reason why an act cannot be prolonged from a piece of j paper to a canvas. Or repeated on another scale and with more control. A sketch can have the function of a skirmish. Call this painting "abstract" or "Expressionist" or "Abstract-Expressionist," what counts is its special motive for extinguishing the object, which is not the same as in other abstract or Expressionist phases of modern art. The new American painting is not "pure art," since the extrusion of the object was not for the sake of the aesthetic. The apples weren't brushed off the table in order to make room for perfect relations of space and color. They had to go so that nothing would get in the way of the act of painting. In this gesturing with materials the aesthetic, too, has been subordinated, form, color, composition, drawing, are auxiliaries, any one of which—or practically all, as has been attempted, logically, with unpainted canvases—can be dispensed with. What matters always is the revelation contained in the act. It is to be taken 'or granted that in the final effect, the image, whatever be or te not in it, will be a tension. DRAMAS OF AS IF A painting that is an act is inseparable from the biography of 4e artist. The painting itself is a "moment" in the adulterated IBMure 01 his life—whether "moment" means, in one case, the actual minutes taken up with spotting the canvas or, in another, ^e entire duration of a lucid drama conducted in sign Ian-Stage. The act-painting is of the same metaphysical substance as the artist's existence. The new painting has broken down evejy distinction between art and life. ^ follows that anything is relevant to it. Anything that has J do with action—psychology, philosophy, history, mythology, Wo worship. Anything but art criticism. The painter gets away j om Art through his act of painting; the critic can't get away °ro it. The critic who goes on judging in terms of schools, 'yks, form, as if the painter were still concerned with produc-g a certain kind of object (the work of art), instead of living 0n 'he canvas, is bound to seem a stranger. ^Some painters take advantage of this stranger. Having insisted at their painting is an act, they then claim admiration for e act as art. This turns the act back toward the aesthetic in l-^tty circle. If the picture is an act, it cannot be justified an act of genius in a field whose whole measuring apparatus as teen sent to the devil. Its value must be found apart from art. Otherwise the "act" gets to be "making a painting" at sufficient speed to meet an exhibition date. Art—relation of the painting to the works of the past, Tightness of color, texture, balance, etc.—comes back into painting by way of psychology. As Stevens says of poetry, "it is a process of the personality of the poet." But the psychology is the psychology of creation. Not that of the so-called psychological criticism that wants to "read" a painting for clues to the artist's sexual preferences or debilities. The work, the act, translates the psychologically given into the intentional, into a "world"— and thus transcends it. With traditional aesthetic references discarded as irrelevant, what gives the canvas its meaning is not psychological data hut role, the way the artist organizes his emotional and intellectual energy as if he were in a living situation. The interest lies in the kind of act taking place in the four-sided arena, a dramatic interest. Criticism must begin by recognizing in the painting the assumptions inherent in its mode of creation. Since the painter has become an actor, the spectator has to think in a vocabulary of action: its inception, duration, direction—psychic state, concentration and relaxation of the will, passivity, alert waiting. He must become a connoisseur of the gradations between the automatic, the spontaneous, the evoked. "IT'S NOT THAT, IT'S NOT THAT, IT'S NOT THAT" With a few important exceptions, most of the artists of this vanguard found their way to their present work by being cut in two. Their type is not a young painter but a re-born one. The man may be over forty, the painter around seven. The diagonal of a grand crisis separates him from his personal and artistic past. Many of the painters were "Marxists" (W.I'.A. unions, artists' congresses)—they had been trying to paint Society. Others had been trying to paint Art (Cubism, Post-Impressioni'm)--it amounts to the same thing. The big moment came when it was decided to paint. . . . Just to paint. The gesture on the canvas was a gesture of liberation, from Value—political, aesthetic, moral. If the war and the decline of radicalism in America had anything to do with this sudden impatience, there is no evidence of it. About the effects of large issues upon their emotions, Americans tend to be either reticent or unconscious. The French artist thinks of himself as a battle- [Continued on page 48] 23 The American action painters continued from page 23 ground of history; here one hears only of private Dark Nights. Yet it is strange how many segregated in-viduals came to a dead stop within the past ten years and abandoned, even physically destroyed, the work v they had been doing. A far-off, watcher, unable to realize that these events were taking place in silence, might have assumed they were being directed by a single voice. At its center the movement was away from rather than towards. The Great Works of the Past and the Good Life of the Future became equally nil. The refusal of Value did not take the form of condemnation or defiance of society, as it did after World War I. It was diffident. The lone artist did not want the world to he different, he wanted his canvas to he a world. Liberation from the object meant liberation from the "nature," society and art already there. It was a movement to leave behind the self that wished to choose his future and to nullify its promissory notes to the past. With the American, heir of the pioneer and the immigrant, the foundering of Art and Society was not experienced as a loss. On the contrary, the end of Art marked the beginning of an optimism regarding himself as an artist. The American vanguard painter took to the white expanse of the canvas as Melville's Ishmael took to the sea. On the one hand, a desperate recognition of moral and intellectual exhaustion; on the other, the exhilaration of an adventure over depths in which he might find reflected the true image of his identity. Painting could now be reduced to that equipment which the artist needed for an activity that would be an alternative to both utility and idleness. Guided by visual and somatic memories of paintings he had seen or made—memories which he did his best to keep from intruding into his consciousness—he gesticulated upon the canvas and watched for what each novelty would declare him and his art to be. Based on the phenomenon of conversion the new movement is, with the majority of the painters, essentially a religious movement. In every case, however, the conversion has been experienced in secular terms. The result has been the creation of private myths.' The tension of the private myth is the content of every painting of this vanguard. The act on the canvas springs from an attempt to resurrect the saving moment in his "story" when the painter first felt himself released from Value—myth of past self-recognition. Or it attempts to initiate a new moment in which the painter will realize his total personality—myth of future self-recognition. Some formulate their myth verbally and connect individual works with its episodes. With others, usually deeper, the painting itself is the exclusive formulation, it is a Sign, f The revolution against the given, in the self and in the world, which since Hegel has provided European vanguard art with theories of a New Reality, has re-entered America in the form of personal revolts. Art as action rests on the enormous assumption that the artist accepts as real only that which he is in the . jjrocess of creating. "Except the soul has divested itself of the love of created things . . ." The artist works in a condition of open possibility, risking, to follow Kierkegaard, the anguish of the aesthetic, which accompanies possibility lacking in reality. To maintain the force to refrain from settling anything, he must exercise in himself a constant No. apocalypse and wallpaper The most comfortable intercourse with the void is mysticism, especially a mysticism that avoids ritualizing itself. Philosophy is not popular among American painters. For most, thinking consists of the various arguments that to paint is something different from, say, to write or to criticize: a mystique of the particular activity. Lacking verbal flexibility, the painters speak of what they are doing in a jargon still involved in the metaphysics of things: "My painting is not Art; it's an Is." "It's not a picture of a thing; it's the thing itself." "It doesn't reproduce Nature; it is Nature." "The painter doesn't think; he knows." Etc. etc. "Art is not, not not not not . . ." As against this, a few reply, art today is the same as it always has been. Language has not accustomed itself to a situation in which the act itself is the "object." Along with the philosophy of to paint appear bits of Vedanta and popular pantheism. In terms of American tradition, the new painters stand somewhere between Christian Science and Whitman's "gangs of cosmos." That is, between a discipline of vagueness by which one protects oneself from disturbance while keeping one's eyes open for benefits; and the discipline of the Open Road of risk that leads lo the farther side of the object and the outer spaces of the consciousness. What made Whitman's mysticism serious was that he directed his "cosmic T" towards a Pike's-Peak-or-Bust of morality and politics. He wanted the ineffable in all behavior —he wanted it to win the streets. The test of any of the new paintings is its seriousness—and the test of its seriousness is the degree to which the act on the canvas is an extension of the artist's total effort to make over his experience, f A good painting in this mode leaves no doubt concerning its reality as an action and its relation to a transforming process in the artist. The canvas has "talked back" to the artist not to quiet him with Sibylline murmurs or to stun him with Diony-sian outcries but to provoke him into a dramatic dialogue. Each stroke had to be a decision and was answered by a new question. By its very WEBER VEHICLES: POPPY OIL LINSEED OIL. White Refined TURPENTINE, Rectified Spirits of LIGHT DRYING OIL DARK DRYING OIL PAINTING OIL NUT OIL LI NSEED OIL. Process-thickened EGG EMULSION, lot Tempera Painting SICCATIF de COURTRAY (Dryer) STAND OIL, Dutch Type VENICE TURPENTINE, Genuine GLAZING MEDIUM RESIN-OIL PAINTING MEDIUM "ILLO" Mat Oil Painting Medium "MIX0" Fabric Painting Preparation "FLEXO" Craft Painting Medium WEBER VARNISHES: SPHINX RETOUCHING VARNISH DAMAR VARNISH MASTIC VARNISH, Picture Strength MASTIC VARNISH, Full Strength MATVAR, Mat Drying Varnish OIL COPAL, Extra Pale, Full Strength COPAL VARNISH, Picture Strength FIXATIFfor CHARCOAL PASTEL FIXATIF. BLUE t ABEL WATER-COLOR VARNISH and the WEBER Synthetic Resin Family: SYNVAR, Picture Varnish DURVAR39, Picture Varnish UNIVAR, Picture Varnish Each supplied in 2 Vi oz. bottle; 8 oz. (V4 Pint); 16 oz. (Pint); 32 oz. (Quart). (Descriptive Technical Data, on Request) few/ The life and chromatic beauty of a painting depend as much on the vehicles used, as on the pigments. That is why so many artist-painters prefer Weber Vehicles. Weber Vehicles give your painting extra life—help keep your colors pure, brilliant, unchanging. Get Weber Vehicles from your local art supply dealer. Weber products have world-wide distribution, i Made by the manufacturers of WEBER '.,-r, ; •' V ... /V; fa j/ Sanguine, ?>//' x 9ii' By N. LA NCR ET 11690-17») Drawing in Sanguine The left-hand figure is a study for "La Terre", one of a series of pictures depicting the four elements, belonging to the collection of the Marquis of Beringhen. Engraved in reverse by C. N. Cochin. (See G. Wildenstein, "Lancret", Fig. 3, Cat. No. 4.) The right-hand figures were used in the picture, "Moulinet devant le Charmille", now at Potsdam. Telegram* Resemble, London beh 1952 49 Drawing by WARNER PRINS 36 East 22nd Street Exhibition of Paintings by VICTOR RIESENFELD December 4 through 20 10-5:30 (closed Sunday) WILDENSTEIN 19 East 64th Street, N. Y, 21 analysis but hy social power and pedagogy, the vanguard painter functions in a milieu utterly indifferent to the content of his work. Unlike the art of nineteenth-century America, advanced paintings today are not bought by the middle class. Nor are they by the populace. Considering the degree to which it is publicized and feted, vanguard painting is hardly bought at all. It is used in its totality as material for educational and profit-making enterprises: color reproductions, design adaptations, human-interest stories. Despite the fact that more people see and hear about works of art than ever before, the vanguard artist has an audience of nohody. An interested individual here and there, but no audience. He creates in an environment not of people but of functions. His paintings are employed not wanted. The public for whose edification he is periodically trotted out accepts the choices made for it as phenomena of The Age of Queer Things. An action is not a matter of taste. You don't let taste decide the firing of a pistol or the building of a maze. As the Marquis de Sade understood, even experiments in sensation, if deliberately repeated, presuppose a morality. To see in the explosion of shrapnel over No Man's Land only the open- ing of a flower of flame, Marinotli had to erase the moral premises of the act of destruction—as Molotov did explicitly when he said that Fascism is a matter of taste. Botli M's were, of course, speaking the driftwood language of the Modern Art International. Limited to the aesthetics, the taste bureaucracies of Modern Art cannot grasp the human experience involved in the new action paintings. One work is equivalent to another on the basis of resemblances of surface, and the movement is a whole a modish addition to twentieth-century picture making. Examples in every style are packed side hy side in annuals and in the heads of newspaper reviewers like canned meats in a chain stove— all standard brands. To counteract the obtuseness, venality and aimlessness of the Art World, American vanguard art needs a genuine audience—not just a market. It needs understanding—not just publicity. In our form of society, audience and understanding for advanced painting have been produced, both here and abroad, first of all by the tiny circle of poets, musicians, theoreticians, men of letters, who have sensed in their own work the presence of the new creative principle. So far, the silence of American literature on the new painting all but amounts to a scandal. San Francisco continued from page 40 find direct imitators. What follows is a report on the progress and direction of a number of our California painters. Their works have been seen in various shows. Walter Kuhlman has developed greater sensitivity in his broad and free idiom of genera-ally contiguous flat planes of color. Frank Lobdell, perhaps reminiscent of Rothko, reduces his bright-hued, soft-edged flat color patterns to the simplest shapes conceivable. Elmer Bischoff produces configurations of great violence and stark simplicity, but an unintentional voluminous bulkiness tends to destroy surface unity. Hassel Smith shows a remarkably pleasant small picture, and Robert Neuman departs from his usual tempestuous swirling to divide a large canvas with one grey and one black shape, using only slight surface manipulations. David Park, recently turned realist-expressionist, delights in thickly brushed pigment. He loves ordinary subjects of street life and play and dares the most difficult scale contrasts in the juxtaposition of large-near with small-distant figures. Alexander Nepote, continuing toward the non-objective, allows human figures to emerge amorphously, though perhaps too voluminously, in his last work. James Budd Dixon continues and improves his idiom of continuous swirling pigment. Felix Ruvolo, never content to stand still, has lately worked with some of the most open, freely brushed form conceivable. No lines and very few edges are allowed to develop. Loosely brushed areas of bright color move in planes that unintentionally add up to mountainous spatial undulations. The sculptors continue with their well established idioms. Jeremy An- derson invents strange architectural structures that seem to evolve out of an unknown prehistoric era. Ernest Mündt and Fenton Kastner continue their expert wire configurations, while Richard O'Hanlon holds to his compact bird images. Florence Swif," has developed a wonderful steel aB(j cement Garden Ornament, while Ade. line Kent and Robert Howard ex. plore the perfect idioms of gre,t distinction and originallty- Newer names Among younger painters to attract attention is Dale Joe- He works j„ the calligraphic vein thai. probab, derives from primitive petroglyph but as it evolves through men ^ Tobey and Poll** * °Pe*> and painterly 0«f ■ linear effect. But » "»o 1% a strange, —t0 comments ^ his own. According to * e( e°ers-and4ng P-me> combines Sll * gallery goers and popular of the >°uns Lundy Siegrist. He degreg nor quality with « t[](, ah. straction that still rei "a^ of the known vrorW- d Frann Spencer *fmgmt pSH ly under the spell 01 distinctiye son, has develops , % pattern, brilliantly «°st with %t appears in ^ ,-s ^rea* Her of the work in this f fl0bert J( together with that °. hnson> ^ \ Jack Davis, Ra'P? ..„„. was S(>3f Askin and 1 the opening of a neJjej Area /. >(» «Tasten'™151-^ Askin and Karl *-8 jittle galW ?t the opening of a «e.. j Area / >d San Francisco ^ d GjA directed by the tai Karl K V Painter Kenneth ^ t strides ]„ has been making ;3 best wo^ % and showed one o* 4, the Bay Region &° art