Wayne Thiebaud at the Legion of Honor

“Wayne Thiebaud: Art Comes from Art,” which opened at the California Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco on March 22, is organized by the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco and curated by Timothy Anglin Burgard. Its premise, spelled out in the title, is straight forward enough and firmly based on the artist’s own ideas about painting. Wayne Thiebaud (1920–2021) spoke about his debt to other painters on numerous occasions, half-jokingly calling himself an “obsessive thief.” Those who studied and wrote about his work, as well as his students of many decades, are already well aware of Thiebaud’s inextricable connection to art history. Unfortunately, that is not yet true of the public, delighted as they are by his familiar subject matter and the bright palette of his paintings and prints.

While admiring his luscious renditions of deli or haberdashery counters, typical museumgoers (and even some art critics) are still largely content to see his work as a West Coast variety of American Pop Art—a more painterly version of the East Coast’s obsession with hand-rendered imitations of mechanical reproduction (Warhol and Lichtenstein) or commercial cornucopia (Rosenquist and Oldenburg). Despite the painter’s vociferous objections to being called a Pop artist, there are plenty of Thiebaud lovers who pine for comprehensive exhibitions of his “greatest hits” accompanied by reassuring platitudes about the uniqueness of California Pop.  

The Legion of Honor exhibition disabuses any attentive visitor of the idea that Thiebaud, although he spent most of his life in California, was a regional painter, a Pop artist, or a popularizer of Americana disconnected from the art of other places and other times. Its portrayal of Thiebaud is familiar to those who had the privilege of knowing him: a worldly, curious intellectual, an art connoisseur, a man of supple mind and a lively sense of humor, and, above all, a “practicing art historian” (his own description of Picasso), whose painting was nearly always a response to the art that captivated him. Thiebaud’s stated goal was to create painting of a “different visual species”—different from the real world and from all other painting, yet informed by both, as well as by the individual world of the painter. “Art Comes from Art” takes the viewer behind the scenes, into Thiebaud’s studio, his classroom, and even his home (where most of his art collection was kept), showing how, according to Tim Burgard, the painter’s “overt homage, covert theft, and intuitive transformation” led to the creation of what Thiebaud himself called his unique and “different visual species.”

To read the entire article, click on the image above.

Decorating Our Decline

My recent Quillette article about Thomas J Price’s unfortunate installations in Times Square. Once again ideologically charged art produces unintended results. I explain how Price’s bronze giantess and his Orwellian “Man Series” billboards echo some cringeworthy art history.

Hommes partout

A sad reminder of that newer does not mean better, as illustrated by the Getty Center exhibition “Gustave Caillebotte: Painting Men.”

The organizers of “Painting Men” which aims to address the shortcomings of Caillebotte scholarship’s “blinkered view” concerning his purported “male bias” and alleged “questioning of masculine identity that seems freshly relevant today” were not deterred by the lack of primary documents that might have revealed “what Caillebotte really thought about these issues.” Nor were they impressed by his contemporaries’ obliviousness to “male bias” when “they were quick to label other Impressionists . . . as ‘painters of women.’ ’’

The focal painting in the current show, the 1884 Man at His Bath, which the organizers deem Caillebotte’s “most transgressive work” because it “inverts” “normative gendered looking” and thus “clearly represents a problem for both the history of art and the history of sexuality,” went unnoticed when it was initially shown to the public in 1888. This does not prevent the Getty show from insisting on “the libidinal dynamics and the invitation to homoerotic viewing unleashed by the painting itself.”

What can we take away from such analysis? According to André Dombrowski and Jonathan D. Katz, who cowrote the catalogue’s final article, the real impact of Caillebotte’s work is this: in place of the usual kinds of queer readings that presume a figure’s deliberate hiding or self-effacement, accompanied perhaps, by the kind of unselfconscious psychic leakage that is pure gold to the academic, we have sought to proffer a different Caillebotte, one who self-consciously created something once unassimilable, although increasingly coming into clarity as we finally begin to abandon the rigidly binary opposition of homosexuality and heterosexuality in favor of a more nuanced and sensitive account of desire.

This vocabulary and critical apparatus are now old hat. It is almost forty years since Hilton Kramer, the founder of this publication, complained about “the dismal fate of art history when the study of art is no longer its primary concern.” Interpretation based on postmodern identity politics only makes sense when the painter’s focus is on the self rather than on aesthetics. Yet Dombrowski and Katz see art as “an irritant [that] transposes the irritation it engenders from the painting, a mere external object, into the self.” Unfortunately for “mere external objects,” this profoundly narcissistic tendency to see a work of art as a prompt or a prop for self-examination is still popular in some quarters.

Comfortably Numb

My contribution to David Carrier’s series “The End of Postmodernism” in the December/January opinions section of the Brooklyn Rail.

From Sfumato to Ganzfelds

The Honarkar Foundation just published a catalogue for their current exhibition LUMINARIES OF LIGHT: PIONEERS OF CALIFORNIA LIGHT AND SPACE MOVEMENT curated by Genevieve Williams. 

My essay “From Sfumato to Ganzfelds” argues that in order to remove the barriers between the art and its audiences, California Light and Space artists relied on the same four optical modes as the Renaissance painters. Sfumato, chiaroscuro, unione, and cangiantismo are all represented in the works of Peter Alexander, De Wain Valentine, James Turrell, Helen Pashgian, Doug Wheeler, Robert Irwin, and Larry Bell. 

The catalogue is available for preorder on the Foundation website.

In search of the “problematic”

My latest article for Quillette is an update of sorts on Robert Hughes’ writings from three decades ago about the “therapeutic fallacy” and the “censorious right.” Now it is the censorious left that is swinging the bat.

A fix for loneliness

The latest issue of the Dallas-based humanities quarterly is dedicated to the Edith and Peter O’Donnell Jr. Atheneum—the 12-acre UT Dallas campus art district designed by iconic architecture firm Morphosis. I contributed an article “Why we Need the Athenaeum” in which I argue that the Athenaeum model of public spaces is exactly what our culture needs to restore waning real-life social connections.