Whitney Museum

Edward Hopper At The Whitney: Troubling Choices

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This is the Postscript to my series on Edward Hopper’s New York at the Whitney Museum, which may be found here-

 Part 1: Edward Hopper’s Impressions of New York

Part 2: Edward Hopper: The Last Traditionalist Faces Change

The Postscript follows-

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*-unless otherwise credited)

Postscript

“Train wheels running through the back of my memory
When I ran on the hilltop following a pack of wild geese
Someday, everything is going to be smooth like a rhapsody
When I paint my masterpiece.”*

After ALL I said in Parts 1 & 2 about Edward Hopper’s Art & Edward Hopper’s New York at the Whitney, all is not sunshine in the world of Edward Hopper’s Art in 2022-3 in spite of the show’s resounding popularity.

Edward Hopper, Night Shadows, 1921, Etching. One of the first pieces by Hopper to speak to me. Looking at it, I wonder- who is the lonelier? The man walking on the street, or the observer? A similar experience is to be had with Nighthawks. Seen at Edward Hopper’s New York. I chose this piece because it mimics the shadows I see surrounding the Art of Edward Hopper in 2022-23. Click any picture for full size.

While Edward Hopper might not have been a fan of some of the changes he saw going on around him, as I showed in Part 2, those who are admirers of his work may not approve of some of the choices being made involving his Art by the Whitney Museum, the  holders of the largest collection of Edward Hopper’s Art in the world. Their holdings, built up over the prior 40 years, ballooned to extraordinary size when they became the beneficiary of the Jo Hopper Bequest in 1970, which gifted them Edward & his wife Jo’s estates (including both of their Art; Jo was an Artist, too), an unprecedented gift from an American Painter to an American museum. Edward Hopper chose the Whitney as his beneficiary due to Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney having been an early supporter of his Art. In 1920, Mrs. Whitney’s manager, Juliana Force, gave him his first one-man show at the Whitney Studio Club, the predecessor of the Whitney Museum. After he passed in 1967, Jo Hopper was too ill to change his wishes- which she may well have done had she been in better health1.

Going…going…SOLD! Cobb’s Barns, South Truro, 1930-3, Oil on canvas. I spent two days in Truro, MA, where the Hoppers spent their summers, back in the 1980s, drinking in the air, the light and the atmosphere Hopper loved for most of his life. *- Whitney Museum Photo. Not in the show.

In May, the Whitney sold (at least) one Edward Hopper Painting, Cobb’s Barns, South Truro, 1930-3 from the 1970 Bequest. I find that quite worrisome (Wait. No. There is no strike-through button in WordPress- make that “I’m sickened by this”) for any number of reasons. For one thing, from what I saw over 14 visits to Edward Hopper’s New York, it looks to me that Hopper’s popularity is, and has been, steadily increasing, world-wide to the point that he is now among the most popular American Artists world-wide, if he is not now the most popular. Is the Whitney “selling at the top” in parting with his work now? Or, is their selling short-sighted?

Of course, no one can foresee the future, and though the Art market has done nothing but go higher since the late 1980s, no bull market lasts forever. As a result, I would have chosen something else to sell while the market is high. With all due respect to the other Artists in their collection, something else not by Hopper. In spite of all that’s already been written about his work these past 100 years, it seems to me it’s still early in the assessment of Edward Hopper’s Art & accomplishment. His work with human subjects has received so much attention that his landscapes, for example, are still to be fully assessed & fully appreciated, I believe, as I said in Part 2. They have begun to receive more attention this past decade, but there is still much to learn from them. Therefore, the Whitney’s decision to sell one of his Landscapes (a man-altered landscape, as I characterized these in Part 2) comes with the risk of being premature. I believe they will be worth more as time goes on. Apparently, so does the buyer.

Unbeknownst to most visitors to Edward Hopper’s New York on the 5th Floor, upstairs on 7, the Whitney has been rotating Edward Hopper works in half a gallery. Seen in January, 2023, these three are from his trips to Paris, 1906-10, and so not appropriate for inclusion in the New York show. Like his Landscapes, they have been overlooked to this point.

Besides his Landscapes, his early work (to 1922) also remains under-appreciated and considered it seems to me.

“In every artist’s development the germ of the later work is always found in the earlier. The nucleus around which the artist’s intellect builds his work is himself; the central ego, personality, or whatever it may be called. and this changes little from birth to death. What he was once, he always is, with slight modification. Changing fashions in methods or subject matter alter him little or not at all.” Edward Hopper2

There has not as yet been a full assessment done of them. In light of the powerful work that came later it’s easy to pass these by, but in them I see the germs of much of what was to come. It may be that this early work and his landscapes turn out to not be as popular as his later work. That doesn’t mean they’re not important for other reasons.

Soir Bleu, 1914. A work that has puzzled viewers for almost 110 years also seen on the Whitney’s 7th floor Permanent Collection galleries in January, 2023, while Edward Hopper’s New York was up on the 5th.

One of the most notorious pieces of his early work, Soir Bleu, 1914, is a unique outlier in Edward Hopper’s oeuvre. A work depicting a scene ostensibly in Paris but Painted in NYC after he returned, it doesn’t quite fit with what came before, or after. Exactly what is going on here has mystified many. It’s another example of how far Hopper studies have to go.

Earlier this year I looked at the state of Jean-Michel Basquiat’s Art and concluded that there may not be enough in his family’s collection to open a museum. Jean-Michel sold much of his Art as he created it, so much of it had long been dispersed when he died in 1988. His estate went to his family who retain was was left (which formed the basis for the show Jean-Michel Basquiat: King Pleasure, which I wrote about here). The Whitney, on the other hand, currently shows over 3,000 pieces by Edward Hopper from their collection online. They just might have enough to open something of a substantial, permanent, rotating, Edward Hopper exhibition, if not an outright museum! (They have been running a small rotating selection of his work in part of a gallery on the 7th floor where they display work from the Permanent Collection for a while, part of which, seen in January, 2023, I show above.)

Can you imagine what a big deal an Edward Hopper Museum in NYC would be? No other Artist has one here…yet. I can only begin to imagine how much it would enhance the value of their collection. Should they? Obviously, the finances would need to be considered, and I have no idea how that would shake out. It’s just one possible avenue the Whitney can explore. Have they? No one knows.

The selling of Hopper’s Art at this point makes me wonder what the long-term plan is for their Hopper holdings. It’s a question I think more people should be asking. My opinion is that at this point (June, 2023), I would not only hold on to everything they have, I would be adding to it.

The Whitney’s history of managing the extraordinary 1970 Jo Hopper Bequest has already proved littered with questionable decisions, this sale being only the latest. They sold some of it early on until the public outcry caused them to stop. I can’t help but wonder how The Met would have handled the Hopper gift. They have received extraordinary gifts from the estates of Diane Arbus and Walker Evans (among others), both of which they have handled masterfully, in my view.

Unfortunately, there’s more…

Jo Painting, 1936, Oil on canvas. Jo Hopper doing what she loved doing most. Though he met her when they were both Art students of Robert Henri, Edward was not a fan, or supporter, of her Art. Seen in Edward Hopper’s New York.

You may have noticed that I said the Whitney  are “the  holders of the largest collection of Edward Hopper’s Art in the world,” though I mentioned the Jo Hopper Bequest gifted his and Jo’s Art to the museum. The reason I didn’t mention hers is that they no longer have it. The Whitney allegedly disposed of most of Jo Hopper’s work that was included in her 1970 gift with her husband’s work, as hard as that is to imagine.

Regarding the woman, herself. Gail Levin, the Whitney’s first Edward Hopper curator and author of the definitive Hopper biography, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, based on decades of research into Edward, Jo, and their relationship, writes at length about his wife of 43 years, Josephine Nivison (“Jo”) Hopper. Based on her feelings as expressed in the unpublished Diaries she kept for about 30 years, and interviews, the resulting picture is not a pretty one for those who look at Edward with admiration. At her husband’s death, everything passed to Jo, who was ill, and then blind, the final year of her life. She was in no condition to change her husband’s intentions and gift their estates to another institution. After the Bequest went to the Whitney, they then hired Gail Levin to curate it. She recounts what she discovered when she looked for Jo’s Art-

“In going through the Hopper collection, I expected to see Jo’s art as well as Edward’s. I had read James Mellow’s article in the Times, describing canvases by Jo in the bequest as “generally pleasant, lightweight works: flowers, sweet-faced children, gaily colored scenic views.” But I found nothing. Dealing with the bequest, (Whitney Director John) Baur naturally looked for advice to (Lloyd) Goodrich, his immediate predecessor as director and Hopper’s recognized interpreter and friend. Together Baur and Goodrich rejected Jo’s work as unworthy of the museum. They arranged for some of her paintings to be given away; they simply discarded the rest. They saw no need to invest even in archival photographs. Ironically, the only paintings from this group that can now be traced are four that went to New York University, which had troubled the Hoppers for years with efforts to evict them from their home.

In all, only three works by Jo were added to the Whitney’s permanent collection. None was ever exhibited. All three had disappeared by the time I began work in 1976. None has ever turned up 3.”

Ms. Levin also states that “From what remains of Jo’s paintings, it is clear that she was not the major talent that her husband was4,” Still, her importance, as a witness, a model, a partner & wife, and for what she went through during their 43-year marriage is only going to grow as time goes on, I believe, especially if her Diaries are ever published. The importance of her work will also rise, as a result- above and beyond whatever judgement is placed on its quality. The result is that history has been forever denied everything her work would tell us. Another reason to be angry at the way the Bequest has been handled.

3 works by Jo Hopper seen in Edward Hopper’s New York. Left to right- 74 Stairs to Studio at Three Washington Square, 1932, Stove and Fireplace, Three Washington Square, 1932, Back of E. Hopper, 1930, Each Watercolor and graphite on paper.

Edward Hopper’s New York honored his wife and the Jo Hopper Bequest, which made up the vast majority of the work on view, by including 3 of her Watercolors. 2 were on loan.

Unfortunately, there’s still more…

Essential for researchers and anyone interested in Hopper’s Art, or the man and his wife, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, by Gail Levin, out of print for a while has just been reprinted again. At 700+ pages, it’ll fill all your summer reading needs.

As if selling Edward Hopper’s work and discarding Jo’s is not enough to diminish the Whitney’s Hopper holdings, they may have been further diminished by theft of Hopper’s Art from his estate! Gail Levin has called out the man behind a donation recently made to the Whitney, part of which was included in Edward Hopper’s New York (none of which I showed- purposely), with a mysterious (to put it politely) provenance. According to her, this man (who I will not name here) may have stolen quite a bit of Art & ephemera from the Hopper estate while he had access to their properties when he was serving as a caretaker- all of which should have gone to the Whitney under the terms of Jo Hopper’s will, as Edward’s survivor. This person kept what he took, sold some of it, and has donated some to the Whitney. About 1,000 pieces may still be in the hands of his heirs. If ALL of it had gone to the Whitney, as the Hoppers intended, the world would be that much closer to gaining a full appreciation of the Hopper’s Art & accomplishment. And, the Whitney would be that much closer to a Hopper Museum.

Screenshot of the homepage of Gail Levin’s “Ethics & Visual Arts” site. I so admire her courage & dedication.

Ms. Levin brought the subject of this alleged theft to public light in 2012 around the time of the Whitney’s Hopper Drawing show. Earlier, after she discovered it, she brought it to the attention of the Whitney, who subsequently fired her as a result, she says. Wait. Weren’t they outraged when they heard about this? What did they do about it, besides fire Gail Levin? The controversy was rekindled when Edward Hopper’s New York opened in October including some of these questionable pieces. She has revealed the full story in a series she calls “Ethics and the Visual Arts.”  I feel it’s important that anyone who cares about Hopper’s Art read what she has to say about what happened, here. (She also did a video interview earlier this year about all of this which may be seen here.)

Robert Henri, Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, 1916. I wonder what Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, whose collection of American Art became the basis of the  Whitney Museum, would make of how the Jo Hopper Bequest has been handled. Mrs. Whitney was also an under-appreciated Sculptor. Seen on the 7th Floor while Edward Hopper’s New York hung on the 5th, January, 2023. Robert Henri taught both Edward & Jo Hopper a decade earlier, and Painted a Portrait of Jo.

It’s hard not to feel outraged and violated by all of this. So, I do!

It’s my hope a thorough investigation will take place into all of this- including the Whitney’s mysterious involvement in it, according to Ms. Levin, and if it is determined the pieces were gained illicitly by this man steps are taken to rectify it as soon as possible. As extremely concerning as this all is on Hopper’s Art, it seems to me it also serves as a warning to living Artists to learn from this and safeguard their own estates and intentions.

This extremely troubling episode Gail Levin has brought to the public’s attention cast a shadow on what was otherwise an excellent and important show. I hope it will be the last Hopper show it hangs over.

Cobb’s Barns, South Truro hanging in the Oval Office of the White House where President Obama is admiring it. February 7, 2014. *-Photo by Chuck Kennedy.

Between the Jo Hopper Bequest and the Hopper they have in their Permanent Collection, what amounts to the Edward Hopper Archives at the Whitney is very likely their most important holding at this point. They have a huge responsibility to the public, now and in the future, to protect and preserve it. It’s past time Art lovers speak up about what’s been going on with it and get some concrete answers.

“Everyone was there to greet me when I stepped inside
Newspapermen eating candy
Had to be held down by big police
Someday, everything is going to be different
When I paint my masterpiece”*

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “When I paint my masterpiece,” by Bob Dylan from Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Vol. II, 1971-

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  1. Source for all of this information is Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, Expanded Edition, 2007, Introduction & P.128 ↩
  2. from a letter from Hopper dated 1935 quoted in Gail Levin, Edward Hopper As Illustrator, P.1. ↩
  3. Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, Expanded Edition, P. xvi ↩
  4. Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, Expanded Edition, P.723 ↩

Edward Hopper: The Last Traditionalist Faces Change

This site is Free & Ad-Free! If you find this piece worthwhile, please donate via PayPal to support it & independent Art writing. You can also support it by buying Art & books! Details at the end. Thank you.

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*-unless otherwise credited)

Show seen: Edward Hopper’s New York @ The Whitney Museum, Part 2. (Part 1 is here.)

Edward Hopper in his New York. With his wife, Jo, strolling the Museum of Modern Art’s Sculpture Garden in 1964. In this Photo, by Eve Arnold, Edward is glimpsed unawares like a good number of his subjects were. *-Photo by Eve Arnold, Magnum Photos. Thanks to Lana for finding it. Click any picture for full size.

Change is the only constant in the universe. For those, like me, for who New York City IS the universe, every day brings change. During Edward Hopper’s time here (1900-67), the City of continual change metamorphosized more than it ever had.

Screencap from the short Film, A Ride on the 6th Ave El, 1916. Edward Hopper frequently rode NYC’s elevated trains, and he was located closest to the 6th Avenue el, which he no doubt rode before, during and after 1916. He glimpsed more than one scene he turned into a Painting while riding one. *-Ford Motor Company video.

The advent of the tall building & skyscrapers (facilitated by the development of elevators with safety brakes), first in Chicago and then here, along with the ongoing spate of bridge building (Brooklyn Bridge, then Manhattan Bridge and others), the advent of the elevated train, the subway, electric lights, movies, and the rest, ushered in with them what we know as modern urban life. All of these inventions & developments brought side effects. Edward Hopper’s New York reveals that the Artist may not have been a fan of some of these changes.

Edward Hopper’s Art: What I See

As I said in Part 1, having the chance to see 58 Hopper Paintings from early through late in his career 14 times, Edward Hopper’s New York completely changed how I see his work. This is shocking to me because I’ve been looking at his work almost as long as I have anyone else’s- well over 40 years. To this point, I saw his work as one of the ultimate (and perhaps unsurpassed) expressions of modern loneliness and isolation in the Art of the 20thy century. But, this is a theme that requires human subjects (like the vast majority of his NYC work has, though he Painted these scenes with people elsewhere as well). What about the rest of his oeuvre; all the other scenes he Painted that don’t include people? These include landscapes he Painted in Maine, Cape Cod, and elsewhere in the U.S., and Paintings he made on, or inspired by, trips to Europe and Mexico. Some of the non-peopled landscapes include houses, buildings, bridges or other man-made structures. Some of them are pure landscapes. (An overview of the range of his work can be seen in any comprehensive book on Hopper. I particularly recommend seeking out Edward Hopper: The Art & The Artist, by Gail Levin, the catalog of the last U.S. Hopper Retrospective, at the Whitney in 1981.)

As a result of considering the whole, I’ve come to believe there are two primary threads, intentional, or not. that run through almost all of Edward Hopper’s work.

First, the “man-altered landscape,” i.e. what man has done with and to nature.

The man-altered landscape. Apartment Houses, East River, 1930. It seems fairly obvious what Edward Hopper thought of this waterfront development. All works are Oil on canvas, unless specified.

In Photography circles, this is what is called “New Topographics” in honor of the legendary Photo show of the same name at the Eastman House, Rochester, in 1975-6, eight years after Edward Hopper’s passing. The subtitle of the show was “Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape.” What man has done to and with nature, as in Apartment Houses, East River, is a theme I now see in more of Edward Hopper’s work than I see any other theme.

Room in Brooklyn, 1932

Yes, I even see the “what man has done with and to nature” theme in works like the sedately charming Room in Brooklyn, where “nature” is reduced to flowers in a vase. It’s interesting that Hopper’s flowers are higher than the background buildings.

Automat, 1927. Edward Hopper spent a lot of time in Horn & Hardart’s extremely popular Automat Restaurants in the 1920’s, so much that Jo worried he was drinking too much 5-cent coffee. It was worth it because he produced this, another of his show stoppers. Jo chided him for not being able to Paint beautiful women, but Automat certainly puts the lie to that. Its stripped-down composition is a masterpiece of including only the essential. I still wonder about that fruit bowl in the back, though. Is this an instance of “what man has done with nature,” along the lines of Room in Brooklyn?  The reflected receding lights are a master stroke.

A byproduct of what man has done with nature in cities, in Hopper’s time and everywhere since, which some call “progress,” is the effect of what man has built on those who live and work in these places. So, I now include all of Edward Hopper’s work that includes human subjects under this man-altered landscape theme, including his New York work (though not all of them include people- like Apartment Houses, East River, shown earlier).

Office in a Small City, 1953. Life in the cube. An example of what I call the “Hopper fish bowl.”

Many may see Edward Hopper as the “king” of depicting the isolation and loneliness that was endemic in 20th century modern life, and feels increasingly so in the 21st century, but after seeing it as his primary theme for so long, myself, I now believe he is depicting side-effects of this new modern urban life in the man-altered landscape to “turn up the volume” on his feelings about these changes. Therefore, when he depicts it, in my view, he’s also “commenting” on what man has wrought on his fellow man through altering the world so. All of this also makes me wonder about the melancholy that permeates his Art. Is it indicative of “the inner state of the Artist” (as I quoted Hopper saying in Part 1), or is it solely being used to depict the state of his subjects in the man-altered environment? Gail Levin’s Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography certainly provides fodder for the former-

“Raphael Soyer, for whom Hopper posed for a portrait…observed: ‘There is a loneliness about him, a habitual moroseness, a sadness to the point of anger1.'”

That makes me wonder if the effects of this new, modern world ON HIM is a good deal of what we’re seeing in his work/or, that he’s recognizing in people he sees.

Intermission, 1963. Edward & Jo Hopper were avid movie & theater goers, and Edward Hopper’s New York dedicated a gallery to his movie/theater work making interesting observations of how some theater sets and Films may have influenced the settings of some of his Paintings. Others, like this, are set in these venues. Intermission presents a “basic” idea in a theater environment, yet it makes me wonder- People have been going to concerts and theaters for many hundreds of years. Why haven’t I seen it done like this before?

The man-altered world’s effects on the population, then and now, run deep. So deeply, in fact, I’d been living with these symptoms for 40 years myself before I realized that they are what I was seeing them in Hopper’s work! ”

Was mankind meant to live this way?” may be another question his Art asks.

Nature. In all its natural glory. Blackhead, Monhegan, 1916–19. Edward Hopper in Maine. *-Whitney Museum Photo. Not in the show.

The second theme that I see in his Art is the unaltered natural landscape. These exclusively depict locations outside of NYC.

  “If you look at landscape painting from that time in America, there isn’t anyone close to him (Edward Hopper) in technique.” Alex Katz, Artist, and designer of the installation of Edward Hopper’s Maine at the Bowdoin College Museum of Art in 2011 on Hopper’s landscapes.

I’ve come to believe his unaltered natural landscapes, like Blackhead, Monhegan, remain very under-appreciated. Though they are beyond the scope of this piece, I will say that it’s fascinating to me to consider that this one was done after Cézanne & Monet’s innovations; two of the “earlier French Artists” I referenced in Part 1. I don’t see their direct influence, though indirectly, his unaltered natural landscapes, like this, also strike me as “impressions,” as I called his New York Paintings there.

“There is a sort of elation about sunlight on the upper part of the house. You know, there are many thoughts, many impulses, that go into a picture … I was more interested in the sunlight on the buildings and on the figures than in any symbolism.” Edward Hopper2.

Landscape with Building, c.1900, Watercolor and graphite pencil on paper. *-Whitney Museum Photo. Not in the show.

As I mentioned in Part 1,  Edward Hopper’s New York sent me back to the beginning of his Art looking to see how his themes began and evolved. This non-NYC work from the year he started Art school strikes me as an early example of the man-altered landscape theme. At various points in his life, Hopper professed an interest in rendering “sunlight on buildings,” and he had a love of Architecture. You can say he’s expressing both here. But the building, rendered in a predominance of grey, certainly doesn’t look to be basking in the sunlight. It’s almost like he’s using the grey wash  (instead of simply leaving the paper a bare white) to downplay the effects of the sunlight. What strikes me is how forlorn and seemingly out of place the building looks in the peaceful landscape. 30 years later, Hopper Painted East River Apartments, shown earlier, again rendering the buildings in grey. The only sunlight in that Painting is playing on the buildings in the back. If he is not showing his love of “sunlight on the buildings,” in these, what is he showing us? Is he being Edward Hopper: Architectural critic? The encroachment of man into nature seems plausible to me. The unspoken question he may be asking is “What do you think of this?” A question I feel being asked in any number of his man-altered landscapes. Given what he said about no “symbolism,” is what I see a coincidence? A coincidence that runs through most of his work is most likely not a coincidence.

Remember how this looked on opening day in Part 1? Here’s the opening section on closing day, March 5, 2023.

What we call modern city life now only existed in Chicago, the birthplace of the tall building, and New York when Edward Hopper began to Paint here in the first third of the 20th century. Since, of course, it has spread everywhere, all around the world. There are countless millions more people living in these environments now than when he began rendering these places. In some ways, Edward Hopper was reporting from the front lines on the change that was happening around him in NYC. Change that was soon to happen in those countless other places around the world.

Early Sunday Morning, 1930. Edward Hopper is not going to hit you over the head with it. Instead, his subtlety is front and center here, in my view. The Whitney paid $3,000. for it in 1931, then featured it when the Whitney Museum opened to the public for the first time in November, 1931. 91 years later, it’s featured again.

For a long time I looked at Hopper’s famous Early Sunday Morning, 1930 as a charming Manhattan street view, one that depicts a block in my neighborhood 93 years ago. Now, I see it as something more ominous. I can attest that as 7th Avenue, shown here, runs North/South, the Sun, which rises directly behind the viewer, has never shone as Mr. H. has depicted it here- see the Photo of the site now in Part 1. Why did he do so? For me, the long shadows mimic the subtle dark rectangle extending off the canvas to the upper right. That’s part of the newer, tall building you can see in my recent Photo of this scene in Part 1, which was just going up when he Painted it. It’s the only building in this Painting that is still standing. The charm of the old human-scale neighborhood is evidenced by the barber pole, shown in full sunshine just to the right of the center of the composition, which emphasizes the human scale of the buildings. This is about to be lost as it is already being ominously encroached upon (if not engulfed) by “progress” (i.e. new tall buildings) while the City sleeps, i.e. while the public was helpless to stop it. This scene is about to be lost, which it was, as I showed. This idyllic, peace hides the loss of a world the Artist knew and loved, and the helplessness to do anything about it.

For me,  Early Sunday Morning is a work that encapsulates Edward Hopper’s melancholy as he was about to lose the City he loved, and a  “wake-up call” to those “sleeping” through what was happening around them. Now, it’s a reminder that there are always things happening most people aren’t all that aware of that will change their lives. Is he saying here, “Wake up, before it’s too late”?

The City, 1927. Change comes to Edward Hopper’s front door.

In The City, Hopper’s home, 3 Washington Square (see my picture of it from November, 2022 in Part 1), is seen in the row of buildings in the mid-distance. For me, everything about this screams distaste. This is Edward Hopper’s neighborhood; the block he lived on, on Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village. From the vantage point of a new taller building to the east, the people now look like ants. Two, new, taller buildings are unceremoniously chopped off. Edward Hopper Painted, virtually exclusively, in the landscape format. I take this as another instance of holding on to his values and refusing to compromise by Painting tall buildings in the portrait format. Eventually, change would come up and knock right on his apartment door. In 1946, NYU, which was in the act of swallowing up much of the area, bought 3 Washington Square and proceeded to try to evict its residents. The Hoppers publicly fought NYU for a few years before winning permission to stay. They would both live out their lives here.

The show made me think about the locations he Painted, and those he didn’t Paint. The latter is easier- it’s interesting that in spite of living and working here for so long, he never Painted NYC’s most iconic landmarks- Brooklyn Bridge, the Empire State, the Chrysler Building, The Metropolitan Museum (or ANY New York museum), and on and on. Instead, he found his meat in “second-tier landmarks” and everyday locations. Still, in each work, it seems to me that the notoriety of the building or bridge included isn’t his point. He down plays it or presents it as an element in a man-altered landscape composition, again asking, I believe, “What do you think of what man has done here?” Again and again, the takeaway for me was it was all about change: rapid change, or change over time.

Queensborough Bridge, 1913. All of Hopper’s bridge Paintings (including Macomb’s Dam Bridge, 1935, which has much in common with Queensborough Bridge) strike me as man-altered landscape works.

Bridges were a favorite subject for Edward Hopper going back to his time in Paris (I showed Le Pont des Arts, which he Painted there in 1907, in Part 1). Back in NYC, he Painted Queensborough Bridge in 1913, just 4 years after it opened in 1909! It has a few things in common with most of his other bridge Paintings. Most of them show the bridge from underneath, reminding us of human scale, and giving the viewer the sense he must have felt at the time of suddenly being VERY small. In this one, the first tower is chopped off by the top of the canvas- like he does with the new tall buildings. A sign of distaste? Also typical, the structure is cropped oddly and ends suddenly just past the right of center. This gives me the feeling that it’s not the sole focus of the composition. We also see East River and what is now Roosevelt Island with a colonial style (i.e. older) house. The house is in a bit shaper focus and is just to the right of center. The bridge draws the eye along until it suddenly trails off right over the house. Human scaled, it looks puny next to the huge bridge. The juxtaposition of size between these two man-made objects is jarring. Given the water in the foreground, which with the strip of land, represent nature, I see this as both an example of the man-altered landscape and how man changed it, first with the colonial style house, and again later with the bridge. The island looks fairly deserted, but it wouldn’t be for much longer as “progress” marched on inexorably.

Manhattan Bridge Loop, 1928. The lone figure, dwarfed by a wall in the Loop part of the Bridge, who adds so much, might have been a late addition to the composition. He does not appear in the Drawn Study on view in another gallery. Perhaps my favorite Painting in the show.

In the wonderful Manhattan Bridge Loop we aren’t seeing the bridge from underneath as he usually shows. We’re on a little known and now lost part of the Manhattan Bridge that was called the “Loop.” Built in 1906, Manhattan Bridge, which connects Lower Manhattan at Chinatown with Brooklyn across the East River, was another bringer of change to the City. It’s hard for us to imagine this now, but for several years after it opened in 1883, Brooklyn Bridge at 272 feet tall, remained the tallest structure in the Western hemisphere for a few years3! Walking across it, when you reach the middle of the Bridge, you suddenly find yourself out in the open, its structure having magically disappeared due to the genius of its design. Every time I stand there I try and imagine what it must have felt like to those who stood here in 1883 when, as far as the eye could see, nothing was higher than you were. What a feeling that must have been! It still is. At 336 feet in height, Manhattan Bridge was even taller. These tall bridges presaged the era of tall buildings, and the effect of these immense structures that dwarfed human scale must have had a profound effect on the populace. I get that feeling looking at Queensborough Bridge, in particular, the newness of suddenly feeling so very small in the presence of the new bridge. Perhaps this is also Edward Hopper’s motif for Manhattan Bridge Loop- with a twist.  Behind the wall the man walks in front of, which dwarfs him, and under the gantry, which mimics a bridge tower, is a trolley that ran on a loop from one side of the bridge to the other giving the work its title. In  Manhattan Bridge Loop, Edward Hopper finds a new way to express the size of the bridge versus the human scale world he knew. And guess what would happen to those buildings along the back.

Change continued after Hopper. The approach to the Manhattan Bridge (seen in the far distance under the arch) on May 18, 2023. That’s the Confucius Plaza complex on the right. The Loop Hopper Painted was located to the right behind the arch. The only way to access it now is to walk around the center arch on the Bridge roadway(!) and hope it happens to be as deserted as it is here, which it almost never is. No, thank you.

Not willing to risk life and limb as I did further below, I shot this from in front of the arch (part of which is seen at the upper right across the busy two-way roadway on May 18, 2023. This is approximately the scene of Manhattan Bridge Loop . Human scale was lost in a big way. Unlike Hopper, I’m using the portrait format to show just how tall the Confucius Plaza complex, which is where the buildings in the Hopper stood, is.

As in Early Sunday Morning, as time progressed, the beginnings of the loss of human scale in Manhattan Bridge Loop would only dramatically increase as time went on.

Approaching a City, 1946. Perhaps not one of NYC’s more scenic locations. The Artist visited the site, at Park Avenue at East 97th Street, the point where above ground trains become underground trains (and vice versa) going to and from Grand Central Terminal 55 blocks south, multiple times in 1945 to Draw it. Interestingly, the first work in Edward Hopper’s New York, my research reveals it was the last work shown in the Whitney’s 1950 Edward Hopper Retrospective catalog. I’ve been unable to find out if that means it closed the show. 

After the introductory wall of early works I showed in Part 1, Approaching a City, 1946, showing another bridge, is the first work in Edward Hopper’s New York, proper after the introductory wall. I was surprised by this choice, but the more I studied it, I’ve come to see it as a commentary on change in the City over time. First, I was interested that Hopper chose this site, given how far it is from his apartment (and mine). As a result, it’s a bit of an outlier among all the subjects of his NYC Paintings. That made me wonder if this, too, was another scene he initially glimpsed while a passenger on a train, particularly given its low vantage point, and then decided to go back and Draw it. I was so puzzled by the Painting and why he chose this location that I visited the site to see what the real thing would reveal.

Park Avenue & East 97th Street, February 15, 2023 with the area shown in the Painting centered. What strikes me is that factory Hopper shows in the center & left of the Painting. Was it really there in 1946, right across East 97th Street from an apartment building? I didn’t crop this picture to the area showing in the Painting to show that the entire surrounding neighborhood is residential, and these building look to me to be 100 years old, if not older.

Today, it’s not possible to get down low enough to recreate the angle he shows- unless you’re on a train coming or going from Grand Central Terminal, 55 blocks to the south. Standing above, I took considerable risk taking this photo, my back danger close to the traffic zipping by on Park Avenue behind me. Vintage Photos in the City’s archive from the early 1940s show there was no factory where Hopper Painted it. The neighborhood was, and is, residential, and I believe the buildings I saw there now were there then.

I spotted this fleeting scene in the Film, The Band Wagon, 1953, showing the scene Hopper Painted just 7 years after he did! It’s highly unlikely the buildings in the background had changed that much.

Instead, Hopper chose to show a range of Architectural styles from Colonial, far right, to brownstone, to its left, to the modern factory, center, which could be taken as a comment, or a lament, on change in the City over time (a bit like Queensborough Bridge, and Early Sunday Morning do for me). The evidence would seem to show that he modified the background buildings to suit his purposes. So, what does modifying an actual place in a Painting mean? It means the Artist is using “Artistic license,” and putting it at the service of his or her intentions. (So much for so-called “realism.”) He or she may also want to remove the distraction of the place from the “point” they are trying to make. In the case of Approaching A City, Edward Hopper replaced a residential building with a factory and placed it among other residential buildings. He also changed the Architectural styles of the other buildings. It’s up to the viewer to read this as he or she will. For me, it shows that if he did so once, he would do so again. And he did.

Therefore, when I look at the places he shows, whether or not they are actual places is now a secondary consideration, said the guy who spent decades looking for the “actual site” of Nighthawks. I was driven by the fact that Hopper had Painted actual sites. But, as time went on, he moved away from doing so because it no longer served his purposes, or he modified them as he did here. (For those interested in knowing more about the actual sites Hopper did Paint, and comparing them with his Paintings, Hopper authority, Gail Levin, the Whitney’s first Hopper curator, and author of both the Hopper Catalogue Raisonne and the definitive biography, has published a book of Photographs she took traveling in NYC, the rest of the U.S. and Europe of places Hopper Painted appropriately titled, Hopper’s Places.) Finally, the darkness inside the tunnel I find interesting. Is it a comment on where things are heading? Into the unknown4?

The Hopper Fish Bowl

A frame from the 1916 short Film, A Ride on the Sixth Avenue Elevated shows the train approaching a row of windows, which might have provided Edward Hopper, a regular rider, with ample opportunity for fleeting inspiration…

Life in NYC offers little privacy. New Yorkers are forced to adapt, but somewhere in the back of their mind lives the thought that “someone’s always watching.” That was born in the days long before video cameras, helicopter & drone surveillance! That Edward Hopper had his eyes open is seen by the number of his Paintings that look into a window. These strike me as new in Art. Some of these may have been inspired by fleeting, passing moments witnessed while a passenger on a train, others while on one of his walks around town. In any number of his Paintings we see one or more people behind glass. As I said in the caption for Office in a Small City, earlier, I call this the “Hopper fish bowl.” These include the “looking into a window” works, like Night Windows, 1928, which I showed in Part 1, and Nighthawks, which includes 4 figures behind glass.

Office at Night, 1940. A work that has haunted me for over 40 years. I saw it here for only the second time in person.

Office at Night, 1940, is another scene apparently glimpsed through a window. Or is it? In The Art & The Artist, P.60, Gail Levin quotes Hopper saying there are three sources of light for this picture- the overhead light, the desk light and the window. If it was a scene glimpsed while on a passing train there would need to be 4- with another window in the front. I think people who have seen many Hoppers will immediately assume this is another “glimpsed in passing” scene, as I have until I read that. Who else Painted something like this before 1940? I grew up being forced to work in an old office that looked a bit like this one as a child, so it always gives me the chills to see it. The quiet drama at work here speaks volumes, and says everything about what has become “life in the cube.” It seems to me that Edward Hopper owns the genre of Painting office interiors (including Office in a Small City, shown earlier), and the next one, all showing the effects of the man-altered landscape on those who live in these places.

 Edward Hopper’s New York, Now

New York Office, 1962. With a change in telecommunication equipment, this could be now in Downtown, NYC. In 500 years, if people make it that far, it’s hard for me to imagine this won’t still be speaking to them. Hopefully, it will have a better frame by then.

Beyond changing my thinking about his work, Edward Hopper’s New York made me realize that sooner or later, everyone who lives in NYC (and perhaps most other cities) for a period of time winds up lamenting the loss of what it “used to be.” Early Sunday Morning is, perhaps, the epitome of this, but I think it’s there in many of his works. I miss the NYC of the 1970s and the 1990s. The pandemic has changed the City dramatically, too. It’s still hard for me to believe that 45, 215 irreplaceable people have died in NYC from covid as of June 1, 20235. Building and renovation (i.e. “progress”) continues as robustly as ever- for better or for worse. Rarely has there been an Artist who documented change in the City as Edward Hopper did. In spite of all these changes, he never changed. He kept working in the landscape format until the end. There were only a handful portrait formatted Paintings in Edward Hopper’s New York, notably his Self-Portraits and his Portrait of Jo, and a few in the square format, like Office at Night. It’s easy for me to relate to his angst at losing part of what he loved. It’s obvious how much he cared. As we venture into this new time of change, Edward Hopper’s New York can also be seen as lessons to us now- before, during and after change.

What I’m saying here is what Edward Hopper’s Art says to me. As with all Art, it’s up to each of his viewers to take from it what they will.

Edward Hopper’s final Painting, Two Comedians, 1965. He and Jo taking a bow in front of a dark blue sky(?) background with a landscape prop to the right. At first glance, it seems a straight-ahead Painting. I now also see it as showing a man-made setting (the backdrop and prop) depicting the “natural world,” thus “flipping the narrative” from what man has done with and to nature in his final work. Or, is it a reminder that everything he’s shown us was created by by him, assisted by Jo, in paint?

Back at home, Edward Hopper always struck me as being somewhat out of place in Greenwich Village. It became the home of the beatniks and then the hippies as his life came to a close. He died on May 15, 1967- right at the dawn of the “Summer of Love.” Throughout his 84 years, Edward Hopper held on to his traditional values and way, as I discussed in Part 1. He never went with fads, changing styles, or trends. At times this made him seem “old-fashioned,” particularly in the face of Abstract Expressionism and then Pop, but he’s having the last laugh now. The crowds that flock to see his work wherever it’s displayed around the world are proof positive that his Art is speaking to more people right now than it ever has before. People everywhere have seen the modern, man-altered world that was new in his time in New York up close and personal where they live and have been effected by it- for better, for worse, or some of both.

 

Last look at Automat. Closing day, March 5,2023.

Another big take away from Edward Hopper’s New York came from observing my fellow show-goers. It struck me that that for many others, as it does for me, it serves as a confirmation of what they’re feeling wherever they’re living. That makes me wonder- was Edward Hopper a visionary, too? Did he foresee that what was going on around him in NYC between 1910 and 1950 would become a world-wide phenomenon? I tend to think he was NYC-centric, like I am. He was worried about what he saw going on around him in a place he loved and loved living in. He noticed the effects these changes had on his friends and neighbors and on total strangers he happened to glimpse for a fleeting moment as he moved around town. He froze those moments in oil paint where they have become frozen in many of our minds. That front line moved further and further until it covered much of the world in the following 100 years since he started.

Ending this series with the same piece I began Part 1 with: Edward Hopper’s Self-Portrait, 1925-30, begun 98 years ago. Seen on March 1, 2023. In 2022, I also featured it here, where you can see it close up.

“I saw the Edward Hopper exhibition at the Whitney Museum in the fall of 1995 and I was amazed at the number of people there and how they reacted to the paintings….Hopper seems to reach more people than any other American artist.” Alex Katz, Looking at Art with Alex Katz, P.88-9.

Since that show Alex Katz refers to in 1995, Edward Hopper’s star has continued to rise- both here and especially around the world, If Edward Hopper isn’t THE most popular American Painter world-wide right now (and he may be), the inexorable rise in popularity his work has seen these past 100 years tells me he will be just that one day soon.

Closing Day, March 5, 2023

For me, in the end, the very good thing about that would be that his popularity is not due to a fad, sex appeal, a glamorous lifestyle, or the trappings of celebrity. It’s solely due to his Art speaking to people! In this modern day & age, with all the trappings of 21st century life that Edward Hopper couldn’t begin to dream of…imagine that.

A Postscript that looks at some serious issues involving & surrounding the Art of Edward Hopper at the Whitney Museum is here. 

*- Soundtrack for this piece is “Rhapsody in Blue” by George Gershwin, who returns from Part 1. Feeling “blue” may be a symptom of the man-altered environment. Gershwin was the ultimate interpreter of his own Music, of course. After his early death, the charge of performing Gershwin authentically fell on his friend, the extraordinary Oscar Levant. Best known as a somewhat sarcastic actor in An American in Paris, and other Films, lesser known is as one of the great pianists of the 20th century he was the highest paid concert artist for quite a while. (If you want to be blown away, check out this segment from the Film, which may be the first Music video.) Here, he powerfully performs “Rhapsody in Blue” with Eugene Ormandy conducting. It is posterity’s eternal loss that the record companies never sat Mr. Levant down in front of state-of-the-art studio recording equipment and had him record every note George Gershwin wrote that included a piano part. I cherish what we have.

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  1. Gail Levin’s Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, Expanded Edition, P. 722. ↩
  2. Quoted in Sheena Wagstaff, “The Elation of Sunlight,” in Edward Hopper, Tate Exhibition Catalog, 2004, P.12 ↩
  3. https://www.history.com/topics/landmarks/brooklyn-bridge ↩
  4. Compare it with this from 1906. ↩
  5. Source and updated total, here. ↩

Edward Hopper’s Impressions of New York

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*-unless otherwise credited)

Show Seen: Edward Hopper’s New York @ The Whitney Museum
Part 1 of 3 Parts.

Introduction

Smack dab in the heart of Edward Hopper’s New York, the Artist stares out at us in one of hs few Self-Portraits, one he began 98 years ago (1925-30). What would Edward Hopper make of his New York now? Click any picture for full size.

Edward Hopper. What more can I say about his Art? In 2015, I named this site after his masterpiece, Nighthawks, because of that figure with his back to us that no one ever talks about. I relate to him more than I do any other figure I’ve ever seen in a Painting because I’ve been that guy, alone in a bar, cafe or restaurant in Edward Hopper’s New York too many times to count.

The first time I ever saw Edward Hopper’s work was in the late 1970s in a friend’s parent’s copy of this massive 10-pound, 16 by 13 1/2 inch, monograph by Lloyd Goodrich 1 published by Abrams in 1978, with 306 pages and 246 illustrations, but only 88 in color, unfortunately. One or other of his Paintings has been lingering somewhere on my mind since. My banner has been a continual homage to Nighthawks for the past 7+ years2.

Mister Hopper’s Neighborhood

The heart of Edward Hopper’s New York for over 50 years: 3 Washington Square (center). Between them, he &  his wife Jo, lived on the top floor from 1913 to 19683. Beginning in 1947, they had to fight NYU, who took over the building in 1946, to stay. Today, the Hopper Studio has been preserved though the rest of the building is in active use by NYU, as it was when I shot this, November 16, 2022. Nighthawks, among countless other Hoppers, was Painted here4.

At this point, I have lived in what was his extended neighborhood for over 3 decades. I have sat in the Park right in front of his long-time home and wondered if he sat on this very spot. I’ve walked by numerous actual sites he Painted, and I spent a night in the Provincetown, Massachusetts  rooming house he Painted in Rooms for Tourists, 1945, while I was in Cape Cod fruitlessly trying to find his Truro summer house and drinking in the atmosphere of another area he Painted. Today, any number of times I’m reminded I’m literally walking in his footsteps on streets he is known to have walked. Living in his footsteps is probably more accurate.

Early Sunday Afternoon, March 26, 2023. Does this scream “Edward Hopper Painting?” 93 years later, it’s hard to see Early Sunday Morning, 1930 (which I discuss in Part 2), in this scene in my neighborhood, but this is where it was on 7th Avenue between West 16 & 17th Streets. Only the building partly shown on the right is in the Painting. I had to wait for the sun to go behind the center building (to the west) to take this shot, its glare still bleaches out the wall of the building on the right, proving the direction the Sun shines in the Painting was “Artistic license.”

A bit of my passion for his Art comes from this “shared experience” of this part of Manhattan at different times, but most of it lies in the endless mystery at the heart of his Art. Mystery that no amount of looking seems to solve. Until I saw Edward Hopper’s New York, that is. 300 pieces in here on NighthawkNYC.com since July, 2015, except for a bit at tail end of “My Search for Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks Diner,” this is the first time I’ve written about his Art.

Setting the Stage

Before the crush. Edward Hopper’s New York Member’s Preview Opening Day, October 13, 2022. A wall of early work, including Self-Portrait, Oil on canvas (as all works featured are, unless specified), right, introduces the show. For Hopper, 1906 marks the beginning of his life as an Artist, the year he graduated from Art school, then embarked on his first trip to Paris. He would return twice before 1910, then return to NYC to get his Art career started.

While not a career retrospective (there has not been an Edward Hopper Retrospective in the U.S. since Edward Hopper: The Art & the Artist in 1980-81 5), Edward Hopper’s New York is a career-long look at what is, perhaps, his most famous subject- New York City, where he lived & worked for almost 60 years. I took the chance to see its 58 Oil or Watercolor Paintings6 by Hopper, among the 200 works and items of ephemera on view, 14 times between its opening day, above, and its closing day, below.

Now. Or never. This is about as crowded as an NYC Art show gets. 5pm, March 5, 2023. One hour to go on its final day. The final weekend was sold out.

Edward Hopper’s New York was the very first time  I’ve seen so many Edward Hopper Paintings in one place. I went 14 times because who knows when I’ll get another chance.

There’s how Hopper Painted, then there’s what he Painted. I’m going to attempt to look at both. In this part, I take a look at how he Painted, i.e. his style, and how, and if, it evolved. In Part 2, I look at what he Painted in a piece that is a personal reaction to what I see when I look at Edward Hopper now. Having the chance to see and study this many Hopper Paintings from early through late in his career Edward Hopper’s New York completely changed how I see his work. This is shocking to me because I’ve been looking at his work almost as long as I have anyone else’s- well over 40 years. To this point, I saw his work as one of the ultimate (and perhaps unsurpassed) expressions of modern loneliness and isolation of the century. Now, I see that as ancillary to other themes, themes that occur even when there are no human subjects. Themes that occur in his work in and outside of NYC.

One great thing about Art is that it’s there for everyone to see and make up their own minds what it says to them. I’m sharing here what it says to me. I hope everyone will look at Edward Hopper, and all Art, for themselves. 

In a Restaurant, 1916-25, Charcoal on paper. For those who’ve criticized Hopper’s technique. He came by it honestly. 6 years in Art schools under esteemed Artist teachers. How they felt about his skill is evident in the fact that he was assigned to teach life Drawing, one of the hardest types of Drawing, before he graduated.

“In every artist’s development the germ of the later work is always found in the earlier. The nucleus around which the artist’s intellect builds his work is himself; the central ego, personality, or whatever it may be called. and this changes little from birth to death. What he was once, he always is, with slight modification. Changing fashions in methods or subject matter alter him little or not at all.” Edward Hopper7

Edward Hopper was born on July 22, 1882 in Nyack, NY, some 80 miles as the Owl majestically flies from the City. He visited the City as a child with his parents, then came here on a daily basis while attending Art school from 1899-19068. Towards the end of that time, he took up residence on West 14th Street, before taking three trips to Paris from 1906-10. After returning to the City, he lived at 53 East 59th Street9 before moving to 3 Washington Square in 191310.

Untitled (Study of Man Sketching in Front of a House), c. 1900, Opaque watercolor, fabricated chalk and graphite pencil on paper (recto); Graphite pencil, pen and ink and opaque watercolor (verso). *-Whitney Museum Photo. Not in the show.

Seeing that introductory wall, shown earlier, sent me delving deeper into Edward Hopper’s Artistic beginnings (1895, at about age 15, to 1913, when he moved into 3 Washington Square at about 31) for the first time, looking to see when his themes began, how his style and technique changed over that time, and what they could tell me about his familiar later work. Most of Hopper’s early work is in the Whitney’s Permanent Collection, thanks largely to the 1970 Jo Hopper Bequest. It is, unfortunately, too rarely seen, and in my view, under-considered.

From the beginning, one thing that stands out to me is that Edward Hopper was a “traditional” Painter. That is, he relied on his preliminary Drawings & Studies as the basis of his Paintings, as Painters had been doing for as long as there had been Painters. Though Photography was making steady inroads into all aspects of life, and being used by an ever-increasing number of Artists & Painters during his lifetime, Edward Hopper never used Photographs as the basis of his work11. Untitled (Study of Man Sketching in Front of a House), from the year his Art school studies began, may be of a fellow student or be a de-facto Self-Portrait. In either case, it shows something I imagine Edward Hopper did regularly for the rest of his career. In addition to relying on long-standing traditional methods, Edward Hopper steadfastly remained true to his vision. He not only resisted Abstraction, but he uncharacteristically fought against it in print, in a publication titled Reality, which he contributed to.

Le Pont des Arts, 1907. Edward Hopper Painted this outdoors near where he was staying on his first trip to Paris. So, it’s strange to see early on in a show devoted to his NYC work. Nonethelessless, it’s interesting for its style and for its content (see Part 2).

While in Paris, Edward Hopper saw shows of the work of the so-called “impressionists,” (a box I don’t subscribe to, so I will use “earlier French Painters” instead) but, apparently did not see the work of Picasso. It’s hard not to see their influence in this, but, at least for me, not that of any one Artist in particular stylistically. Under their spell, he seems to be doing his own take on it.

The question for me became- How far did this influence go, and how long did it last?

“It took me ten yers to get over Europe,” he said.12. Ten years after Europe would be 1920. Looking at the show, a case could be made it lasted much longer.

New York Corner (Corner Saloon), 1913 became a touchstone for me over my 14 visits. If it wasn’t for the familiar lamp post and the smoke stacks in the rear, you might think this is a corner in Paris. A charming and unique early New York work, it was in MoMA’s collection until at least 1981. At some point after, they sold it! A shortsighted mistake in my view.

After returning from Paris, the 28-year-old Artist set about surviving as one. To this end, his work as an Illustrator from 1917 to 1925 provided him with income until his work began to sell. His first show, at the Whitney Studio Club in 1920 (the predecessor to the Whitney Museum), with 16 Oils, produced no sales. In 1923, his Watercolors began to sell after they were shown at the Brooklyn Museum. Then, in 1925, The Met bought 15 Hopper Etchings. Later that year, he sold Apartment Houses to the Pennsylvania Academy, his first museum Painting sale. As his Paintings finally began to sell (mirroring the experience of Winslow Homer, to whom his Watercolors were compared, whose Watercolors also sold before his Oils began to13), in September, 1925, he was able to give up illustration14. Among his early Paintings, the wonderful New York Corner, 1913, caught my eye. It’s interesting to contrast it with this work by John Sloan, one of his teachers, Sixth Avenue and Thirtieth Street, 1907.

John Sloan, Sixth Avenue and Thirtieth Street, 1907. The Sixth Avenue elevated train, which Hopper frequented, runs to the left. The gold sign on the right reads “LION BEWERY,” which was the 6th largest brewery in the US in 189515. I believe this view may be looking downtown, if that’s the Jefferson Market Courthouse in the background. *-Photographer unknown.

New York Corner currently resides in the collection of the Canter Center, Stanford University. Upon acquiring it, their press release says, “New York Corner, created when the artist was 31 and considered the first work made in his representational style.” Wait. What?

“representational-noun 1. showing things as they are normally seen” Cambridge Dictionary

What’s “representational” about it?

In December, 1913, Edward Hopper moved into 3 Washington Square on the Park, where he would live for the rest of his life, so this may have been executed based on a scene near his East 59th Street home just before or just after his move (unless this is a scene on East 14th Street. There’s nothing like the background anywhere else in what would be his West Greenwich Village neighborhood.). When I look at New York Corner, I see an Artist who’s in transition. It seems to me Hopper is wrestling with the influence of his teachers Robert Henri & John Sloan, and what he’d seen in Paris. The top half (i.e. the building) is slightly more “representational,” slightly more resolved (especially in comparison to work he did in Pars, like River Boat or Le Pont Royal, both 1909, and American Village, 1912,), while the bottom half is entirely out of focus. The figures are more like shadows, the indistinct but distinctive gold signage is striking, and stands in stark contrast to the sign in the Sloan. It only adds more mystery to the feel of the whole piece. The upper two floors of the building feature windows that are not much different from those seen on the upper floor of Early Sunday Morning (which are more defined) or across the street from the diner in Nighthawks (ditto). He’s starting to get there.

New York Interior, 1921. Seen through a window, this wonderful piece is one of a number of Hoppers that reminds me of Degas. See Night Windows, below. Notice the clutter on the mantel. Then compare this with Room in New York, seen further below.

As I’ve said, I don’t subscribe to most of the “-isms” that proliferate in Art, and the world, and that applies to putting Edward Hopper in anything other than the “Edward Hopper box.” As time goes on, putting him in the “realism” box he’s usually stuck in seems increasingly problematic. To wit- In Gail Levin’s massive 780-page Expanded Edition of her Intimate Biography of the Hoppers I couldn’t find one instance of Edward Hopper referring to his Art as “realism.”

“realism-noun 1: corcern for fact or reality and rejection of the impractical and visionary” Merriam-Webster

Richard Estes, Times Square, 2004, Paintings don’t come much more technically astounding than this. Unless, they’re by Jan van Eyck. Having stood on this spot before, during and after 2004, I can certainly verify the overwhelming visual noise that still is Times Square, something that has never been more faithfully realized than it is here.

I’m sorry, but when I look at his Art, it doesn’t fit that definition. For another thing, “realism” in Art is a term that began seeing heavy use in the 19th century, though I’ve seen the term applied to Artists like Caravaggio, 1571-1610. In all that time, things have changed. In 1966, the year before Edward Hopper died, Richard Estes began Painting New York in ways that redefined what had been called “realism,” making everything stuck in that box previously look, well, “different.” While Edward Hopper often Painted scenes looking through windows, Mr. Estes took the art of rendering their reflections to an entirely new level, while often Painting at the hyperfocal distance, which added new depth to his depictions of the world. Suddenly, the eye was free to go anywhere on the canvas and it was all rendered “democratically” (i.e. with apparent equal weight) and in focus. Others, including Rod Penner, followed, pushing the envelope of what had been done, all the while in the service of Art. There was suddenly more than one kind of “realism!” Since none of them have put their Art in a box in their interviews, I certainly don’t subscribe to the terms others ascribe to their Art. Therefore, Messers Hopper, Estes and Penner reside in only one “box” each: the one with their name on it. “Realism” has been used for over 125 years! it’s past time to retire it. It’s outlived its supposed meaning.

Night Windows, 1928. Among the earlier French Painters, Edgar Degas is someone I see in numerous Edward Hopper compositions. Perhaps more than I see any other Artist. Hopper seemed to share Degas’s voyeuristic streak. Many of both of their Paintings show women being observed apparently without their knowledge.

It’s pretty plain to see that these recent developments are at odds with Edward Hopper’s style. Then again, I don’t think he was ever out to win the realism race. Hopper authority Gail Levin said his work has “the suggestion of reality16.”

Finally, there’s this for all those who box Hopper as a “realist”-

“I think I’m still an impressionist…” Edward Hopper.

Edward Hopper didn’t say that in 1913 after Painting New York Corner. He said it in 1962, a mere five years before he died! He said it in an interview published in Katherine Kuh’s book The Artist’s Voice: Talks With Seventeen Artists, in 196217. That Edward Hopper, who never minced words, or used them without careful consideration (like the careful consideration he gave every detail of his compositions) especially in the very few interviews he did, would say this so late in his life and career HAS to be taken seriously. So far, it hasn’t been. The “realism” noise surrounding his work remains deafening. I came upon the “impressionist” quote after already being convinced by the visual evidence in Edward Hopper’s New York that he took what he learned from the earlier French Artists and used it in his own way. He was one of the Artists who forged what some call an “American style,” an important goal at the time. Yet, his influences remained in his work throughout his life to the extent he chose to use them, in varying degrees, to suit his purposes in each particular work.

GeorgiaO’Keefe quoted on the back cover of the catalog for her 2021 show at Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza.

Part of that influence, I believe, was that as time went on, Edward Hopper began removing unnecessary objects from his Paintings. It seems to me his work lives on its mystery. Isn’t too much information an enemy of mystery? He also stopped using “real” settings, creating his own, possibly based on actual places combined with his imagination. In spite of my decades of looking for the “real” Nighthawks diner, this may well be what he really did: he based it on a place he saw then modified it in his imagination to suit his purposes (and he said as much). And that is the key: everything superfluous went out of his Art. That’s one thing that makes Nighthawks such a brilliant, timeless, nebulous work.

The result? For me, many of Edward Hopper’s New York Paintings are “impressions.”

Room in New York, 1932.

I rest my case with Room in New York, from 1932. One of his masterpieces, in my view, it defies every single box Edward Hopper has been put in. It’s one of his many scenes looking into a window. Perhaps something he saw in a fleeting moment while riding the Sixth Avenue elevated train, or in passing as he walked, or maybe it’s a scene he imagined, possibly filtered through his own relationship experience. If, and it’s a huge “if,” this is (at least partially) filtered through his marriage, this may be as frankly as he ever depicted it. Look closer-

Edward Hopper’s “realism?” Bah humbug. A classic example of why I ignore boxes and just look at the work for myself!

Look! The faces have no details! This is by intent, of course. He obviously considered facial details to be unnecessary to what he was trying to express, or distracting from it. Is this what he meant when he said, “I think I’m still an impressionist…?” Isn’t this closer to the work of the earlier French Painters than anything else? No so-called “realist” Painted like this! Only George Seurat, among those earlier French Painters, Painted like this- on occasion (not all the time). In most Paintings that include humans, their faces and expressions carry the weight of the work. Not here in this scene that includes a woman and a man and not much else. How utterly daring! Without them, what’s a viewer to focus on? For me, all that’s left is the body language. And that red dress. “All dressed up with no where to go?” The woman in Nighthawks is also wearing a red dress. Could it be a pendant to Room in New York?

When people talk about the”genius” of Edward Hopper, for me, it’s on view in Room in New York, 1932. He had evolved through his education, his time overseas, his influences & experiences, and had arrived at the place of knowing, then executed it using his time-tested, traditional, methods. He knew what he wanted to say here, and had developed the confidence to leave out the non-essential (perhaps, inspired by seeing the earlier French Painters do it), including “minor details” like facial features! He created an impression of a scene, in my view, real or imagined, that mimics the fleeting moment that may have inspired it and somehow works perfectly, just as it is, without them.

Two on the Aisle, 1927.

In Two on the Aisle, from 1927, five years before Room in New York, the faces are “incomplete,” but more “defined” than the two in Room in New York. Perhaps he became emboldened to go further after works like this. 

The Sheridan Theater, 1937.

In Sheridan Theater, nothing is in sharp focus.

Then, in Morning Sun, 1952, the woman’s face (Jo was his model) is Painted so expertly (in my opinion) as to leave her expression ambiguous, making the work open to endless contemplation. These are just a few of the works that have “selective details,” i.e. details the Artist chose to include, or omit. In my view, this is always done to forward what he’s trying to express.

Boxes confine an Artist to one style. If the Artist says my work is in this box? So be it. It’s when other people put an Artist in a box that’s wrong in my view; for the Artist, and for not giving the viewer the chance to see the Art for themselves. Artists, being people, are free to change their minds, evolve, even move into other styles over time. Boxes don’t allow for this. Edward Hopper used his technique and the wide range of his skill as he saw fit in each work. A good number of them (i.e. many) strike me as “impressions,” and it’s their nebulosity that adds so much richness to considering them. There is enough detail in these to ring true with viewers, and enough vagueness to allow them to return to the work again and again. In other works, like Office at Night,1940, he chose to sharpen things up, but still managed to keep the mystery and the drama due to the brilliance of his composition and the realization it.

“Great art is the outward expression of an inner life in the artist, and this inner life will result in his personal vision of the world,” Edward Hopper18.

On the surface, these works may be “impressions” to my eyes. They are also transcriptions of the Artist’s “personal vision of the world.” Whatever you call them, they are as close as Edward Hopper got to making his inner world, “reality.”

*-Soundtrack for this piece is “An American in Paris” by George Gershwin, 1898-1937, a contemporary of Edward Hopper. Born 16 years after Hopper, he died, tragically of an undiagnosed brain tumor, 30 years before the Painter would. Hopper’s taste (if any) in Music is unknown to me, however as Edward Hopper’s New York points out in a room dedicated to it, he was an avid theater and movie-goer. As such, the name George Gershwin could not have been unknown to him. Gershwin, like Hopper, helped define what some call an “American style” of Music, as some say Hopper did for Art. Gershwin, who also Painted, was born in the City and spent most of his life here. Here “An American in Paris,” in homage to Hopper’s time there, is performed on a piano roll by George Gershwin, himself-

In Part 2, here, I take a look at what Edward Hopper’s Art says to me now, after immersing myself in Edward Hopper’s New York. Part 3 looks at some current issues surrounding Edward Hopper’s Art. 

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  1. The first Hopper authority, outside of his wife, the Artist Josephine Nivison Hopper aka Jo, and curator behind the 1950 Edward Hopper Retrospective and the 1964 Edward Hopper show. ↩
  2. In saying all of the above I am not saying that Edward Hopper is my favorite Artist, or I think he’s “the best.” I don’t believe in qualitatively comparing creative beings or works. ↩
  3. Edward passed in 1967. Jo, the Artist Josephine Nivison Hopper, continued to live there in failing health until she died in 1968. ↩
  4. Hopper worked on Nighthawks during the beginning of World War II for the U.S., having started it around the time of Pearl Harbor. In the Logbook of Hopper’s work, Jo recorded it being completed on January 21, 1942, as I show here. Jo worried German bombs would be falling through their skylight. Edward was too busy working to seem to care, or maybe he was escaping into work (Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography Expanded Edition, P.348.) ↩
  5. on 2 floors of the old Whitney, who have mounted smaller shows juxtaposing Hopper with other Artists, since, as well as the floor they gave him in their Full House show in 2005, and the Hopper Drawing show, which I saw in 2013, which had over 200 Drawings and some Paintings, including Nighthawks, on loan, as I partially showed in my very first piece in 2015. ↩
  6. which does not include about 30 Illustrations whose media were not listed but many appear to include watercolor. ↩
  7. from a letter from Hopper dated 1935 quoted in Gail Levin, Edward Hopper As Illustrator, P.1. ↩
  8. Twice the length of time his teacher Robert Henri recommended. ↩
  9. Gail Levin, Intimate Biography, P.84 ↩
  10. While spending summers in Maine and then in Truro, MA. ↩
  11. The lone exceptions I’m aware of are his 2 Civil War-related Paintings which may have been based on Photographs he saw in a published collection of Civil War Photographs. ↩
  12. Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: The Art & the Artist, P.126 ↩
  13. Gail Levin, Intimate Biography Expanded, P.171 ↩
  14. https://archive.artic.edu/hopper/chronology/ ↩
  15. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lion_Brewery,_Inc. ↩
  16. Gail Levin, Intimate Biography Expanded, P. 441. ↩
  17. P.135, as quoted in Sheena Wagstaff, “The Elation of Sunlight,” in Edward Hopper Tate Exhibition Catalog, 2005, P.25. ↩
  18. Statement in Reality #1 as seen in the show. ↩

Jennifer Packer Arrives

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Art in NYC, 2021, Part 2-

David Hammons, Day’s End, 2021, a permanent installation, which opened in May, 2021 on the Hudson River on the former site of Pier 52, which the great de-constructivist Artist Gordon Matta-Clark once “modified” into a work also called Days End in 1975. Appropriately seen here at day’s end, December 23, 2021.

In spite of everything that happened in 2021, particularly the “return to normal” that wasn’t, there were some extremely good shows up here last year. I’ve written about a number of them- Alice Neel: People Come First, Goya’s Graphic Imagination, Cezanne Drawing, and shows of Tyler Mitchell, John Chamberlain, and some others. Having just featured the monumental NYC half of Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror in Part 1 of this look at Art in NYC, 2021, there was another NoteWorthy show of 2021 going on at the Whitney at the same time.

Of all the shows I saw last year, Jennifer Packer: The Eye Is Not Satisfied With Seeing, was the biggest revelation.

Jennifer Packer gets top billing. That might be reflective of the fact her show is on 8 while Jasper Johns is on the 5th floor?, or her name is longer? 7 years later, I still haven’t warmed up to the architecture of the new Whitney, the east end of it seen here from the High Line. But the shows have dramatically improved, in my opinion. That’s the High Line Admin building to the lower foreground, also designed by Renzo Piano, who designed the Whitney.

The Johns and Jennifer Packer shows are a fitting cap to 2021 for the Whitney Museum, which has had a steady string of excellent shows beginning with Vida Americana in 2020 (which I wrote about here) that continued throughout 2021. The stellar Julie Mehretru and overdue Dawoud Bey shows up from spring through the summer, 2021, continued Vida’s momentum, with Jasper Johns and Jennifer Packer now setting the stage for the next Whitney Biennial in the spring. The Whitney also collaborated with Hudson River Park (which lies across the West Side Highway to its west) on legendary Artist David Hammon’s Day’s End, which opened in May, 2021 directly opposite the Museum. A permanent installation right next to the site of a large public park (to the right in the picture up top) currently under construction (where the Department of Sanitation complex was when I looked at the “new” Whitney Museum Building, here, in 2016). It’s something of a major coup in my view, that with the new park when it opens and the Little Island a few blocks away should bring more people to the area and the Whitney. As hard as I was on them during their early years on Gansevoort Street, in spite of everything, the Whitney had a great year in 2021, and they deserve a lot of credit for it.

Flashback- May 25, 2019. Two of the four works by Jennifer Packer in the 2019 Whitney Biennial, each in a different size that ranged from letter size (right), to small mural size.

On October 29th, after my 4th visit to Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror at the Whitney, I headed up to the 8th floor to see the member’s preview of Jennifer Packer: The Eye Is Not Satisfied With Seeing. I had seen 4 of Ms. Packer’s Paintings in the 2019 Whitney Biennial, where they gave me pause. Painting has increasingly become a minor medium in each succeeding Biennial, much to my dismay, and this was true, again, in 2019, so I opted not to write about it, after having written about the 2017 edition. Whereas 2017’s installment was memorable for the marvelous “dialogue” between Henry Taylor, who was already quite established, and Deana Lawson, who was just making her name, it was hard to get a full sense of what Jennifer Packer was about from this selection. I filed her name and the impression. Before that, she had been Artist-in-Residence at the Studio Museum from 2012-13, with a show there, her work was then shown at Sikkema Jenkins in Breathing Room in 2015 and Quality of Life, 2018, the Renaissance Society in Chicago in 2017 in a show titled Tenderheaded. But, it was the debut of Jennifer Packer: The Eye Is Not Satisfied With Seeing at its first stop at the Serpentine Gallery, London, in May through August, 2021, that began the buzz that’s now taking on a life of its own at the Whitney. Simultaneously, there is Jennifer Packer: Every Shut Eye Ain’t Sleep at MOCA, L.A., her first West Coast show. 

The opening gallery during the early days of the show’s run. Blessed Are Those Who Mourn (Breonna! Breonna!), 2020, Oil on canvas, 118 by 172 inches, her largest Painting to date.

Still, it turns out I had no idea what I was in for when I stepped off that elevator in late October. An hour and a half later, I left awestruck.

Mourning is a central theme of this stunning, meditative, work, and others in the show. Here, in a work that also includes 3 fans, the 2020 violent death of Breonna Taylor is echoed in this reminder that the mourning continues as does the search for justice. I don’t know if Ms. Packer knew Ms. Taylor or not, but the sense of loss here fits right in with the intimacy of her Portraits of her friends and those she does know.

I can’t remember the last time I was in a show of work by an Artist largely unknown to me that left me with the undeniable feeling that I was in the presence of true greatness.

Fire Next Time, 2012, Oil on canvas, 72 x 156 inches. The presence of fans (2), a recurring motif, doesn’t keep this  remarkable large work from literally burning off the canvas. The stairs offering the only way out for the figure slumped to the left.

I did not writing that last sentence lightly. I’ve spent two months thinking about it and letting the dust begin to settle before writing this piece. I started going to Art shows in 1980. The very first show I saw was the 1980 Picasso Retrospective at MoMA. I was on the road with a band and flew back to NYC, twice, just to see it. I could have stopped looking at Art right then. I’ve never seen anything like it- still. In the intervening 41 years I’ve seen thousands of shows, hundreds each year, and I count 1,700+ visits to The Metropolitan Museum among them. I’ve been thinking back trying to recall having had this feeling before… When I first saw a Sarah Sze show in the 1990s that had a similar effect, though, given the large size of the work, there were only a few pieces in the show. Most of the great shows I’ve seen have been of work by Artists very well known to me. It takes years, decades, for an Artist to create a body of truly great work. Jennifer Packer has managed to put together an extremely impressive, even revolutionary, body of work at at the ripe old age of about 37. It’s even more remarkable to consider that some of the major pieces in this show are 10 years old (Fire Next Time, 2012 or Lost In Translation, 2013), or close to it!

Lost In Translation, 2013, Oil on canvas. One of the most remarkable Paintings I’ve seen in years. One of Ms. Packer’s “trademarks” is the there/not-thereness of her Portrait subjects. Here, in this double Portrait, things get taken to an entirely different level. I under exposed this shot to try to show the gorgeous, subtle, range of tones that are easily lost under bright light.

Revolutionary? How?

In the space of 35 works, Ms. Packer manages to “reinvent,” in a sense, both the Portrait and the Still Life. Portraits have been around for thousands of years, going at least as far back as the Ancient Egyptians. Yet, I can’t recall ever seeing anything like Lost In Translation before. The figures melt into each other in a way that Abstraction overplays and Representational Painting doesn’t attempt. Here, we have something “in between,” leaving it up to the viewers to try and decipher. Well, yes, Picasso managed to reinvent the Portrait any number of times (no comparison of the two Artists is intended). He was about 26 when he Painted Les Demoiselles d’Avignon in 1907, perhaps the beginning of his continual reinvention of the Portrait (though in a group ). Jennifer Packer was about 27 when she Painted Lost In Translation.

The renowned Painter Jordan Casteel sits in her studio at Yale where Jennifer Painted her in 2014. Jordan, 2014, Oil on canvas, 36 by 48 inches.

More Art in NYC, in 2021. The same Jordan Casteel was commissioned to Paint this Mural, The Baayfalls,  on the High Line. It should be up until March.

She favors friends, loved ones and those in her circle as subjects, so this there/not-thereness of her subjects in her Paintings is partially a way of “protecting” them she has said. This is achieved through a very wide range of mark-making that magically coalesce into images that are remarkable for both their “thereness” and their nebulosity.

Her use of color is another bombshell. When was the last time you saw a Portrait done in red as she does here (in the face not the hoodie)? The Body Has Memory, 2018, Oil on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, a Portrait of the Artist’s friend Eric N. Mack, a fellow-2019 Whitney Biennal Artist.

The power in her work, for me, lies in her uncanny way of combining opposites- intimacy and nebulosity, presence and absence, color and emptiness, created and enhanced with that extremely wide range of mark making techniques I mentioned that all flow together magically. I haven’t seen anything like her intimacy and nebulosity since Francis Bacon, while other elements, like her settings, echo Kerry James Marshall for me. Jennifer Packer seems to prefer to place her subjects in their surroundings, reminiscent of Mr. Marshall’s marvelous, and intimate, home settings. Her poses have an amazing “comfortable in their own skin”-ness that are a hallmark of Alice Neel’s Portraits. In the end, all of this leaves much for the viewer to ponder for his or herself, and, at least in my case, brings me back again and again to look further.

A wall of her Still Lifes in the third gallery.

How has she revolutionized the Still Life?

Say Her Name, 2017, Oil on canvas. Ms. Packer memorialized Sandra Bland, two years after her death in police custody at age 28.

Those on view at the Whitney are freed from their usual setting in a vase or a bowl on a table. In Jennifer Packer’s, the plants seem to float in thin air. Have you ever seen any like them1? Doing this allows her to control the context. All of a sudden, these pieces are not “about” place. They are about something else. They are about what the Artist has on her mind while she’s Painting them, and that’s what the viewer is left to ponder.

Oh, and to those obsessed with putting Artists in boxes, for reasons that continue to escape me (besides laziness), Good Luck boxing Jennifer Packer in anything besides the Jennifer Packer “box!”

In case you’re wondering, she Draws as uniquely as she Paints.

The Mind Is Its Own Place, 2020, Charcoal and pastel on paper.

The Mind Is Its Own Place strikes me as something of a counterpart to Lost In Translation from seven years before, retaining much of the power of the earlier Painting. Her lines carry much of the weight of the color in her Paintings. The Drawings on view here are every bit as mysterious and nebulous as her Paintings, though in different ways, particularly without the colors. And every bit as stunning, which is no mean feat.

The word is out. The crowds are beginning to show up, the catalog is sold out. December 28, 2021. By the time this show ends in April, I expect there to be a line to see it. And not only because of the virus.

After six visits, two and a half months in as I write this, it astounds me to write that I’m left with the inexorable feeling that we are watching the arrival of an important, major Artist. That’s “major” as in the major Artists who line the galleries of our greatest museums.

Important how?

First, reinventing the Portrait and the Still Life puts her in that discussion. That’s more than a lot of all Painters living or dead have done. Second, as she’s said, “My inclination to paint, especially from life, is a completely political one. We belong here. We deserve to be seen and acknowledged in real time. We deserve to be heard and to be imaged with shameless generosity and accuracy.” Looking at her work, though, one thing that strikes me hard is that in her efforts to imagine “with shameless generosity and accuracy,” many, if not most, of her Portraits have an other world quality that is fresh and haunting. She brings “negative space” into the physical body! Parts of her subject’s bodies are left blank in a different way they are in Egon Schiele’s work, or anyone else’s. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to reveal, or share, too much of the sitter, who are often those close to her. For me, at least, that feels endearing and heightens their intimacy. Those are the qualities I respond to. She accomplishes this using an extremely wide range of mark making. Not since so-called Abstract Expressionism have I seen a Painter who is so free in her technique, but it always just works. It always looks “right.” When I look at her Portraits, they  look to me exactly like what it really is- A sitter who might have been there (i.e. sitting in front of Ms. Packer) once. A temporary state. “It’s not figures, not bodies, but humans I am painting,” she said.

Equally astounding for me is to say that, all of one show in, Jennifer Packer’s name is at the top of my list of important Painters to arrive in the 21st century. Yes, I know. I’m the guy who doesn’t believe “best” exists in the Arts. It doesn’t. Let’s just say that if the conversation turned to “Who are the important Painters to arrive in the 21st century?” She’d be the first one I’d name. It’s a symptom of how much her work is on my mind.

Besides, someone has to be first. ; )

BookMarks-

Going…going…gone….

The catalog accompanying the London & Whitney installations of Jennifer Packer: The Eye Is Not Satisfied with Seeing: Serpentine Gallery, London is exceptionally well-done. One of the most beautiful Painting books I’ve seen, it carries over Ms. Packer’s unique color sense to varying colored paper for the text sections. It was easily one of my NoteWorthy Art Books of 2021 among most highly recommended Art Books I saw last year. If you buy it from the link in the book title in this paragraph (only), NHNYC will receive a small commission, with my thanks. 

*Soundtrack for this Post is “Hidden Place” by Björk, the first track on her album Verpertine, 2001, performed here (at 23:04) in 2001 in her extraordinary concert at Riverside Church.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 7 years, during which over 275 full length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Books may be found here. Music here and here. 

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited. To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here. Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them. Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

  1. There have been isolated instances, like Fantin-Latour’s White Lilies, 1877, but I have not seen a body of them, and certainly not with Mr. Packer’s intent. ↩

Jasper Johns: Contemporary Art Begins Here

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

Art in NYC, 2021, Part 1-

Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns. Or is it Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg? Who came first? Mr. Johns said, Mr. Rauschenberg “was the first person I knew who was a real artist (i.e. a working artist)1.” At the time, Jasper Johns was working at the Marlboro Bookstore.

Contemporary Art starts here. Jasper Johns seen in his Pearl Street studio in 1955, with two of the most important early works in Contemporary Art- the first Flag Painting, 1954-55, and Target with Four Faces, 1955. At the time, Robert Rauschenberg had an apartment/studio upstairs. *Photo by George Moffet from the MoMA Jasper Johns: A Retrospective catalog, p.125.

Still, it was Jasper Johns who came to acclaim first when in 1957, Leo Castelli visited his Pearl Street studio, seen above, saw his work and offered him a solo show the following January. The rest is history. In 1959, Time Magazine said-

“Jasper Johns, 29, is the brand-new darling of the art world’s bright, brittle avant-garde. A year ago he was practically unknown; since then he has had a sellout show in Manhattan, has exhibited in Paris and Milan, was the only American to win a painting prize at the Carnegie International, and has seen three of his paintings brought for Manhattan’s Museum of Modern Art.” 2.

For my part, I was so taken with Robert Rauschenberg’s work that I was slow in getting to Jasper Johns. Over the years, his work has spoken to me more and more, to the point of shouting to me now. Messers Johns & Rauschenberg eventually became romantically involved only to have it end in 1961. At this point, almost 70 years since the Photo above was taken, all that really matters for the rest of us is that both have created two of the most important bodies of work of our time.

Happy Birthday, Jasper Johns! The Artist cutting an Ale Can Birthday Cake on his 90th birthday, May 15, 2020. *Unknown Photographer.

Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror is an early candidate for the show of the decade. With around 500 pieces, it’s so vast it’s split between two major museums simultaneously- the Whitney Museum of American Art, and the Philadelphia Museum. Scheduled to coincide with the Artist’s 90th birthday on May 15, 2020, its opening was unfortunately delayed due to covid until September 29, 2021. Still, it’s a stellar 90th Birthday present. Having visited the Whitney half about 10 times, in my opinion, it ranks with the finest shows yet mounted in their new building- Frank Stella, Vida Americana, and Julie Mehretu. It’s brilliantly conceived & laid out and very thoughtfully & intelligently installed.

Roll up! It just so happens this bus, the M14, will take you to the show, among other places…

There have been some important, major, Jasper Johns shows to this point including the 1996 Jasper Johns: A Retrospective at MoMA, Jasper Johns: Something Resembling Truth, at the Royal Academy, London in 2017, and previous large shows at the Whitney & Philadelphia Museums. Yet, given the long-standing relationships Mr. Johns has had with both of those institutions, and the large holdings of his work they each have, I wonder if there will EVER be a more comprehensive look at the work & career of this now legendary Artist, especially with his involvement. As a result, Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror is something of a perfect storm in an imperfect time of a show. Though I have only seen the Whitney half (and the rest in the fine Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror catalog, the only place where you can see the entire show) , it still ranks among the great shows I’ve seen in the past decade including Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer and Kerry James Marshall: Mastry. Also, consider this- Imagine being the curator of the largest Jasper Johns show ever, then being told you only get to mount half of it in your institution! HOW do you divide an Artist’s career in half, and make it cohesive particularly to a discerning Art audience like NYC, while not shorting the equally discerning Philadelphia Art audience?– or vice versa?

Off and running. The exhibition’s lobby contains 39 Paintings, Drawings & Prints that range over his entire career arranged chronologically, and includes a number of very well-known works.

From the evidence I have right now, having seen the NYC half and the Mind/Mirror catalog , they’ve done an extraordinary job. Both halves are full of important pieces and rarely seen supporting works. The show is broken down into themes, which follow the chronological arc of the Artist’s career, which are then divided in half between the two locations and arranged into rooms by theme. Somehow, a visit to one doesn’t leave you with an overriding feeling of missing too much. Yes, if you have followed Mr. Johns career and you go to the Whitney you’ll find yourself looking for his first Flag, 1954-5, or Untitled, 1972, both of which are on view in Philly, but what IS here more than makes up for it. Time and again I found myself surprised that such and such a work WAS here. Not only that, more often than not, it is so thoughtfully displayed that there’s very likely supporting pieces nearby which shed completely new light on it. A good example of this is the wonderful gallery devoted to one of his most fascinating pieces, According to What?, 1964, which was surrounded with three walls of related work that reveal how much each detail in According to What? means to the Artist and how much thought and planning went into it. 

According to What?, 1964, Oil and objects on canvas. This is one of his works that can be seen as a “summing” up of where he was at that point, coming on the heels of Retrospectives at the Jewish Museum, NYC, and the Whitechapel Gallery, London (which would happen, again, after his MoMA Retrospective in 1996. It’s full of objects that he would reference in other works, which surround it in this gallery. It’s also a “tribute” to Marcel Duchamp, with a copy of his Self-Portrait hanging down on the left on the panel that is usually closed when this piece is seen.

Having said all of that, there is a somewhat basic conundrum to consider. Seeing ONE work by Jasper Johns leaves the exact same feeling as seeing, approximately, 250 in each half of this show, or all 500 for that matter: What’s going on? What is it “about?”

Installation view of parts of two of the surrounding and supporting walls. The series of Prints on the left isolate elements of the Painting, which brings the viewer back to study each in the larger work. There is another half of this gallery behind me.

Looking at a few or a few hundred begins to shed light. At the age of 24, in the fall 1954, Jasper Johns destroyed all of his work in his possession 3. He wiped the slate clean (something he would do again, non-destructively, after the MoMA Retrospective in 1996). Right from the earliest work he then created using “things the mind already knows,” he said of the flags, targets, numbers, etc. he featured resulted in pieces the viewing public immediately had a way “in to” at a time of densely personal Abstraction that often lacked one. He created multiple pieces with each object around the same time, then suddenly, one would return years, even decades, later. They became parts of his own language. Symbols. Stand ins. Of what? That’s up to Mr. Johns and each viewer to decide. Thus far, that’s kept viewers and the Art world busy for over 6 decades.

Three Flags, 1958, Encaustic on canvas.

“Jasper Johns is an American painter, sculptor and printmaker whose work is associated with abstract expressionism, Neo-Dada and pop art.” Wikipedia.

There, in one sentence spotted on a search result page is why I avoid Wikipedia. Mr. Johns’s early work is the antithesis of Abstract Expressionism! He and Robert Rauschenberg set out to do their own thing in the face of the all-encompassing tide of AbEx that was at its zenith when they began. To this end, Mr. Rauschenberg even famously erased a Drawing by Willem de Kooning, one of the most prominent of the first wave of AbEx Painters. Jasper Johns’s stated creed was “When I could observe what others did, I tried to remove that from my work. My work became a constant negation of impulses.4” “I was anxious to clarify for myself and others what I was5.” As for “Neo-Dada,” he, like countless others, was influenced by Marcel Duchamp AFTER he saw his work in 1957 and then met him circa 1958-9. But, people “associated” his work with Duchamp’s beginning in 1957, when he had never seen it!

White Flag, 1955, Encaustic, oil, newsprint, and charcoal on canvas. His second and largest flag, on loan from The Met.

Yes, his post-1954 early work center around familiar objects that he has turned into Paintings or Sculpture, his “vocabulary” of elements “the mind already knows” famously include the American Flag, targets, numerals, words, ale cans, Savorin cans and string. yet I don’t see them as “pop,” and I don’t consider Mr. Johns (or Robert Rauschenberg or James Rosenquist for the matter), “pop” Artists, though I know some do. Flags, targets and numbers are not soup cans or Brillo boxes. (His Ale Can Sculpture resulted from a dare, so I read it somewhat tongue in cheek.) His Savorin can Sculpture and Prints are based on the can and brushes in his studio. The wall card makes the case that the Savorin can and paint brushes are “stand-ins” for the Artist. Again, not “pop.” This is interesting because his “object” based work of the 1950s allowed him to remain detached. “I don’t want my work to be an exposure of my feelings,” he said around 1977 6. Over time that has seemed to change, but looking for specifics gets tricky.

A gallery full of his Savorin can Sculpture, 1960, and Monotypes from the 1970s and 80s he made of the object on the 4 surrounding walls. He used a Savorin can as a paint brush holder in his studio. Not sure that makes it “pop.”

As you walk through the show you’ll see expressive passages in Paintings that are a hallmark of AbEx (as in According to What?), but rarely entire Paintings (there are a few), and these were done after the heyday of the first wave Abstract Expressionist Painters. These passages don’t define him or any of his work, in my view, especially given his early work stood diametrically opposed to theirs. It’s really one technique among the very many Mr. Johns uses. As time has gone on, Jasper Johns has shown more interest in Art history, and numerous Artists, like Picasso, Leonardo, Duchamp and Edvard Munch, have “appeared” in his work. As I mentioned in my piece on MoMA’s Cézanne Drawing show, which included a dozen works from Mr. Johns’s collection, he has amassed a world-class Art collection, demonstrating impeccable taste in his acquisitions, that is fascinating in its breadth. Whatever his initial influences were, from the beginning with Flag, 1954-55, Jasper Johns’s work has looked like no one else’s. In my view, that Wikipedia page should read- Jasper Johns’s work is associated with Japer Johns.

One of the most extraordinary works of the 1950s. Target with Four Faces, 1955, Encaustic on newspaper and cloth over canvas surrounded by four tinted-plaster faces in wood box with hinged front.

Another fascinating early work is Target with Four Faces, 1955, which contains 4 heads cut off at just below the eye. They all appear to be male. The piece has a door that can be lowered blocking the faces from view. And, there it was, on loan from MoMA, appropriately on the first wall in the first gallery. A shot over the bow of the Art world in 1955, and today. I came away believing that if Jasper Johns had never made another work after it, Target with Four Faces was enough to seal his stature.

Detail. I was told by a Whitney staffer that the heads were cast from four people in his studio. Note the hinged door above them, which when closed, gives the work an entirely different effect. Also notice the amount of work that went into placing the heads just so. Standing to the side reveals that the tip of the noses must be right up against that door when it’s closed.

Either way, they can’t see what is going on in front of them. Are they present while someone is being targeted, but unseeing? Or, are they the ones with the target on them? It’s easy to read things into them, including Mr. Johns’s fellow gay men being targets, or the public being blind to the “targeting” of others. What about the prominence of their noses, or their closed mouths? Or…..? It’ll say something else the next time I look at it.

One of my favorite elements of Jasper Johns’s early collages are when the underlying material, often newspapers, comes through- either intentionally or through age. In this marvelous very small Flag from 1965, Encaustic and collage on canvas, 7 3/4 by 11 1/4 inches, it’s hard to tell which is the case, particularly with the row of faces to the right. Included in a stunning gallery at the heart of the show of small works from throughout his career.

But, fortunately for the world, he has continued to create. For 68 more years, so far! His Flags raise similar wonder. Does that they were Painted by a gay man in the 1950s living in a country with harsh stereotypes against him and his kind enter into it? A yearning for a Flag that stood for all? For me, anyway, it’s hard to see either of these pieces and not wonder about these things. Of course, as you move through the show one thing becomes quickly apparent. In the Art of Jasper Johns virtually nothing is THAT simple. 

Untitled, 1992-5, Oil on canvas, 78 by 118 inches.

After these early “objects” and object based works, in the early 1960s, Mr. Johns’s work becomes something of a “non abstract form of abstraction,” as the late Kirk Varnedoe, curator of the MoMA Johns Retrospective called it7, where objects and symbols become elements and not the sole subject. Was this done to subvert attempts at “reading” his Art?

The Seasons, 1989-90, Acrylic over intaglio on paper. That figure is reputed to be the Artist’s. On the terrific installation of this show- While this might seem a small detail, I can’t recall ever being in a show where virtually NONE of the pieces suffered terribly from glare. Here, I’m standing directly in front of  The Seasons and there is no reflection. Oh, if only other museums (and galleries) would see what a huge difference it makes it might help persuade them to pay the considerable current cost for glare-free acrylic glazing on pieces with glazing.

In the 1960s his work turned to more private imagery and symbols as opposed to the well-known objects, like Flags and targets. In works like According to What? his use of them reaches a crescendo, and these continued for some years until he wiped the slate clean, again, and began his Cross-hatched period. Things seem to build to another crescendo, like The Seasons, above or Untitled, 1992-94, which led up to his MoMA Retrospective, which would change everything.

Catenary (I Call to the Grave), 1998, Encaustic on canvas with wood and string. After the MoMA Retrospective, Mr. Johns stripped his canvases bare and began to address aging and death in the Catenary series, which numbers 19 Paintings, of which this one never fails to stir me, 55 Drawings and 6 Prints.

The MoMA Retrospective in 1996 caused the Artist to take stock of where he was and led to him drastically changing course. He wiped the slate clean, again. By that time, his work had grown very complex, but now his work emptied. His focus turned to the eventuality of death. This resulted in his extraordinary Catenary series, 1998, and has continued to be (one of) the overriding themes of his work to this day. 

The remarkable Farley Breaks Down 2014, Ink and water-soluble encaustic on plastic. I was stunned when I first saw this in 2019. A work without precedent in Jasper Johns’ enormous output created at 84. The Whitney wisely acquired it.

In 2019 I happened in to Jasper Johns: Recent Paintings & Works on Paper at Matthew Marks Gallery and was frankly overwhelmed when I saw a series of works titled Farley Breaks Down. I’d never seen anything like them, typical of Jasper Johns, yes, but even in his long and productive career they stand alone. I wrote about the show here. Just prior to these there are works in ink and water-soluble encaustic on plastic, but with this subject, Mr. Johns has reached an entirely new level. In 1965, LIFE Magazine Photographer Larry Burrows created a series of Photographs following a helicopter crew, Yankee Papa 13, on a mission in the Vietnam War. During it, one crew member was killed and another wounded. The last Photograph in the series shows Cpl. Farley back at the base breaking down. A few years later Larry Burrows was killed in another of these helicopter missions. It is this image that Jasper Johns chose to interpret. Jasper Johns did 2 years in the Army during the Korean War based in South Carolina and Japan. Still, exactly why he chose to create this series of works in his 80s is up for conjecture.

Detail of “Farley.”

Is it coincidence that over the years, Mr. Johns has lost his entire circle of fellow Artists- Robert Rauschenberg, Merce Cunningham, Morton Feldman and John Cage among them? The series is remarkable both for its incredible power and melancholy (which is not new to his work), as well as it’s stunningly beautiful flowing technique. It’s almost like these pieces are created with colored tears. Yet here, loss is the subject, and for the first time in his work, it’s presented almost nakedly.

A half gallery of dark works created after the breakup with Rauschenberg in 1961 (except for the work on the far left and the sculpture in the middle, including Liar, in the facing left corner.

There is also the pain of another kind of loss. The loss of romantic love. While I have no idea what Jasper Johns’s romantic life has been like, the second part of the first gallery is devoted to the searing works Mr. Johns created after his relationship with Robert Rauschenberg ended in 1961. The visual evidence is overwhelming that it had a devastating effect on him. After these, there is silence in his work where romance might be concerned. He shows deep affection for friends and those he admires, but there is never an expression of romantic love. This, also, is rare in Art8.

Recent Jasper Johns. Untitled, 2020, Intaglio on Magnani Insisioni paper. This piece was on view in both the Matthew Marks & Whitney shows.

As if the Whitney & Philadelphia Museums shows weren’t enough Jasper Johns there was also a remarkable show of his most recent work coinciding with the opening of JJ:M/M, Jasper Johns: New Works on Paper at Matthew Marks Gallery!

Untitled, 2021, Acrylic and graphic over etching on paper. Different, as ever, these works emphasized the cosmology theme which has appeared in some earlier works. The detail in these is both subtle and remarkable. The show consisted of a wall of these, facing a wall of Drawing based works like Untitled, 2020, above with stick figures.

Having seen upwards of 300 of his pieces between the two NYC shows two things stand out for me are- first, Mr. Johns incredible intellect. As you walk through the show you begin to notice that Jasper Johns does nothing- including speak, without very carefully considering what’s going to come out. At first glance some of his pieces look improvised, until you see a carefully crafted Drawing or other supporting pieces in which every detail has been carefully rendered, belying the careful consideration and the large amount of work that went into them. And this is continued over a seemingly endless body of work over 65 years of continually doing something different.

Diver, 1962-3, Charcoal, pastel and paint on two sheets of paper mounted on two adjoining canvas supports, 7 FEET 2 1/2 by 71 3/4 inches!

Second, I haven’t realized how much the anguish of loss is a central theme of his work. This includes the thought of facing one’s own aging and death. For such a private man who’s work is often so dense as to defy understanding, he has repeatedly found his own unique ways of expressing it powerfully. Though each section (of both the NYC & Philly halves ) of Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror is titled, loss and death are not among them. They are the unstated central themes of a good deal of his work, which continues through his latest work shown at Matthew Marks this past fall.

In the final gallery, along side 4 pieces from the remarkable Farley Breaks Down series, is this Painting, similar to the pieces lining the west wall of the Matthew Marks show, like Untitled, 2021, shown above.

Slice, 2020, Oil on canvas. A close look at this large piece reveals amazing detail and depth, the background reminiscent of End Paper, 1976 and Céline, 1978.

As the wall card says, “…ungraspable…”

Picasso outlived, and outworked, all of the boxes his work was put in- the so-called “Blue Period,” the “Rose Period,” Cubism, etc., etc. He did this by simply being himself. His Art changed as he changed. Jasper Johns, who has outlived all his contemporaries, was, perhaps, the first Artist to be lumped into the “Contemporary Art” box in 1958. Still going strong at 91 in 2022 as the Art world is morphs into whatever is coming next, Mr. Johns career has been one long continuous model for Artists- “When I could observe what others did, I tried to remove that from my work,” which has led to 68+ years of fresh ideas that point the way to the future.

Flag Above White With Collage, 1955, Encaustic and collage on canvas. Mr. Johns has used encaustic (a mixture of hot wax and paint) continuously throughout his career, one of the very few to use it so frequently, if not the only one, among major Artists. It is used in most of the works in the show.

It turns out that Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror is not the only great and important show currently up in the Whitney this fall/winter! Since I sub-titled this piece “Art in NYC, 2021, Part 1,” Part 2 will look at it.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “I Don’t Want to Be Your Shadow,” by the Psychedelic Furs, from Forever Now, 1982, or “My Life is a Succession of People Saying Goodbye,” by Morrissey from You Are The Quarry, Extended Edition.

BookMarks-

With a career spanning a whopping 68 years(!), and counting, among the longest in Art history, you’d expect there have been a LOT of books published on Jasper Johns, and you’re right. There are. I see books I”ve never seen before each time I look. The latest being a catalog for a show on Jasper Johns and Edvard Munch (the book with the orange spine, above)! Among them, a few that I’ve seen are particularly recommended-

Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror, Philadelphia Museum/Whitney Museum/Yale-  Though it’s close to 4 pounds, it’s wonderfully succinct and the best place to get an overview of Jasper Johns’s work over his amazingly long career up to 2020. The text accompanying each chronological section is also concise, remarkably distilling voluminous information down to a few pages, though I found the essays hit or miss. The book is the only way to see the whole show besides traveling to both museums (where it is only up until February 13, 2022). Highest recommendation for those seeking one Jasper Johns book with the most and broadest range of his Art in color.

Jasper Johns: A Retrospective, Museum of Modern Art- The catalog for the landmark Johns show in late, 1996 to early 1997 with a fine essay by curator Kirk Varnedoe, is a thorough look at his work up to 1996. In my opinion, it remains the finest reference on Jasper Johns due to its comprehensive 250 page Chronology and Plates section which goes up to the end of 1995. It’s also of ongoing importance in the history of the Artist when you consider that having this Retrospective had such an impact on the Artist that it caused his work to drastically change after and since. The immediate result was the extraordinary Catenary series, though all of his work since bear the hallmarks of that change. Here is a terrific record of his work up to that point that includes many illustrations. A model exhibition catalog that Mr. Johns designed the endpapers for. Essential for the Jasper Johns fan.

Jasper Johns: Redo an Eye, Wildenstein- A 300+ page look at the work of Jasper Johns that provides a comprehensive look at the Artist’s Art over his entire career up to about 2018, and one of the few to cover his later work. Author Roberta Bernstein says she has spent much time with Mr. Johns over the past 50 years, in addition to focusing on studying his Art. As a result, the book provides numerous insights. The most comprehensive overview currently available, it’s also available as Volume 1 of the Jasper Johns: Catalogue Raisonné of Painting and Sculpture, listed further below. Includes many illustrations, though in smaller sizes then the MoMA Retrospective, above, or the Whitney book, which are meant to illuminate the text since it originally served as the introduction to the Catalogue Raisonné, which has the large size reproductions. Recommended for those who want to dive deeper into Jasper Johns.

Jasper Johns: Catenary, Matthew Marks Gallery- (The book with the blue spine in the bookshelf pic with the string appropriately hanging down from it.) Matthew Marks Gallery has shown the Artist for many years, and has often published very well done and beautiful catalogs for their shows. Each is worth seeking out. Among them, I’ll highlight two here. Published to accompany the show of the same name in 2005, this was the only opportunity to date to survey this exceptional body of 80 later works which was the result of the Artist’s reaction to the aforementioned MoMA Jasper Johns: A Retrospective. They center around aging and death, each of which is illustrated in color here. It includes a fine essay by Scott Rothkopf, the co-curator of Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror. It’s also beautifully published by Steidl. Out of print but not expensive.

Jasper Johns: Recent Paintings and Works on Paper, Matthew Marks Gallery- Published to accompany the unforgettable show of the same name in 2019, a NoteWorthy Show, which shows yet another new side of the Artist’s work. Featuring the extraordinary Farley Breaks Down series along with a number of other compelling recent works, with over 60 illustrated here. I was stunned when I saw the Farley pieces. They seemed to be without precedent- both in Johns’s work or that of any other. Both books are highly recommended to those interested in John later & current work.

For serious study & research, there is the Jasper Johns: Catalogue Raisonné of Painting and Sculpture, a 5 volume set that currently trade at big discounts from its $1,500.00 list price. I can’t help but wonder if this is because they are already out of date since Mr. Johns has continued to create prolifically since it was published. It only goes to 2014. Then there is the Jasper Johns Catalogue Raisonné of Drawing set published in 2018 and the Jasper Johns: Catalogue Raisonné of Monotypes, collecting his unique prints to about 2018 (like the Savorin can Prints seen above).

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Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
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  1. Jasper Johns: A Retrospective MoMA Catalog, p.124 ↩
  2.  “His Heart Belongs to Dada,” Time, May 4, 1959 ↩
  3. Jasper Johns, Mind/Matter, p.29 ↩
  4. Quoted in Michael Crichton, Jasper Johns, 1977 Whitney Catalog, p.27. Roberta Bernstein, Jasper Johns: Redo An Eye, p.20, says “While Johns respected many of the Abstract Expressionists, he was committed to establishing a new direction that embraced a more literal subject matter and engaged viewers in a way that was independent of the artist’s personality. ↩
  5. Roberta Bernstein, Jasper Johns: Redo An Eye, p.20 ↩
  6. Michael Crichton, Jasper Johns Whitney 1977 exhibition catalog,  p.20 ↩
  7. MoMA Retrospective Catalog, p.15 ↩
  8. Robert Rauschenberg is, coincidentally or not, another Artist who’s work appears not to reference his romantic life. ↩

My Search For Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks Diner

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*unless otherwise credited).

Arnold Newman, Edward Hopper in his New York studio, November 1, 1941, Gelatin silver print, *Arnold Newman Collection/Getty Images.

You’re looking at Art history.

After the fact, this may be one of the most historic Photographs in American Art. I’m not only talking about it being a wonderful portrait of Edward Hopper. It’s much more. The date is November 1, 1941. On January 21, 1942, the Artist’s wife, Jo Hopper, would record the completion of the work her husband created on that blank canvas he is posing in front of in the Artist’s Ledger of his work.

A section of Edward Hopper’s Ledger page for Nighthawks, from the book, Edward Hopper: Paintings and Ledger Book Drawings. It wound up in the Art Institute of Chicago almost immediately. Its sale netted Edward Hopper about $1,700.00.

In the intervening 81 days, Edward Hopper Painted the incomparable Nighthawks on that very canvas. We don’t know if Arnold Newman had any clue as to what Edward Hopper’s intentions were for that canvas. But we know now. The odds are that he had finished his preliminary work- the inspiration, the sketches, the reference Drawings, the sizing calculations he usually did, and ordered the stretcher and canvas we see behind him on his famous easel. Most likely? At this very moment, this masterpiece was all in his mind, and possibly on it, as Arnold Newman pressed his shutter release.

Click.

For the following 77 1/2 years (exactly, as I write this), and counting, the world has been fascinated by Nighthawks like they have few other Paintings created in the 20th Century. Some of us, including myself, are borderline obsessed by it.

Written on my soul. The last time I stood in front of Nighthawks. August 28, 2013, at Hopper Drawing at the old Whitney Museum.

I’ve stood in front of it twice in my life. The first time at The Art Institute of Chicago in 2005, the second at the old Whitney Museum in 2013. In July, 2015, I named this site after it and wrote about why in the very first piece I Posted here, “Welcome To The Night,” To commemorate the 4th anniversary of NighthawkNYC.com, I present My Search for the Nighthawks Diner.

Edward Hopper posed for Arnold Newman, and Painted Nighthawks here, on the top floor of 3 Washington Square North, just east of the Arch in Washington Square Park, in Greenwich Village, that it looks out on, where the Hoppers lived for over 50 years, from 1913 until the Artist’s death in 1967. This is a key point for a variety of reasons, and an intriguing one because Edward Hopper was the furthest thing from “bohemian” one could imagine. Yet, living here he, like most New Yorkers, walked regularly, probably daily, and so the areas he was able to walk to may have become the sites of, or the inspirations for, his Paintings. And so, for almost all of the past 77 years viewers have been asking the question-

“WHERE is the diner Edward Hopper Painted in Nighthawks?”

I’ve been trying to find it for the better part of my life. Having lived in the area for 28 years and having frequented it before I lived here, the Village is an area I’m as familiar with as I am any anywhere. During that time, as during the Hopper’s time here, change has been the only constant. Change has also been a constant enemy in the attempts to locate, for once and for all, the diner we see in Nighthawks. My search has been carried out using only a few tools. First, the extensive Hopper literature. Though very little of it is directly relevant to this search, much of it is indirectly relevant, providing a framework for how, when and where he created his extensive oeuvre of Paintings, Watercolors and Drawings. The books by Gail Levin, (the Hopper’s biographer and the author of numerous other books on the Artist and his work, including the 4 volume Catalog Raisonne), particularly her Hopper’s Places, Second edition and the catalog for the 2013 Whitney Hopper Drawing show have been the most referred to for this quest. Outside of this, I have relied on my own two feet, my cameras and, yes, my gut.

Once that “Could this be IT?” bell goes off, I research the possibility, beginning with “What did this place look like around 1940?” Is any of that here to be seen now (i.e. when I was standing there)? What does common sense tell me? In the case of Edward Hopper, “common sense” comes from studying his work. Hopper’s Places provides part of the basis for some of that “common sense.” In it, Ms. Levin shows us contemporary Photographs she, herself, has taken at various sites Edward Hopper Painted around the world- though not Nighthawks, “…to show how he both recorded and transformed” these places, she says in her “Preface to the Second Edition,” P.vii. On P. x, she adds, “Research for the biography also revealed that in his later years Hopper relied upon observing specific sites more often than anyone had previously realized.” Even though much has changed over time, I still get a bit of a sense of Hopper’s approaches to rendering actual places. Much is, also, to be learned by looking at and studying historic and contemporary pictures of places under consideration. In the case of Nighthawks, I used all of these tools in my search.

Rooms for Tourists, 1945. About 40 years later, I found this actual Rooming House this Painting is based on in Cape Cod, Mass., and stayed there. *Photographer unknown.

My gut has already helped me find one of “Hopper’s Places.” In the 1980s, I was traveling through Cape Cod and looking for a place to stay in Provincetown, Mass. I came upon a small Rooming House and instantly recognized it from the Hopper Painting, Rooms for Tourists, and so I just had to stay there. Part of my belief that Edward Hopper based Nighthawks on a real diner was finding that actual Rooming House in the 1980s when I visited Cape Cod.

I’ve spent most of my time searching in the West Village. For two primary reasons. First, this was the neighborhood Edward Hopper lived in and walked through regularly and most often. Second, as soon as one walks south of West 14th Street (the Village’s northern border) on 7th Avenue South, you’re faced with this-

Standing in 7th Avenue South at the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and West 11th Street, facing south, July, 2019. It HAS to be somewhere in this picture, right? No. There are countless triangular corners in the West Village, but this view is the most likely to contain it, I think. Click for full size.

As I stood in the middle of 7th Avenue South (NOT recommended) there were no fewer than TWELVE triangular corners around me! Those familiar with Manhattan know that almost all of it north of 14th Street is a grid made up almost exclusively of rectangles. Below 14th Street, “old Manhattan” streets wind seemingly with minds of their own, interrupted here and there with a semblance of uptown’s rectangular regularity. The triangular corners we see in Nighthawks are everywhere. WHERE to begin?

The former Two Boots Pizzeria, #11 in the picture above, is from the right period, but its building goes straight up, so I ruled it out quickly. Nothing feels “right” to me about it.

Mulry Square (in the foreground), #3 in the picture.

Perhaps no site has gotten more “hype” about it over time in regards to Nighthawks than Mulry Square, #3 in the picture. In spite of what many have said, I have seen nothing to indicate to me that this was the site of the Nighthawks Diner.

I would guess this would be  the early 1980s from the Rita Marley ads and Miles Davis ads, on the remnants of the hamburger place, which may be the remnants of the actual hamburger place that stood here in the 1940’s, which I show later on. Miles Davis came out of retirement in 1981. Is that a covered window along the left side? I haven’t been able to find out. *Photographer unknown.

The historical archives show a gas station with a small burger place at the time, but it looks more like a White Castle precursor to me than anything resembling the Painting’s diner. If anything, it may have been an inspiration for the “fishbowl effect”- where we are looking in through the glass at the customers. More on this later.

This is seen on the other end of Mulry Square, #4 in the picture, on another triangular corner, today. No viable candidates have been reported on this, also triangular, side of the Square, which is occupied by this too modern edifice today. I’ve also ruled it out.

#9. Max Gordon Corner, named in honor of the long time owner of the Village Vanguard.

Directly across the street from #4 is this building, #9 in the picture, which has been home to the world’s greatest Music club, in my opinion, the Village Vanguard since 1927. There is a pizza place on the corner and the windows go through to the back street, but at 2 stories, I’ve long ago ruled it out. However, Art history will remember this spot because another great Painter, Richard Estes, wonderfully Painted it. (Which reminds me- In 2016, I visited the known site of one of Richard Estes’ latest Paintings in a piece I ironically called “Richard Estes’ Dayhawks At The Corner Cafe.”)

Village Cigars, 7th Avenue South and Christopher Street, Greenwich Village, NYC, June, 2019.

The site of Village Cigars is not numbered in the picture, being further down 7th Avenue on the right past #8. It’s garnered surprisingly little to no attention in the Nighthawks searches I’ve seen to this point. It has some things going for it- the shape and the cigar sign (Nighthawks has a Phillies cigar ad over the diner) but in speaking with the manager, I was told it’s been here for over 100 years, but it’s been a cigar store the whole time. Also, it doesn’t have the curved front window, those dual subway entrances were most likely also there in 1940 and are not in the Painting, and the buildings behind it are too far away. I’ve ruled it out. The Stonewall Inn is a few hundred feet to the left.

Some believe the inspiration lay in movies of the period, like this one, Stranger on the Third Floor, 1940. The suggested diner down the street on the right looks nothing like it, in my opinion. Possibly another “fishbowl effect” inspiration.

I remain completely unconvinced by any and all suggestions of movies I’ve seen. Yes, Edward Hopper was taken by a short story, “The Killers,” written by Ernest Hemingway in 1929, but I, for one, have not seen the evidence of that in the setting in the Painting. In the figures and the mood? Much more likely. “The Killers” was also made into a film, but, in 1946, too late to be considered. Maybe the Painting influenced it, as it has countless movies since.

That leaves the contenders. Speaking of movies, Edward Hopper reportedly frequented the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater (which stood where #12 is in the picture earlier, and is seen further below), and based a Painting inside of it. His walk to and from it is interesting to me and it has been suggested that a few locations along this route are candidates for the Nighthawks diner. I looked closely at these.

Yes, West Village Florist at 70 Greenwich Avenue is sort of triangular. The picture above was taken standing on the northern edge of Mulry Square, seen earlier. Yes, it was along one of Edward Hopper’s possible routes from his apartment to the Lowe’s Sheridan Theater, which was directly across 7th Avenue to the left of the picture.

This picture came to me dated 1938 and that would appear correct. Looking toward Mulry Square on the right shows the side of the White Castle-ish hamburger place seen earlier under the Esso sign. The place on the triangular corner, center, at the intersection of 7th Avenue South, Greenwich Avenue and West 11th Street, is now West Village Florist, shown here when it was a cigar/cigarette store. Whoever told this picture is standing on the curb outside of what was Too Boots Pizza, #11 in the panorama posted earlier, with the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater directly to his or her left. Photographer unknown to me.

Yes, it housed a deli 20 years ago before becoming a flower shop the manager told me, and my research added a cleaner/tailor shop circa 1914, and a cigar store in the period of Nighthawks as seen in historical pictures (including in 1938, above), but it’s too small inside, the prow is also too small, and the corner lot too big in my reading of the Painting. Nowhere have I seen reference to it being a diner or coffee shop at any point. The buildings in the background are wrong now, and were wrong then, according to historical pictures.

Inside West Village Florist, standing just inside the door. I had room to stretch my arms out, with maybe an extra foot on each side, but the space quickly narrows, as you can see. It’s just too small. Stop by and see what you think. They are very nice people who have a beautiful assortment of plants and flowers.

There is little doubt he saw it, but as I showed earlier, there are countless triangular corners in the area that could have been a partial inspiration. At best, that’s all this is, and I doubt it was a big influence. I’ve ruled it out.

West Village Florist’s building has this unique, strange, angled shape to it seen from head on, July, 2019.

The serious contenders.

The intersections of Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street with the Loew’s Sheridan Square Movie Theater, rear. Photograph by Percy Loomis Sperr (1890-1964), Manhattan: 12th Street – Greenwich Avenue, 1932, *NYPL Digital Archives.

In this 1932 picture of the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street, the low, triangular shaped building in front of the west side (the back) of the Lowe’s Sheridan Movie Theater is Crawford Lunch. There are historic pictures taken from Greenwich (on the right) that show customers in Crawford Lunch with West 12th Street seen behind them- which I reproduce further below. I think it is entirely plausible that Edward Hopper saw this, too, and this inspired his conception of a sort of “fishbowl” like setting. Here was an actual working diner/restaurant of the time. Today’s West Village Florist building is about 3/4 of the way down to the right of this picture.

Change is the only constant in New York. The same scene, today! I stood as close as I could to the spot the 1932 picture above was taken to take this in July, 2019- 87 years later!

It’s so different, 87 years later, as to defy anyone to guess this site had anything to do with Nighthawks. Therein lies a good deal of the problem finding its sources. It’s now The NYC AIDS Memorial Park at St. Vincent’s Triangle. Note- the brown building on the very far left. It does not look like what’s in the background of the Painting. More on this follows. The Whitney’s Hopper Drawing catalog suggests that Edward Hopper may have looked through Crawford Lunch and seen the “fishbowl effect” we see in the Painting.

Subway construction photograph of 88-86 Greenwich Avenue and West 12th Street, New York City, April 18, 1926. Identifier- 86446d_GreenwichAve_SubConst958. *Collection of the New York Historical Society.

Here, we see a revealing example of this “fishbowl effect” seen at Crawford Lunch in a picture taken on April 18, 1926. Notice how you can see into and through the restaurant, on the right, to West 12th Street behind the man in the dark hat under the word LUNCH on the window. The brown apartment building seen in the far left in the prior picture is about to be built seen straight ahead just across the 12th Street past Crawford. Note, also, the word “LUNCH” on the window for later. I believe this is the possible source of the effect given how close it is to the Lowe’s Sheridan Theater (next door). However, it could have as easily been something he saw somewhere else on his walks, in a place they, or anyone else I’ve come across has not considered. But, unlike most of the locations suggested to date, Crawford Lunch was an actual restaurant at the right time and in the, possibly, right place.

The almost identical view in the previous picture today at the former site of Crawford Lunch also approximates the view seen in Nighthawks. That brown brick apartment building, seen early in its construction above, has been here since the late 1920s, and hence, at the time of Nighthawks, making it wrong for the Painting. Seen in July, 2019.

That Crawford Lunch was an influence would seem to be confirmed by this-

Study for Nighthawks, 1941 or 1942. Fabricated chalk and charcoal on paper; 11 1/8 × 15 in. Given he finished Nighthawks on January 21, 1942, I doubt this was done in 1942. It seems he was still finalizing his ideas when this was done. *Whitney Museum collection & photo.

I can barely make out the word “LUNCH” on the widow above the man with his back to us in this study for the Painting. As we know, Edward Hopper did not include this in the final Painting, among other changes he made to what we see in this incredible and endlessly fascinating Drawing. It sure reminds me of the Crawford Lunch window and may be a give away of its source and, possibly, the source, once and for all, of this “fishbowl effect.”

Edward Hopper said little about the inspiration for Nighthawks and, frankly, I don’t know what to make of what he is reported to have said. In Katherine Kuh’s The Artist’s Voice, P.134, he says, the Painting “was suggested by a restaurant on Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet.” He adds, “I simplified the scene a great deal, and made the restaurant bigger.” Um, Ed? Could you be a bit more obtuse? “Greenwich Avenue where two street meet,” is said to mean West 12th Street & 7th Avenue South by Gail Levin (Hopper’s Places). Couldn’t “two streets meet” mean Greenwich & West 12th Street, where Crawford Lunch was? If it means Greenwich and two other streets, it has to be the triangles where West Village Florist and Mulry Square are. In any event, “…suggested…” I believe means a scene he saw at one of these places, the “fishbowl effect,” which I think he saw at Crawford Lunch, a confirmed restaurant at the time. But, Crawford Lunch doesn’t look like the diner in the Painting- even if he “…made the restaurant bigger.” Neither does the hamburger place on Mulry Square or West Village Florist. And that comment doesn’t specify it’s the same restaurant he mentions on Greenwich Avenue. It could mean “the restaurant we see in the Painting.” Intensely frustrated by this, I finally decided to continue on my own path. This meant looking a little further afield from the Greenwich Avenue vicinity. It turns out I didn’t have far to look.

Further down 7th Avenue South, not as far as Village Cigars, and still well within Edward Hopper’s walking neighborhood, I came across this-

“Oh. My. Gosh.”

The site of the now sadly defunct Riviera Cafe, which was open here for 48 years, from 1969 until August 31, 2017.

The former Riviera Cafe at 225 West 4th Street at 7th Avenue South.

When I came across this site, I had an “Oh. My. Gosh.” moment. Picture it without the modern “greenhouse” addition and it becomes much more like the diner in Nighthawks. Back in the day, I spent a few nights in this place, as I’m sure many reading this have, too, since it was centrally located right at the heart of the West Village. The building behind it to the left, while not exactly what we see in the Painting (I believe they are the same buildings that were standing on this site in 1940), at two stories, which fits all we can see in the Painting (they may go higher in Nighthawks, or they may be cut at two- we can’t tell), and they’re the right distance, though at a slightly different angle, from what we see in the Painting. If this is the location Edward Hopper used, why didn’t he use the buildings we see in the background? I believe it was because of the color. That long building which takes up a good portion of the back is too brightly colored to fit the mood he wanted in Nighthawks. So, possibly, he replaced them. More on this in a minute. I measured the depth of the greenhouse at 90 inches- 7.5 feet. If it were not there, it would have allowed me to stand closer to the building taking this shot. Thinking back to my visits here, there was a bar along the back wall then, and I believe there were tables behind the seats/stools facing the bar, approximately under where that brick wall would come down with the greenhouse gone. Would a horseshoe counter have fit here?

As I looked closer, I discovered this-

The front of The Riviera Cafe facing West 4th Street and giving it its address, 225 West 4th Street.

Lo and behold, there was something none of the other candidates I’ve discussed thus far have- a curved front window! And, it’s the same on both sides of that door! But, that door. Was it always there, or was the curve complete at one point, which would make The Riviera, minus the modern greenhouse addition, an almost perfect match for Nighthawks Diner?

The back of The Riviera Cafe on West 4th Street.

Stepping around to the back of The Riviera- more intrigue. What’s up with the right half of the wall, and what was there before they replaced it? A window? Also, that door to the left looks earily similar to the door in the Painting on the inside of the Nighthaks Diner. As I said, when I was here, I remember a long bar inside that wall and along it, meaning you’d probably be able to see the necks of liquor bottles in that rectangular window that’s still there, center. But, that’s now/more recently. What about in the past?

Intrigued, to say the least, searching further, I uncovered this-

1941! The year Nighthawks was Painted. Percy Loomis Sperr (1890-1964), Manhattan: 7th Avenue South – 4th Street (West), 1941, *NYPL Digital Archives.

In 1941, The Riviera was called Riker’s and it was a restaurant! It looks pretty new and shiny, too. Some encouraging things in this picture- there are retractable awnings instead of the permanent greenhouse, for one, but that troublesome front door is still there to the left, and it looks to be the same structure, with the curved windows on either side of it.

The Riviera Cafe occupies the biggest triangular space in this part of the West Village. It’s very accessible to the Hopper’s apartment (a few blocks to the east). Why has it never been properly considered as a candidate?

In 2013, during the Hopper Drawing show, the Whitney Museum came out and said the following-

“…has led art historians to cite the building’s prow as one of the influences…” What are the others? Seen in 2013.

They’re talking about the Flatiron Building, which is on West 23rd Street at the intersections of Broadway and 5th Avenue- no where near Greenwich Avenue, where that quote has caused most to look, and it’s not even in Greenwich Village! So, the museum has taken the same approach I did in this sense. Also, in the Hopper Drawing catalog they fail to publish the Kuh Hopper quote (above), only footnoting the page in her book it’s on (P.118, footnote 2)! Perhaps, they, too, find it as frustrating as I do? (I realized this only this past week, after my quest had been completed.) They state the Flatiron was “one of the influences,” but fails to name any others!?? “One of” means “more than one.” Well? I’m naming names here.

An installation of “Nighthawks” in the prow of the Flatiron Building by the Whitney Museum in 2013. The installation is 2D and only a few inches deep, as I show below. I shot it at this angle to show the problematic lining up of the buildings in the back on Broadway, across the plaza, which is not at all like what we see in the Painting. Seen on September 1, 2013.

Assessing the Flatiron’s candidacy, I discovered that at one point it was a cigar store (again, the Painting has a Phillies cigar ad on the top of the diner), but I did not find evidence of it having been a diner. Looking closer at the interior space, I discovered it ostensibly measures 10 feet wide, at its widest, to the right in the picture above, by 30 feet long. I’m no restauranteur, but that seems pretty narrow to me to get a horseshoe shaped counter inside, room for seating around it, room to navigate around those seats and room for the counterperson to work. Glare notwithstanding, here’s what the space looks like pressed against the front curved window-

A look at the installation of “Nighthawks” in the prow of the Flatiron Building on September 1, 2013.

Notice the radiator on the right, and how far it is from the window. There’s another one on the left which is hard to see in this picture. Both, and the room around them they require for safety and comfort, considerably cut into the amount of usable space here. Also notice the large column to the left rear of the photo, which serve to partially support the gigantic mass of the building above them, which also has a counterpart that’s hard to see because of the glare on the right side (see the picture of the whole prow, above it). The opening between them appears to be tight. How are people supposed to come and go here?

Then, there’s the site itself. It doesn’t feel to me like what we see in the Painting.

A panorama shows the distance between what would be the far side of the prow in the Painting and the buildings across the plaza and Broadway.

The buildings that would be in the background of the Painting are too far away and angled incorrectly- 23rd Street angles to the south east relative to the Flatiron at this point making the buildings begin too far back to be seen as they are in Nighthawks, in addition to being not at all like those seen in the Painting in the many existing historical pictures. Therefore, I believe the Flatiron’s prow isn’t what we see as the diner in the Painting, and this wasn’t the scene shown in the Painting. Of course, any Artist is completely free to do whatever they want, to make anything into anything else, whether it would fit in the “real” place, or not. (There is no such thing as “photorealism” in Painting, in my opinion, but that’s a battle for another day.) Edward Hopper, as per that quote, could have made West Village Florist or the Fatiron’s prow bigger, but their settings are still wrong, in my opinion, so I don’t believe he used either. However, like the Whitney, I believe the Flatiron’s prow was an influence.

Currently under renovation? Cleaning? Diner installation? Maybe I should wait and see what emerges before reaching a conclusion. (Just kidding.) July, 2019.

Looking at the Painting, one thing is undeniable- that curved window Edward Hopper includes. I’ve found it nowhere else besides on the Flatiron- either on existing buildings or in historical pictures. And, some of the ribs we see on the window in the Painting are present on the Flatiron’s prow today. In 1939, Edward Hopper exhibited at the World’s Fair1, and so he may have seen the Fair, but was certainly aware of it.

“Fishbowl effect” indeed. The history of glass making through the ages seen in glass bubbles at the Glass Incorporated Pavilion at 1939 World’s Fair, Queens, New York, New York, USA. Coincidence? Or influence? *Image by Peter Campbell/CORBIS

It was an Art Deco marvel. The Nighthawks diner has a decidedly Deco/Streamlined/Moderne feel to it. Though the Flatiron is a Beaux Arts building, the curved window of the prow has a decidedly Art Deco, streamlined, feel to it.

Early Sunday Morning, 1930, seen at the Whitney Museum, July, 2019. This looks uncannily similar to the background of Nighthawks to me.

Yet, what he depicts in the background of Nighthawks looks curiously not dissimilar to his Early Sunday Morning, 1930. It’s almost like he dropped those buildings into the background. But, 10 years after the earlier work a good many of those buildings were no doubt still everywhere around town, so they may as easily be generic. Whatever their origin, in this way he juxtaposes the old New York with the new world just seen in the 1939 World’s Fair, which showcased “modern” streamlining and the new flourescent lighting.

Early Sunday Morning is something of a “pendant” to Nighthawks as Carter E. Foster points out in the Hopper Drawing catalog (P.99). It’s the same size and shape and the two are bookends in some ways.

7th Avenue between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Streets, June 10, 1914. I’ve indicated the scene depicted in Early Sunday Morning, with a blue bounding line centering around 88 7th Avenue, seen in these two photos taken on June 10, 1914- 16 years before the Painting. The shutters on the windows are gone in 1930, so are the awnings, and there was only one barber pole. The hydrant was either to the left, or around the corner to the left. The center white line are the borders of the two photographs shown. All the buildings in these pictures have long ago been replaced. Subway Construction Photos modified from the Whitney Hopper Drawing website.

Interestingly, the inspiration for Early Sunday Morning were shops on 7th Avenue, but not in Greenwich Village. They have been located as being between 15th and 16th Streets in Chelsea, just north of the Village. Comparing the Painting to period pictures is fascinating. While it’s unlikely that Edward Hopper stood with a sketchbook and drew the scene, he did capture any number of correct details. But, he changed others- most notably the sunlight. The sun never shines on 7th Avenue at the angle he Paints it shining!

Mid-Sunday Afternoon. The site of Early Sunday Morning, seen in July, 2019. The original buildings have long ago been replaced. Notice how the shadows go in the opposite direction of those in the Painting.

7th Avenue runs North/South, not East/West, like the sun. In reality, the sun would be directly behind the viewer! So? Here’s a case of a found actual site and how Edward Hopper used creative license to mould it to his vision- even if that meant changing nature! What’s moving a curved window 20 blocks south compared to moving the sun?

My Conclusion-

I currently believe that Edward Hopper saw Riker’s about 1941 and those 2 curved windows in its front. I believe he, too, may have been frustrated by that front door and decided to “remodel” it. With a a paintbrush. So, he morphed the Flatiron’s prow’s curved window onto it and then created his own (though somewhat similar to the real) background on West 4th Street in the Painting.

Unless and until I find better candidates, THIS is what I believe Edward Hopper did.

Yes, I’ve used the original, 2015, NighthawkNYC.com banner, which removed the famous couple, leaving that figure I relate to in honor of NHNYC’s 4th Anniversary. On the same page she dated Nighthawks on in the Hopper Ledger, Jo Hopper refers to him as “sinister.” I love her, anyway. Before she died the year following Edward, she bestowed one of the greatest American Artistic Estates to the Whitney Museum (who promptly “rewarded” her incredible generosity by throwing out virtually all of her work, thereby denying Art historians and Art lovers a chance to assess her work on its own- forever2). And I used the banner because, yes- I once sat at The Riviera Cafe’s bar by myself, too.

But, beyond ALL of this, for me? Nighthawks is the first truly modern American Painting. It marks the beginning of all that came after. It captures the essence, the FEELING of living in a City- here, in New York, or anywhere, but even more, it captures the feeling of modern life, which has become more and more about isolation, and fleeting moments of connection- or not, since January, 1942. I always try and remember that Nighthawks, like many of Edward Hopper’s other works, is a voyeuristic moment seen by a pedestrian, who more than likely kept moving on, past this fleeting moment and this scene, wherever it was, and didn’t pause to ponder it indefinitely, like so many have since.

Moments exist as flashes of time.

Click.

Here right now, gone forever. Unless, you’re one of the great geniuses in American Art history, who has the vision, the power and the talent to make it last, and speak to us, indefinitely.

But, for me, at least, Nighthawks isn’t about capturing a fleeting moment magically, though it does.

The other reality that common sense dictates be mentioned is that 78 years later, a better explanation than mine, or a better real life candidate for the Nighthawks Diner may never be found. It may have existed only in his imagination, with a few pieces of real life thrown in- like the Flatiron prow’s window. And that, too, may be part of his point. Nighthawks, in one reading, may not be about place as much as it is the psychological, the inter-personal, and? 

Loneliness.  

Have two people in Art ever been closer together, yet further apart?

The woman in red is all dressed up to go HERE?, I can hear her mentally screaming. Her “companion” sits physically next to her, close to her, but, in my reading of it, their hands don’t quite seem to touch. Maybe you see it differently. For me? I can’t look at this and not think of God and Adam in Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel Ceiling. There is no life giving, or love giving touch here. He has a cigarette in his hand- not her (left) hand, which remains empty. There is a distance that belies how close together they sit. All of this is, somewhat humorously, mimicked by the twin silver coffee urns to the right of them, that are, also, immobilized and frozen in time. At least they’re together for a common purpose! The same can’t be said of the immortal duo sitting at the counter. 

The gent, who’s nose Jo Hopper called a “Night Hawk” after the beak of the bird seems to be in a conversation with the counterman. About what? Here, he has this lady dressed to kill next to him and he’s ignoring her? Every time I’ve seen this happen in a bar or nightclub, instantly my antennae went up. Something’s not right here. If she’s not getting attention? Something’s wrong. But this is December, 1941. Pearl Harbor happened right in the middle of work on this Painting! 36 days after Arnold Newman took that Photo of Edward Hopper up top. It’s very hard not to think about that when looking at it, though it’s probably easier for many now that World War II was over 75 years ago. Are they discussing the War? Being drafted? Enlisting? A friend who has already been killed? Possibly another denizen of the diner? There are all those empty stools at the counter, after all. “Where is he?” “Oh. You haven’t heard?…” 

The War brought many things. It also brought separation, life without love, life without women, for men, and without men for women, or partners for the LGBT communities. 

Then? There’s my alter-ego. Frozen in paint. Immobilized. Alone forever. Perhaps the most isolated figure in Western Art. What appears to be a rolled up newspaper is under his left elbow. No doubt he knows the score. At least he’s possibly not leaving anyone behind. 

But, for a moment? Let’s forget World War II is getting off to a raging start around the world at this very moment, if we can. Edward Hopper probably conceived this work before Pearl Harbor. What’s striking to me is that of all the loneliness I’ve just mentioned, there’s still more of it I haven’t. 

Let me ask you this- Who is more lonely in the scene in this Painting? 

Any of those 4 people in the diner?
Or?
The person viewing this scene from outside the diner?

For me? Nighthawks remains the ultimate parable of loneliness.  

Maybe then, I shouldn’t be on such a mission to find the “real” place it depicts. Maybe then, it doesn’t need a real place to inhabit. It exists as a permanent condition of being alive inside each one of us, as it did inside of Edward Hopper. Maybe I look for it in the hope of finding the end of it.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “I Saw You In A Dream” by Japanese House….

“I saw you in a dream
You had stayed the same
You were beckoning me
Said that I had changed”

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  1. Hopper Drawing footnote 33, P.119 ↩
  2. Gail Levin, Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, P. xv-xvii ↩

Andy Warhol: Business Artist

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*unless otherwise credited)

“So you should always have a product that’s not just ‘you.’ An actress should count up her plays and movies and a model should count up her photographs and a writer should count up his words and an artist should count up his pictures so you always know exactly what you’re worth, and you don’t get stuck thinking your product is you and your fame, and your aura.” Andy Warhol1.

Andy shopping for products. *Bob Adelman, Andy Warhol at Gristede’s Market near 47th Street. New York City, 1965, near where he lived with his mother. Countless millions went shopping in American grocery stores in the 1960s. Very few made Art out of it before he did. Click any picture for full size. 

That being said, leaving the Whitney Museum’s Andy Warhol- From A to B and Back Again, the first Retrospective in NYC since MoMA’s in 1989, I was left believing Andy Warhol’s greatest creation was himself.

The use of gold here, and on the exhibition catalog’s cover, is interesting. It mimics Gold Marilyn, at MoMA, and also reminds of the background color of icons from the Eastern Orthodox and other churches. And? It’s a color often associated with money and “value,” so could it be a veiled reference to the high prices paid for his Art? Which of these is the intended meaning?

But, no matter how I feel about his Art, even I can’t deny that today, it can be said that we are living in his world to a greater extent than we realize. Look around you. His influence is everywhere. His innovations are now used by countless other Artists and businesses.

“A friend of mine named Ingrid from New Jersey came up with a new last name, just right for her new, loosely defined show-business career. She called herself ‘Ingrid Superstar.’ I’m positive Ingrid invented that word2.”

The everyday people he made into “superstars” presaged today’s television “reality stars.” His square portraits are now instantly recognizable as the Instagram standard. Andy Warhol came to define the Contemporary Artist working with a team of assistants at his Factory and his example is to be seen being followed by Artists all over the world today. How often do you see one of his color variated group of (4) portraits or flowers emulated by someone else? And on and on. These are only a few examples. Andy Warhol’s influence is incalculable. If it could be totaled, it might well rival that of Steve Jobs among THE most influential people of the past 75 years on our lives today.

Commodore Amiga computer equipment used by Andy Warhol in 1985-86. Andy’s interesting computer Art was extracted from this machine by a team led by the Andy Warhol Museum in 2014! *Photo by The Andy Warhol Museum.

But, it was Andy Warhol, not Steve, who said,  “A computer would be a very qualified boss3” decades before the time when many people’s lives seem to be run by their devices. A-hem. Sometimes I wonder if the internet is nothing but a cyber projection of Andy Warhol’s brain.

Artistically, I respect him as an Artist who was continually innovative in so many mediums during his surprisingly short career. Yes, short. It feels like he was around forever, but he was just 58 when he passed away on February 22, 1987. This insatiable creativity now strikes me as a function of his innate ability to see the world in his own way, which led him, continually, in different directions, to try new things, and explore new ways of doing old things.

It seems to me, however, that THIS may be the peak moment of Andy Warhol’s influence- the influence of Warhol, the Artist and his Art.

Warhol books, and ONLY Warhol books, seen in the Whitney Shop, March 27, 2019.

I wonder if the level of his fame may, in fact, work against its longevity from here. Virtually everything he did has been shown, written about, analyzed and assimilated. If you don’t think that’s true, take a look at this picture I took of part of the book shelves in the Whitney Museum’s Shop during the run on Andy Warhol- From A to B. I used a 28mm lens and even though I stood more than 20 feet away, backing into the middle of the admissions cue, I still wasn’t able to get ALL the Andy Warhol books on sale in the shot. There are books on his pre-Pop work, his newspaper-like work, his portraits, his posters, his prints, his record covers, his career as a publisher, his films, books on the Factory (including one of Photos taken by a teenaged Stephen Shore), a few about his Photography and polaroids, including a collection of Photos of him in drag, AND a multi-volume Catalogue Raisonne of his Paintings (on the far left of the bottom shelf). Oh, and Andy Warhol: Knives. ? This is not to mention all the books, by the Artist, and others, about his life, including the infamous, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again), published in 1977, which seems to have inspired the name of this show. My copy, bought from the display, is the 46th printing of the paperback. In all my many years of looking at Art books, I have to say the only other Artist who has as many books written about him and his Art is Picasso. 

Start here. In the first gallery, which contains early Pop work, like Dance Steps, 1961, and a wall of Campbell’s Soup Cans in the back.

As I headed to the 5th floor for the main part of the show, I wondered- What’s left for the future to learn about Andy Warhol’s Art? Given his popularity, I’m sure people will find things for yet more books.

Andy’s mother fixed him Campbell’s Soup everyday for lunch, including after he became famous, until she passed. The family was poor. Beyond the comfort of the warmth of soup, having a lot of food around represents something of an ideal, a dream, even cheap food, like this soup was at the time, at 15 cents a can. Originally, these Paintings sold for $100 a piece at his first show at Ferus Gallery in LA, where Dennis Hopper bought one.

As I looked at his Art, it also raised questions. Questions that the passage of time has only intensified.

Brillo Boxes, 1969 (version of the 1964 original). Yes, a copy of a copy. The interesting thing about this work for me is that this “Art is everywhere around us” work of so-called “Pop Art,” which helped to mark the end of Abstract Art’s hold on the Art world, is based on the Brillo Box design of James Harvey, a moonlighting Abstract Expressionist Painter! Beyond that, and wondering if  Sol LeWitt was influenced by it, it’s lost on me.

First, and most importantly, Andy Warhol’s Art is accessible. This has been the most important factor in his achieving success and fame and it may be the most important factor in the longevity of both. Popularity doesn’t necessarily equate with quality. Since the future is unwritten, as Joe Strummer reminded us, it’s impossible to know what posterity will value, if anything. To this point quality has definitely been a factor. I wonder- Where does that leave Andy Warhol’s Art?

Arising at a time (the late 1950s) when the Art world had been fed a steady diet of extreme abstraction by the Abstract Expressionists, Andy Warhol’s Art burst on the world with images featuring things, yes, things, that everyone living in the country recognized. Brillo boxes, Campbell’sl soup cans, dollar bills. His work was instantly accessible in an Art world dominated by Art that was becoming more and more obtuse and remote. I’m not saying Andy Warhol’s work was “understandable,” or even “more understandable” than that of the Abstractionists, only relatable. Even in today’s world where fewer and fewer living beings remember S&H Green Stamps, walking through this show, this seems to still be the case.

Marilyn & Elvis. Andy Warhol was always drawn to stars, and beautiful men. Personally, and in his Art.

But, the world has changed in the, now, 60 years since Andy Warhol’s career first took off. A lot of Artists have grown up with what he did and it’s become part of their work, even if it’s only unconsciously.

129 Dollar Bills, 1962, among the very first uses of silkscreening in Modern & Contemporary Art.

How many Artists have created with silkscreens since Andy Warhol introduced the possibilities of the ancient technique to the modern world in 1962? Even one of the other innovators and endlessly creative pillars of American Art in the late 1950s and 1960s (and after), Robert Rauschenberg, picked up the technique from Warhol. Since, silkscreening went from creating edgy Art to being used to create the large majority of the world’s T-Shirts, among countless other uses.

“I had by that time decided that ‘business’ was the best art. Business art is the step that comes after Art. I started as a commercial artist, and I want to finish as a business artist. After I did the thing called ‘art’ or whatever it’s called, I went into business art. I wanted to be an Art Businessman or a Business Artist. Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. During the hippie era people put down the idea of business—they’d say, ‘Money is bad,’ and ‘Working is bad,’ but making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art,” Andy Warhol. (Note- Not to be confused with my capitalization, caps and lowercase usage are Warhol’s own, reproduced exactly as the quote appears in TPoAW P.92.)

Ethel Scull 36 Times, 1963, jointly owned by The Whitney & The Met, was the first work commissioned from Andy Warhol. It’s a work that, in my view, has outlived its cachet as “Art,” and one that I don’t think posterity will look kindly upon.

Looking at the show, a takeaway for me was the distinct feeling I got was that there was his work, and then there is the work he did on commission (i.e. “Business Art,” a term he mentions in The Philosophy of, quoted above, but doesn’t define). After a while, I thought I could tell even before reading the card or researching the work, which was which- which were the work he did “for himself,” which were the works he did on commission, and I came away feeling there is a world of difference between the two. Wait! There’s a subject for a book I don’t think anyone’s written yet! For Andy Warhol, the business of Art was an Art in itself. Few before (maybe Rembrandt, Picasso and Dali in their ways) understood this and used it, but no one before him mastered it to the degree that Andy Warhol did. Its testament to how well he did it that a good many of his commissions, which detract from his other work when seen along side them as Ethel Scull 36 Times does in my opinion, hang in museums around the world, at least for now.

The American Man (Portrait of Watson Powell), 1964, a pseudo-companion piece to the Ethel Scull piece, above, and another commission, has aged better and still manages to speak to 2019 viewers.

To be fair, looking at some of his commissions now, we might well see in them a “commentary” by the Artist on matters beyond the mere representation of a given subject. The American Man, 1964, commissioned after seeing Warhol’s Ethel Scull piece, struck me that way. I’m still looking for that in a good many others, though.

After a couple visits, I was able to choose a few works in the great guessing game I like to play, and encourage everyone else to play- “Which works will be considered Art in the future- if any?” I came up with eight including the Campbell’s Soupcans and the 129 Dollar Bills already shown. 8 out of the 350 works the Museum says were on view. Personally, I don’t believe the passage of the centuries is going to be kind to most of Andy Warhol’s Art. Part of the reason for that is his pervasive influence. History doesn’t often look back favorably on who was first, particularly in Art. (Quick- Who “invented” oil painting? When I was growing up, I believed what Vasari wrote in The Lives of the Most Excellent Artists, 1550,  that it was the great van Eyck brothers, Jan and Hubert, who happened to be my first favorite Artists.) More recently there is no consensus and evidence of oil paint may have been found going back to 650AD.) Given the overheated state of his prices (still, in spite of a recent leveling off), his Art is definitely not where I’d put my money now. That ship has sailed. NOTHING goes up forever! Look elsewhere in 2019. (See my Post On Buying Art for additional considerations, all of which apply to the Art of Andy Warhol.)

Marilyn Diptych, 1962

Let’s look at numbers 3 to 7 on my list for the ages (in no particular order). Next, Marilyn Diptych, 1962 – The duality of this work painted shortly after Marilyn Monroe’s suicide is revolutionary. On the one hand, Warhol shows Marilyn the idealized, beautiful, glamorous movie star, repeated radiantly in a sea of gold not unlike that of the religious icons of the Eastern Orthodox and other churches. On the right hand, the work seems to reference the darker side of both Marilyn’s life and death. This work is striking when one also considers that Andy was someone who sought autographs of movie stars as a child. Here, all the illusions of the silver screen are gone.

Thirty Are Better Than One, 1963

Thirty Are Better Than One, 1963, The multiple Mona Lisa as a commentary on the original’s visit to the USA at the time present an interesting counterpoint to the da Vinci- even in black & white. This one barely made my list, but given the precedent of other Artist’s commenting on or reinterpreting the Mona Lisa, like Duchamp, I think it will be of interest indefinitely.

Nine Jackies, 1964

Nine Jackies, 1964. Something revolutionary in portraiture, the Artist captures the beauty of the Kennedy “Camelot,” and the horror and disbelief of what took place on November 22, 1963, as I remember it. A work that relies on the power of the Photograph, it’s one of the strongest uses of it in a medium outside of its own.

Mao, 1972

Mao, 1972- Created during the year of Nixon’s breakthrough visit to China, Andy Warhol’s image takes the portrait of Mao from the infamous Little Red Book of sayings and statements by the Chairman, which may have been the most reproduced image in the world at the time. Here, over 14 feet high, it symbolizes the Charman’s looming over all things in China, a different kind of manifestation of fame. Andy would make a brief trip, himself, to China in 1982, where he posed for a few pictures looking very stiff and uncomfortable.

Mustard Race Riot, 1963.

Mustard Race Riot, 1963- Without a doubt, the most powerful work in the show, in my opinion, it sold for only $15,127,500.00 in 2004. “Only,” when you consider the current record price for a Warhol is $100 million (Eight Elvises), and when you consider another Warhol Race Riot, one that had been owned by Sam Wagstaff and Robert Mapplethorpe, sold for almost $63 million in 2014. As Artist Hank Willis Thomas, and others, have pointed out, this work looks as prescient as almost anything else in the show. Standing in front of it (which means standing a ways distant since it’s  114 by 82 inches), pondering it over multiple visits, I came away feeling that it may be one of the most important works of the 1960s, and for 1963, certainly gave those putting Andy Warhol in the “Pop Art” box pause for thought,  pointing out yet again the pointlessness of such terms.

Then? Something occurred to me to sleep top me dead in my tracks. ALL FIVE of these works involve the use of appropriated Photographs taken by others. Did Andy Warhol pay the Photographers for using them?

Gene Kornman, Photograph (Marilyn Monroe ), 1953. *Publicity Photo of Marilyn Monroe for the Film, Niagara.

This subject was not brought up anywhere that I saw in the show. They did mention (and exhibit) the Gene Kornman Photo Andy Warhol used, perhaps more than any other, was originally a publicity shot of Marilyn from her classic 1953 Film, Niagara. Also exhibited were the source Photos he used in Nine Jackies, which I subsequently learned Andy Warhol was sued over his use of. Charles Moore’s 1963 Life Magazine Photos were the source for Warhol’s Race Riot works, including Mustard Race Riot. Frankly? For an Artist who was so endlessly creative? That he did this, and did it for so long and so often surprises me. It took lawsuits for Andy and Robert Rauschenberg, who was also doing it, to decide to exclusively use their own Photographs henceforth, which, I think, improved the results for both. Yes, at the time, this was new territory for Artists. Copyright infringement was not a term that was not as common in Art in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and he had made his name using copyrighted names and trademarks for Campbell’s Soup, Brillo, etc., without issue- the companies involved, no doubt, relished the free advertising and attention, so giving his restless creativity the benefit of the doubt might apply here, I think (easy for me to say, I’m not Gene Kornman, who’s Photo of Marilyn wound up in Art that’s, no doubt, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, if not more, today).

I still think these are powerful works, among the best Warhols I’ve seen, but this does tarnish them a bit. It’s hard to ignore today. But, let’s move on.

Self-Portrait, 1950s

I’m always interested to see any Artist’s Drawings, and I made a point of spending a considerable amount of time with the Drawings, mostly early, of Andy Warhol displayed here. It’s interesting that they reveal a wonderful sense of, and control of, line, which I’ve long thought to be the most technically difficult part of Drawing. So confident is the young Artist in his line that he dispenses with almost everything else- even parts of the composition! Shading is only hinted at once in a while. Throughout, it’s his line that carries the work. This style is reminiscent of one Picasso used in the early 1900s to create works like this. In addition, he shows an economy that makes it fascinating to consider what he’s left out, a uniqe way of using what Artists call “negative space.” This Drawing is markedly different from the “scratchy” drawings with halting lines seen in some of his commercial work of the period. He changed his style to fit the subject, and it always worked. He was a very successful illustrator and store window designer. But? Shoes and shoe design held a special place in his heart.

A wall of shoes. In each of the works in gold, Andy created a shoe as a caricature of a person.

It turns out that Andy Warhol had a shoe fetish. A real one, that surpasses the most shoe obsessed of my female friends, which John Giorno describes in graphic detail in the Documentary Andy Warhol: The Complete Picture! At 24:30, Mr. Giorno says, “There was Andy Warhol on his hands and knees kissing my shoes…”

Andy’s Truman Capote Shoe, with calligraphy by his mom, is seen over his The B.J. Shoe. Given his shoe obsession, it’s interesting that there are no works after this period that feature shoes, as far as I know. Also interesting is that Andy, himself, wore the same pair of paint splattered shoes for 25 years, which are also shown in The Complete Picture.

Even in the midst of his intensive period of Drawing for his commercial illustration clients, he was always looking for ways to create multiples of his Drawings. This led to his use of silkscreens. But yes, he Painted. This early Painting is the one work in included that would meet the definition of a Painting for most of Art History- prior to Warhol.

The charming Living Room, 1948.

From there, his Painting skills were used to modify and enhance works in other medium, like silkscreens, in works that were multi-media Paintings.

Self-Portrait, 1966, Acrylic, silkscreen ink, and graphite on linen.

It seemed to me walking through the show that Warhol’s Self-Portraits are stronger than just about any of his other portraits. Downstairs on the first floor, an entire gallery was devoted to his square portraits, which alternated between the famous and the already forgotten with a fascinating portrait of his mom almost hidden among them.

Julia Warhola, 1974, upper right, a year or so after she passed away in 1972. Interestingly, it’s in the collection of Roy Lichtenstein, and that’s Dorothy Lichtenstein, Roy’s wife, below her. To her left is Met Curator Henry Geldzhaler, who was also painted by David Hockney.

Along with fame, Andy Warhol’s other big theme was death. It’s a subject that makes an appearance early on in his Fine Art career, in works like 129 Die in Jet, 1962

129 Die in Jet, 1962

It carries on in his Electric Chair Paintings, and is an element in his Marilyn and Jackie pieces, both created shortly after deaths- Marilyn’s and JFK’s. The hold death has on visitors struck me on one visit while I was considering Mustard Race Riot. Given its large size, I had to stand a good distance away from it to take it all in.

I couldn’t help noticing a steady stream of visitors who entered the gallery and stood in front of me, facing to my left. They were looking at this-

 

Lavender Disaster, 1963.

I heard someone say, it takes away the power of the electric chair as an image of fear. I don’t get that. I, for one, don’t get the point of multiplying the electric chair. I prefer these, individually-

Both, Big Electric Chair, 1967-8, top, 1967, bottom.

And, of course, there were the car wrecks, also featuring repeated Photos, which led into the next gallery, where the equally death-soaked Nine Jackies awaited, facing a wall of Most Wanted Men, 1964, Andy Warhol’s works based on wanted posters that hung at the New York Pavillion at the 1964 World’s Fair, and works from Flash-November 22, 1963, also about the JFK Assassination. But, of all the works related to death in this show, the eighth and final work on my “Art” list is Self-Portrait with Skull, 1978, in which the Artist brings his obsession with death home.

Self-Portrait with Skull, 1978

On the left, the red is hard to miss as the color of blood, and therefore, of life, while the grey/black image on the right recalls those in the Marilyn Diptych, which speaks to her demise and death. This work is based on one of Warhol’s own Photographs.

Andy Warhol- From A to B and Back Again was a good, but not a landmark show, in my opinion. In NYC, MoMA’s Warhol: A Retrospective remains the benchmark Warhol show. Part of the reason it’s not better is possibly due to the popularity and value of his work making loans very hard to get. After the silkscreen gallery with Mustard Race Riot, I felt the rest of the show continually declined, with isolated examples of better work. In much of the rest of it, I felt lost, adrift in galleries of work that either hadn’t held up to the passage of time (if they ever did stand out) or that contained ideas manifested on a gigantic scale, like the “piss paintings,” that were probably either left in the studio or done on a smaller scale. At this late date in his life and career, to suddenly go fully abstract smacked of running out of ideas, which is something that seems impossible for Andy Warhol.

A camouflaged visitor scrutizies the left half of Camouflage Last Supper.

The culminating gallery with the also gigantic Camouflage Last Supper also struck me as a poor choice. Here, Warhol reprises the idea of the multiple Leonardo da Vinci’s, this time with 2 huge Last Supper reproductions side by side, which makes a point that escapes me, and then covers them with camouflage, perhaps to try and add some interest to his idea. Camouflage is, in keeping with Andy Warhol’s instantly recognizable images, a military artifact and symbol. What that has to do with the Last Supper is, also, lost on me.

Andy famously collaborated with Jean Michel Basquiat, as seen here in Third Eye, 1985.

And then there were two of his collaborations with Jean Michel Basquiat. Though extremely colorful, looking at them I have as yet to see them as more than each bringing what they do to the work. The feeling of a true collaboration bringing the work to someplace else escapes me…so far, but I know people who love them.

If these walls could talk. The site of Andy Warhol’s Factory when it was on Union Square, seen in Winter, 2018. Ironically, the scaffolding seems to be making an “A” for Andy.

Andy Warhol opened the doors to whole worlds of possibilities in the world of Art, and, indeed, the world. In doing so, he taught all of us how to see new possibilities in our work, and our lives. (And I am not speaking about his life or lifestyle in any of this.) There are very few Artists who even open one new door. For this, the world owes him a debt. A debt that might be best repaid by following his example of seeking new possibilities. He sought out, encouraged, and worked with, young, even beginning Artists, and so played a role in the creation of world renowned Artists including Stephen Shore, Robert Mapplethorpe, and  Jean Michel Basquiat, and treated them every bit the same as he did established Artists.

Regardless of what the world comes to think of his Art, these are the contributions of Andy Warhol I choose to remember and celebrate.

BookMarks-

As I showed earlier, a list of books written on and about Andy Warhol could fill a book itself. I have only seen a minuscule number of this vast library. Of those, a few stand out to me, particularly for those looking to keep from having a wall of Andy Warhol books that rivals that in the Whitney’s Shop!

The best overviews of his Art I’ve seen are these two-

Andy Warhol “Giant” Size: Gift Format has been issued in a few sizes over the years since it’s first release 10 years ago. Whatever size works for you, this “visual biography,”which includes over 2,000 images, remains the best one-volume survey of Andy Warhol’s Life & Work.

Andy Warhol: A Retrospective– The catalog for MoMA’s 1989 Retrospective. Out of print, it’s reasonably priced in hard or softcover on the aftermarket. It remains the most comprehensive overview of his Art, and serves as the catalog for the most exhaustive show of his work yet mounted.

Factory: Andy Warhol by Stephen Shore is a fascinating book for Photography lovers. It preserves, both, the earliest body of work yet published by one of the most important American Photographers of his generation, and the most comprehensive look at Andy Warhol’s legendary Factory we have. Wasn’t it Andy who said, “It’s like an auto wreck you can’t take your eyes off of”? If not, he should have.

Finally, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again) is a must read, as much for its entertainment value as for its life experience advice, which is given on almost every page, though it’s light on Art and technique for Artists looking for a “how I did it.” Rumor has it a team “helped” Andy write it, but it’s hard to tell from the distant outside if that’s true or who did what. It’s something of a classic among pseudo-autobiographies, and plays a seminal role in the creation of Andy Warhol, as a work of Art in himself.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is, what else? “Andy Warhol” by David Bowie, who memorably played Andy in Julian Schnabel’s Film, Basquiat, looking for all the world like he was having a blast doing it.

Oh! PS- Andy? 4,627 words.

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  1. The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, henceforth TPoAW, P.86 ↩
  2.  TPoAW, P.26 ↩
  3. TPoAW, P.96 ↩

Stuart Davis- The King of Swing

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Try it yourself.

Walk into your local Art Museum and look for Stuart Davis. I bet they own at least one, and I also bet it’s on display. I’m making this wager based on my experience that every American Museum I’ve been to, including many smaller ones, owns at least one work by Stuart Davis, and that work seems to always be on view1. This is a testament to his wide, and ongoing, appeal. Stuart Davis’ Art still has a contemporary look and feel to it. Maybe that’s because so many Artists who have come after him, like much of “Pop Art,” have been influenced by him. Somehow, Davis is also an Artist who is rarely given a show. The last big one I know of was “Stuart Davis: American Painter” at The Met in 1991. It’s left me with years of longing to see more than one or two of his works at a time, so I was very excited when I heard about “Stuart Davis: In Full Swing,” June 10-September 25 at the Whitney.

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It turns out to have been worth the wait. With 75 works ranging from 1923 until his final work left unfinished on his easel the night he died in 1964, we get to see much, if not all, of his accomplishment. The 1991 Met show featured 175 works, 31 before the earliest work in this show. While I’m a bit disappointed the show is missing the first decade of his work, (the title “Stuart Davis: In Full Swing” refers to his career being in full swing during the period of his work displayed), what’s included has been marvelously hung adding much insight into Davis’ process and development.

Davis' seminal 4 "Egg Beater" Paintings, 19__, rarely united

Davis’ seminal 4 “Egg Beater” Paintings, 1927-28, rarely united.

…I nailed an electric fan, a rubber glove and an eggbeater to a table and used it as my exclusive subject matter for a year.” Egg Beater No. 4," 1928

Breakthrough. “I nailed an electric fan, a rubber glove and an eggbeater to a table and used it as my exclusive subject matter for a year.2” Egg Beater No. 4,” 1928

Beyond this, it’s simply gorgeous to behold. Davis, the colorist, is  something not often  spoken about, and for me, is under-appreciated. His work needs to be seen in person, where his color makes a vibrant, stunning, often shocking first impression- even in 2016. Looking closer, it becomes apparent that though he uses relatively few colors and repeats them from piece to piece he is a master of color schemes. Has any American Artist used Yellows or Oranges the way Davis has?

"Cliche," 1955

“Cliche,” 1955

Having come out of the end of the era of  “Ashcan School,” Davis’s early work, often depicting street scenes of the greater New York area, shared their darker palette. Here and there he’d inject very bright passages of color, as in “Bleecker Street,” 1912. Soon, they would dominate as the influence of the Europeans, the Cubists 3, and Joan Miro took hold, his palette brightened. Matisse was also an early influence, and  even in the 1950s, Davis’ work features shapes that echo those found in Matisse’s late Cut-Outs.

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“Midi,” 1954

The title “Stuart Davis: In Full Swing” is a double entendre, also referring to his love of Jazz- “swing” being the most popular form of the music in the 1920’s and 1930’s. Stuart Davis loved Jazz. As I wrote not all that long ago upon accidentally discovering where he lived for 20 years in Greenwich Village, it was, coincidentally or not, around the corner from some of the greatest jazz clubs in the world4.

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The plaque outside Davis’ home of 20 years where he created works that have “come home” to the nearby Whitney.

Looking at his work, it’s clear that he “gets” what it’s like to play Jazz, what goes on in the mind of the musician or singer, and it comes out of his hands, like it does for musicians, too.

Davis In Full Swing. "Swing Landscape," 1937

In Full Swing. “Swing Landscape,” 1938, over 14 feet long, the largest work here, originally intended for a Brooklyn Apartment Building.

Walking around, I spent quite a bit of time trying to associate Davis’ work with specific Jazz Artists. While I found there were many who came to mind for specific works, I came to feel that Davis’ work was ahead of it’s time, musically, as well as visually/Artistically. His shapes seem to anticipate the angular developments of Musicians like Thelonious Monk and Andrew Hill. Standing in front of a work like “Swing Landscape,” 1938, an endlessly fascinating blend of nautical visual motifs in a riot of color, the feeling is like listening to a great Big Band. Take Duke Ellington’s or Count Basie’s classic Big Bands that were chock full of unique soloists. each one with a recognizable solo voice. When Lester Young soloed on Tenor Sax for Basie, there was no doubt who was playing. Same for Johnny Hodges, “Tricky” Sam Nanton, Ben Webster, or Bubber Miley with Duke, not to mention Duke and the Count, themselves. Looking at “Swing Landscape,” is like hearing a big band to me, a band comprised of unique voices (colors on shapes), each playing their own part, but still a part of the whole. There is an overriding feeling of joy, and life. But, there were other works that looked to me more like the music of non-swing Masters Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers and even early Ornette Coleman. Though I mixed them in, and many others, I found myself repeatedly returning to Duke Ellington, one of the greatest composers of the century, in any style of music, who also continually pushed and evolved his style, taking the Big Band to many other places musically, like Davis did with Cubism, as the soundtrack for my visits.

Stuart Davis with Duke Ellington, 1943, from the show's catalog.

Let’s talk about Jazz. Stuart Davis with Duke Ellington at a Davis show, 1943, from this show’s catalog.

Also like a Jazz Artist, Davis returned again and again to earlier compositions and “riffed” on them, as Patricia Hills said 5. Davis re-interpreted his earlier compositions the way Jazz Artists reinterpret standards- using his original theme as a jumping off point to create something entirely new.

Progress in the Process. All 3 of these works are based on the center work from 192_. Left, 195_ and 19__, right

Riffin’ on a Theme. All 3 of these works are based on “Landscape, Goucester,” center, as follows.

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“Landscape, Goucester,” 1922…

"Colonial Cubism," 1954

Became this- “Colonial Cubism,” 1954

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And then, this- “Memo, #2,” 1956

In terms of Jazz in Art, I can’t think of another Artist who has a similar effect on me. Other Artists listened to Jazz, during the same time and later, but Stuart Davis’ work looks like Jazz to me. I get that feeling from isolated works by other Artists, especially that of Romare Bearden, who Davis told to visualize the relationships between jazz and art in 1940, though his works are primarily collages, not paintings, but Davis’s whole body of work, with rare exception, gives me that feeling6.

Blue Note. "The Woodshed," 1969, collage by Romare Bearden. The "Woodshed," or "Shed" is where musicians hone their craft.

Blue Note. “The Woodshed,” 1969, collage by Romare Bearden, at The Met Breuer.. The “Woodshed,” or “Shed” is where musicians hone their craft.

Yet, there’s more going on here than Jazz.

Revolutionizing the still life. “Super Table,” 1924. For me, the earliest masterpiece in this show.

We watch Davis breaking through and coming into his own in works like “Super Table,” 1924, and the “Egg Beater” series of 1927-28, which were revolutionary takes on the Cubist “still life,” that proved to be the jumping off points for all his future work that would see him develop his own approach to Cubism, becoming one of the very few outside of the inventors of the style to do so. While he built upon the influences of others, he was very influenced by place and environment as well. His 1928 trip to Paris crops up again and again in his later work. His summers along the water in Gloucester, Mass supplied a life long reservoir of nautical imagery, as did, NYC, while Jazz provided inspiration. Products appear in Davis’ work, possibly evolving out of the still life works of the Cubists, but quickly becoming his own. He then takes words, first seen in ads and on products, and uses them in new ways, sometimes referencing the “hip” jargon of the time, sometimes cryptically, that only he really understands.

"Odol," 1924, a bottle of mouthwash, presaging Warhol by 35 years.

“Odol,” 1924, a bottle of mouthwash, presaging Warhol by 35 years.

A walk through the show reveals that Pop Art, and a number of it’s leading lights were creating work that featured elements Stuart Davis began using way back in the 1920’s. In fact, after seeing it, you may never look at Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns or James Rosenquist quite the same again. Beyond his use of products, his use of words is something that many Artists since Davis, right up to Ed Ruscha, Jenny Holzer and Wayne White, have continued, some basing their entire Artistic output on them. While his influence is huge, it’s also interesting to me how different his work is from the work of the other Abstract Artists of his time, especially the Abstract Expressionists, who were then working right around him every day in NYC and it’s suburbs. Philip Guston speaks of knowing him 7. What about Jackson Pollock, (who was born, lived and work, then died during the time Davis was alive)? Did Davis know him? It would seem to me they must have met, especially since they both worked for the WPA (Works Progress Administration). It’s hard to imagine two more different Abstract Artists.

The end. "Fin," 1962-64, as it was left on his easel when he died.

The end. “Fin,” 1962-64, as it was left on his easel when he died. The yellow-ish lines are masking tape Davis used as guides.

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“Arboretum by Flashbulb,” 1942

It must also be mentioned that Mrs. Gertrude V. Whitney was a substantial, and early, supporter of Davis, in a number of ways, both financially (buying his Art and advancing him funds) and through the Whitney Studio Club, the precursor of the Whitney Museum, where he got his “big break,” 8 with a 2 week retrospective exhibit in December, 1926. 90 years later, Davis returns to the latest incarnation of the Whitney Museum, a few minutes walk from where he once lived, something of a “champion” of American 20th Century Art, himself. His influence is ongoing. His achievement is still being considered. Yet? All in Stuart Davis’ Legacy is not painted in the bright colors he used so masterfully in his work.

"Little Giant Still Life," 1950, a box of "Champion" matches

“Little Giant Still Life,” 1950, a box of “Champion” matches.

While the joy, beauty and insights this show provides will stay with me for a very long time, it’s impossible not to also be reminded of the fact that 90 works by Stuart Davis were discovered to have been “looted” 9 from the Artist’s Estate by Laurence Salander of Salander-O’Reilly Gallery, the long time dealer for Stuart Davis’ Estate, in 2007. The court ruled that Salander owes Earl Davis and the Estate $114.9 million dollars, but being as Salander is behind bars on Riker’s Island no one knows if and when any of that money will be repaid. As bad as that is, perhaps even more tragically, to this day, I’m not sure that all of Davis’ works have been accounted for. The case led to the creation of new laws pertaining to Artist/Gallery dealings. That is the saddest part of what is otherwise the great and ongoing influence that is the legacy of Stuart Davis, one of America’s greatest, and most influential, Artists.

Even his beautiful signature, boldly featured in many of his works, has the peaks and valleys, the ebbs and flow, of a Jazz solo.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” by Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington, the title of which appears on Davis’ painting “Tropes de Teens,” 1956.

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  1. I’m not wagering “anything” on this, so if you find one that doesn’t have a Stuart Davis, write me and let me know and I’ll send this Post to them to hopefully influence their future purchases! ↩
  2. Stuart Davis “Autobiography” in “Stuart Davis” edited by Diane Kelder, P.26 ↩
  3. Davis, 21, was the youngest artist to be included in the legendary Armory Show of 1913, the first modern art show in America, which marked the arrival of Cubism in New York. ↩
  4. His parents had lived in the Hotel Chelsea, 11 blocks north. ↩
  5. “Stuart Davis,” by Patricia Hills, P. 19 ↩
  6. I am only talking about Artists who were/are Painters first, so I am leaving out Musician/Artists like Miles Davis, Art Blakey, Tony Bennett, Muhal Richard Abrams, Anthony Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell, et al.. ↩
  7. Guston “Collected Writings” P.40 ↩
  8. according to Patricia Hills “Stuart Davis” P.73 ↩
  9. Artnews April 18, 2014 ↩

The New Whitney Museum- The Roofdeck of American Art

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

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“American Tune”
“We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune”*

Looking west on the 6th Floor Roof deck, Spring, 2016.

Looking west on the 6th Floor Roof deck, Spring, 2016.

Part 1- The New Whitney Museum…And I

We actually go way back…

All the way back to June, 1987 when I had a letter published in the New York Times in opposition to the proposed expansion plans of the Guggenheim & Whitney Museums, after it was announced that both Museums wanted to modify & expand their existing buildings. I was outraged. How could you change these two singular masterworks without ruining them? I closed saying that “branch museums were the obvious answer” to modifying these Artworks of Architecture, in the Guggenheim’s case, Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece was, perhaps, the greatest work of Art it owns. I went to the Community Board Meetings, but wasn’t directly involved beyond this letter. Mine was apparently chosen over the head of the opposition committee’s letter, much to his displeasure, I heard.

My letter in the NY Times Op-Ed page opposing the & Guggenheim & Whitney modifications, June, 1987. I love the very fitting drawing they added.

Almost 30 years later (wow…really?), how did “we” do?

Well, BOTH Museums took my “advice” and opened branch museums. The Whitney had a few around town, one across from Grand Central, another in Soho, while the Guggenheim opened what is, perhaps, the greatest Museum building since Wright’s enduring 5th Avenue masterpiece…by Frank Gehry in Bilbao, Spain of all places. It’s a “place” now, a true destination for culture vultures. They showed a model of another Gehry masterpiece they wanted to build downtown in the East River at the Guggenheim Gehry Retrospective in 2000. I bought a poster of it but, after 9/11, it was never mentioned again. ? They went ahead and remodeled Wright’s masterpiece, anyway, which I will never accept, AND continue to open branch Museums around the world as we speak. The Whitney, on the other hand, did not renovate Breuer’s unique original. Instead, we got something I never saw coming- They moved out and built an entirely new Museum.

Wow!

So? On my scorecard? I am one and a half out of 2.

The New Whitney opened in May, 2015 in the Meatpacking District, right at the southern end of the High Line. I’ve made frequent trips there so far studying the building from every angle I could, at night, and yes, even in day light. (Oh, the sacrifices I will make in the pursuit of Art.) The inaugural, and as I’ve said very good, show, in the new Renzo Piano building, “American Is Hard To See,” came and went. I also wrote about both the Frank Stella Retrospective and a show by filmmaker Laura Poitras that came and went, too, along with quite a few smaller shows. So, a few months after the 1 year Anniversary, I think I’ve finally had enough time and experience with the new place, over 45 visits, to have some thoughts coalesce. As always, I have not read any reviews of either the building or the shows mentioned.

Part 2- Renzo Piano’s Whitney Museum Building

U.S.S. Indianapolis. US Navy Photo

The U.S.S. Indianapolis, Why is this picture here? (U.S. Navy Photo.)

It’s only a year or so old, but I don’t think many will fall in love with the exterior of the building. I must say that in all my trips there so far, I have yet to see anyone else take a picture of it. Maybe (more) time will tell. In this City where location isn’t everything, it’s the ONLY thing, the new Whitney sits on a rather unique lot. How many places in Manhattan can you think of that have BOTH a River view AND a Park view? Situated directly across the West Side Highway from the Hudson River, to the west, and the southern end of the High Line to the immediate east, the Museum hit on a very rare Daily Double. Unfortunately for long time Whitney architect Piano, who came on board during the Museum’s “expansion” days, this lot has 4 sides. To the north, the rest of the block is occupied by one of the few remaining Meat Packing businesses that actually pack meat in what really was The Meatpacking District.1 Yes, trucks of raw meat park within inches of the Museum’s north wall every weekday.

Yes, meat is still packed in the "Meatpacking District." Whitney's north side seen from West Street.

Yes, meat is still packed in the “Meatpacking District.” Whitney’s north side seen from West Street.

And, seen from the High Line.

And, seen from the High Line.

The two story meat complex provides a nearly unobstructed view of most of the north face of the Museum, from West Street or the High Line. I wonder what people who don’t know it’s the Museum think it is. I wonder how many of them will look at it and say, “Ah. A Museum.” My guess is not many. Maybe it’s an office building with not enough windows and a couple of long smoke stacks? A prison? It’s pretty non-descrip, making the stair cases that protrude from the rear of the building seem, well, odd. For myself, and probably countless others approaching the New Whit from the north, this is the first view they’ll get of it. The one defining feature of this side of the building is the exterior staircases. A cascade of them.

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Outdoor stairs as seen on the 7th Floor

To the south, across Gansevoort Street is a large, renovated apartment building, that also has Hudson River views on it’s western side. To put it mildly, this is a classic “high rent” district. Facing Gansevoort Street, the Museum presents visitors with an almost unbroken face of grey steel. Upon closer inspection, it also includes the Museum’s almost hidden entrance, which, until a sign was added recently, was only marked “Whitney Museum” on a glass window. Still, I can’t help wonder how the residents of that building across Gansevoort feel about paying those very high rents to look out their windows and see-

This, is their view.

This, is their view.

In fact, seen from the south, the building is so large that none of my cameras were able to get the whole thing in a shot from Gansevoort, including using an iPhone in Panorama mode. I had to go out into West Street to get one, which I don’t advise doing due to traffic coming randomly from 3 directions, not to mention my back being literally on the flimsy chain link fence bordering the West Side Highway with cars & trucks zipping around the bend at 60mph. Not a smart place to be standing with a camera. But this points out something interesting- there is no place where one can easily stand to get a good shot of the Museum- except, possibly, from a substantial distance. In fact, most of the shots of the building on the Whitney www site were taken from the rooftops of adjacent buildings. Maybe this is why no one takes pictures of it. Or? Maybe they don’t like it. ?

The closest I've come do death this year. The West Side Highway is inches behind me.

NOT to die for. I risked my life getting this shot. Southwest corner.

As we move to the western facade, with the large windows seen above (which reminds me of Zaha Hadid’s Library in Vienna), the upper one juts out at an angle seen from the north that vaguely reminds of the Breuer building’s Madison Avenue upper window.

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But more problematically, is a large Department of Sanitation complex smack dab right in front of it! “Holy Refuse Pile, Artman!” Garbage trucks coming and going all day and evening are not exactly what gives a “Riv View” it’s cache. (Feel free to insert your own wry joke about contemporary art here. I’ll wait…)

View of the Department of Sanitation from the 7th Floor stairs, 2015.

Riv View. Looking out at the Department of Sanitation from the 7th Floor stairs, 2015.

Mr. Piano has done his best to “minimize” the damage from the “offending” Department of Sanitation, and eternally busy West Side Highway, by opting to minimize the exposure of the western facade leaving a very narrow patio where, typically, only a few chairs usually are to be seen. It sits a few scant feet from the West Side Highway, after all, so it’s hard to imagine many people wanting to sit there for long. 3 trees have been planted along the curb in hope that one day they will provide some camouflage.

View from in front of the western facade, July, 2015, Being a tree in NYC is one helluva hard job.

View from in front of the western facade, July, 2016, Being a tree in NYC is one helluva hard job.

Regardless of the difficulties in seeing the building close up, it can be seen, for many blocks, both, to the north and south along the West Side Highway, and from across the Hudson River in New Jersey. Thanks(?) to the High Line there has been a boon in building in the area, with some very big name Starchitects (including, as I’ve written, the late Zaha Hadid’s only NYC Building going up at 520 West 28th Street, among many others) having new or recent projects in the area- some successful, some eyesores already. No less than Frank Gehry, the greatest architect of his time, in my book, himself, has a fairly new building about 6 blocks to the north of the New Whitney along the Highway, the gorgeous IAC Headquarters at 18th Street.

Like a sailboat on the Hudson, Frank Gehry's IAC Building is a gorgeous vision.

Like a sailboat on the Hudson it faces, Frank Gehry’s IAC Building is a shining example of the visionary architecture NYC needs more of, IMHO.

But, say what you want about this new Museum (don’t worry…I will), one thing that must be said is that the building isn’t obsessed with competing with it’s spectacular neighbor. Well? Not that spectacular neighbor, anyway. If anything, it sure feels to me like it’s competing with it’s OTHER “spectacular neighbor”- the High Line.

Southern terminus of the High Line, circa 2009. The new Whitney now occupies the space directly behind the left side.

Southern terminus of the High Line, circa 2010, early in the construction of the new Whitney directly behind on the left side. And today, and tonite…

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That brings us to the east side of the building, the side that abuts the High Line. Renzo Piano also designed the High Line Maintenance & Operations Building,

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High Line Maintenance & Operations Building on the lot’s northeast corner.

which looks like it’s part of the Whitney, occupying the north eastern corner of the lot. Next to that are a rectangular bank of windows of the 5th Floor Galleries. The lowest rectangle is cleverly cantilevered over the lower floors in a way that vaguely reminds of Wright’s Fallingwater. Above it are more rectangular rows of windows on the other gallery floors, which are accompanied by roof decks and outdoor stairs between floors.

Eastern face with 1st floor restaurant seen from the High Line.

Cantilevered lower eastern face with 1st floor restaurant seen from the High Line.

And, these are what raise my suspicion about purpose. So much outdoor space, and outdoor stairs in a place with the climate of Manhattan could be seen as highly questionable design. They are going to be unusable a good part of the year, so why do them? Aesthetically, to my eyes, the stairs look uncannily similar to the High Line’s access stairs. I wondered- Is this a case of “art snobbery” by an expensive to build, expensive to enter Museum trying to “upstage” a free & public park- a poorly thought out game of oneupmanship? An attempt to “blend in” with the High Line? Or?

Whitney Museum Eastern Facade Exterior Stairs close up

High Line Stairs at West 20th Street

High Line Stairs at West 20th Street

Other questions festered. Back along the south face. I spent a long time trying to think of what the shape of this building reminded me of. Hmmmm…Then one day, it hit me- From the south it looks like one of the US Navy’s newest ships- the USS Independence. From this side, it looks like it’s ready to go out to sea, well, out to the Hudson River. This feeling is hard to shake when you are looking at the few windows that look a bit like portholes, the “military—like” grey coloring, and the slightly sloping (i.e. “stealthy”) look of the upper floors. Add the rear decks and stairs to the Independence and the effect is so similar, it’s down right eerie.

Ok, flip the cantilever to the rear, and...? Eerily uncanny, no?

U.S.S. Indianapolis, again, with my highlighting. Ok, flip the cantilever to the rear, and…? Eerily uncanny, no?

Photo from Renzo Piano Building Workshop website.

Photo from Renzo Piano Building Workshop website. Note that all of the “neighbors” have been removed, except for the High Line.

Part 3- The Roofdeck of American Art

Bring sunscreen.

Want a tan with your art? 6th Floor deck, Spring, 2016.

Yes, that is what I’m calling the New Whitney- “The Roofdeck of American Art.” I think the decks are what people will remember most about the building. I only hope it’s not what they remember most about their visit. That will be up to the Museum’s curators and staff. But? As I will get to, I think other forces are at work, too.

With 4 roof decks, I bet some will come only to enjoy the view and get some sun. The Museum turns the face the vast majority of visitors will experience most to it’s “rear,” to it’s east side facing the High Line. Doing so gives Mr. Piano a very convenient out of his Sanitation Department dilemma, “Riv View” notwithstanding, and allows a wonderful panorama of Manhattan, from Chelsea Piers to the north, the Empire State in the center and the Statue of Liberty, distantly, to the south. The decks allow space for dining (8th floor), sculpture (5th floor and the others), seating, and that 21st Century phenomenon- selfie sticks.

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8th Floor Deck.

It’s very nice. You’ll like it. Bring sunscreen.

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I promise that top ramp won’t be bent when you visit the 7th Floor Deck.

Part 4- Inside. “Hey look! They have art here…too!”

Inside, the first floor is the lobby, the most unsuccessful part of the entire interior- it’s an open space. The message here is “keep moving.” It’s about as unwelcoming a space as Moma’s lobby. (Actually, ALL of Moma, which for me stands for what it feels like- the “Mall of Modern Art,” feels unwelcoming!)

Welcome? No one will ever mistake the lobby for the Great Hall at The Met. Front door is opposite, where the black mat is.

Welcome? No one will ever mistake the lobby for the Great Hall at The Met. Front door is to the right of the nearest exposed column. Engineering made visible abounds. The free 1st floor gallery is to the immediate right, outside of the rope fence, which denotes you are in the Museum.

Once inside, here’s the routine I’ve settled upon, which probably sounds confusing- After entering as quickly as possible to minimize the time spent in the “lobby,” a short trip downstairs (don’t take the elevators- the wait is too long) brings you to the coatroom and the rest rooms (there are others restrooms on 3, 5, 7 and 8). The feeling here is 180 degrees from the lobby. This is completely designed. It makes you wonder what the hell happened upstairs. Take the stairs back to 1 and walk out past the rope line (keep your admission ticket handy) and visit the first floor gallery, which is free all the time. (Or, yes, you could visit the 1st floor gallery before paying to get in. I prefer to get my admission ticket first, which means I have to show it twice.) After that, show your ticket and get back in the Museum proper then take an elevator to the whatever floor you wish to see first- 3 (where the theater is for concerts, dance performances, etc), 5,6,7 or 8 (where the galleries are). Bear in mind there is no 2nd or 4th floor- they didn’t pay enough money to get those. No, at 422 million dollars, they did, but those floors are reserved for Museum staff and functions, so they’ve disappeared from the public elevator buttons.

5th Floor seen during the Frank Stella Retrospective, Feb, 2016. The smaller walls can be moved to provide countless configuration possibilities.

5th Floor seen during the Frank Stella Retrospective, Feb, 2016. The smaller walls can be moved to provide countless configuration possibilities.

00Inside, the building is very sharp, clean and neat with natural wood floors and new, white walls all around. As the rectangular shape belies, form mostly follows function, and 4 of the floors are given over to large, rectangular galleries. The open space allows for movable walls can be easily repositioned to allow an extremely wide range of configurations. Each floor is very well lit, (something that is continually a problem at The Met). With 3 sets of stair cases, there are plenty of stairs . None go all the way from 1-8, however. On the western wall, as seen below, stairs go from the 3rd floor to the 8th. To the east of the elevators, stairs run from 5 to the 1st floor. And, there are the exterior stairs on 6,7 and 8. The stairs are good to familiarize yourself with, since there is almost always a wait, the elevators are best used for going from 1 to 8 or from 5 to 1. The entire building, inside and out, is wheelchair accessible.

Western stairs, Spring, 2016. They seem to be dismantling the Sanitation complex. The Whit might be hoping a tower doesn’t go up in it’s stead.

Renzo Piano strikes me as a Master Engineer more than as a brilliant Architect. I got that feeling when I first saw the Pompidou Centre in Paris, with it’s engineering on the outside, and again with his New York Times Building (which he inherited from Gehry). Yes, he has done some beautiful buildings, but I repeatedly get the feeling of Piano, the Engineer, when I look at his work, and that shouldn’t be the primary feeling I’m left with. There is quite a bit of engineering being shown off, here too, much of it on the first floor, some in the exposed gallery ceilings, and some on the roof decks.

The 8th floor gallery lets in ambient sky light.

The 8th floor gallery lets in ambient sky light.

Now for the “nitty gritty.”

Given the luxury of having over a year to assess it, I’ve begun to wonder about the adequacy of the 50,000 square feet of indoor exhibition space, as nice as it is. “America Is Hard To See,” fit the whole Museum well, and showed it off to fine effect. Then, while the Frank Stella Retrospective was excellent, it only included 5 of his prints, and only 1 of his “Moby Dick” works. Was this because of hard decisions due to a prolific, 50+ year career, or due to a lack of space on the 5th floor? Currently, the otherwise excellent “Stuart Davis: In Full Swing” show feels unmistakably truncated. It shares the 5th floor with the “Danny Lyon: Message To The Future” show, (which may be overambitious). By comparison, The Met’s Stuart Davis show in 1991-92 had almost twice as many works, including over 30 that dated before the earliest work in the Whit’s show, like some from his “Van Gogh” period. While these have been going on indoors, I’ve been underwhelmed by what’s been installed thus far on the outdoor 5th Floor exhibition space. As time goes on, I’m starting to feel the 5th Floor may turn out to be a design mistake. Part of it is cut off to allow an entrance and exit corridor for the outdoor space, which is generally in shadow, and results in leaving a small indoor gallery on the other side of the outdoor gallery access corridor, which feels lost, and most importantly cuts down the size of the congruent 5th floor space. The other floors with outdoor decks run right up to the door leading outside with no corridor, etc.

The 5th Floor is cut to allow this exit corridor to the Roof Deck Gallery, leaving a small gallery to the left that feels lost.

The eastern end of the 5th Floor gallery is cut to allow this exit corridor to the Roof Deck, which leaves the small gallery to the left that feels lost.

The Whitney says there is 13,000 square feet of outdoor space, over 25% of the amount of indoor space. I’m left to ask the age old question…”Did they create enough INDOOR space to display Art?,” the prime purpose of a Museum. Time will tell, BUT? If they didn’t? This will be a disaster reminiscent of Moma’s inexcusably horrible current/new building, where they somehow managed to create a massive multistory hole right in the middle of some of THE most expensive real estate on Earth, then claim they “need more space,” 10 years later!

You can’t make this stuff up!!!

5th Floor Deck.

5th Floor Deck with installation. Yes, the colored seats are the Art work.

If the Whit needs more indoor space, well, the roof decks seem easy to enclose, and voila, 13,000 square feet more gallery space.

Or? PLEASE don’t tell me they’d have to expand this new building north, or up. I’m done writing letters. Besides, as much as I admire and respect Mrs. Gertrude V. Whitney and the collection built on hers, I have no attachment to this building.

And that brings me to this- Through it all, one thought stayed on my mind more than any other. I wonder what she would have thought of the place…

Part 5 – Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney

“And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying”*

Portrait of Gertrude V. Whitney, 1917 by Robert Henri. Study for a Head for the Titanic Memorial by Mrs. Gertrude V. Whitney, in the background from "America Is Hard To See," 2015

Portrait of Gertrude V. Whitney, 1917 by Robert Henri. Study for a Head for the Titanic Memorial by Mrs. Gertrude V. Whitney, in the right background from “America Is Hard To See,” 2015

The founder of the Whitney Museum, as was beautifully demonstrated, remembered and honored in the first floor free to enter at all times gallery, where “America Is Hard To See” began was, also, a very accomplished sculptor2, in addition to being the greatest champion of American Art, perhaps ever. Immediately upon entering the first floor gallery, the first thing you saw was, fittingly, the wonderful portrait of her by Robert Henri that was perfectly placed facing the door, which also enabled it to be seen from outside the building, the only artwork that was. I wish it had been left right there. It wasn’t. As I write this, it’s upstairs as part of the “Human Interest: Portraits from the Whitney’s Collection” show. One of my pet peeves in Museum re-designs is how often they fail to answer this, seemingly basic, question- “Where are we going to put such and such major masterpiece?” Moma failed this miserably- How many times have they moved Monet’s “Waterlillies”, or Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, in a vain attempt to find the right spot for each? This is unforgivable. While the Whitney has found a great spot for Calder’s Circus,

Calder's ingenious "Circus." When you go, be sure to see the accompanying video!

Home… at last. Calder’s ingenious “Circus.” When you go, be sure to see the accompanying video.

which was lost in the Breuer Building’s mezzanine, I’m left to wonder about Mrs. Whitney’s Portrait. Will it become their Waterlillies?

One of the very greatest figures in American Art History looks out on her domain, Portrait by Robert Henri, 1917. 1st Floor Gallery, seen from outside the building during "America is Hard to See," 2015. After? They should have left it right there.

One of the greatest figures in American Art History looks out on her domain. 1st Floor Gallery, during “America is Hard to See,” 2015. After? They should have left it right there.

Beyond her portrait’s place in the Museum, I wonder what she’d think of it. It’s still “her” Museum. They even, recently, put the name “Whitney Museum of American Art” on the southern facade. The new place is located a stone’s throw from the site of the first Whitney Museum that she opened in 1931 at 8 West 8th Street, and equally close to where Edward Hopper lived and worked on Washington Square. Edward & Josephine Hopper left their artistic estate to the Whitney, in honor of their long relationship with Mrs. Whitney. When the new Museum opened, there was a selection of Edward Hopper drawings from 1925 that he did at the Whitney Studio Club, which preceded the founding of the Museum, in the first floor gallery, adjacent to Henri’s Portrait of Mrs. Whitney, seen above. As time goes on, I think this gift will be seen as one of the greatest Art gifts of the 20th Century, even though it didn’t consist of many of Edward’s paintings. That’s when I try and forget the fact that the Whitney, tragically and unforgivably, discarded almost all of Josephine Hopper’s work that was included with it!

While we’ll never know what Mrs. Whitney would think of the new home of her collection, I know what I think.

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Oneupsmanship? “Hey you down there on the High Line- You think you’re high up? Ha!”

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I’ve spent a year wondering- Why put 13,000 square feet of outdoor space in a building in a place with a climate like NYC?

5th Floor roof deck with a Frank Stella Sculpture & reflection, Feb, 2016

5th Floor roof deck with a Frank Stella Sculpture & reflection, in the snow, Feb, 2016

Part 6- 5,000,000 Reasons

As I said, real estate in NYC is all about location. That applies to the Art world, too. The Met & The Guggenheim are in, or near, Central Park, and there is now talk of The Met creating a Central Park entrance as part of their Contemporary Art Galleries reconstruction3. Moma has the heart of midtown, and now the Whitney has the High Line. In my opinion, the location was selected, and the New Whitney is designed, to be a destination for High Line visitors- It’s roof decks are meant to beckon High Liners with an even better view since they are higher. That’s one explanation for the stair designs looking similar- imitation that’s designed to make High Liners feel the Museum is part of the High Line. And so? Location also pays off by providing a potential mass audience delivered right to your door. How much is that worth to a Museum? Given that the High Line currently draws over 5,000,000 visitors a year, it’s hard not to see this as a conscious decision designed to attract visitors for an even better view, and oh yeah, some Art. Once inside? I’ve already come to feel that the gallery size is limiting. As the collection grows (do Museum collections ever shrink?), I am left to wonder how quickly they’re going to wish they had some of that 13,000 square feet that’s sitting outside, inside.

But? If I’m correct about their motivation, the outdoors stairs & decks exist to beckon people from the High Line, which, is open year round, come rain, snow, or shine.

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“We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune
But it’s all right, it’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed”*

Overall? I’m displeased by the outward appearance of the new Whitney. Over a  year of trying to warm to it, of giving it yet another chance to speak to me later, I still find it downright strange. As an Art Museum, the inside is nice, with the above caveats. As far as the Art is concerned? I’m glad to have the Whitney’s pre-eminient collection of American Art back, and “America Is Hard To See” was a wonderful “Welcome Back” celebration of it’s return after the move Downtown. The Whitney is, also, to be congratulated for the guts they’e displayed in the choices of their early shows- giving Laura Poitras her first Museum show, featuring the great Cecil Taylor for a week, and having the retrospectives of modern master Frank Stella and the vastly underrated Stuart Davis (who Mrs. Whitney, herself, believed in and financially supported early on), among others, all have made the first year of the New Whitney Museum’s exhibitions quite memorable, and yes, very Artistically successful.

Yet? How long will the waters stay calm for the U.S.S. New Whitney Museum? The big question of long term success and long term viability remain to be answered.

Epilogue – The Whitney’s 422 Million Dollar Gamble

DSC09557PNH

The Whitney’s move downtown isn’t about moving nearer the “New” Art neighborhood of Chelsea or the “Older” Art neighborhood of Soho. It strikes me as being a a case of seeing an opportunity and taking it. They found a lot at one of the 2 ends of the High Line and saw their opportunity to move to a potential audience- the 5,000,000 current visitors to the High Line, and they took it. I believe that’s why their stairs look like the High Line’s, as I said.

For the Whitney, this is a $430,000,000.00 (the cost of the new building) gamble that the High Line is not a flash in the pan and it’s popularity is here to stay. If the High Line fails? Well? The City was about to tear it down anyway before it was turned into a Park.

But, if the High Line does fail (which seems unlikely at the moment), or visitors come in substantially lower numbers (much more likely), the Whitney may find themselves stranded, with an out of the way Museum that is not easily accessible by either bus or subway in a neighborhood that has a history of being “the wild west,” home to meat packing, prostitution, cutting edge music, and sex clubs (Madonna’s notorious book “Sex” was photographed almost 25 years ago at one 3 blocks away) not all that long ago, that has been remade with extra glitz and top of the market rents. And what about that neighborhood? What if the new glitz doesn’t stick? What if it all turns out to be wishful thinking on the part of landlords looking to make a killing after years of squalor? Walking around the past few months, the area seems to be having a bit of trouble supporting many of it’s ritzy new tenants at these prices. And? This is over a year after the Whitney added even more oomph to the now completed High Line being here.

Empty storefronts on Gansevoort, one block east of the Whitney, August, 2016

Empty storefronts on Gansevoort fill 3/4 of the block, one block east of the Whitney, August, 2016

Is the “Meatpacking District” a fad destination that is about to fade? If so, what effect will this have on the new Whitney? Can it survive in a “not so fab” neighborhood?

La Perla joins Alexander McQueen & Stella McCartney as former tenants of the Meatpacking District

Is the buzz over? La Perla joins Alexander McQueen & Stella McCartney as former tenants of the Meatpacking District who have moved elsewhere.

While collectors and investors throw unheard of sums at Contemporary Art these days (which strike me as “bets” given the largely unproven nature of the Art itself), here is a case of one of NYC’s “Big 4 Museums” placing an even bigger bet on a Park, that while it certainly is Contemporary Urban Art, hasn’t even been fully opened for TWO YEARS yet,. The Whitney placed their bet when the High Line was in it’s first of 3 phases. Phase 3, the final part, of the now completed High Line opened on September 20, 2014. This is not to mention that they bought in at the top of the market in a real estate market that (like the Art market) hasn’t seen a correction in over 25 years. Both will see corrections one of these days.

But when? This, is the 422 million dollar question.

“Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest”*

Around the corner on Washington Street, 4 now empty storefronts, one of which was the famous Hogs & Heifers Saloon (corner). August, 2016

In the Whitney’s shadow. Around the corner on Washington Street, 4 now empty storefronts in a row, one of which was the notorious Hogs & Heifers Saloon (where the white sign hangs). August, 2016

Well? If all of this goes south? They still stand a very good chance of being able to move back uptown in 8 years when The Met’s lease of the Breuer, their former home, is up. Given The Met’s own problems, it seems highly unlikely they’ll be extending that lease.

If the Whitney then wants to renovate it? It’ll be someone else’s problem.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “American Tune” by Paul Simon. Published by Universal Music Publishing Group.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited. To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here. Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them. Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

  1. In fact, the new Whit, itself, sits where one was. ↩
  2. When will they have a show of HER work? ↩
  3. Speaking of his vision in January, Met Director Thomas Campbell told the LA Times that “We are looking at an entrance, at terraces, at the roof garden.” Sounds like he’s visited the New Whitney. ↩

Watching The Watchers With Laura Poitras

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Laura Poitras is, perhaps, best known for her Documentary CitizenFour, a behind-the-scenes chronicle of Edward Snowden’s unprecedented classified documents release and it’s after effects. It’s the culminating work of her 9/11 Trilogy. For Ms Poitras, and many others, Film is an Art Form1. I would agree that as a means of creativity and expression, Film as an art form is undeniable. In the bigger picture, Film, being 100-odd years old (depending on when you say it began), is still a relatively young Art Form to be considered “High Art.”

Does it belong in Museums yet, or is that premature?

Face to face with unspeakable horror. A screenshot of Poitras’ video O Say Can You See in her new show, Astro Noise, at the Whitney Museum.

While Film’s place in the front ranks of our popular culture seems assured to us now, it’s unknown what future generations will think, as is if it will speak to them. Of course, they could also reject Painting, Sculpture or whatever Artform that we accept now, but given a few thousand years of history to the contrary it at least feels there’s a better chance those will endure. Then, exactly what Film’s lasting works are, if any, also remains to be seen. If history tells us anything about Art it’s that what appears to be “Great” to the people of any given time often gets resigned to the dust bin by those that follow. No doubt that will happen to most of what’s been created in our lifetimes, but some of it may remain that speaks to those who come after us, even much after us. Consider that documentaries (one of my personal favorite genres of Film) are an even newer form, one that is continually evolving in both form and possibilities, and it may be somewhat surprising that Laura Poitras, one of the most respected Filmmakers and Documentarians working today, now her first solo Museum show, Astro Noise, at The Whitney.

Obviously, The Whitney Museum, like many other Museums & galleries around the world isn’t waiting for the future to judge what is or is not Art. In this case, I applaud their choice, and given the controversial nature of much of the show’s content, their guts. That, actually, shouldn’t be surprising. As Whitney Museum Director, Adam D. Weinberg says in the Foreword to the fascinating book of the same name accompanying the show, (which features a striking contribution from no less than Ai Weiwei), “(Whitney Museum founder) Mrs. Whitney’s early commitment to radical realist artists and her profund belief in the democracy of American art positioned her as a champion of free expression and the Whitney as a site for potential controversy2.”

“Is this “art?” I’d say Yes- As much in the presentation as in the work3. I’m not big on most of what I’ve seen done in video in galleries or Museums (William Kentridge being one exception off the top of my head). The pieces on view are beautifully conceived (individually and as a group), charged with meaning (for her, you and me, yet globally as well) and presented in a very artful way that regardless of what side of any political fence you may be on will give you pause to think. They force you to see the world around you, very far from you, and indeed, even hidden from you while showing how the world has changed since that fateful day almost exactly 14 and a half years ago. In “Astro Noise” it’s all plainly on view.

Disposition Matrix, 2016. “Don’t attempt to control the horizontal…the vertical…”

The first room features a double sided video screen, a fact not obvious until you walk to the other side of it, both sides showing her 2 channel video O Say Can You See, 2001/16, pictured above. At first you’re faced (literally) with watching people’s expressions as they view Ground Zero in the days after 9/11. For most Americans, these are the first days of a new world, and these people are both witness to what is before their eyes and the implications of it their mind’s eye also sees. In spite of the fact that 9/11 was one of the most photographed & filmed tragedies in history, this is something not many who aren’t named Laura Poitras took the time to look at. It’s the “right in front of us” element of this show. As someone who lived here that day, it’s something “familiar” yet seen in a new way, which is always something I value in Art, (and reminds me of the Man Ray quote I Posted recently.) As we may not know from her documentaries, which deal largely with “others,” this powerfully shows that Laura Poitras is also gifted at documenting what’s in front of us and largely missed.

From here, all becomes “movie theater dark” as we encounter the unseen and the hidden.

Walk around to the other side of the video screen and the ramifications begin to become all too real. We watch two prisoners being interrogated in Afghanistan shortly after. Two types of reaction to 9/11. From there, the show’s dark & winding trail continues with video of drones in various night skies around the world intermingling with the peace, beauty and serenity of the stars, which you watch lying flat on your back. Then there are banks of “peep show” like slots containing documents and videos from various government surveillance agencies around the world (See “Disposition Matix,” above and “Anarchist,” below), including ours, which, unlike in the first rooms, can really only be seen by one person at a time, making it personal. Finally “Astro Noise” leaves us with a graphic proof that we are all now being watched- even while we’re looking at this show.

While I was pondering the “Art” of this, I realized that her trials and travails that are a part of the genesis of this show, and of her work, reveal something I admire about Laura Poitras very much-

Her integrity is not for sale.

As such, she strikes me as something of a “throwback.” She’s a throwback to Artists, Musicians & Writers of yore- men and women who created because they had to. It’s as if their very lives depended on it, their raison de’tre.  If the public responded to their work and paid for it, the better to create more of it, but regardless, they were on a mission. They lived, breathed and died their art.

Laura Poitras is using art to show us “ourselves”- our collective selves. Me, you, the people in power- elected or not, and enabling us to “see” them and decide for ourselves how we feel about it all. That’s pretty much all any Artist can do. Say what you want about Ms. Poitras politically charged show, she’s on a mission.

“World peace is none of your business

You must not tamper with arrangements

Work hard and sweetly pay your taxes

Never asking what for”*

Anarchist, 2016. Somebody in the U.K.’s tax money hard at work. “What for?”

“Astro Noise” creates the undeniable feeling that somehow along the way Post 9/11, in addition to all the horror that’s gone on here and around the world be it by terrorists or by trying to stop them, as the “cost” of it all continues to become apparent, as the unseen becomes visible, we’re seeing we’ve all lost even more than we realized or consented to. We’ve lost our right to privacy.

While Edward Snowden “tipped” Ms. Poitras to the NSA’s role in that sending her a file titled “Astro Noise,” this week, I saw a headline that read “You’re On File In China.” Yes, that’s another part of the story, though every bit as concerning.

A surveillance camera surveils a sign warning it’s presence. How quaint. There’s too many cameras to hang signs anymore.

Closer to home, it’s enough to make me how much of our freedom we’ve lost, too ?

“World peace is none of your business

So would you kindly keep your nose out”*

Consider this- In a country where the law says a suspect is “innocent until proven guilty,” all of a sudden, we’ve ALL being treated like suspects.

Why?

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “World Peace Is None Of Your Business”s by Morrissey & Boz Boorer from his 2014 album of the same name. Published by Warner Chappell Music and Universal Music Publishing Group.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 8 years, during which 300 full-length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited. To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here. Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them. Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

  1. “I think of filmmaking as art...” ↩
  2. Astro Noise by Laura Poitras, Published by the Whitney Museum, P.20 ↩
  3. Whether this will be “Art” and continue to speak to people generations from now or not is anyone’s guess. ↩