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Wednesday, August 19th 2009
5:44 PM
Painting - some desperately old fashioned problems.. notes on beginning a discussion
No one has to stand up for brushmarks, there are plenty of them in the world, in history and being made now, and they can stand up for themselves, they can be perfomances, installations, they can strike post colonial attitudes and leftist or queer notes too, and they can also be very reactionary and stupid. Dunque, it's not so odd to think about them, and recently I have had reason to spend some time wandering the streets with brushmarks on my mind.
In fact of these two works, one the Eye of a Cape Hunting Dog, and the other a page from the notebooks of Bracha Ettinger who recently had an exhibition at the Freud Museum (curated by Griselda Pollock), only the first has 'real' brushmarks, but they are both at the centre of my wandering reflections. They are both artists whose work I know well and over many years, and it was only last week that I thought about them in one breath. It was at Mark's studio where I had gone to see some new paintings, life size images of prize bulls made on a huge, white coloured canvas - the ground is actually reddish, but worked with many glazes and rubbings through. In these he takes the techniques used in the eye to an immense scale, a concentration on the image quite different from that, say, in his cases of birds from the natural History Museum or tropical animals from its storage. It seems improbable that he could complete even one in a few moths, yet there are already three of them in quite a short time. This is to say that his work on the canvas is rapid and experimental, and reveals something about the limits and possibility of figuration even as it pretends to engage in it - a bull is a bull is a bull, curly mane and immense testicles and all, but the to an fro of the viewer to the canvas is a puzzling trajectory, its not like going to and fro in front either of a Monet or a Richter or a painter who works in pixel like units, later Close or ... I forget his name it will come back ...(Dan Hays) so it is not a now you see it now you don't, but rather a question about what is there at all, perhaps something in relation to Richter to do with what is a surface as a form of work, or a Ryman. The initial model might be van der Weyden, but that does not work, rather van der Weyden stays in bein,g down to the last moment of craquelure - see the deposition on Google Earth from the Prado. It's more a very evident why, about why these endless inventions of marks in sizes and energies all made somehow out of the wrong brush, need a row of prize bulls to come into being. In a way the bulls are a kind of Derridian object, great différance machines, and they split the work into an unlikeness to itself, as distinct from Tobey who only ever achieved a terrible sameness in his pursuit of subtle difference. (I might say here that the attempt to do different things is often the high road to entropy - for instance Kippenberger for me is one of the most boring artists ever, other than when he tries to make two similar paintings.) The odd thing at the moment remains how these temporally imense images of Mark's, which do not settle in the time of viewing, also seem to belong to a great radition of jobbing artists.
Freud Museum Installation
Nothing could be more different in Bracha whose technique is the slow discovery of a relation between mark and image that sometimes unfolds over years of making, years of making quite small paintings, in which the theme of Eurydice plays the role that, for example, dead birds of paradise, play in Mark's, or, currently, bulls. And this is uncannily autonomous of the origins of the Eurydicean in her work, which pertain to the destruction of Eropean Jewry. I have watched her painting, in attention and distraction,(she and I - as maker and viewer) talking, looking at other work, listening, or rapt alone, drawing in thought from her notebooks, records of encounters in clinical practice, waiting for the painting to find an end, alongside other works that accumulate in her studio. But much as I go to her work looking for what I know of their length, their time, their depth, they always, almost always, take me in the here and now. I do not mean their effect is immediate but rather that there is a suspense of being a self in looking at them, a strange trapping in side to side rythms that must be to do with the way in which time and depth vanish on the surface. This is to say that the subject here also disappears, but differently to Mark's and in an inverse relation to the time and manner of making. The suspense in here and now may, of course, be expected from an analyst, I guess.
And this is not to engage in an ethics of the image, just a beginning in thinking how the image can take me unaware, of the ways of being unaware. I needed to start writing about these two again, and next something on Bracha and Doris Lessing. At the same time I have to challenge myself to deal with the matter of her theoretical work in the painting, for I am always inclined to feel that I see nothing but a surface.
In fact of these two works, one the Eye of a Cape Hunting Dog, and the other a page from the notebooks of Bracha Ettinger who recently had an exhibition at the Freud Museum (curated by Griselda Pollock), only the first has 'real' brushmarks, but they are both at the centre of my wandering reflections. They are both artists whose work I know well and over many years, and it was only last week that I thought about them in one breath. It was at Mark's studio where I had gone to see some new paintings, life size images of prize bulls made on a huge, white coloured canvas - the ground is actually reddish, but worked with many glazes and rubbings through. In these he takes the techniques used in the eye to an immense scale, a concentration on the image quite different from that, say, in his cases of birds from the natural History Museum or tropical animals from its storage. It seems improbable that he could complete even one in a few moths, yet there are already three of them in quite a short time. This is to say that his work on the canvas is rapid and experimental, and reveals something about the limits and possibility of figuration even as it pretends to engage in it - a bull is a bull is a bull, curly mane and immense testicles and all, but the to an fro of the viewer to the canvas is a puzzling trajectory, its not like going to and fro in front either of a Monet or a Richter or a painter who works in pixel like units, later Close or ... I forget his name it will come back ...(Dan Hays) so it is not a now you see it now you don't, but rather a question about what is there at all, perhaps something in relation to Richter to do with what is a surface as a form of work, or a Ryman. The initial model might be van der Weyden, but that does not work, rather van der Weyden stays in bein,g down to the last moment of craquelure - see the deposition on Google Earth from the Prado. It's more a very evident why, about why these endless inventions of marks in sizes and energies all made somehow out of the wrong brush, need a row of prize bulls to come into being. In a way the bulls are a kind of Derridian object, great différance machines, and they split the work into an unlikeness to itself, as distinct from Tobey who only ever achieved a terrible sameness in his pursuit of subtle difference. (I might say here that the attempt to do different things is often the high road to entropy - for instance Kippenberger for me is one of the most boring artists ever, other than when he tries to make two similar paintings.) The odd thing at the moment remains how these temporally imense images of Mark's, which do not settle in the time of viewing, also seem to belong to a great radition of jobbing artists.
Freud Museum Installation
Nothing could be more different in Bracha whose technique is the slow discovery of a relation between mark and image that sometimes unfolds over years of making, years of making quite small paintings, in which the theme of Eurydice plays the role that, for example, dead birds of paradise, play in Mark's, or, currently, bulls. And this is uncannily autonomous of the origins of the Eurydicean in her work, which pertain to the destruction of Eropean Jewry. I have watched her painting, in attention and distraction,(she and I - as maker and viewer) talking, looking at other work, listening, or rapt alone, drawing in thought from her notebooks, records of encounters in clinical practice, waiting for the painting to find an end, alongside other works that accumulate in her studio. But much as I go to her work looking for what I know of their length, their time, their depth, they always, almost always, take me in the here and now. I do not mean their effect is immediate but rather that there is a suspense of being a self in looking at them, a strange trapping in side to side rythms that must be to do with the way in which time and depth vanish on the surface. This is to say that the subject here also disappears, but differently to Mark's and in an inverse relation to the time and manner of making. The suspense in here and now may, of course, be expected from an analyst, I guess.
And this is not to engage in an ethics of the image, just a beginning in thinking how the image can take me unaware, of the ways of being unaware. I needed to start writing about these two again, and next something on Bracha and Doris Lessing. At the same time I have to challenge myself to deal with the matter of her theoretical work in the painting, for I am always inclined to feel that I see nothing but a surface.
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