I work near St. Peter’s
Church at the Citicorp
Center located in Midtown
Manhattan and often look in on art shows that the church hosts in two spaces
that are reserved for exhibitions. The
church’s stated mission is to offer “gallery space to artists whose lives and
work explore the many dimensions of spirituality”…luckily a restriction that
would not exclude the work of any artist that I can think of. The gallery guidelines invite both established
and emerging artists to submit proposals for exhibitions, which means that the
quality of work found there can vary greatly.
I find this in no way a bad thing.
In fact, I think it’s terrific that a location in Midtown that gets a
ton of foot traffic is available to unestablished artists. There are times that I pass by the church,
peer through the windows and am so unimpressed with the artwork on display that
I walk on by, but occasionally I see a show there that I really enjoy.
In September of last year, I
noticed from the street that the church was exhibiting some competent
figurative work and made a mental note to myself that I should get over to the
gallery to take a look. About a week
later, I made good on my intention, visiting the show on my lunch hour. Immediately upon entering the gallery, I
recognized that the work was far better than I had anticipated. I quickly took in the room: the paintings
were medium sized, the vast majority being figurative. Compositions were original, pared down and
cropped innovatively. The paint handling
was assured and organic, the artist’s brushwork more intuitive and spontaneous
than my own. Coloristically, the
paintings worked for me, the artist successfully integrating saturated,
artificial colors with more subdued flesh tones. The artist had mastered perspective and
anatomy. Most of all I was impressed
with how the artist painted flesh, probably the most difficult substance to
depict with all of its subtle nuances, surface variations and tonal
changes. Occasionally, I noticed, here
and there, a little flattening of form which I assumed resulted from working
from photographs. But, in general, the
figures had weight, occupied space and were lit by a definable light
source. Additionally, the paint never
got muddy, the darks staying active, the highlights pure and bright.
I was impressed. I glanced up at the wall to see the artist’s
name: Daryl Zang. I was pretty sure from
the subject matter that the artist was a woman (which, incidentally, is the
case), and beyond that I didn’t need to know much more. I think it’s always best to go into a show
“cold”, and let the work speak for itself.
The first wall I approached
was hung with a series of female nudes, which I found to be very
competent. I’ve discovered since then,
as I suspected at the time, that these are self-portraits:
“I’ve been asked many times why I paint self-portraits. The truth is that it kind of happened on its own. I’ve always loved figurative drawing and painting and when I found myself home alone with a new baby I used myself as a model out of convenience.” – Zang
Zang - Sinking
Zang - Stripped
Zang - Drained
It’s not easy to suffer the
scrutiny and commentary that a nude self-portrait initiates, and I commend Zang
for her courage. The works are very
attractive, my favorite being Sinking,
with its complex interlacing and overlapping of form. This painting projects a more intense
emotional state than is asserted in many of her other paintings, a contained
anguish, that I found very moving. But I
suspect that Zang found this work, though quite successful, lacking in personal
authenticity because it represents an artistic cul-de-sac, no other work in the
show exploring similar emotional states.
The remaining works in the
show addressed themes of motherhood, relaxation and pleasure. As with the nudes, the vast majority of these
works testified to a technical competence and exhibited a facile ability to
devise innovative compositions. There is
no doubt when looking at these paintings that Zang is presenting specifically a
female perspective.
“My work tells the story of
my experiences as a woman, focusing on the moments that cause an internal shift
in my thoughts or emotions. At home as a
new mother I painted about pregnancy and the early stages of motherhood,
exposing all the uncertainty, isolation, and exhaustion as well as the
tenderness. When it was rest I craved,
my work became about restful moments and quiet relaxation. As my children grew older I found inspiration
in the joy they discovered in each day and cherished our time together. Now I can focus on how my own personality,
opinions, and relationships have developed over the years.” - Zang
I think it’s wonderful that
Zang is presenting images that explore the intimate moments in the day of a
stay-at-home mother, especially considering how, in recent decades, the
responsibility of child rearing has been disparaged and assigned to outside
help. Zang is inviting us to walk a mile
in her shoes, to experience the private pleasures, the minor setbacks, the
moments of exhaustion that define her day.
Strangely enough, for Zang, it was taking on the responsibility of
caregiver that provided the impetus to focus on her painting. For most artists, the distractions and interruptions
that come with caring for babies and young children would become debilitating.
“My painting career truly
came into focus after the birth of my first child. Ironically, at this time, I found it
unthinkable that I would have the time or energy to take painting seriously. I found an escape in my studio and turned to
self-portraiture in order to make sense of all the emotions that had arrived
with this new phase of life. I created
imagery that was honest and infused with a female perspective which I found
difficult to find elsewhere in art." - Zang
When successful, these works
embody a candor and intimacy that is very moving. In paintings such as Roots, New Beginning, Pause, All That Glitters, Second
Reading, Cared For and Bliss, Zang excels, finding a balance
between the personal and the universal, presenting images that are innovatively
elemental and emotive. In execution and
subject matter, these paintings are reminiscent of the work of Janet Fish and Philip
Pearlstein.
Zang - Roots
Zang - New Beginning
Zang - Pause
Zang - All That Glitters
Zang - Cared For
I would suggest that better
judgment could have been exercised in naming some of the paintings. I think Roots
is too specific and strips the image of some of its mystery, while Drained and All That Glitters are cute and a bit precious. In Bliss
and Cared For Zang successfully
tackles challenging subject matter: reflective surfaces, moving water and
transparent mediums which distort imagery.
There are also a vast number
of images that document the small pleasures that Zang indulges in during her
day, pleasures that sustain and buoy her spirits: an afternoon nap, a good
book, a cup of coffee, a hot bath, a glass of wine.
Zang - Centerpiece
Zang - Appreciation
Zang - Time Out
Zang - Cupcake
Zang - Indulgence
I guess this is all well and fine. After all, Zang is telling a story of sorts,
presenting a narrative constructed of moments in her day. Most of these works are expertly executed. I can’t help but admire the hand depicted in Appreciation or the glass of wine in Cupcake.
But as I was looking at many of these works, an uneasy feeling was
welling up in me that the subject matter would be better suited for a facebook
cellphone snapshot posting than serious art.
You know, “Tortellini al Forno at Olive Garden last night” or
“Celebrated anniversary with bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape…Awesome!” Of course, it could be said that my gender
precludes my fully appreciating the subject matter, but I would be equally unreceptive
to images painted by a male artist of the gung-ho gang gathered to watch the
Sunday football game or documenting workout equipment at the local gym. At the show, I found myself studying many of
the paintings seeking within the agreeable imagery a greater depth, something
more profound.
Zang - The Gift
Zang - Bliss
For instance, looking at The Gift, I wondered if the unusual
cropping, the low perspective offering a generous glimpse of leg and thigh, the
manner in which the frilly hem of the dress echoes the tissue paper packaging
of the present suggest a slightly sinister interpretation involving a quid pro
quo relationship. Or when I look at Bliss, I can’t help but recall the long
tradition of bubble imagery in art which goes back to the Renaissance, referencing
the Latin expression, homo bulla, which translates roughly as “man the bubble”
and serves as a metaphor for the transitory nature of human existence.(1) In Bliss,
is Zang bringing to our attention the brevity of pure happiness in our
ever-changing lives and, taking this a step further, commenting on the
fragility of life itself? I’m not sure.
I hope this entry doesn’t
read as too critical of Zang’s work.
From reading through passages on her site, I really got to like
Zang. She seems to be a great parent, a
sincere chronicler of her creative process and motivations, a diligent artist
struggling to produce high quality work.
Hopefully, if she were to read this entry, she would follow her own
advice regarding criticism:
“As an artist’s circle of
peers, galleries and collectors expands so does the noise of other’s
suggestions and opinions. You have to
see through your own lens though. This
is true no matter what you do. It takes
strength to filter a lot of that away, but it is the only way to find your
inner voice. Only in believing in
yourself does the true magic happen.” – Zang
I don’t believe that
criticism is a bad thing. I’m always
pleased when my work elicits a strong response, good or bad. My favorite comment I received when last I
showed was: “Depressing, Almost evil, reflection of today’s world”. Ultimately, the role of all art is to draw
attention, to communicate, to move one’s audience to respond. Zang should be pleased that her work
motivated me to write this entry a full five months after seeing her show. Her paintings testify to her technical
abilities; it seems likely that, with continued dedication to her craft, Zang,
who’s already exposing a rich and rarely explored perspective, will find themes
and subject matter that more aptly convey the depth of emotion which her
personal experiences inspire. And, who
knows, someday in the future, I might be wandering through the galleries of a
major museum and come across a Zang hanging right along with Caravaggio’s The Foot Massage of St. Paul, Cassatt’s My Most Excellent Vibrator and Picasso’s
Double Latte.
To see more of Zang’s work
and read her own writings about art and process, please visit her site at: www.zangstudios,com.
All comments are welcome
here. If you prefer to comment
privately, you can email me at: gerardwickham@gmail.com.
(1) Erika Langmuir, Imagining Childhood
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