Entry - 10.29.17

I don’t know if you saw that the American poet John Ashbery passed away at the age of ninety this past September.  I took note of his passing not because I am familiar with his poetry but because I was aware of his association with Fairfield Porter, an artist whom I admire very much.  The two were friends.  Ashbery had written a number of pieces in defense of Porter’s art.  In fact, Porter had painted the poet’s portrait on several occasions.  After learning of Ashbery’s death on a newsfeed, I performed a quick google search and found two competent portraits of him by Porter.

Fairfield Porter - Argyle Socks - 1952

Fairfield Porter - Man Seated Near Lamp - n.d.

These are early works by Porter, before he lightened his palette and sought greater tonal verisimilitude, but, as with all of Porter’s work, they strive to express a relaxed, informal take on reality.  And regardless of their vintage, all of Porter’s paintings document his persistent interest in the properties of paint.

Within a few of my previous blogs, I’ve mentioned Porter and included the occasional image of one of his paintings, and a number of readers have responded that they were unfamiliar with his work.  At first, I was surprised to learn this, but, upon further consideration, I recognized that I shouldn’t have been.  Porter was not at the forefront of any movement.  His subject matter was personal; his work was not controversial.  Inevitably, the sieve of time tends to surrender artists like Porter to anonymity and retain in its mesh solely the major players, those who have altered the course of art history.  It’s really unfortunate because Porter was truly an exceptional artist and his work captures so convincingly a specific time and atmosphere – which, by the way, I may be particularly receptive to having grown up on the south shore of Long Island in the 1960’s and 70’s.  I thought it might be a good idea to devote a blog entry to this remarkable, thoroughly independent artist.  

Porter was born in Illinois in 1907, the fourth child of a family of five.  His family, with a long and impressive pedigree in the United States, was wealthy and educated, accustomed to influencing politics and fully engaged in the cultural life of the nation.  Several trips to the continent provided an introduction to contemporary European art, in addition to offering the opportunity to make the acquaintance of several influential artists and art historians.  He studied art history at Harvard University before deciding that he wanted to be an artist himself and going on to study technique at the Arts students’ League in New York City under Thomas Hart Benton and Boardman Robinson.  Initially, influenced by the Social Realist movement predominant in the 1930’s, Porter attempted to create socially responsible work but eventually fell under the sway of the French Nabis - Edouard Vuillard, in particular.  In his early work, he retained the somber and restricted palette of the Social Realists and Vuillard, as in Argyle Socks and Tibor de Nagy, although already displaying a predilection for relaxed, informal subjects executed in a loose, painterly style.

Fairfield Porter - Penny - 1962

Fairfield Porter - Maine Landscape - 1955

Fairfield Porter - Portrait of James Schuyler - 1955

Fairfield Porter - Portrait of Tibor de Nagy - 1958

Porter married the poet Anne Channing with whom he fathered five children.  It was during the years that the Porters were raising their family that Fairfield really matured as an artist.  While not participating in the movement, he associated with the Abstract Expressionists and, in the art criticism he wrote for the Partisan Review and Art News, defended this new and radical form of visual representation.  Porter especially admired Willem de Kooning, and under his influence and that of Pierre Bonnard, his palette lightened and his paint handling became more fluid.  From 1952 to 1970, he exhibited his work at the Tibor de Nagy Gallery, most years having a solo show.

Because of his family’s wealth, Porter was able to pursue his intellectual activities in unquestionable comfort.  While providing the ideal incubator in which to nurture his art, this affluence did not come without its drawbacks.  Porter was often looked upon as a dilettante dabbling in the arts by his less fortunate comrades who relied on government assistance during the Depression years and steadfastly participated in an artistic movement so radical that public acceptance and economic security seemed unattainable.

Porter chose desirable locations in which to create his art and raise his growing family.  After his mother’s death in 1946, he took possession of his parents’ summer house on Great Spruce Head Island off the coast of Maine, most years passing the summer months there with his family.

Porter lovingly recorded the interior of the house which was designed by his father.

Fairfield Porter - Interior with Dress Pattern - 1969

Fairfield Porter - A Day Indoors - 1962

Additionally, in 1949 Porter purchased a large, nineteenth-century house in Southampton on the south shore of Long Island.

The vast majority of Porter’s oeuvre was created at and around these two locations.  Porter documented the structures in which he lived, their interiors and exteriors, the views from their windows and yards.  At times, he left his property to explore its environs: small town streets, weathered harbors, woodland paths and immaculate beaches.  And always at these homes, he chose to record his family: his wife reading, napping or breastfeeding their daughter, a baby secured in a highchair, his son practicing piano or typing on a typewriter, his daughter strumming a guitar in front of a Christmas tree and different combinations of family members posing patiently for him.  The viewer can’t help but interpret these glimpses into the artist’s personal life as idyllic.  The children are dressed conservatively – their appearance casual and contemporary but not provocative or edgy.  They exude normalcy.

Fairfield Porter - Elizabeth in a Red Chair - 1961

Fairfield Porter - Jane and Elizabeth - 1967

Fairfield Porter - Lizzie at the Table - 1958

Fairfield Porter - The Mirror - 1966

In his many self-portraits, Porter depicts himself attired in the modern mode, casually but affluently, his mop of hair proclaiming his sympathies with the radical youth movements of the era without committing to an extreme appearance that would alienate his more conservative, moneyed neighbors.

Fairfield Porter - Self Portrait in the Studio - 1968

Fairfield Porter - Self Portrait - 1968

Fairfield Porter - Self Portrait - 1972

The homes they inhabit are spacious, furnished tastefully and located close to the ocean.  Porter records leisure activities, tennis games, afternoon naps, social occasions, holidays and the remains of sumptuous meals.  His paintings attest to an enviable life – one exemplified by family harmony, a surfeit of resources, freedom from routine labor and access to regular intellectual stimulation.  Of course, reality was far more complicated.  Porter was bisexual and pursued relationships with men and women throughout his marriage.  But the paintings project what Porter wanted us to see.  The facets of his life which he presents to us offer comfort, reassurance and an impression of well-being.

Porter painted the people around him: his wife, his children, visitors to his home and fellow artists.  In Porter’s portraits, you are always aware of the presence of the painter, of the relationship between model and artist.  Many times, Porter is seen reflected in a mirror or glass behind his model.  Often artists seek to eliminate any evidence of their presence in their portraits so that the personality of the sitter can resonate unhindered in their paintings.  Not so with Porter.  His subjects are clearly sitting for portraits, waiting for the tedium to end, waiting to be free to move about and return to their normal activities.  There is often the haphazard feel of a snapshot to Porter’s portraits.  The artist’s current location determines the painting’s background.  The sitter’s wardrobe or the objects surrounding him or her offer no interpretable clue as to the artist’s perception or assessment of his model.  The features of the sitter are commonly blank and relaxed, Porter being far more interested in the play of light on form than the personal dramas unfolding in the features of his sitters.  In many paintings, countenances are generalized, masking individuality and projecting a shared anonymity.

Fairfield Porter - John MacWhinnie - 1972

Fairfield Porter - Portrait of Nancy Porter Straus - 1973

By the way, Porter clearly struggled with figure painting throughout his career.  There are many examples within his oeuvre of perfectly executed portraits or figure paintings, but just as many awkward failures can be found.  I find this appealing.  Evidence of the effort to master one’s craft interests me far more than flawless gems.

Porter regularly painted still lifes, and, as with his portraits, he preferred informal and unarranged subjects.  Often he chose to depict the remains of a meal left on a table, plates and bowls piled up or scattered about, bathed in a light filtered through nearby windows.  Clearly in these works he was influenced by Pierre Bonnard, who often recorded family members enjoying meals or simple table settings awaiting soon to arrive diners.

Pierre Bonnard - The Checkered Tablecloth - 1916

But Porter brings a more modern, American sensibility to his subject matter.  His table tops are crowded harum-scarum with a host of items, abandoned in chaotic disarray, boxes and containers of brand name goods, their bold and colorful labeling clearly visible, interspersed amidst the crockery and flatware.

Fairfield Porter - Field Flowers, Fruit and Dishes - 1974

Fairfield Porter - Pink Table Top - 1970

Fairfield Porter - Still Life with Casserole - 1955

Fairfield Porter - Still Life - 1975

More than any other subject matter, Porter produced landscapes, and most commonly he chose to record locations that normally wouldn’t merit the attention of an artist.  For instance, he painted hazy ocean views of low-lying islands, commonplace pine trees huddled beside a hillside path, a strip of highway tracing the line of a beach dotted with occasional rundown houses.  Porter liked to paint on location and used his family homes as bases from which to venture forth into nature.  During his frequent visits to Manhattan, he also now and then painted cityscapes, and in Maine and on Long Island he captured views of small towns, knots of suburban homes, local business fronts and marinas.  As with other genres, Porter simply recorded what was around him, what was available.

Fairfield Porter - A View from the Coast - n.d.

Fairfield Porter - Armchair on Porch - 1955

Fairfield Porter - Bear Island with Attendant Clouds - 1974

Fairfield Porter - Calverton - 1954

Fairfield Porter - Fallow Field - 1972

Fairfield Porter - Island Farmhouse - 1974

Fairfield Porter - Islands - 1968

Fairfield Porter - July - 1971

Fairfield Porter - Lobster Boat Morning - 1970

Fairfield Porter - Peak Island and Lobster Boat - 1968

Fairfield Porter - Southampton Backyards - 1954

Fairfield Porter - Sunrise on South Main Street - 1973

Fairfield Porter - Sunset Southampton - 1967

Fairfield Porter - The Cove - 1964

Fairfield Porter - The Horse in the Meadow - 1968

Fairfield Porter - The Porch - 1962

Fairfield Porter - Union Square, Looking Up Park Avenue - 1975

Fairfield Porter - View Across the Barred Island - 1968

There are several reasons why I am attracted to Porter’s work.  I appreciate that Porter was an “original”, an artist who painted what he wanted to paint regardless of how critics or the public regarded his work.  Porter associated with many of the Abstract Expressionists early in their careers.  Though clearly a representational artist, he did not become enmeshed in the unproductive pissing war between proponents of representational and abstract art.  He understood and valued the efforts of the Abstract Expressionists.  He wrote art criticism in defense of their work.  And, though under their influence he lightened his palette, embraced bold fields of pure color and used paint more intuitively and creatively, he never joined the movement – never reaped the intellectual and monetary rewards of being in the forefront of a revolution that achieved great critical and commercial success.  He certainly would have been excused for a change in direction which most likely could have been interpreted as a natural extension of his artistic development, but Porter was an inveterate outsider, painting the subjects that appealed to him regardless of the draw of critical acclaim and celebrity status.

And while Porter was adopting the broader and more energetic brushwork emblematic of the Expressionists, he was also learning to see properly.  He abandoned the restricted palette of the Social Realists and began to accurately document color, atmosphere and light.  I cannot think of many other artists who so successfully conveyed a sense of specific time and place in their landscapes.  In Porter’s work, we can literally see the air that fills the void between artist and subject, the golden halo that traces backlit form.  In his Long Island landscapes, Porter captures the ever-present haze that bleaches out tonality and restricts the range of lights and darks.  In Maine, he became absorbed with how light reflects off the water, how crowds of evergreens form generalized masses of shadow and light.  When tackling portraits or still lifes indoors, he commonly differentiates between artificial and natural lighting, recording the reflections imposed on his subject by the intense wash of sunlight intruding upon a shadowed realm through windows, screened porches and skylights.

Porter was interested in exploring reality – not piercing reality to expose its core; he was satisfied with documenting reality’s skin.  He chose to record what was around him, what was readily available and, in doing so, struggled to ever see more, to understand how light and atmosphere impact on form and to use paint sensibly and organically to convey a specific reality.  Over the years, he developed a technique of painterly shorthand to rapidly and concisely “process” his subject matter.  In spite of his distancing himself from his subject matter, Porter captures the ordinary, daily happenings of a maturing family’s existence in the 1960’s and 70’s and surprisingly expresses powerfully the spirit of the age in which he lived.  In eschewing contrivance and esotericism, he has achieved a deeper connection with the zeitgeist of that time.

There is a deceptive ease about Porter’s work.  In his portraits, his sitters don’t wear formal attire; they pose in their everyday clothes: jeans, corduroys, flannel shirts, sneakers, t-shirts, slippers, sweaters and tennis shorts.  Sometimes he records activities like piano practice, reading or napping, but most commonly his subject is simply set in the canvas’ center, posed naturally and looking back at the artist.  I’ve read that Porter never directed his sitter to take a specific pose, that he allowed him or her to settle into a comfortable position and worked with that.  His still lifes certainly don’t appear contrived at all.  In his landscapes, he managed to elevate the ordinary, the overlooked and the un-scenic into something extraordinary.  Take one of my favorite Porter paintings, Amherst Campus No. 1, for example.

Fairfield Porter - Amherst Campus No. 1 - 1969

Porter has chosen to document a view from a window of the corner of a campus parking lot.  A cluster of cars are gathered on the asphalt.  One figure in a suit traverses the field beyond the lot.  It is clearly autumn – my guess, late October and the start of the academic year.  The foliage has begun to change; the grass is dry and worn from foot traffic.  The sky is nearly cloudless.  The light is golden as if filtered through a yellow veil.  The moment is utterly prosaic – a scene that could have been witnessed by a professor or student from that upper story window on any fall day.  The composition seems arbitrary, unplanned and instantaneous as though determined by a momentary glance through an available window.  Porter doesn’t labor over his painting either.  He seizes generalities, blocking in shapes and trafficking in overall tonalities.  But regardless of all of Porter’s flippancy, the composition holds together very well and his paint handling is compelling.  In fact, the image packs a powerful emotional charge stimulating waves of nostalgia relating to the scenic beauty of a specific season in New England, the peaceful routine of academic life in America and the heightened sense of loss we experience when granted a fleeting glimpse into a time gone by.  Porter felt very strongly that art should not be labored, calculated and precious, that instinct and honesty mattered most in painting.

“Order seems to come from searching for disorder, and awkwardness from searching for harmony or likeness, or the following of a system.  The truest order is what you already find there, or that will be given if you don’t try for it.  When you arrange, you fail.”

“The profoundest order is revealed in what is most casual.”

                                                                                              Fairfield Porter

Fairfield Porter died of a massive coronary while out walking his dog in Southampton in September 1975.  He was 68 years old.

I’ll end with a few photographs of Porter that I came across on the internet while researching this entry.  As always, I encourage readers to comment here.  If you would prefer to comment privately, you can email me at gerardwickham@gmail.com.

Entry - 8.5.17

I really don’t like award shows.  And there are so many of them: the Oscars, the Grammys, the People’s Choice Awards, the Golden Globes, the Tonys, the Screen Actors Guild Awards, the Black Entertainment Television Awards, The Country Music Association Awards, MTV Movie and TV Awards, MTV Video and Music Awards, the Emmys, the Daytime Emmys and the Independent Spirit Awards.  (And I’m sure I missed a few.)  These shows are very long and not very entertaining at all.  I’m lucky if I’m vaguely familiar with one or two of the nominees in any category.  Whatever the genre being honored, I can pretty much guarantee that I haven’t seen the movie, heard the song or watched the show.  At one time, the Emmys held some interest for me because I was actually familiar with some of the actors, actresses and shows nominated, but, of course, inevitably that changed with time; now the nominations are dominated by HBO and Showtime, two cable channels I would have to take out a second mortgage on my house to subscribe to – not gonna happen.

These shows might still hold some interest for me, regardless of my lack of familiarity with most of the participants, if the winners were capable of making some sort of cohesive and engaging acceptance speech.  But, almost without exception, each awardee occupies the podium, looks out to the audience like a deer in the headlights, blurts out some gibberish which makes me doubt that word of the nomination ever reached this poor soul and then proceeds to recite a long litany of individuals who must be thanked – names even less familiar to me than the very obscure list of nominees up for the award: agents, family members, acting coaches, collaborators, investors, key grips, hair dressers and dog walkers.  (Really they may as well be reading an arbitrary list of names from the phonebook. {Are there phonebooks anymore?})

And, let’s face it, designating anything as “best” is inherently absurd.  Is there a best fruit or a best job or a best city?  No, of course not.  We recognize that selections of this sort come down to personal preference.  And yet we will watch an awards show and actually give some credence to the selections – rush out to see the Best Picture or purchase the CD of a Grammy winner.  Deep down inside I think we all recognize that the selections are pretty arbitrary.  For instance, Richard Burton, Liv Ullmann, Max von Sydow, Catherine Deneuve, Peter O’Toole and Cary Grant never won an Oscar, while  Hilary Swank has won the award for best actress twice.  Good god, Forrest Gump garnered the Academy Award for best picture in 1994; Argo won it in 2012!  Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Led Zeppelin and The Who never won a Grammy.  In 1997, the Grammy for Album of the year went to Celine Dion’s Falling Into You, which was chosen over Beck’s Odelay and Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness.  Really?  Obviously, separating the wheat from the chaff is not an easy process.  It’s certainly impossible in a diverse society to reach any kind of consensus on what is best – though in truth I think we can all agree that bananas are pretty awesome (hey, they come in their own wrappers).

You might ask me why if I find these shows so lame do I put them on?  Well, actually, I don’t.  My wife does.  And I’m certain that she does this solely out of a sense of social responsibility – you know, it’s a “we’re all swimming in the same pond, sharing the common experience, ingesting the identical pollutants” kinda thing.  I know this because, after sitting through an hour or so of any of these programs (admittedly out of pure inertia), I’ll rouse myself from my lethargy and proclaim that I cannot watch any more of this nonsense and am going to bed; my wife will immediately pop up off the sofa, mercifully extinguish the TV, respond, “You’re right.  This is horrible.” and hurry off to bed, where hopefully a decently crafted book awaits.

After enduring this cathartic rant about awards, you will be justifiably surprised to learn that I intend to perform my own granting of honors right here in this blog, knowing before getting started that the exercise will be arbitrary and pointless.  But I play a little game in my own mind from time to time that provides a modicum of entertainment for me at those moments when life doesn’t attain quite the luster we expect of it – for instance, sitting in traffic, standing on line at the bank or waiting forty five minutes to see the same doctor who will penalize me $50 for canceling an appointment without sufficient notice.  The mental game I play is this: I’ll pick a nation and after some serious consideration and internal bickering will determine who is the greatest painter that nation ever produced.  It’s not a great game and doesn’t provide the same adrenaline rush that watching a Jason Bourne flick does.  But it does keep me occupied.  Though I do this just for fun, I am sure there must be some value in this activity.  We usually evaluate artists as part of a milieu set within a range of time and relating to a specific movement.  Using nationality as my key determinant forces me to perform a kind of mental reshuffling of information – placing artists of different periods and sensibilities metaphorically side-by-side for consideration.  Consequentially one can learn about one’s personal preferences and aesthetics from such an exercise – a benefit especially important to an artist.

I’ve limited myself to the consideration of North American and European artists solely because my educational background and independent studies provide me with sufficient information to make some kind of tolerable determination.  If no artist from a specific nation stood out as exemplary or if I felt that my knowledge of a nation’s art history was wanting, I had to exclude that nation from contention for this prestigious honor.  (Is anyone out there up-to-speed on the Albanian art scene?)

In evaluating an artist (and let’s be clear I’m referring solely to painters since they share with me the same area of expertise), I took a number of criteria into account.  Foremost, I consider craft or technique to be important.  Stated simply: if the paint doesn’t interest me, then the artist doesn’t either.  Additionally I will recognize innovation or the influence a particular artist had on the development of the intellectual zeitgeist of his or her age.  Innovation can also refer to a willingness to tap into personal idiosyncrasies or unique propensities in one’s work – for in the exposure of one artist’s unfiltered individuality insight into the mechanism that drives a larger society will often result.  I also think it’s important that a painter has produced a considerable body of work; there will be no “one hit wonders” among my awardees.  Finally, it is absolutely crucial that an artist’s output moves me, that I can connect with it, that it resonates and has a profound emotional impact on me.

So now that I’ve established the rules, let’s begin.

Austria – Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt are contenders for the title here (sorry, Oskar), but Klimt edges ahead in consideration of the size of his body of work and how he transformed the Austrian art scene, nearly single-handedly converting a conservative, peripheral art community into an influential hub of avant garde innovation.  A century after his death, Klimt’s very personal imagery grounded in Art Nouveau/Symbolist principles continues to have a powerful influence on contemporary popular culture.

Gustav Klimt - Der Kuss - 1908

Gustav Klimt - Bildnis Friederike Maria Beer - 1915

Belgium – No matter what he painted, James Ensor imbued his subject with the unique sea light of his native Ostend.  His strange mix of pastel pinks, blues and purples, rusty browns and pure blacks lend his paintings an aura of beauty tainted with decay.  His still lifes of fish and shellfish are inviting and repulsive at the same time – the sea creatures, though dead, continuing to impose a living presence on the viewer.  Ensor was fascinated with masks and make-up, the purpose of which is to cover up or disguise the outer physical shell of a being, but, paradoxically, in his work these implements of camouflage actually end up revealing the inner self that the individual most desperately desires to hide.  Often his paintings serve to expose social hypocrisy, systemic injustice and political malfeasance.  Art permitted this very unique painter to retreat to his private world of puppets, masks and costumes only to peer out with a mixture of humor and disgust at the larger outside world.

 

James Ensor - Skeletons  Fighting for the Body of a Hanged Man - 1891

James Ensor - Still Life with Blue Pitcher - 1890/91

Canada – Emily Carr is a complete anomaly.  She was born on the west coast of Canada in 1871 within a conservative Anglophile household, yet she became a true pioneer, introducing European modernism to her country.  Despite working in relative isolation and suffering the indifference of the society in which she lived, Carr developed a personal style which combined elements of modernism and indigenous art and documented the natural landscape of her homeland.  Her fortitude and independent spirit sustained her during many years of desperate struggle which ultimately concluded with significant artistic achievement and acceptance within a community of like-minded artists.

Emily Carr - Big Raven - 1931

Emily Carr - Sea Drift at the Edge of the Forest - 1931

Denmark – There really is no one else to consider.  Vilhelm Hammershoi is an artist who really did not embrace the modernist revolution.  His execution is fairly conservative, and his technique, I would say, is competent.  It is his vision which makes his work stand out and lends it a very modern aura.  To a receptive viewer, his paintings assert a quiet yet stirring influence.

Vilhelm Hammershoi - Ida Reading a Letter - 1899

Vilhelm Hammershoi - Interior with Four Etchings - 1905

France – In recent centuries, the French have recognized the importance of the visual image as a vital component of intellectual and emotional communication.  Starting, let’s say, with the French Revolution, Art became the subject of serious criticism, incendiary newspaper articles and popular discussion.  Openings at the Salon were thronged with visitors, and independent showings by avant-garde artists were greeted with derision and scandal.  Art inspired nationalism, initiated social change and influence politics.  Through the 1950’s, any artist, wishing to learn his or her craft, become enlightened as to the latest trends in visual representation and secure artistic credibility, would have to visit Paris for an extended stay of several years.  In such a fertile environment, it is not surprising that France nurtured an endless array of exceptional artists, an array so vast that I will not even attempt to generate here a list of contenders.  Instead I will simply tell you who the best is: Pierre Bonnard.  Bonnard’s compositions seem quirky and intuitive, but upon closer inspection reveal themselves to be carefully and intelligently planned.  For most other artists, light and dark contrasts are used to establish structure and movement within a painting; Bonnard uses zones of heightened color.  The surfaces of his paintings are exquisite, varying from thin delicate veils of color to thick encrustations of impasto.  Bonnard’s work documents the serene, private life he shared with family and friends; it celebrates quiet moments filled with simple pleasures and pastimes.

Pierre Bonnard - The Bath - 1935

Pierre Bonnard - The Dining Room in the Country - 1913

Germany – This selection was difficult for me.  Lucas Cranach, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Max Beckmann and Anselm Kiefer were in the running, but Kirchner edged out his competitors based on innovation – his work bringing German art abruptly into the modern era.  Kirchner constructed a personal language, derived from the art of the Middle Ages, primitive cultures and modernist developments, with which he expressed both criticism of contemporary society and an optimism that a utopian paradise was attainable within an individual’s microcosm if he could discard the shackles of convention.

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner - Seated Girl - 1910

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner - Self Portrait with Model - 1910

Great Britain – It’s interesting how some nations excel in certain arts and not others.  The written word, whether within poetry or prose, has been an essential component of British life since the Middle Ages.  Their greatest composers and artists tended to be imported from other nations.  All the same, Britain did produce John Constable, William Turner and Thomas Gainsborough, artists fostered by the fairly conservative Royal Academy.  In the twentieth century, independent artists like Francis Bacon and Frank Auerbach were able to establish successful careers outside of the academy.  By far, the most important painter to mature in Britain is Lucian Freud, an artist who developed a style which featured an almost manic attention to detail and nuance while exploring psychological states as exposed through gesture and expression.

Lucian Freud - Reflection (Self Portrait)  - 1985

Lucian Freud - Rose - 1978/79

 Greece – Though most closely associated with Spain, El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos) lived and studied for the first 26 years of his life in Crete where he attained recognition as a master and most likely operated his own workshop.  Later he worked three years in Venice and seven in Rome before moving on to Toledo, Spain, where he lived the remainder of his days.  El Greco was influenced by Byzantine, Renaissance and Mannerist art but was a true original, seeking a language which could articulate a spiritual realm only accessed in the imagination of believers.  The use of distortion, free brushwork, unusual colors, elongated figures and fantastic landscapes characterized his work which perplexed his contemporaries and delighted the modernists of the twentieth century.

El Greco - Laocoon - 1610/14

El Greco - The Vision of St John - 1608/14

Holland – It’s hard not to be an admirer of Rembrandt van Rijn.  After all he was a master of every genre: landscapes, portraits, large scale multi-figure paintings and historic/religious paintings.  But it wasn’t until I saw his Christ Resurrected in Munich’s Alte Pinakothek that I truly appreciated his genius.  A deceptively simple work, this painting which depicts the head and upper torso of Jesus still draped in his burial shroud might at first glance be considered the result of a rather uninspired effort.  But upon closer inspection the magic of the loose and varied brushwork, the rich tonalities contained within even the flat planes of the torso and the delicately delineated folds of the shroud amazed me.  Jesus’ face, almost expressionless, examines us dispassionately with the faintest suggestion of pathos in his eyes.  (Don’t even try to look this painting up on the Internet.  I’ve never seen a reproduction that even comes close to doing it justice.)  In an earlier entry, I’ve already addressed Rembrandt’s self-portraits, which are simply incredible.  I honestly believe if we were left with only his self-portraits, Rembrandt would still be considered one of the greatest painters of all time.

Rembrandt - The Syndics of the Clothmaker's Guild - 1662

Rembrandt - Self Portrait with Beret and Turned Up Collar - 1659

Italy – I’ve always been a fan of Umberto Boccioni, and Michelangelo is without doubt the greatest all-around artist that Italy has ever produced – but best painter has to go to Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio.  Caravaggio was an incredible craftsman, his brushwork assured and precise.  He loved harsh lighting and sought subject matter that permitted him to exploit the dramatic effects of strong lights and darks.  An early adherent to the Mannerist style, Caravaggio preferred compositions which were quirky, unbalanced and capitalized on the emotional impact of unusual and exaggerated perspective.  Like his own personality, Caravaggio’s paintings are intense, dramatic, unconventional and tempestuous, and his innovative imagery influenced artists throughout Europe for many years after his early demise.

Caravaggio - The Conversion on the Way to Damascus - 1601

Caravaggio - The Incredulity of Saint Thomas - 1601/02

Mexico – I’m going to bend the rules here and give this one to a couple: Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo.  Rivera essentially invented the Mexican mural – utilizing warm earth tones, generalizing form and introducing didactic themes which promoted a communist morality and championed the accomplishments and mourned the sorrows of an impoverished working class.  A naturally introspective nature compelled Kahlo to paint a series of self-portraits which explore her troubled existence while embracing a surrealist mode of representation.  Even though she worked far from the center of the movement, Kahlo managed to fully absorb and personalize the surrealist dialect.

Diego Rivera - La Vendedora de Alcatraces - 1942

Diego Rivera - Mural Depicting Mexican History - 1929/45

Frida Kahlo - The Two Fridas - 1939

Frida Kahlo - Self Portrait with Hummingbird - 1940

Norway – Seems to me that Norway, though late to become an independent nation, has a tendency to foster artists, composers and writers with unconventional spirits like Knut Hamsun, Odd Nerdrum and Karl Ove Knausgaard.  Edvard Munch, an artist who first explored a Symbolist mode of representation and later ushered in Expressionism, is Norway’s greatest contribution to European intellectual theory and one of the giants of Western art history.

Edvard Munch - Melancholy - 1892

Edvard Munch - The Storm - 1893

Portugal – Though her work sometimes dips into the pedantic, Paula Rego deserves recognition as an exceptional contemporary artist who has created a unique visual language while addressing themes from a feminist perspective.  Her imagery is often unsettling (at times, quite disturbing) as she examines issues relating to role play and body image.  Also technically her painting process is transparent, a quality I greatly admire in artwork.

Paula Rego - The Family - 1988

Paula Rego - The Policeman's Daughter - 1987

Russia – While I’ve always been extremely receptive to Ilya Repin’s paintings which document so effectively the era which produced Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Chekhov and Turgenev, I had to select Wassily Kandinsky for this honor.  Kandinsky’s oeuvre is technically brilliant, extremely innovative and packs a powerful emotional wallop.

Wassily Kandinsky - Composition II - 1910

Wassily Kandinsky - Composition IV - 1911

Wassily Kandinsky - Composition V - 1911

Spain – This is a no-brainer.  It’s got to go to Pablo Picasso, the Meryl Streep of art.  Picasso could do it all.  He reinvented the way we see reality and influenced generations of painters through the present.  His name is synonymous with modernism.

Pablo Picasso - Guernica - 1937

Pablo Picasso - Still life with a Bottle of Rum - 1911

Pablo Picasso - Self Portrait - 1907

Sweden – It seems to me that Swedish artists consistently maintained a conservative stance toward artistic innovation throughout recent history, often assimilating the ideas of new artistic movements decades after their development.  This conservatism could be due to geographic isolation or the result of centuries of stable monarchical rule and religious uniformity.  Though his work may not stand out as trend setting, Anders Zorn achieved a technical perfection and visual honesty which I can’t help but admire.

Anders Zorn - Martha Dana - 1899

Anders Zorn - Self Portrait - 1915

Switzerland – Ferdinand Hodler wouldn’t be considered one of the giants of modernism, but I’ve always connected with his work.  Technically his oeuvre is brilliant.  While embracing a Symbolist creed, Hodler utilized a bright, clean palette and applied paint in thick, confident strokes.  He was equally adept at painting the figure and landscape, and regardless of subject matter, his imagery projects a powerful emotive presence.  Hodler was a true independent.

Ferdinand Hodler - Eiger, Munch und Jungfrau in der Morgensonne - 1908

Ferdinand Hodler - Self Portrait - 1916

 United States – It was very difficult for me to choose between Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock and Richard Diebenkorn.  De Kooning definitely achieved a technical mastery in his work, a lushness of surface combined with brilliant brushwork, that is truly remarkable.  Diebenkorn, after absorbing the language of abstraction, went on to successfully apply that idiom to representational imagery, developing a totally new perspective on figure and landscape painting.  But it was Pollock who made the greatest leap from easel and mural painting to drip painting.  He changed so much about art.  He worked on unstretched canvas laid out on the floor, used materials not normally associated with fine art and no longer applied paint to the canvas with a brush.  His gestural drips were guided by subconscious drives and memories.  His work redefined how art functions and determined for decades the parameters of what was permissible for American artists to address in their work.

Jackson Pollock - Alchemy - 1947

Jackson Pollock - Lucifer - 1947

Having made public my obviously astute selections, I anticipate a barrage (in truth, hopefully, a trickle) of comments questioning my judgement.  “Picasso over Velazquez?  Absurd!”  “Hey, Bud, ever hear of a dude named Rubens?”  “You do realize, Fathead, that de Kooning wasn’t even American?”  Not only will I weather any criticism that comes my way but honestly do encourage it.  As I said earlier, the value in selecting the “best” of any discipline is that it forces us to consider the merits and flaws of a vast quantity of work, often to evaluate the products of disparate genres and milieus alongside one another and to decipher in the process what are our own preferences and predilections within a given field of art.  Another benefit I failed to mention earlier is that hopefully the process inspires a productive dialogue with others about their own views.

So rather than feeling that my little exercise in selecting best painters by nation was a complete waste of time, I believe that the process had several real merits.  It really makes me want to reconsider my attitude towards awards and awards shows entirely.  They’re really not so bad.  I mean, hey!, if there were an awards show for blogs, I would be thrilled to stumble up to the podium, bask a moment in the harsh lights, wait patiently for the applause to subside and then make one helluva dumbass speech.

And the Bloggy goes to…

As always, I encourage readers to comment here.  If you would prefer to comment privately, you can email me at gerardwickham@gmail.com.