Marc Devade

is one of the creatives featured (posthumously) in the group show “Fold, Drape, Repeat” now up at Ceysson & Bénétière (Two Coats essay contributed by Marjorie Welish). A select showing of work by the loosely aggregated French collective Supports/Surfaces, the exhibition embodies the very assembly involved in making art. Devade’s first intention was not to devote himself to painting. Initially a poet, fascinated by philosophy, it was when he met Marcelin Pleynet, who published his first poems in Tel Quel in 1964, that he became more particularly interested in painting. He became one of the main animators of the debates on the relationships between practice and theory in the field of visual arts.

#marcdevade

Sean Scully

came up for me recently when writing Competition, as I was rereading my initial blog about Astrid and John Yau’s essay Whose Stripe Is It, Anyway? The subtitle conveys that Astrid was told that she could not paint stripes because Sean Scully and Frank Stella had done so before her (which I agree with John is a patently foolish statement).

So I’ve never blogged about Mr Scully. Reason being? I bet a number of you remember the Mr Shachter putting Scully on blast for a mind-boggling degree of self-regard in a BBC film about his life. In particular, the zinger in the article is that Scully says in the film “I’m the Donald Trump of the Art World.” Well I know the Brits were going through Brexit and Boris Johnson at the time (2019), and the amount of insensitivity it took to utter that really blew my mind and candidly broke my heart. 

Why? I’ve been moved by Scully’s work.  The first time I ever saw one in person was at the Met, and I remember coming around the corner to encounter a really large one in subdued colors on a dark wall and being almost overwhelmed with melancholy. He is often compared to Rothko, and my emotional experience of that work made it clear why. It was many years later that I also found myself inspired by his words – his Mark Rothko: Corps de-lumiere had a good deal of influence on me during my time in graduate school, as I struggled to describe how painting could “speak” to something directly, and in a way that words never could.

Have you ever seen his photography* btw???

So I am feeling grateful that a recent essay gave me a reason to revisit and sort through these feelings. I have said for many years now that part of the obligation that writers and teachers have in these types of situations is to point directly at the contradictions, and make the lesson that it is possible for canonic artists to be complex, flawed and gifted, as a way for us all to have a better understanding of the world and our selves.

*Also, and have you seen Ellsworth Kelly’s?

#seanscully

Tommy Moss

centers his practice (I think) similarly to Jackie (he writes “Aristotle once said: “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” With that sentiment in mind, I love creating hundreds of hand painted pieces which stand alone as objects d’art but ultimately come together to form large configurations that are impactful from a afar yet keep the viewer engaged from any distance or location.  I strive to achieve a sense of playfulness  with highly chromatic, contrasting color combinations, and whimsical and lively compositions.”).
#tommymoss

Augustus Vincent Tack

Artforum said (in ’72…) of Augustus “Urbane, charming, portraitist to the rich and famous, connoisseur of wine, executor of mural commissions for church and state, Augustus Vincent Tack (1870–1949) was not an artist to whom one would look for radical painting. Yet, perhaps it was just this aloofness from the Bohemianism of the 1920s that enabled him to produce a remarkable body of abstract painting.”

More

#augustusvincenttack

Competition

The idea for this essay has been percolating for more than a minute, and it started with another essay by another creative. I first became aware of Astrid Dick because of John Yau. At the time the article in the second link was published it appeared to me (from outside the NYC art world) that Astrid was having a good moment which always, truly, makes me happy for any abstractionist, even more so because home girl can. Flat. Out. Paint. Just disclosing affection because it’s bias.

Shortly afterward Astrid wrote and Hyperallergic published an essay on sport in the context of Argentina’s World Cup victory (Dick is Argentine). The match was made all the more emotional for her because their opponent was France, her country of residence at the time and the thrilling game had, as she notes, Hollywood-esque story lines. The affection I feel for this creative and my own interest in sport (which I often find to be, candidly, a.. strange interest to many in the Art world) combined instantly, and I read and shared the article several times.

I do really appreciate (and agree with) how Astrid relates her feelings and observations about our desire, among we the Art community, to see people do something we would describe as beautiful. Yes, I know that’s not why some of us would say we show up here. I probably should spend some time trying to convince you that, for example, even Neo-Marxist visual Art that is intentionally anti-aesthetic embodies the sprit of the word “beauty” if a sympathetic viewer finds the specific work to have an excellent quality; there.

For me, one of the main aspects of and reasons why I enjoy watching and playing sports is the near constant opportunity for creativity. Few things are more enjoyable and emotionally rewarding than reading the defense correctly and making (up) the right play. Astrid points at this idea by briefly discussing Kantian power, a more poetic and less bro-y investigation. If you didn’t read her essay yet maybe take a second to read at least the second and third paragraphs. I don’t plan to unpack all the ego stuff that I just tickled the edges of by the way, at least not in this essay.

Part of my interest in and reason I enjoy playing sports is also communal, yes. I will caveat that: if you’re really competitive and/or good (and they are *not* the same) I’m not in your league, literally and in the literary sense. I will only sport with folx I vibe with. Seriously. Putting the gallery below together makes me smile ear to ear and leak just a tiny bit. The memories of playing and watching sports with friends and family have shaped who I am; many of the people below have shared deep, personal stuff with me, trusted me to hear their pain and allowed me to help them carry it, all because of the bonds of competitive sports. Some of them have physically beaten me up, too.

Yes, I *did* title this essay “Competition” so what’s that all about? I also think competing has a natural draw that we really don’t need to overthink. Regular readers know I love a good “and” so here’s today’s; I think it’s normal, heck- healthy, to enjoy competing against others, whatever form that takes for you, and, coaches and team mates can share emotions and uplift each other in times of hardship in ways that are refreshing and maybe even surprising. See paragraph above gallery.

Look there’s no reason to pretend like many top level sports performers aren’t competitive. OK ultra competitive; sociopathic even… yeah, absolutely. I’m not going to waste my time or yours arguing that sports culture puts on display some really toxic masculinity that is widely celebrated in American culture (I honestly feel like that’s literally all that needs to be said about). I will note, hopefully not out of spirit of defensiveness (but my therapist will help me unpack that) that I don’t think sports by default create or even encourage mean spiritedness. What’s healthy competition or competitiveness? I think I’m gonna IYKYK on that one, too (speaking of being in the know, if you ball you weren’t surprised where the link above went, right?).

To dig just a little further to end, I also think it’s disingenuous to pretend like we don’t compete in the Art world. If I get a show, it means one of you didn’t, and vice versa. When I see an open call I love to share it, and, if I also plan to apply, don’t think I’m not aware of who I need to out shine in the jurors’ eyes. I don’t feel any animosity though. You guys make me try harder and be better, and I love you for it.

PS- if you want more on the topic of sports please please please read Isabella Marie Garcia’s write up on North Kack-raised Najja Moon in Burnaway from just a few days ago.