Art review: the influence of the Skowhegan school, adventure in the spotlight

The crucial importance of the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture in the history of post-war American art cannot be underestimated.

Founded in 1946 on portrait painter Willard C. Cummings’ 350-acre farm in rural Madison, its alumni include Lee Botecou, ​​David Driskell, Alex Katz, Ellsworth Kelly, and most recently Enrique Martinez Celaya, Chitra Ganesh and Nari Ward. Many, like Driskell and Katz, later joined the illustrious faculty or became influential visiting teachers, a very shortlist of whom includes Teresita Fernandez, Robert Gober, Nancy Graves, Lyle Ashton Harris, Glenn Ligon, Judith Linhares and Louise Nevelson.

Calvin Tompkins, New Yorker art critic for many years, once wrote, “Skowhegan seems to foster a risk-taking attitude of sorts, and that may well be his lasting contribution. Anyone in doubt should head to the Maine Jewish Museum for “Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture” (through June 24), an exhibition curated by multimedia artist (and 1996 alumnus) Juliet Karelsen.

Juliet Karelsen, “Flowers Bees Love – Poppies: Pedestal Terrarium”, interior, 36″ x 12″ x 12″, 2021

The individuality and varied adventure of the works on display testify to the democracy and openness to exploration that characterize Skowhegan’s philosophy. The exhibition presents painting, sculpture, video, textile art and ceramics. Diversity itself exemplifies the boundless approach to self-expression that has helped – and still helps – budding talents find their unique voice, which shatters once-established boundaries in art and pushes us forward along the continuum of art.

Some of the show’s most powerful works are video, especially two by Skowhegan faculty member Neil Goldberg. I admit that previously, video was not a medium I naturally gravitated towards, mainly because so much of it can feel self-indulgent and, therefore, inscrutable. But lately, I find myself fascinated by how he can capture surprising meaning in the most everyday of human experiences.

Superficially, Goldberg’s “Salad Bar” is nothing more than surreptitious video footage of people browsing in a Manhattan salad bar. Simple and boring, right? Wrong. There is nothing casual about the way these people contemplate the meal they are preparing. In fact, they devote intense concentration to the task. Some seem mystified by the abundance. In many, one senses something primary in their hunger; in others, the anticipated pleasure of rummaging through their selections. Halfway through, I was struck by the fact that the video was less about the mundane instinct to fill our stomachs and more about seriously questioning ideas about food. What really feeds us, after all? Is it just calories and satiety? The multi-sensory experience of eating? Or is it something deeper – the comforting feeling of the universe providing?

Still from “Drag Queen Studio Visit”, Neil Goldberg

In “Drag Queen Studio Visit”, Goldberg manages to overturn all sorts of assumptions. Here, he invites drag performer Jackie Beat to comment on a video he filmed of his father breathing on a mirror. The popular imagination makes drag queens superficial objects of parody and, worse, derision. This image is shattered when Beat observes that the video seems “humiliating” to Goldberg’s father, a sensitivity to marginalization (from drag queens to old people) who is touchingly empathetic.

When Goldberg explains that it was filmed shortly before his father’s death, Beat responds with admiration, comparing the fog the old man’s breath creates on the window pane to “life escaping from his nose onto a mirror. “. It’s a depth you wouldn’t expect from a heavily mascared, long-haired, voluptuous Beat. The vulnerability of observation pierces the artifice of drag and pierces the heart. At that time, Beat also let go of his own struggle to maintain the artifice of his livelihood with flippant humor and sarcastic digs. Goldberg manages to dig depths that feel utterly human, beautiful and equalizing.

For traditional painting, there are two particularly beautiful scenes by Gail Spaien. This artist views her work as “objects of contemplation” and, indeed, she essentially creates vistas that are pleasingly serene for the viewer. They are more soothing than visually demanding. But in “Serenade” and “Still Life #9,” his use of flattened perspective, color, and pattern is particularly appealing.

Natasha Mayers, “Redhead Chair”, 36″ x 24″, acrylic on panel, 2020

Natasha Mayers’ work, on the other hand, is unashamedly in your face. Mayers is known for her militant subject matter, which excoriates money lenders, corporate greed, militaristic aggression, and a number of other societal ills. Interestingly, then, the three paintings here are almost devoid of political content, except, perhaps, “Model.” With its cut lines broken around the characters, this work is reminiscent of paper dolls or clothing patterns. But one character is wearing a helmet, evoking riot police or a military uniform. The star of this trio is “Redhead Chair”, a tour de force of painterly layering and vibrant color.

Naomi Safran-Hon, “WS: Dreams in Purple”, acrylic, gouache, lace, fabric, cement and archival inkjet print on canvas, 61″ x 53″, 2017

But global problems are never far away. “WS: Dreams in Purple” by Haifa-born Israeli artist Naomi Safran-Hon is particularly relevant given the explosive Israeli-Palestinian conflict currently raging in the Gaza Strip. This is basically an archival inkjet print on canvas showing the wall of a bombed out building. Holes reveal scraps of lace and fabric underneath, evidence of an extinct domesticity. Safran-Hon pressed wet cement against these materials from the back of the canvas, essentially extruding it through the fibers. The feeling is that the extreme heat of the bombardment has partially liquefied the cement of the wall, and the force of the explosion is propelling it outward. It is as unsettling today, nine years after its creation, as it was then, but remarkable for its unconventional construction and use of materials.

Shadi Harouni, “The Last Day of the Bombings,” Issue 1 of 3, Polaroid Photo

War – in this case the Arab-Iranian conflict – is also present in the mind of Shadi Harouni in “The Last Day of the Bombings”, a deceptively simple work that features a photo of his family and the title of the work written on the back. The distrust in their expressions makes it unclear whether family members feel hope for peace or disbelief that it is possible.

Karelsen’s commentary “Pedestal Terrariums: Flowers Bees Love” on environmental issues. Peering through a mirror atop the pedestal, we discover lush bouquets inside of conical flowers, ranunculus, rugosa roses, bee balm and other flora, all constructed from paper silk, thread, felt, wool, sequins and gold leaf. The fact that they’re encased in glass—as well as, perhaps, the fact that they’re human facsimiles of the real thing—implies their eventual extinction.

Two of the most famous names in the exhibit are Ben Shahn (represented by the hand-colored lithograph “Grocery Carts”) and Alex Katz (with an aquatint of his son called “The Swimmer”). Shahn’s piece eschews his usual leftist political themes in favor of whimsical American subject matter. The original work was performed in 1957 and called “The Big Push”. The litho is charming and has a childlike charm, à la Paul Klee. Katz’s work is distinguished by an unusual compositional complexity that makes it more substantial than many of his flatter, reductive portraits. It almost looks like a large scale Japanese ukiyo-e print.

Alex Katz, “The Swimmer”, aquatint, 28″ x 36″, 1974

There are also other artists here, working in a variety of other media: Rachel Frank’s lavishly beaded camouflage fabric, Abby Shahn’s ghostly ceramics and paintings on rust patterns, the ‘Painted Weave Series’ at Lauren Cohen’s Anni Albers (she also contributes gloomy environmental themed videos), a mixed-media sculpture by Gina Siepel that references Emma Goldman’s arduous walk from 42nd Street to the Bowery in his arrival in New York, a wire sculpture by Julianne Swartz, and paintings by Alex Bradley Cohen and Talia Levitt (Class of 2018, Skowhegan’s newest graduate). All of this is intriguing and speaks to the artistic fertility offered by this historic residency program, the effects of which continue to reverberate far beyond Maine.

Jorge S. Arango has been writing about art, design and architecture for over 35 years. He lives in Portland. He can be reached at: [email protected]

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