I discuss the exhibition: Fotoclubismo: Brazilian Modernist Photography, 1946–1964 at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, summer 2021.
Purchase The Exhibition catalog here: https://amzn.to/3xzEtCd
Category: 60s
This exhibition explores the early dialogues, collaborations, and the creative relationship between Ed Ruscha and Mason Williams. Williams a life-long friend of Ruscha’s since fourth grade in Oklahoma City, moved from Oklahoma to Los Angeles with Ruscha in the mid 50’s.
This exhibition focuses on a small, but extraordinary body of art by Mason Williams as well as selected early highlights of Ruscha’s earlier work. Of particular interest is Williams 36 foot long Bus (1967)—a life-size, silkscreened image of a Greyhound bus (see above) and folded like a map—conceived around the same time as Ruscha’s silver-covered Every Building on the Sunset Strip (which also unfolds to over 27 feet).
William’s and Rucha’s interests intersect on co-mingle in ways during this show I had half a feeling that really the whole show was by Ruscha, clearly that was more of a daydream of my own, but the thought remains and I have a hard time getting away from it. While this is stuck in my head, don’t let that distract you from both a physically interesting and highly cerebral show.
Alden Projects
34 Orchard Street
New York, NY
Exhibition Dates: Thursday, September 10–Saturday, October 18, 2015
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I was doing a bit of research on the web earlier today when I stumbled over this letter from Morris Louis to Rene Bocour. It’s from the National Archives Leonard Bocour Collection. It’s essentially an order from Louis, but at the same time it’s a complaint letter.
Rene Bocour and Sam Golden supplied a paint called Magma – it is best described as an early type of acrylic paint, however, it is thinned with mineral spirits or turpentine. Magma was used by Louis, Newman and Roy Lichtenstein.
To note Magma was sold through Bocour Artists Colors. Golden is the nephew of Bocour and would later go on to create a different successful paint company called Golden Artist Colors, where an updated version of this paint is called Golden MSA Colors.
The full size easy to read letter is at the National Archives website.
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In the mid-sixties Ron Stoner was the best surf photographer in the world. Every month, he would photograph what would become the classic archetypes of what we would come to know as the golden age of Southern California surfing. Then, at the height of his fame, he disappeared forever.
It’s easy to see the byline: Photo/Stoner and chuckle that there was a surf photographer named Stoner and of course he ended up as a casualty of the counter culture of the sixties. But, life isn’t quite that easy to pigeonhole. Stoner’s story arc is less about someone “turning on”, it’s more about trying to find a place where you fit and holding on to it. In Stoner’s case he found it, and then the world changed.
When you think about “surfers” you gravitate towards a certain archetype, Stoner seems to be the complete opposite of that. What becomes apparent in the story is that the work of the surf photographer is a curious thing – it’s near, but not part of the event. It’s present and without, it would barely exist, but it’s not surfing. Stoner was not a surfer in that iconic sense. His ability to tell the story and showcase the honesty of the session transcends that.
Matt Warshaw’s text is poignant and feels honest. It stays away from trying to build a myth, while at the same time it doesn’t tear him down. Its balancing act is finding that place in the middle and it does that superbly. Obviously, the stars of the book are the photographs, and they do not disappoint.
Photo/Stoner is available in better bookstores and surf shops. I got mine here.
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Like many folks, I’ve enjoyed John Chamberlain’s artworks of crushed, bent and twisted steel – usually made of car parts. Admittedly my enjoyment is purely from looking at the physical embodiment of some Dionysisian example of this work. Thats not as shallow as it may sound because, yes, I do understand that his work – built with a spontaneous “fit” versus a traditional planned approach is the core of the work. In a way if you were to compare his work to one of his contemporaries such as Mark di Suvero you could make the case that Chamberlain is Dionysian to di Suvero’s Apollonian. And that’s not a bad thing – far from it. In pop music you could call Iggy Pop Dionysian and David Bowie Apollonian. To get back to the point Chamberlains physicality and his control or at the least, his relationship to control is almost always interesting.
However today while I was at Paula Cooper I had the realization that Chamberlain’s work in todays context is political and well as physical. Walking through the gallery with these artworks from the early 60’s through the 90’s I saw pieces of Detroit, bent and twisted, sitting on a pedestal of sorts – waiting to become part of history. Not unlike the Detroit of today.
I realize that is not the “approved reading” of his work – but today it just screamed at me.
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