Sanford Schwartz

  • JOE ZUCKER’S NEW WORK

    JOE ZUCKER'S NEW PAINTINGS are probably the best he has done. They’re surprises. They make you want to look again at his last ten years of work; perhaps, after these new pictures, his work of the past seven or eight years will seem less larky, less self-consciously ugly and vaguely commercial. Most of the new pictures refer to the sea: pirates; Moby Dick and Captain Ahab; Captain Kidd; an old sailing boat anchored; an ancient boat in a squall; an octopus; a modem boat floating quietly; a seaside sunset. There are also some still lifes. Some of the pictures are in black and white, but the better

  • “Van Gogh in Saint-Rémy and Auvers”

    “VAN GOGH IN SAINT-RÉMY and Auvers,” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, is about the last year and a half of the painter’s life, and is a disappointing show. One goes expecting that van Gogh will continue to be the great formal painter that he is in his work from Arles—from the year before this show begins. (The Met exhibited that work three years ago.) But his work from Saint-Rémy, where he lived in an institution, and Auvers, where he went for the last months of his life—he committed suicide at age 37—is dulled down, without strong feelings. You walk away with a sense that the work

  • On Arthur Dove

    IF IN JOHN MARIN’S MIND it’s always one o’clock in the afternoon on a glitteringly bright day, a world without shadows, and Marsden Hartley is most himself when he conveys the threat and lordly grandeur of the world at night, Arthur Dove (1880–1946) is the painter of the softly radiant, half-buried, in-between times. In the ample though not exhaustive Dove retrospective, which Barbara Haskell organized for the San Francisco Museum of Art, and which came to the Whitney as the last stop on its tour, many of the images are of overlapping patterns of light and dark. Dove is chiefly after the light,

  • Myron Stout

    SOME ARTISTS WORK SLOWLY BECAUSE they are methodical and painstaking, while others do so because their art appears to cast a spell over them. To the spellbound painter, the individual picture seems never to be completely finished; the picture always demands a further adjustment, some essential bit of extra tinkering, to make everything fixed, secure. The greatest American example of this type, Albert Pinkham Ryder, was described by a reverent Marsden Hartley as possessing a “strict passivity of mental vision.” Hartley had in mind the passivity of mystic experience, in which a person believes