Sidney Tillim


    In this little girl’s image I saw the kindness which had formed her being immediately and forever, without her having inherited it from anyone....For once, photography gave me a sentiment as certain as remembrance.

    —Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida, 1980

    I HAVE ALWAYS been partial to photographs of the ’30s and ’40s, largely because my memories of those years simply do not allow the images to disappear, as Walter Benjamin would say, into Art. In the ’30s, all the men seemed to wear hats and vests like my father did; in the ’40s, even if it was partly propaganda, there was a sense of solidarity


    . . . I WENT TO WASHINGTON to see the Bonnard and Watteau exhibitions but came away utterly absorbed by a Gérôme—Egyptian Recruits Crossing the Desert, 1857. It was being shown at the National Gallery in an exhibition called “The Orientalists: Delacroix to Matisse.” The principal orientalist painters were, of course, the so-called academics, and these would include not only the French and English painters, but Americans like Frederic Church and Sanford R. Gifford. The former’s academic side, which I suspect American chauvinism has obscured, is very evident in his Jerusalem from the Mount of


    THE REVIVAL OF PRINTMAKING AND papermaking, the recovery of photography as art, and the popularity of architectural drawings are phenomena related to the idea of the “work on paper” whose revival seems to be gaining momentum. Together, they collaborate in the ongoing discourse on the presumed limitations of Modernism, at least as formalist practice. “Works on paper” now have a kind of trendy cachet, but they actually represent a kind of conceptual androgyny, symptomatic of a genuine problem that emerged when abstract art conflated drawing and painting to the point where they became interchangeable,


    WHAT LIES AHEAD FOR the artist past 50, largely unsung? All history is quickly limited to a few reputations, and while we know temporal judgment can be off, that hardly compensates the artist who, though generally recognized, nonetheless passes into a kind of limbo, trying hard not to feel left out.

    Still, the answer to emptiness is not to latch on to whatever comes along. The answer may be the careful nurturing of illusion, the maintenance of expectation in face of the odds and momentary facts that can’t be denied. Neither can one’s rage be denied. It is, at the very least, a crying shame to


    THE WILLEM DE KOONING retrospective at the Whitney Museum was, for some of us at least, a sentimental occasion. De Kooning, now nearly 80, is the “grand old man” of Modernist American art, if only because he is almost the only major artist of his generation to have lived long enough to attain this virtually irrelevant but nonetheless symbolic distinction. Arshile Gorky, whose influence de Kooning acknowledges and who would be de Kooning’s age had he lived, died, a suicide, in 1948. Jackson Pollock died in an accident in 1956, Franz Kline died from natural causes in 1962, David Smith was an

  • “Specimens Of Photomechanical Printing From The Collection Of Samuel Wagstaff”

    This exhibition of specimens of photomechanical printing was not the first in this country in recent times; several years ago the Marcuse Pfeiffer Gallery mounted a show of process reproductions. But that show was neither historical nor representative. It was conceived rather as a gesture and an experiment, since the photographic market was dealing in what were actually reproductions of photographs without taking much critical or theoretical recognition of the fact. The Wagstaff exhibition, in outline at least, was a historical survey of most of the known photomechanical processes since 1840,


    SINCE THE LATE 18TH CENTURY the function of art as a form of value, and how that value was to be defined, has been anything but clear. The subsequent development of art for exclusive exhibition purposes coincides with efforts, in the absence of specific cultural and spiritual obligations, to assign it various other functions. Art was seen as either serving itself as Art, with esthetic experience deemed a type of transcendence, or, in one form or another, serving the state, the people, or the masse. The result has been constant conflict between contending movements, perplexing even the greatest

  • Notes on Narrative and History Painting

    I FIRST THOUGHT OF PAINTING a narrative picture—one that told a story—in 1963. Perhaps it was a year earlier. At that time, I thought of it strictly as a problem in subject matter and had no visual concept to match it. I simply lacked pictorial conventions that would enable me to credibly represent the subjects I had in mind and I did not finish the projects I started, though the studies exist. One of them was called The Return of My Father from Alaska.

    I had the notion at the time that autobiographical subject matter was somehow more modern than the traditional kind which, as a good “modernist,”

  • The Ideal and the Literal Sublime

    A STRIKING ESTHETIC CONFRONTATION between painting and photography occurs in the current exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art of American masterpieces from its collection. The room devoted to the period during which the Hudson River School flourished contains paintings by Cole, Church, Kensett and Bierstadt and a photograph by Carlton Watkins. Cole’s Ox-bow, Church’s Heart of the Andes and Kensett’s Lake George are shown side by side on one wall; Bierstadt’s huge Rocky Mountains is juxtaposed with Watkins’s photograph of Mt. Starr King, Yosemite, on the wall opposite. Within a thick,

  • A Variety of Realisms

    Modern art, like modern literature and modern life, has lost much. In some directions it has more than compensated for the loss, developing its own complexity and its own—far more subjective—inwardness. But as one brought up on the past (like everyone else), I cannot help regretting what has been lost. The regret is futile, yet I believe that this nostalgia for the past, responsible though it has been for academicism, has also been a vital ingredient of the greatest advanced art of our times. The artist immune to it has that much less to struggle with, but he is also so much the poorer for his

  • The Reception of Figurative Art

    FIGURATIVE ART IS NOT YET “IN”—far from it. But it is no longer the orphan of modernism that it was until only recently. Though hardly commonplace as yet, a few exhibitions have been devoted to the subject and others are planned. Of those already on record, most notable, perhaps, was the “Realism Now” exhibition presented by the Art History department at Vassar College late last spring. Causing considerably more critical agitation however (since “Realism Now” went largely unnoticed), was Norman Geske’s selection of figurative painters and sculptors to represent the United States at the Venice

  • Earthworks and the New Picturesque

    IN 1964 DONALD JUDD WROTE that conventional media and the canvas rectangle were no longer adequate for a contemporary expression and called for an art with “the specificity and power of actual materials, actual color, actual space.” The recently concluded exhibition of Earthworks at the Dwan Gallery in New York brings to a climax the subsequent involvement with "actual’’ media in recent art. The Earthworks were just that—works made either with actual soil or by marking lines, digging holes and cutting rings on and into selected portions of the earth’s surface (illustrated in the exhibition by

  • Evaluations and Re-Evaluations

    The precursor can have no imitators: he is always sui generis, while the rebel appears in crowds because the way of the rebel is easily imitated. The precursor shapes a new civilization; the rebel defines the edges of a disintegrating one.

    George Kubler, The Shape of Time

    DURING THE PAST SEASON or so a number of exhibitions that I thought had merit or interest have gone unreviewed in Artforum. Others provoked critical comment which overlooked aspects that seemed to me fascinating if not profound, though the implication of any incidental illumination grows in profundity upon reflection. I propose

  • Rosenquist at the Metropolitan

    DOUBTLESSLY MY REACTION—ACUTE DISMAY—at the news of a loan exhibition of James Rosenquist’s 10 by 86-foot Pop art mural, F-111, at one of the great museums of the world, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, was somewhat paranoid. But even within the prominently and professionally “advanced“ crowd there were gasps of horror, though for entirely different reasons. Whereas I simply felt threatened, they felt shame, the shame of an avant-garde chicken coming home to roost in a way they had neither imagined nor desired. No one imagined the apotheosis of modernism in this form. Whether it was illusion or

  • Lichtenstein’s Sculpture

    BY NOW THE ENTIRE art world must know that Roy Lichtenstein’s recent exhibition at the Leo Castelli Gallery was painting and sculpture’s answer to Bonnie and Clyde. Lichtenstein has discovered, or, rather, re-discovered the thirties and cleverly adumbrated its “period” taste in commercial and applied art. Lichtenstein’s new paintings suggest a kind of Flo Ziegfeld Cubism, with their spectacular array of primary colors and circles, curves, triangles, rectangles, and lines, lines, lines—a modish recapitulation of the jazzy, sans serif geometry of the Depression (Depression?) era, while his sculpture

  • Pat Johanson

    In a recent article in this journal (Scale and the Future of Modernism, October, 1967) suggested that one of the major problems confronting abstractionist painting was the problem of shape, or rather, the lack of shape. Abstract Expressionism’s assault on the contour matured finally in the openness of color painting, the sheer visual breadth of which swept the pictorial surface clear of those “abstract” shapes that had become a staple of all post-Cubist abstractionism. Color painting so generalized mass that the function of drawing was assigned to the edge of the canvas itself, thereby paving

  • Peter Gourfain

    Still another artist concerned with an alternative to Abstract Expressionism and post-painterly abstraction, Peter Gourfain, has evolved an interesting solution to the problem of structuring an essentially shapeless field. It is neither as radical, minimal nor as original as Miss Johanson’s but it is singular enough.

    Gourfain, whose exhibition at the Bykert Gallery was his first (he is 32 and was seen in the Systemic Art Show at the Guggenheim), has found a way of combining line and light. Ordinarily, line, which moves always in the single dimension of a plane, would contradict the non-planar

  • Eduardo Paolozzi, Jack Youngerman, and Charles Hinman

    Eduardo Paolozzi, Jack Youngerman and Charles Hinman have in common the fact that they all have profited from uncertainties of taste occasioned by specific disturbances of modern style. Paolozzi and Youngerman both established their reputations around 1960, less, it seems clear now, from the actual persuasiveness of their new art than the loss of conviction by the old—though Youngerman had, and has, a certain strength. Hinman, a more recent example, was a beneficiary of both the ignorance which surrounded the evolution of the shaped canvas and the general hysteria which has prevailed in the art

  • 17th Century Dutch Paintings

    There was an exhibition of 17th Century Dutch Paintings at the Shickman Gallery which was as delightful as it was unexpected. Yet a conventional review is pointless in the present critical context. I cite the exhibition partly because it was a delight, but mainly because that delight is all the more precious in a culture most of the art of which provides little or no delight at all. Yet it is the delight of a minor art—domestic scenes, landscapes, still lifes, flower paintings. Minor art is that which limits its emotional and conceptual horizons. But it is precisely these limited horizons which

  • Gauguin and the Decorative Style

    “GAUGUIN AND THE DECORATIVE STYLE,” the summer exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum, concluded with Matisse in the forties rather than Frank Stella in the sixties and thereby advertised itself as a minor exhibition on a major theme. For what it called “the decorative style” represents a particular type of formal consciousness that constitutes one of the most misunderstood aspects of modernist art. Far from making the connection, the Guggenheim mandarins organized a show in terms of the influence of Gauguin rather than an autonomous impulse with sources antedating Gauguin and of which Gauguin was