new-york

Harvey Quaytman

David McKee Gallery

In the ’60s, Clement Greenberg and others took turns being Moses come back from the mountain. They revealed to the world what the immutable laws of painting were, and they championed those who adhered to them. There was also the marketplace, where certain artists, many of whose names we hardly remember now, were all the rage. But the center, as Yeats warned, cannot hold. All along, Pop art, Conceptual art, and photography were busy spawning their progeny. Then came the ’70s and the ’80s, and another generation of truth-mongerers began trumpeting this or that, making pronouncements from whatever soapbox they could climb onto. The result: confusion. In the midst of this, Harvey Quaytman’s career stands as a paradigm for the Modernist who pursues a particular vision and refuses to follow the changing rules of the game.

Since the late ’60s, when he first began exhibiting regularly in New York,

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