Young and the Restless

Delia Brown, Will Cotton, Tim Gardner. Hilary Harkness, Damian Loeb

By: Charles Giuliano - Nov 23, 2011

Damien Loeb. Giuliano photo.

Art critic Peter Plagens.

 

Reposted from Maverick Arts May 24, 2001

The Young and the Restless
Delia Brown, Will Cotton, Tim Gardner, Hilary Harkness, and Damian Loeb

In the hierarchy of taste and culture, genre, or scenes of everyday life has never earned the respect of other forms of art. Compared to the classical painters of the Italian Renaissance, Raphael, Leonardo, Botticelli, and Michelangelo, the Northern European Renaissance masters of genre, Breugel and Bosch, just never seem to earn the same level of adulation or respect. Frans Hals, the 17th century Dutch Master of portraits and genre scenes, is often discussed as dumbing down his work to appeal to the new bourgeois patron.

The Dutch nouveau riche client, wealthy through trade or speculation in the commodities markets, wasn’t sophisticated or educated enough for the classical iconography of the Italian Masters who served the aesthetic needs of the Church or Old Money patrons steeped in learning. The clients for the genre paintings of Northern Europe were the great unwashed by then swathed in fur and velvet and looking for a portrait, landscape, genre painting or still life to stick over the sofa. Because these categories of painting, compared to unraveling classical mythology or religious iconography, were relative no brainers. It didn’t require sophistication or education to appreciate and enjoy, and most importantly to acquire, these new categories of art popularized in the Golden Age of Dutch art.

So the genre painter, however skilled, and clearly Breugel, Bosch, Hals, or Jan Steen, are very great Masters, have never quite earned the same level of respect accorded to high brow classicists.

Some of these ancient attitudes and prejudices have been unleashed in the mixed critical and curatorial responses to a remarkable young generation of enormously talented genre painters. Of course, the public adores these new artists and collectors have enthusiastically whipped out their check books. Instead of responding to the drop dead talent and lushness of these artists, mostly in their late 20s and 30s, there has been much carping and even hissy fits, ultra catty infighting and pissing contests, outrageous and undignified ad hominem attacks. Not just snide and sly remarks at openings and art parties, or in obscure journals, but in the pages of the New York Times, Art in America, Newsweek, Artnet and other highly respected publications by critics from whom one should clearly expect more.

It has been open season not only on these artists, their physical appearance, manner of dress and lifestyle, which seems to get as much attention as their actual work, but also against individuals who are associated with them professionally.
Writing about Damian Loeb and Will Cotton, Newsweek critic, Peter Plagens, himself an artist who should show a little more restraint and class, skewered Mary Boone, the dealer for these artists. “Boone, the diminutive, raven-haired gallery owner with a turned up nose right off those, ‘Draw me and win a scholarship,’ matchbook covers, practically invented today’s contemporary art world- the moneyed, fashion conscious and entertaining one that replaced the old, grungy, hermetic one…Her artist luncheons at the Odeon restaurant in Tribeca seemed to get as much attention from the critics as her SoHo gallery’s exhibitions did-which was a lot.”

Perhaps Plagens is pissed that Mary never invited him to lunch. So arguably this is pay back for some slight real or imagined. Or just a chance to take her down a peg. Which may indeed be excessive and abusive as he already describes her as, “diminutive.” No, she has never invited me to lunch either. Although, once, when she was in Boston for an opening, she was rather nice to me. Chatted me up by striding over and saying, “Hi, I’m Mary Boone.” As if I didn’t know that. It made my day. Actually most of the art dealers hardly give me the time of day, because, after all, I live in Boston. They even hide the wine and cheese as well as the women and children when I stride into their openings. But that’s OK. Boston is a nice place to live because nobody sucks up, even to critics.

Having wasted Boone, and her nose, good heavens, can you believe that discussing a dealer’s nose, in of all places, Newsweek, he reloaded a double barrel to blast at Loeb and Cotton. “Since we’re dealing with two young-guy artists, the hoped-for parallel might be the way that Johnny Depp and Matt Damon are, at the same time, both teen-dream material and really good actors. The problem here is that Cotton and Loeb come off much more like artist’s equivalents of Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Pauly Shore.” He also tells us that Loeb is a high school dropout and is, “something of a hunk, shows up at everybody’s parties (and in everybody’s published party photographs); he’s regularly mentioned in the Gotham gossip mills like the New York Post’s page six.”

What is ironic is that Plagens is writing for the kind of general readership that, given the chance, would just love the paintings of Loeb and Cotton. Perhaps that’s what inspired him to foul his nest. A nasty trait associated only with humans. It’s the kind of idiotic opinion one expects from Hilton Kramer and Robert Hughes erudite, but ultra conservative, self indulgent blowhards who like their own smell.

Thinking about the new genre painting started last fall during a round of Chelsea galleries. At D’Amelio Terras I encountered a series of seductive and smart water colors by a California artist, Delia Brown. I immediately recognized them from a spread of illustrations in the Sunday magazine of the New York Times. The lifestyle, fashion, and self-absorbed posing that is unique to her images of the young and the restless is an important part of their appeal. They reflect a hip, laid back, El Lay pool party culture of bare breasted women, sunbathing, sipping champagne and smoking endless cigarettes. They constitute a Left Coast version of Sex in the City. The images evoked menopausal nostalgia for my bygone rock and roll years and decadent lifestyle.

The experience of Brown’s smart and hip, superbly technical paintings opened my eyes to other exponents of what I come to regard as the new genre painting.

An encounter with the double header, uptown and downtown, shows of Loeb and Cotton, later in the season, blew me away. Don’t listen to the critics. These guys can paint. I love the horizontal format of Loeb how they stretch out and command a vast expanse of wall, and yet draw you in to intimately examine that narrow, slotted vision, its dark side, and implied mystery. It was only later that I read that the images were based on movie stills. That makes perfect sense as they have a cinematic, narrative quality. And the huge confections of Cotton ratcheted up my blood sugar to dangerous levels.

Actually Cotton’s work reminded me a lot of Jim Rosequist, who I briefly worked for as a studio assistant, way back in the 1960s. It is interesting that only now does Jim seem to be coming into his own with critics and artists. Jeff Koons, for example, based on recent work, should be charged with criminal trespass. Think about all that spaghetti and tires. How Golden Age Dutch. Rosenquist is the Old Master of genre painting. Of the major Pop artists he was the only no brainer which is what I loved about him.

Add to this mix, Tim Gardner, and Hilary Harkness, who fits this theme but whose work I have seen only in reproduction. Looking at Gardner at 303 Gallery immediately reminded me of Delia. The aspects of Men Are from Mars and Women Are From Venus thing just popped out at me. Tim’s work is a guy thing and Delia’s is a girl thing. And Harkness, well, that’s another trip. She does claustrophobic, fetish, voyeuristic little paintings of girl sailors getting it on in their skivvies below deck.

The tiny watercolors by Gardner, meticulously rendered, are copied deadpan from color snapshots supplied by family and friends. We view guys hanging out drinking beer and doing general guy stuff like whooping it up in Vegas, beer in hand, under the neon marquee of the Flamingo.

What’s most fascinating about these young artists is their upside. None of them have necessarily peaked or even hit their stride. Their pursuit of technical painting and narrative takes years to develop to its full potential. More than likely these artists will be on the scene for a long time. So the critics had better get used to them. Living well is the best revenge. Maybe it’s all about jealousy.

In Art in America, for example, in a review that came out months after the exhibition, Edward Leffingwell was particularly bitchy to Delia Brown. This is surprising as AiA reviews are mostly boringly descriptive and never seem to say anything bad about anybody.
“Her work seems to be about life at its most superficial, “ Leffingwell wrote. “ It holds a mirror to the people who lend themselves to its creation, with cell phones, sunglasses, and ridiculous flutes of second tier champagne among their secondary sexual characteristics…Her high-concept serving of vanity fair is not without intellectual pretension.” And on and on. But you get the idea. I love that bit about second-tier champagne, as if the critic, based on what AiA paid him for that review, celebrated by knocking back a bottle of Dom Perignon. From the way he writes he must drink Cold Duck and Mr. Andre.
So just what is all this crap about the noses of art dealers, who wore what where, and what brand of bubbly an artist uses as a prop in her illustrative paintings. Are these uptight critics broadcasting that they have, like, better taste than the rest of us? Genre painting isn’t about paintings with taste, but, rather, paintings that taste good. Like those luscious high calorie Cotton creations. What eye candy. Mange. 

Six Degrees of Abnegation

An e mail exchange between Charles Giuliano and Peter Plagens

This correspondence between Charles Giuliano, publisher of the Maverick Artsletter and Peter Plagens relates to Maverick, Issue 21, The Young and the Restless, that discussed works by the New Genre Painters, Delia Brown, Damian Loeb, Will Cotton. Tim Gardner and  Hilary Harkness. That back issue is archived at East Boston.Com which also has hyper links to the artists and critics for further inquiry by readers.

From: Plagens, Peter 
Sent: Thursday, May 24, 2001 11:38 PM
Subject: six degrees of abnegation


1. Mary Boone is diminutive, raven-haired and does have one of those 'draw-me-and-win-a-schoolarship' noses. None of those are features that she tries to hide. Rather, she glories in them. The total effect, for most people, is cuteness. and i never said that it wasn't. Nope: no 'skewering,' or lack of 'class' on my part.

 2. The run-up to the review was a little context for the reader about the old days, when Boone's artists lunches at the Odeon did get press. Since I lived in l.A during most of that time, I never expected an invitation. I’m not 'pissed off.' I can't recall whether I’ve ever been invited to lunch by Mary, but I think I’ve been to a few social events of some pleasure, at her behest. And I’m glad she likes you, too.

 3. Damien Loeb's considerable publicity emphasizes his dropout status, his hunkiness, and his ability to get himself in the party-picture section of the newspaper. In noting that, I’m just being a good reporter.

 4. I doubt whether your mind-reading of the Newsweek readership’s artistic taste is accurate (so far, not a single outraged peep from these millionsof alleged fans of Loeb's and Cotton's painting). But even if it were, they don't pay me to cater to the readers' taste any more than they pay David Ansen to review movies favorably just because the public likes them. If that's the way you operate--poll the maverick arts readers, and then figure out your opinion--good luck to you.

5. 'Foul his nest,' 'nasty trait,' 'idiotic opinion,' 'self indulgent[sic] blowhards who like their own smell': a bit over the top for my merely failing to cater to my readers' supposed tastes, don't you think?

6. There was a lot of stuff ('analysis,' if you want a fancy word) about the actual painting of Loeb and Cotton, about exactly what makes them such bad--albeit facile--painters. none of it--not a word--did you contend with in your rebuttal, seeing fit rather to base it on a misguided chivalry toward Ms. Boone. but if the likes of Damien Loeb and Will Cotton are, to you, satisfying painters, then you must be a happy man. I should like to be so easily pleased. On the other hand, your letter is consistently plucky and I enjoy reading it.

cheers.
Peter Plagens
Art Critic
Newsweek
251 West 57th St.
New York, NY 10019

Peter,|

Thank you for your quick, lively and insightful response to my take on the New Genre Painters in the article, the Young and the Restless, in the Maverick Artsletter.

It is useful and stimulating if for no other reason than that i confirms an exchange and contrast of opinions about critical writing. There has been the consistent feeling in my entire career as a critic, starting in the 1960s, that there is little or no dialogue between critics. When you write what you feel to be a lively piece, raising interesting or tough issues, too often, the silence is deafening.
     
Also, working within the traditional arts establishment and media is generally stifling. Everyone is looking over their shoulder be it writer, editor, or publisher. And we are often reluctant to take on peers and colleagues whom we are likely to encounter when out and about. Or face a scolding for upsetting the status quo. Frankly, I got tired and bored with all that and this is the spirit that launched Maverick. To speak my mind without answering to editors and publishers who often appear to be in the hip pocket of advertisers. To be sure, I miss being edited. We all need to be edited. And there is nobody to help me clean up grammar, spelling or make me reconsider a critical issue. For example, I have second thoughts about including Bosch as a genre painter. But I also have trouble with your mention of film stars as equivalents of Loeb and Cotton. The references from popular culture seemed too obscure for me.
    
Your piece in Newsweek did indeed provoke in me a righteous indignation and disappointment in its author. As an artist, yourself. I would have expected you to resist the all too easy trend of dealing with contemporary artists as a cult of personality. Can it be long before young artists end up as guests on Hollywood Squares. And why are we reduced to discussing the physical appearance of dealers and describing Loeb as a Hunk. Where does that take us in terms of coming to a deeper understanding of the work itself.

Indeed, formalism is dead. Or at least sleeping somewhere in Conneticut. Theory driven deconstruction, now the mother's milk of graduate students, which informs a lot of current criticism, is a bore. Descriptive reviews, the norm for most major art magazines, serve no useful purpose other than a line on the resume of the artists. Again, the correlation between what is reviewed, and whether the gallery advertises has been obvious for decades. And publishers are reluctant to pan shows by the paying customers.
       
This is why the Art in America treatment of Delia Brown seemed to pop out. Why slice and dice an emerging female artist, obviously a skilled painter, who is reflecting her California Dreaming world of pool parties and "Second-tier" champagne. It cuts to motive. Which was my point. And yes, Peter, I do expect more of you. Consider that you have a mass audience. For the majority of readers the fine arts are a peripheral concern. There is also the luxury that your magazine is too expensive for
gallery advertisers accordingly you have no pressures from publishers and editors other than providing a lively read.

But writing for the mass media also means that you have to juice it up. Hence the references to the dealer's physical appearance, her fascinating rise to power, and the implied charisma of the young artists with their beautiful bodies and visibility on the party circuit. In a recent Art Net review, for example, there was a description of what Cecily Brown
wore to a black tie opening.

Consider the manner in which the Bad Girls have been promoted including a glitzy spread in the New York Times Magazine. And how glamour spreads in women's magazines have become standard for the new women painters. There they are looking ever so thin smoking those endless cigarettes and on the wall behind them a slice of a painting. As if that really matters. So what happens if you are middle aged, live in the mid west and, are making terrific art. Is that going to get you ink in the New York
Times Magazine or Newsweek.

Isn't this what people have been saying about Charles Saatchi and his brilliant promotion of the Young British Artists in his collection. Many of these artists are truly deserving and it has indeed made London a lively art city as we found out for ourselves during a recent visit. So there is nothing inherently wrong in promoting young artists by any means necessary. But shouldn't we leave that to the dealers, like Mary Boone, who has been very successful. Or a mega collector like Charles Saatchi. Isn't that their job. To get the most bang for the buck from the artists in whom they have invested?
       
So then what is our job. You and me Peter. Well, similar but different. First of all. Never be dull. That is unforgivable. Write with passion and conviction. We both spend time in the studio and that should get into what you say about art, past and present. It is unique. Even though we take heat for wearing more than one hat. I applaud, respect and admire you for that.
But it is also why I expect more for you. Take the position of being an advocate for artists. Yes, of course, call the shots as you see them. Don't hesitate to write about bad art and expose it for what it is. Certainly there is a real need of vigilance
.
There is so much crap being passed off to an unwary public. Witness the trend of major museums to mount exhibition of clothes, cars and guitars. Although, frankly, sometimes they bring it off. The Robert Wilson installation of Armani at the Guggenheim was just amazing. And some of the cars and guitars were terrific. But this also represents art lite when there is so much important work being done that should indeed be the focus of our attention.

When it comes to discussing painting, Peter, try to avoid the Duchamp bit. So what if it is retinal. As realism and genre painting tends to be. Then everyone becomes an expert and it is just so cheap and easy to write it off. It cuts to the entire dialogue of the 20th century and the alleged endgame that painting is dead. Bull.

The artists that I discussed as representing a nucleus of New Genre Painting, Brown, Cotton, Loeb, Gardner and Harkness, are brilliant and talented young painters. Give them some time and space. They will prove you dead wrong. Loosen up. Live a little. Have some fun. With a little luck you might get invited to one of Delia's pool parties, or hang out with Damian and the new rat pack. You might even get to meet Leo's crew. And Mary might invite us to lunch at Odeon. Life, after all, is about dreaming. Or maybe you do all those things already. If so Mazeltov.

One last thought. Reporting. Your and my obligations to be good and through reporters. Again, we have similar views and background. I spent my early years in the daily press covering Jazz and Rock about which I knew
next to nothing. It turned me into a good reporter. Everything I learned about music came from the mouth of the  musicians I hung with from Miles to Elton John and Jimi Hendrix. It was an incredible education.

Like the time in NY when I did odd jobs in Jim Rosenquist's studio. I have a great respect for the artist as the primary source. So yes, I understand  the need to report but also let us function as critics. Let the facts tell the story but in a context of coming to a greater understanding of the work itself. And yes, ironically, I am often just dismissed as a gossip columnist. So it is a
trait that I understand and identify.

But let the gossip make a point about the work. If you can blend the elements you have a killer left right to the chin combo and you can wade in with the heavies and go toe to toe with giants. That's what I discovered hanging with Miles when for an hour or more not a word was said. It spoke volumes and I tried to get that into the story.
     
Recently, at an opening, I told an artist that his work inspired me with jealousy and rage. Which was what I liked about it. Often the reaction is why didn't I think of that. Sometimes the best art, like those seminal Duchamp works, are so confoundingly simple. And yet so original and beyond duplication. So, that's more or less where I am coming from.

Yours,
Charles Giuliano
Maverick Arts