Elizabeth Murray; Deconstructing the Reviews / Shaping Up at MoMA
Charles Giuliano
With peripheral vision I noted a Murray exhibition currently at the Museum of Modern Art. I might have made an effort to visit during a recent weekend in New York. But it wasn’t a priority. Instead, I opted for a Sunday afternoon absorbing the sprawling Russian exhibition at the Guggenheim. Not to say that I won’t see the Murrary retrospective, but by default on a list of museum priorities. Her shaped canvases are about on a par with perusing the modernist American paintings of Oscar Bleumner, at the Whitney, an artist whom I first wrote about for Arts Magazine in the 1960s. In my mind these artists conflate as major/ minor, or minor/major artists, deserving of curatorial attention, but marginally.
My apathy, however, was piqued after reading a range of reviews by the usual taste makers from Michael Kimmelman in the New York Times, Peter Plagens in Newsweek, Jerry Saltz (a Village Voice reprint) and Charlie Finch in ArtNet. It provided the case study and material to examine questions about the process of how the artist was bestowed the ultimate honor of a MoMA show and how it is vetted by the NY art establishment. The coverage is rife with suggestions of political correctness, cronyism, the powerful cocktail and old boy, or is it old girl network, insider trading, and conflict of interest. It is telling to deconstruct to what extent the reviews either boldly affirm, and then back track between the lines (Saltz), damn with faint praise (Kimmelman), revert to interview and journalism (Plagens), or outright trash (Finch).
Are we left with a "Roshomon" tale told from several conflicting perspectives? Just what is the truth or the critical position that carries the most weight and authority? How does the nature of the media help to support the thesis of the critic? Does the weight and gravitas of Kimmelman writing for the Times render impotent the strident screed of Finch on the internet. We all know that Finch craves attention for his outsider, bad boy strategy. But are there times when he hits the mark and says what others will not for fear of jeopardizing their power positions? Saltz in particular often appears to be playing games of social dungeons and dragons. He can be downright nasty to those not in a position to support his personal ambitions. So is this an exercise on New York gamesmanship? Does it illustrate the notion that New York is just a village like any other village? Though larger and more powerful. And does it demonstrate that all politics are local? Would the coverage and politics be different, for example, if the Murray project were mounted by an international venue? Or, by an American museum with a rank lesser than MoMA? Does the artist get treated differently based on gender? Plagens touches on that cautiously. Then there is the matter of the artist fighting illness. Who would not rally to the cause of the afflicted? This is signified by such phrases as "beloved" and "artist’s artist." This implies having powerful and influential artist friends. Even her companion, a founder of poetry "slams," gets a mention which is gracious but speaks more to fraternity or sorority than critical analysis.
Nor am I any different in regard to all of the just mentioned issues and agendas. Perhaps we (writers/ critics/ artists/ curators/ gallerists) all function in a similar manner but in my case just a smaller and less influential village. Of course I support the afflicted, women, the marginalized, and their companions. Don’t we all? Am I just a naive fool to assume that the rules are any different in the bigger ponds and major venues such as MoMA or the media of record? On the other hand are they any more sacrosanct?
So let us here get into some samples of the text. Let’s start with Plagens. "Now, the 65-year-old painter has a stunning–not to mention overdue–retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art…" What does he mean by "overdue?" A cliché at best. Then "are an uncanny amalgam of abstract expressionism’s tragic-opera mode and the ribald comedy of pop and outsider art. Call it Clyfford Still meets the Hairy Who." Does the generic readership of Newsweek get these esoteric references or is this just blowing smoke at the masses? Or "could easily lead to cacophony, but Murray is a master at keeping everything working together…" How about just dropping the rhetorical question and state "does" (lead to cacophony). Further "Curator Rob Storr has wisely limited this visually intense exhibition to about 40 major paintings and some attendant drawings… But it’s not a perfect show. Murray can overload a painting at times so that no part of it seems crucial; a few pictures are like a chili recipe from which you could remove a spice or two and not really change the flavor." Hmm. Is that backtracking? For the feminists in the audience "This retrospective is one of only a few at MoMA in recent years of a living female artist: Helen Frankenthaler, Lee Krasner, Louise Bourgeois, Murray and … that’s about it." Finally the kicker "But Murray’s work is so alive that when you see her pieces, you know painting will still have a beating heart 100 years from now." Painting is dead. Long live painting. Where have I heard that before? Note in passing that Plagens is a painter.
On to Saltz. "Rather than use Elizabeth Murray’s ravishing retrospective to trace her painterly progress, let’s ask why — as admired as she is, and even though her paintings are like wall-bound fish-eyed Richard Serras — Murray, 65, isn’t more widely recognized as one of the best American painters since 1960." One of the best American painters since the 1960s? Really? Of course one would like to learn the names of a few of the others.
Moving along Saltz states, or blurts that "First, her idea of beauty, while juicy, is dissonant, deviant and brash. It is an unsettling, tempestuous beauty — what Baudelaire called a "coarse, earthy, sublime distortion of nature." Murray’s colors veer from sunburned to murky to off. She’s prone to carrot-colored oranges, plum and chartreuse. There’s very little visual letup in her art, which can make looking at her paintings vexing. Compositions are fragmented, surfaces gummy and her idea of "painterly skill" is so raw and original that it can seem as if she paints with windshield wiper blades." Read that again, slowly, and see if a few thoughts don’t stick out like zits. How about "dissonant, deviant and brash" or "murky to off" then "prone to" "vexing" "raw" "paints with windshield wiper blades." Are these the choice words to describe one of the "Best American Painters since the 1960s?" If so there must have been a lot of murky, vexing, gummy crap. Get it? This sure sounds like spin to me. And Baudelaire? Come on. Who is going to call you on that? Why not Goethe? More smoke. A bit more "too kooky beauty, one that looks goony and cartoony — and maybe too girly. Her subjects are often canoodling shoes and wriggling beds." Too girly? Good grief. That sounds like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Basta.
Dealing with the work of a contemporary woman artist Kimmelman reverts to obscurantism, the better not to be pinned down, and, unbelievable, bestiality. The artist as hedgehog? Consider "The philosopher Isaiah Berlin famously divided writers and thinkers into foxes and hedgehogs. Foxes are interested in many things, hedgehogs in one. Foxes move from one problem to another. Hedgehogs dig deep. Dante and Proust were hedgehogs. Molière and Pushkin were foxes. Einstein was a hedgehog. Shakespeare was a fox. Elizabeth Murray is a hedgehog." First off, excuse my ignorance, who is Isaiah Berlin? Should I know this guy? Then Murray is ranked on the same level as Proust, Dante and Einstein. Interesting that she is not compared to any women. Just guys. So what the heck is Kimmelman trying to say other than to paraphrase "I have to write about this show and make nice for a Sunday piece but I really don’t have much to say about the work and am covering my ass big time." Or "can look as rickety as an old jalopy… Sides and edges of canvases stay unfinished, like the backs of stage props… You love them or not for their messiness." How about not? "As a critic once put it, there are some people who want to like her work more than they do." Why would Kimmelman make that reference if he did not share its opinion? Is that just getting someone else to say what you don’t want to go on record stating? Letting an anonymous source do the dirty work.
Kimmelman states that "The colors are noisy, the harmonies pungent; references are to body parts, household furniture, kitchen utensils and comic-book symbols, generally twisted like taffy or otherwise sneakily abstracted." Again, reading between the lines "noisy" "pungent" "twisted like taffy" and, oh boy, "sneakily abstracted." Get that? "Sneakily." So he is saying the artist is "sneaky?"
Finally to Finch. "A pack of late-middle-aged scenesters jammed the Museum of Modern Art last night to pay homage to Elizabeth Murray, demonstrably the worst artist of her generation. (Apologies to our pal Rob Storr, the curator, who did yeomanlike work trying to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.)" Worst artist of her generation? That seems overreaching. We should be able to come up with a long list of bad and worse artists. But what to make of "our pal Rob (not Robert) Storr" and his daunting assignment? Seems like Finch is not cutting his bridges with Storr, for whatever reasons, by laying it all on the lame artist. It gets rough. "vile, poorly painted shaped canvases that are the worst art gimmick of the last 25 years… looks like regurgitated Pepto Bismol." Vile? Good grief. Then "quickly induces nausea." Oh Charlie, control yourself.
More over the top hyperbole. "There’s nothing worse than encouraging an artist with no talent. Murray, who has had plenty of enablers over the years, is the black hole of no talent." That’s just not true. Of course she has "talent." You don’t show at MoMA with "no talent." But that notion of "enablers" is worth pursuing. Just how does that work? Is Finch the one to lay it out for us? His approach is too hit and run, take no prisoners, to settle down into exploring such a rich and tough topic. Finally. "Don’t hate us for hating this show. Just hate this horrible work." No Charlie, I don’t hate you. Nor do I hate the work. And, no it is not "horrible." It is something other than that.
Cut back to "Roshomon." The rain has ended. The stories have been told. Time to leave the ruins of the temple. Perhaps the truth will never be known. For now there is too much conflict, double talk, art speak, insider trading and ambiguity. Time to bundle up the brawling infant of art and life and move on. There is a rainbow in the sky.
