Wednesday, December 31, 2014

What You Liked: The Top 10 Pan Posts of 2014

Robert Boyd

I'm always slightly perplexed by what gets read (or at least "viewed") on this blog. But I shouldn't be. It's pretty simple, really. There are a certain number of people who check in regularly on the blog, and a certain number that check in occasionally. These numbers don't change all that much over the course of a year. They are what I consider the natural readership of The Great God Pan Is Dead. That readership could be increased if I were a better writer; if I had more writers contributing; if I covered a broader range of arts; if I covered a broader geographic area; if I posted more frequently; etc. I'm not likely to do any of those things, so the baseline readership will probably remain about the same. And I thank all of you for spending a little time here.

So what distinguishes these top 10 posts from any other? I would like to say their inherent superiority, but mostly it's due to outside links. When some other blog or popular website links to The Great God Pan Is Dead, it sends a flood of new readers over. The sites that have contributed most this blog's "extra" page views this year have been Swamplot, The Comics Journal, Glasstire, The Comics Reporter and Hyperallergic. It almost goes without saying that these are some of my favorite online publications, and any time one of them deigns to notice The Great God Pan Is Dead, I feel honored.

The following are the top 10 posts of 2014, starting with the most popular.

1. Joseph Cohen's Use-Value. This was a studio visit with painter Joseph Cohen. A nice little post about a very interesting artist, but why did it get so many page views? It was mentioned on Swamplot and apparently captured the interest of a lot of Swamplot readers. Cohen built his unusual triangular house on an unusual triangle-shaped lot--a lot many have noticed over the years because it's right on the Heights bike trail. Cohen designed the house with the help of an architect, and built it himself. He's an interesting painter whose work is often quite beautiful, but I think it was the brilliance of the house itself that attracted many readers. Houses designed by artists are a special, eccentric genre of architecture, and this is a brilliant example of the genre.

2. Lonestar Explosion 2014 - Untitled by Nikki Thornton. This brief post by Dean Liscum is the only one that got its rank organically. No site linked to it--most of its page views were sent over by Google and Facebook; in other words, via the Internet version of word-of-mouth. I think the performance hit readers' OMG! buttons. It is a bit grisly, and the contrast of the horrible pig's head and the beautiful woman is striking. Thornton appears to be bottomless (she's not, actually), so it almost seems like a strange birth scene. It confirms the average person's idea of performance art as shock art. I assume that for all of those reasons, it ended up capturing the attention of readers. They should have come to the actual performance--it was part of a carnival of smallish performances happening simultaneously at Box 13 as part of the Houston International Performance Art Biennale.

3. Argument for the Elimination of Art Fairs in Houston: HFAF 2014, part 1. Every year I go to the art fairs in Houston, and every year I'm appalled. Most of the readers who wanted to share the hate found their way to this post on their own, but a bunch were helped over by a link from Glasstire (in which Bill Davenport outsourced the hate-viewing to me). There was too much horrible art for one post--I concluded with part 2.

4. Real Estate Art--Bert Long Edition. This long-running series ("Real Estate Art") usually involves me taking some photos published on the local real estate site HAR and trying to identify the art in them. I used to spend a lot of time on HAR, but since I moved this summer, I look at it less frequently. So most of the Real Estate Art posts in 2014 involve looking at houses that Swamplot has brought my attention to (and to which I always link back). Then Swamplot notices my posts and links back to them! It's logrolling at its finest, but I always get the better end of the deal since Swamplot sends so many readers my way.

This was a very special "Real Estate Art" post, since it dealt with the home of the late Bert Long, one of Houston's most important artists. Not only was Long's house full of incredible local art, it was designed by an important local architect, Brett Zamore. The post was enlivened with photos from Zamore's webpage showing the house--his first--in "before" and "after" stages.

After I posted this, I got the opportunity to tour the house in person, which resulted in another post here.

5. The Diminishing Returns of Being an Artist.  When cartoonist Mike Dawson wrote an essay on how poorly his latest graphic novel sold and what that meant for him as an artist, it ignited a firestorm. This post is one of many responses to it. Because the Comics Journal and the Comics Reporter linked back to it, this post got a lot of readers. These were readers mostly interested in comics, but to me the post applies to all artists.

6.  Real Estate Art on Woodland Heights Nothing special about this post (in my opinion)--another art-filled house on HAR. But because Swamplot noticed, a lot of real estate fans came over to Pan to check it out.

7. Bill Davenport and his shop, Bill's Junk.  When Painting the Town Orange was published, I learned that there was a chapter dropped for length. I offered to publish that chapter for Pete Gershon, the author. Because it covered four artistic environments, we published it in four parts, of which this is one. Again I have Swamplot to thank for this post's popularity. Art environments like Bill's Junk are one place where the interests of The Great God Pan Is Dead and Swamplot happily overlap.

8. Real Estate Art: 2630 West Lane Pl. I love this Real Estate Art post because the homeowners have art by three of my favorite local artists--Dorothy Hood, Laura Lark and Mark Flood.

9. Real Estate Art: 2526 Bellmeade. This elegant house had a beautiful James Surls tucked under the stairs.

10. Creatives in a Post-Industrial Society. This post was prompted by a trip to an artspace in Brooklyn called Pioneer Works. Its readership was enhanced by linkbacks from Hyperallergic and the Comics Reporter. Like "The Diminishing Returns of Being an Artist," this one used its subject as a jumping off point to talk about bigger issues.

Which leads me to a final entry on this list. It's not in the top 10, but it's my personal favorite post of the year, a piece of writing that I'm proud of. "The Show Is So Over" was about Jamal Cyrus's temporary installation A Jackson in Your House, but it was really about the complexities of gentrification and art. In fact, four posts this year make up an unintentional quartet on the position (societally and economically) of the artist and art in this new millennium: "The Show Is So Over," "The Diminishing Returns of Being an Artist," "Creatives in a Post-Industrial Society" and "People Should Get Paid For Their Work." These issues have been on my mind, and I expect that to continue in 2015. I hope you all return to read them.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Visiting Bas Poulos

Robert Boyd

Back in the early 80s, with his dark hair, his demonic beard and his drooping eyelid, Basilios Poulos looked a little bit villainous. Imagine Dostoevsky with even darker eyes. It was an intimidating look for an art professor. But his good nature more than made up for it, as did his love of art. I well remember him showing us an image of himself sitting in front of Jackson Pollock's The Deep. He said told us that many people didn't like the late paintings by Pollock, but that this was a great work.

Jackson Pollock, The Deep, 1953

Today, his hair grey, his beard trimmed and an easy smile on his face, he looks the opposite of villainous. And he turned his back on abstraction--it seemed to him to have become too easy, too bourgeois. He loves Jerry Saltz's idea of zombie abstraction, referring to paintings that may be accomplished and even interesting in some ways, but which mainly exist as valuable decorative items. That said, if you look at his current paintings without knowing anything about them, you'll likely perceive them as a group of colorful abstractions.

Bas Poulos's studio

But for him, they are landscapes--two very specific groups of landscapes. One are based on bridges on the Peloponnese in Greece. These bridges all were within driving distance of the village where Poulos spends time. The other series are winter landscapes from South Carolina, where Poulos is from and where he still has family.

bridge paintings

The earliest bridge painting (on the right above) was more-or-less naturalistic--grey stone bridge, dark trees, blue water, morning light. But as one can see with the painting on the left, Poulos abandons the use of local color for an intense palette. Trees, bridges, rocks, ground and sky become almost abstract shapes. His touchstone here is Andre Derain's The Turning Road, a masterpiece owned by the MFAH.

Andre Derain, The Turning Road, 1906, oil on canvas

In my experience, artists of Poulos's generation revere modernism. His studio was stacked with books of the artists he loves--Picasso, Braque. Matisse, Derain and the other Fauves, Marsden Hartley, Francis Bacon, etc. Painting is for many artists younger than Poulos a contentious medium. Thomas McEvilley said that when painting seemed to come roaring back in the 80s after a decade in "exile," that it wasn't triumphant but "chastened." But with painters like Poulos, painting is never went away and never was about process, nor was it conceptual, nor "meta," nor ironic. Painting exists for the purpose of producing paintings--satisfying paintings that are expressive, paintings that are the result of specific materials and the specific training and the specific practice of the artist.

Bridge painting and Ornomenos

The painting on the left above is another bridge painting (you can see the bridge in the upper right), but the one next to it is one that some readers may remember from the 1980s. It's Ornomenos (1984) and it was shown in the famous painting show at MFAH, Fresh Paint. Poulos has two shows in Houston coming up in 2015. One, at HBU's Contemporary Art Gallery, will show his recent landscapes. The other, at his longtime gallery Meredith Long & Company, will show earlier work from the 80s. I've always liked this 80s work, but it really looks 80s. If Poulos attempted these abstractions now, they'd feel like zombie abstractions. When you realize this, you understand why his work has evolved the way it did.

More South Carolina landscapes

Poulos hanging a recent painting

But the value of visiting a studio is not just in seeing an artist's latest work. The proverbial white cube may not be an "ideologically neutral" space, as "Hennessy Youngman" ironically called it, but it's a pleasant enough place to see some art. But a studio is different. It's personal. Artists, especially painters, collect images and objects and put them on the wall. Parts of Poulos's gallery are open and airy. Others look like this:

Bettie Page, Francis Bacon, Giacometti, Pollock, Picasso, etc.

Flattened metal objects picked up alongside the road before they all got replaced with plastic.

Some of Poulos's own ceramic art, plus a folk-art carved fish.

Old photos and visas and passports

A bird made by the late, great Jeff McKissack.

And when you use Bas Poulos's restroom, you see three (four?) sexy Graces.

To me, a trip to an artist's studio destroys the notion of the autonomous work of art. Someday, those Bridge paintings and those South Carolina paintings will leave the studio and enter people's collections. When that happens, their link to the studio is frayed. But for me, I can't see them without seeing Fancis Bacon pointing, Bettie Page in lingerie, a dusty Jeff McKissack, etc. Poulos is a traditional painter--he is not a bricoleur or a relational artist or an installation artist. But as with many artists whose studios I've visited, I will carry a memory of the profoundly individual, casually curated clutter of the space, and I won't be able to see his paintings without thinking about it.

Friday, December 26, 2014

All the Art Books I Read in 2014, In Reverse Chronological Order

Robert Boyd

I read a few books about art this year. This list reflects pretty well my interests in art: understanding contemporary art, recent art history, biographies of individual artists (real and imagined), art that has a family relationship with comics, outsider/self-taught art, art from Houston and Texas and the social science of art. I don't recommend all of them, but quite a few were excellent.

Your Everyday Art World (2014) by Lane Relyea. A combination of a theory and a history of a particular tendency in contemporary art. Reviewed here.

Topless Cellist: The Improbable Life of Charlotte Moorman (2014) by Joan Rothfuss. A fantastic biography of Charlotte Moorman, who is best known as Nam June Paik's collaborator. But as this book demonstrates, she was so much more than that. Among other things, she was an incredible impresario--an equal to Sergei Diaghilev. Art history usually ignores the impresarios, the organizers and fixers who made sure that artists had a platform on which to stand. But that's a mistake--in addition to being a pioneering performance artist, Moorman was key in promoting the idea of performance art (before it even had a name) to audiences who had never in their lives imagined such art works.

The Downtown Book: The New York Art Scene 1974-1984 (2006) edited by Marvin J. Taylor. This book was a gift from Earl Staley. Thanks, Earl! The book is quite scattered, and I kind of wish it had been written as a narrative history instead of broken up in essays describing different art forms. One weakness it has, in my opinion, is that it is overly wedded to the geographic of "downtown," wedding the physical place to the overall vibe too closely. Still, it covers a lot of art that remains a fascination for me, and it's one of the few books I know that writes equally about the music, dance, visual art, performance art and literary scenes in a particular place and time.

Robert Gober: The Heart Is Not a Metaphor with an essay by Hilton Als. I thought this was an ideal catalog for the MOMA exhibit (up through January 18, if you happen to be in New York City in the next three weeks). Als is not your usual art historian--he is the opposite of dry and academic, and his writing is blessedly free of jargon. But he does write about the fascination that theory had for men of his and Robert Gober's generation. He weaves in personal encounters with Gober's art with a deep knowledge of the work and a lived experience of the milieu that Gober arose from--especially the rise of AIDS and the concurrent politicization of gay men.

But that's only part of the book--the back of the book is a combination timeline of Gober's career (and important events in world) and an oral history. What's fascinating is that you see a picture of a gifted artist starting from the bottom and gradually growing as an artist and in the esteem of the world. But what you also see is someone for whom everything broke right. Chance played a big part in his (temporal) success, although it should be said that Gober took that luck and ran with it. 

33 Artists in 3 Acts by Sarah Thornton.The author of Seven Days in the Art World returns with a new book where she visits a variety of artists on several occasions. Very readable. Reviewed here.

The Miraculous by Raphael Rubinstein. The shortest book on this list, but it has a kind of Borgesian efficiency--it punches well above its weight. I loved it and reviewed it here.

Midcentury Modern Art in Texas by Katie Robinson Edwards. An important book of regional art history. Reviewed here.

What Nerve!: Alternative Figures in American Art, 1960 to the Present by Daniel Nadel. The catalog of this very diverse show features a bunch of very diverse essays as well as some absolutely wonderful photos. I saw the exhibit and wrote about it here.

Everyday Genius: Self-Taught Art and the Culture of Authenticity by Gary Alan Fine. A very useful sociological study of the world of self-taught art (sometimes called folk art, outsider art, visionary art, art brut, etc.). Like Howard S. Becker's Art Worlds, Fine examines this world from every angle and constituency. He doesn't try to come up with a theory of self-taught art--instead, what he presents is data and what conclusions the data leads him to. It's an approach I appreciate highly, and one I think he does well. I wrote about the book in conjunction with my review of One of a Kind: Artwork from the Collection of Stephanie Smither at the Art League of Houston.

More Than a Constructive Hobby: the Paintings of Frank Freed by William A. Camfield. The funky, funny paintings by self-taught artist Frank Freed were a part of Houston's art scene in the 50s and 60s. I picked up this book on sale at the MFAH mostly because the text was written by my old art history professor William Camfield. I found the book delightful and wrote about it here.

The Supermodel and the Brillo Box: Back Stories and Peculiar Economics from the World of Contemporary Art by Don Thompson. This is kind of a sequel to his earlier book, The $12 Million Stuffed Shark. Thompson is an economist who has made a special study of the art market. While his earlier book was a unified work where Thompson presented the results of his research on what determines the monetary value of a work of art, this book is a collection of essays where he riffs on the changes in the art market since his first examination of it. He applies his research techniques to more contemporary blue-chip work, looking at collectors and art as an asset class, galleries, auction houses, art fairs, emerging markets and contemporary artists like Mauricio Cattelan and Jacob Kassay. It's a dirty business, but it's interesting to read an actual economist's take on it. The $12 Million Dollar Stuffed Shark is the more important book, but The Supermodel and the Brillo Box is interesting and informative.

The Essential New Art Examiner (2011) edited by Terri Griffith, Kathryn Born and Janet Koplos. A great collection of articles and reviews from 1974 through 2001 that appeared in Chicago's New Art Examiner. There used o be a lot of regional art magazines--New Art Examiner, Artpaper, Art Lies, etc. Aside from the Brooklyn Rail, do any survive? Or are they relics of the age of paper?

Whitney Biennial 2014 by Stuart Comer, Anthony Elms and Michelle Grabner. This is the catalog for this spring's Whitney Biennial, which like all Whitney Biennials was a bit of a mess. Aren't they all? There were good bits, though. But it was a show that really required the viewer to see it over time, and I only had one day. The catalog doesn't make up for that, either. It's less fun than the exhibit, but I liked the Michelle Grabner section which featured short interviews with all the artists she selected.

White Cube (2014) by Brecht Vandenbroucke. This book of interestingly-drawn cartoons dealt with the art world, but was, unfortunately, cruel and witless. Review here.

Role Models (2010) by John Waters. It's a bit of a cheat to include this book here--only one chapter is about art. It's called "Roommates," and it's about his art collection. Isn't that a perfect word to describe your art collection? They are, in fact, the perfect roommates--while they never do the dishes, they likewise never leave any dirty dishes in the sink. Waters writes, "I love how mad Mike [Kelley]'s work can make some people. Isn't that the job of contemporary art? To infuriate? The real naysayers who can't see the reverse beauty of Mike's sculptures or paintings should be outraged because they secretly know that his art does hate them and they deserve it." (Ironically, my biggest "roommate" is a series of photographs... by John Waters.)

Art: A Sex Book (2003) by John Waters and Bruce Hainley. Now this is an authentic art book, and in true John Waters fashion, it's quite filthy. He and curator/critic Bruce Hainley assembled a bunch of art by many different artists that relate in some way to "sex"--sometimes in obvious ways (very, very obvious ways), and sometimes in pretty much invisible ways. They interview each other about the work pictured in the book. It comes off as a catalog for an exhibit that they'd like to have done. (The cover is by Mike Kelley, appropriately enough.) Hey, art world--let John Waters curate a big group show. He is obviously capable, and it would clearly be great!

Seeing Out Loud: The Voice Art Columns Fall 1998 - Winter 2003 (2003) by Jerry Saltz. It's easy to follow Jerry Saltz nowadays. His writing for New York Magazine appears online, free of charge, as do his many Facebook comments. He's everywhere. I've seen him walking around New York three times, and I don't go to New York all that often. But before he was a media figure, he was another ink-stained wretch at the Village Voice, incubator of many a great writing career. This book covers what was happening in New York in the late 90s. As always, the writing is very entertaining.

The Inspector (1973) and The Labyrinth (1960) by Saul Steinberg. I picked these up at my favorite used bookstore, Kaboom in Houston. Steinberg used to be an artist that every New Yorker-reading sophisticate was required to love, and quite rightly--his work is lovable. But what does it look like 40-50 years on? It feels a little dated because it refers to a world (and more particularly, an America) of Steinberg's time. But his drawing still feels adventurous, as if beamed in from the future. Because Steinberg got his start as a cartoonist, these books are sometimes seen by art comics aficionados as a species of art comics. And while there is occasionally a hint of narrative progression, what Steinberg mostly does is riff on ideas, creating more and more variations until he has exhausted one trope and moves onto the next. Beautiful work.

Show Time: The 50 Most Influential Exhibitions of Contemporary Art (2014) by Jens Hoffmann. This book marks a milestone in the increasing acceptance of curators as artists. Most of these exhibits were group shows that involved a gathering and selection by the curator. I don't know how I feel about that, but I can't deny that Hoffman (himself a well-known curator) has chosen some pretty consequential exhibits. As I read this, I wished for two things: first, that I had seen more of these when they happened (I only saw one), and second, that it had more photos. But to truly have "enough" photos, the book would have been 50 times as large. Each section tantalizes you with glimpses of a great exhibit you missed!

Painting the Town Orange: The Stories behind Houston's Visionary Art Environments (2014) by Pete Gershon. The writer approaches this subject from the point of view of a historian and as a journalist. The book is accessible to the average non-specialist reader, but is packed with information. This is an important, necessary work of Houston art history. Not only did I review it here, but we ran several posts by Gershon that had been excised from the actual book for reasons of space. You can read these here, here, here and here.

The Blighted Eye: Original Comic Art from the Glenn Bray Collection (2014) by Glenn Bray. Glenn Bray, like the Vogels, is not a rich collector. He inherited his family's hardware store in the San Fernando Valley. But he is an obsessive collector, often collecting the kind of art that no one has any interest in--at least until he collects it. The Blighted Eye is a book about his collection. It includes work by art world figures like George Grosz, Jim Shaw and Jeffrey Vallance, but most of his collection is of comics artists (especially underground comics, EC comics, punk comics, European adult comics, and bizarre comics from the odder tributaries of comics history) and "alternative" artists of every sort--Gary Panter, Robert Crumb, Carl Barks, Ernesto Cabral, Daniel Clowes, George Herriman, Daniel Johnston, Jaime Hernandez, Harvey Kurtzman, Chris Ware, Robert Williams, Jim Woodring and many more. As a small-time collector of inexpensive art myself, Bray is a role-model. The Blighted Eye is a beautiful book.

The Blazing World: A Novel (2014) by Siri Hustvedt. A fascinating novel about a woman artist who uses male "fronts" as an experiment to see if her art will be more easily accepted if it's by men. An unusually rich and thought-provoking read, I reviewed it here.

Pirates and Farmers: Essays on Taste (2013) by Dave Hickey. I loved his books The Invisible Dragon and Air Guitar, but art critic Dave Hickey's newest book of essays, Pirates and Farmers, feels much less consequential. There are definitely some good bits in it, but mostly it feels a bit masturbatory. I'm a fan of gonzo criticism--of putting yourself in the work--but Hickey's act has gotten stale. This book, combined with his disastrous talk at Rice University early this year, it may be time to write the guy off. But he sure can write, which is a lot more than you can say for most art writers.

Words Will Break Cement: The Passion of Pussy Riot (2014) by Masha Gessen. Gessen is a Russian-American journalist who gained sudden fame with her alarming, eloquent writings and statements about Putin and the growing hostility to LGBT people in Russia. I had been reading her for a long time, though--she was one of the first two write about what happened to the intelligentsia after the fall of communism (Dead Again: The Russian Intelligentsia After Communism in 1997), a subject I have a passing interest in. In this case, I think she wanted to get a book out on Pussy Riot before anyone else did. After they were arrested, she attended their Kafka-esque trials, and she visited them in prison as frequently as she could, getting their story under the watchful eyes of the turnkeys. And the story is amazing--not just their own personal histories and the history of the performance collective, but the story of getting this story from them. More than in any of the other books by Gessen I've read, Gessen is a character. She is not separate from the story she is telling. Perhaps that is appropriate given that the iron was still white hot as she wrote. Maybe in the future, there will be a dispassionate, scholarly history of Pussy Riot. This book isn't it.