Showing posts with label William Camfield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Camfield. Show all posts

Sunday, May 9, 2021

Karl Wirsum, 1939-2021

 Robert Boyd

When I was a mere lad in college taking art history courses, I took a class called "Art Since the 40s". It was the early 80s and postwar art in the art history classes at the time referred mostly to American and some European art. And even that is broader than what was actually taught--there were all kinds of tendencies, styles, movements, and individual artists who didn't make the cut for some reason. And in my class, taught by the great Picabia scholar William Camfield, their were some movements that merited at most a slide or two before the main currents were rejoined. 

One of these movements was Chicago Imagism, which popped up one day in class with slides of art by Jim Nutt and Karl Wirsum. I sat up and took note. I ended up doing a paper on the Hairy Who, one of the Chicago Imagist sub-groups that included both Nutt and Wirsum. There wasn't much written about them at that time (now there are several excellent monographs and books on the period), so I scoured the Rice art library for mentions and reviews. In retrospect, I see how unambitious I was--all of those artists were still alive in the early 80s. I could have called information in Chicago and gotten their phone numbers. It would have been a much better paper if I had talked to the artists themselves. But I was a 20-year-old whippersnapper and that didn't even occur to me.

Karl Wirsum died on Thursday, May 6. I wanted to show a few great images by Wirsum as a tribute to this wonderful, eccentric artist.

 
Karl Wirsum, Baseball Girl, 1964


 
Karl Wirsum, Mighty Maniac (Round One), 1967

Karl Wirsum, page from The Portable Hairy Who, 1966

Karl Wirsum, two pages from The Hairy Who Sideshow, 1967

Karl Wirsum, Screamin Jay Hawkins from Hairy Who (cat-a-log), 1969

Karl Wirsum, Measle Mouse Quarantined from His Fans, 1980

poster for a Wirsum exhibit in 1967

These images are all from books that have been published in the last 10 years. I wish I had access to them when I wrote my paper for Dr. Camfield's class. Just for reference, the books are Hairy Who? 1966/1969, Chicago Imagists, and The Collected Hairy Who Publications 1966-1969

Long live Karl Wirsum!

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Frank Freed

Robert Boyd

The Museum of Fine Arts book store is having a very nice little sale right now, and I got More Than a Constructive Hobby: The Paintings of Frank Freed an exhibition catalog from 1996 for an unbeatable $2.



Frank Freed was an amateur painter in Houston who started painting at age 42 in 1948. He was heavily involved in the local Houston art scene in the 50s and 60s, particularly with the Contemporary Arts Association (later the CAMH) in its early days. Probably his best known painting is Opening Night at the Contemporary Arts Museum from 1954.


Frank Freed, Opening Night at the Contemporary Arts Museum, 1954, oil on canvas, 18 1/8 x 24 1/2 inches

He had a upper-middle-class day job in the insurance industry (interesting that so many 20th century artistic figures, like Charles Ives and Wallace Stevens, had high-paying jobs in the insurance industry--not that Freed is anywhere close to Ives or Stevens in artistic stature). He was therefore a very active "Sunday painter." The title of the exhibit comes from a letter he sent to his future wife, Eleanor, when he started taking classes at the Museum of Fine Arts school: "It's high time ... I set up a couple of constructive hobbies for old age." Curator William Camfield thinks Freed was underselling himself, but this seems right to me. He never quit his job and never seriously pursued a career as an artist. It was a highly engaging hobby. As someone who has a decent paying professional day job and an all-absorbing hobby on the side--this blog--I can relate.


Frank Freed, View from White Oak, 1971, oil on canvas, 36 x 30 inches

Freed's paintings are a mixed bag. Even though he had a couple of classes with serious teachers, his work is fundamentally naive. You couldn't call him an outsider artist, but you'd be forgiven if you thought of, say, the Rev. Howard Finster when you saw his work. However, his most obvious influence was Ben Shahn, whose work apparently "floored" him when he saw it in New York in 1947. His first painting class was with pioneering Houston modernist Robert Preusser.  His subject matter was his life, his city, his World War II experiences, Jewish life and his travels. Many of his subjects reflect his middle-class lifestyle.


Frank Freed, Cocktail Party, c. 1963, oil on masonite, 16 x 16 inches

Often he deals with political subjects overtly, but occasionally he sneaks it in, as in Cocktail Party which depicts what may have been a typical Houston cocktail party in 1963--all white except for one black face in the middle, the waiter.

It's reasonable to ask if Freed was deserving of a solo exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. He was not by any stretch of the imagination a major Houston artist. But what makes him worth examining is that he was an important figure in the cultural life of Houston, and his painting was a part of that. This is made clear by the excellent critical biography written by William Camfield. He focuses tightly of Freed and his work, but by placing him and his activities in the context of his times, Camfield tells a kind of art history of Houston. Modernist and contemporary art was pushed forward here largely through the efforts of middle-class enthusiasts like Freed, especially in the days before the MFAH and the CAMH had full-time curators.

When this show was reviewed by Sheila Dewan in the Houston Press in 1996, she asked, "Freed was basically a Sunday painter, of which there have been many in Houston's history. It's likely that more than a few of comparable talent have gone semi-professional, as Freed did before his death in 1975. So the question then is, why is the MFA paying homage to this particular one?" Her answer was cynical--money. Freed, over the course of his life, became moderately wealthy and his wife left a large bequest to the museum when she died.

In a way, that can't be discounted. If Freed had been an upholsterer or a mailman, would anyone remember his work today? Well maybe--we still go to the Orange Show and the Beer Can House, after all. In fact, I think it may be harder for a wealthy art patron to be recognized as an artist than other people. Freed didn't have a solo exhibit until 1964. In the 50s, only family members and a few friends knew he painted. It was only because his wife Eleanor promoted his artwork that he started to get exhibits. And even when someone like Freed does start showing his work, it must be difficult for anyone to take it seriously. For an active art patron to proclaim himself an artist seems utterly dilettantish. In the end, we like Freed's work because it is likable, not because he was rich.

In any case, thanks to Camfield's catalog text, this exhibit wasn't just about one man's art--it was also about a period in Houston's history (including its art history).

The MFAH had a lot of these catalogs left. And it's a great bargain for just two dollars. Get it while the sale is on.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Houston Reflections

https://my.qoop.com/store/Rice-University-Press-3111075350609104/Houston-Reflections--Art-in-the-City--1950s--60s-and-70s-by-Sarah-C--Reynolds-429617760712.11466348870.xlarge.jpg,262,340,crop
Houston Reflections: Art in the City, 1950s, 60s and 70s by Sarah Reynolds takes on a pretty unpromising topic. Was there art in Houston then? Of course there was, and a lot of what we see today around Houston's art scene was established or massively developed during that period. Now if you go try to buy this book, it's going to run you ninety-something dollars. Astonishingly, the book is available for free online. You can read it here. I just started it today.

The book is a collection of interviews of people involved in the arts during those days. Each one is separate, which has advantages. For instance, I was able to pull read interviews with one of my old art history professors, Bill Camfield, and with the woman I took painting lessons from in high school, Stella Sullivan. That was nice. But I wish instead of this format, Reynolds had gone the Edie route and chopped up the interviews to make a historical narrative. As it is, you can piece together events based on the separate interviews. I wish the interviews had been longer and more detailed.

But these are minor cavils for an amazing resource that anyone can access for free. It's required reading if you are interested in Houston's art history.