FRANK STELLA ANDRIANNA CAMPBELL KATE NESIN LUCAS BLALOCK TERRY RICHARDSON NORISING (XVI), 4.75X, 1982 MIXED MEDIA ON ETCHED ALUMINIUM 310 X 269 X 53 CM CONTENTS INTERVIEW 007 Andrianna Campbell in conversation with Frank Stella. SURVEY 047 Kate Nesin, On the Work of Frank Stella. FOCUS 109 Lucas Blalock, The Scarlatti Kirkpatrick Series. STUDIO VISIT 121 Terry Richardson. ARTIST’S WRITINGS 133 Conference in Havana, 2006 (134). CHRONOLOGY 145 Bibliography (156). REQUIEM FOR JOHNNY STOMPANATO, 1958 OIL AND ENAMEL ON CANVAS 200 X 231 CM Back to New York City in form and color. As early as the 1980s, after his wacky “Exotic Bird” series, 1976–80, Stella started using In the late 1970s, Frank Stella’s foray into spectacular digital rendering technology to achieve polarization wall-mounted painted reliefs left many admirers at a in pictorial space. When acrylic paintings such as Das loss. Thinking of his work from this period in what Erdbeben in Chili [N#3] (The Earthquake in Chile), Robert Slifkin has termed a theory of “badness” in 1999, were planned with these tools, the derivation of 1970s music and art is fruitful. There is a tackiness their compositional dexterity and spatially challenging that is integral to the work, not merely as a rejection elasticity originated in Stella’s rich pool of “bad” of aesthetic notions of composition but also as a maneuvers. renunciation of ties to minimal nuance. Yet, today, his tackiness also seems to predate the Photoshop aesthetic It is more than likely that you have seen Elaine Lustig that is regaled in work by artists such as Trudy Benson Cohen’s designs for buildings, interiors, books or and Keltie Ferris. We assume digital mediation to be exhibitions. Stopping on a street corner, you might have deterministic of appearance; but what if Stella’s early lingered over a stack of New Directions paperbacks bombastic compositions inflected digital aesthetics? whose California-hued Constructivist covers caught your eye. If you have studied Minimalism, you might For instance, Gobba, zoppa e collotorto (Hunchback recall the image of a vivid red line snaking through Wryneck Hobbler), 1985, is a tawdry bas-relief of a large P on the cover of the Jewish Museum’s 1966 cone-shaped and rectangular masses. In these works, “Primary Structures” catalogue. Strolling through Mies the complex method of configuration led Stella to van der Rohe and Philip Johnson’s Seagram Building, paint the sections in parts before they were assembled you might have noticed the blunt font used on the akin to a “paint fill” option. Looking back, one sees signage. Cohen began painting after closing her design the artist alighting on some of the hallmarks of studio in the early ’60s. She worked in a hard-edge contemporary painting: a wickedly carefree dispensation manner, and remarked that one could differentiate the of nonlocalized color, sketch-up areas competing with designer’s focus on finding solutions from the painter’s heavy finish, illogical scalar shifts, and a confounding attraction to unearthing problems. In one of the most disregard for tastefulness. Perhaps Stella’s motley alluring works in the show, Centered Rhyme (1967), aesthetic suggests how “badness” and tackiness could truncated chevrons move toward the center of the relate to a greater postmodern crisis with amalgamation canvas. Banded with lavender, mustard yellow, Pepto- 4 SURVEY SURVEY 5 LETTRE SUR LES SOURDS ET MUETS II, 1974 SYNTHETIC POLYMER PAINT ON CANVAS 359 X 359 CM ‘What you see is what you see,’ Frank Stella famously said of his paintings, in a sharp rebuke of abstract expressionism’s aspirations to sublimity. Yet, as the Whitney Museum’s ‘Frank Stella: A Retrospective’ makes clear, what you see is not always self-evident when it comes to this artist. At the age of 79, with two MoMA retrospectives already to his name, Stella is a pivotal figure in American art, acting as a hinge between the reductive vocabulary of late modernism and the modular, mechanistic language of minimalism. However, the Whitney show also reveals Stella as an eclectic, in equal measures deadpan and unabashedly kitschy, and a willing transgressor of art-historical templates as well as his own precedents. The Whitney’s expansive new home brings together more than 100 pieces. It moves at a steady speed, at times chronologically, but also in loops that juxtapose the artist’s late self-described ‘maximalist’ works and early minimalist hits. These officially begin with Stella’s ‘Black Paintings’ (1958–60), the first of which were executed when he was only 22 and included in MoMA’s canonical 1959 exhibition ‘Sixteen Americans’. Works like Die Fahne Hoch! (The Flag on High, 1959), with its cruciform structure of concentric black stripes separated by thin lines of bare canvas, still exude a sombre, mechanical allure. If Andy Warhol’s aim was ‘to be a machine’, in these and other early works Stella was propelled by the same industrial tick, producing paintings that reflect a modernist interest in flatness and opticality while evoking manufactured objects like doors and windows. Taking up the industrial design principle that form should follow function, Stella began to use aluminium and copper to spatially render his paintings’ compositional geometry as the very shape of their canvases. In the Whitney show, these works, which can only just be considered paintings, shimmer in their 6 SURVEY SURVEY 7 FRANK STELLA STUDIO, UPSTATE NEW YORK, 2017 8 STUDIO VISIT STUDIO VISIT 9 EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL VIEW OF FRANK STELLA'S STUDIO, UPSTATE NEW YORK, 2017 10 STUDIO VISIT STUDIO VISIT 11 K.503, 2015 ELASTO PLASTIC AND STAINLESS STEEL 206 X 158 X 121 CM K.504, 2015 ELASTO PLASTIC AND STAINLESS STEEL 206 X 158 X 121 CM 12 SURVEY SURVEY 13 K.37 (LATTICE VARIATION) PROTOGEN RPT (FULL SIZE), 2008 PROTOGEN RPT WITH STAINLESS STEEL TUBING 399 X 178 X 221 CM There are two problems in painting. One is to find out what painting is and the other to find out how to make a painting. – Frank Stella, 19601 Since the work of art, after all, cannot be reality, the elimination of all illusory features accentuates all the more glaringly the illusory characters of its existence. This process is inescapable. – Theodor Adorno2 The works in Frank Stella’s recent Scarlatti Sonata Kirkpatrick series are hard to get to know. They have a basis in the quotidian – in smoke rings, a folding foam sun hat, recycled studio refuse – but these sources have been digested into formal data with the aid of software. By the time we encounter them, they are physical things derived from computer images, and even fully realized, sometimes at massive scale, they feel like visitors in the material universe. This quality of visitation (or perhaps even of misplacement) is amplified by the works’ transposition: they behave as sculptures presented as paintings or else the other way around. Their exact allure has more to do with this transposition – with the elision of the conventions of painting and of sculpture brightened by the expanding spectre of the virtual – than it does with art’s visual seductions. Seductiveness, in fact, is something that Stella actively seems to flout. This purposeful disregard for types and for tastefulness can leave viewers confounded and ready to turn away, but tucked in behind their techno-neon exteriors these works harness a lifetime of deep looking. Stella is laying down a daring wager: intentionally making our grasp on these objects difficult so that we might reconsider painting through the starkness of their unruly presence. Since emerging as a young artist and proto-Minimalist in a New York still enraptured with Abstract Expressionism – an antagonism soon to be 14 FOCUS FOCUS 15 Lecture in Havana, 2016 BALANCED STACK OF POTTERY AND KNIFE, 2005 COLLAGE ON PAPER 71 X 57 CM In one sense, you can say that what we have in art now is a more homogenized ethos. From one end of the spectrum to the other, there’s a kind of continuity, or almost a kind of amorphism, in which it all seems to be, in a certain sense, not that different. If we were to look back, say, 100 years, to 1916, what would we see? We’d see a three- part ethos. You’d have Cubism (the Cubism of Picasso and Braque), and you’d have the abstraction from Russia and Germany. You might say that this is the beginning of what will dictate the twentieth century: a push towards abstraction that’s not going to be stopped. If you look at 1916, Picasso and Malevich and Kandinsky were dictating the kind of art that was considered the most avant-garde. Yet, in Paris, at the same time, and which you can see now at the Musée de l’Orangerie, are the paintings of Monet. Monet is an old man, but some of the best (or largest) Impressionist masterpieces are being produced at the same time as the most revolutionary and aggressive abstract art. If you take that for what it’s worth, you can stop being too serious about it, and have a look at this cartoon by Ad Reinhardt, How to Look at a Spiral. It’s from after the war – from 1946. What Ad Reinhardt is doing here is saying something about the art world in which he’s functioning, the postwar New York art world, which was a pretty dramatic and powerful art world. It was very serious, especially in that the artists took themselves very seriously. You have to remember that this is a cartoon. It’s supposed to be about art; it’s supposed to be serious, but it’s brutally tongue-in-cheek.