The Met Explores the Profound Legacy of Abstract Expressionism
Dec 19, 2018
The Met Fifth Avenue in New York opened Epic Abstraction: Pollock to Herrera this week. Featuring more than 50 major works by some of the most compelling abstract artists of the past century, the exhibition earns its name because it explores the impact of grandiose scale. Grandiosity is sometimes expressed through massive artworks — such as the gallery-dominating Louise Nevelson sculpture “Mrs. N’s Palace” (1964–77) — sometimes through massive ideas — such as that of employing automatic drawing to create paintings that channel the secrets of the unconscious mind — and sometimes through technical method, such as with the enormously complex assemblage work of Thornton Dial. Meanwhile, the sub-title of the show, Pollock to Herrera, references two general ideas. The first is the theory that the work Jackson Pollock did in the 1940s, the decade in which the curation begins, signified a sea change in the world of abstract art: a moment when bigger truly came to be considered better. Secondly, that the work of relatively under-appreciated artists like Carmen Herrera — the Cuban-born Minimalist artist who, at age 101, received her first ever retrospective at the Whitney Museum of American Art in 2016 — is as important as that of the well-known superstars. Indeed, there are works on view by many underexposed artists, such as the aforementioned found-object assemblage artist Thornton Dial; the infamous Gutai Group member Kazuo Shiraga, who created the groundbreaking (literally) performance piece “Challenging the Mud” (1955); and the innovative Hungarian abstract painter Ilona Keserü. The curation also extends to the present day with work by younger abstract artists such as Chakaia Booker and Mark Bradford. The other core assumption the curators state in their didactic for the show is that existential angst was the driving force that inspired abstract artists to start making epic work 70 years ago. The exhibition might then cause you to ask: has epic abstraction done anything to assuage our angst? Or has it simply helped us accept existential anxiety as fundamental to our human condition?
A Place in History
The roll call of famous artists included in Epic Abstraction will get any art history buff excited: in addition to the giants listed above, there are works by Helen Frankenthaler, Joan Snyder, Cy Twombly, Barnett Newman, Franz Kline, Willem de Kooning, Clyfford Still, Mark Rothko, Hedda Sterne, Joan Mitchell, Ellsworth Kelly, Robert Mangold, and Morris Louis. And there are plenty of examples of work by artists that will be new to most visitors, such as Japanese calligraphic abstractionist Inoue Yūichi, Filipino abstract artist Alfonso Ossorio, Minimalist sculptor Anne Truitt, and Argentinian chromatic genius Alejandro Puente. Yet, aside from the magnitude of this historic onslaught, the thing I found most epic about the curation is how two works in particular actually subvert the very narrative that hides within the sub-title of the show. By listing Pollock and Herrera and setting them apart from all of the other artists, it seems to me the curators are suggesting that Abstract Expressionism and Minimalism are the most influential movements being considered, and that painting is the primary focus of the show. But the work, methods, and accomplishments of Pollock and Herrera, as wonderful as they are, are not even close to being the most epic in this exhibition.
That honor, in my opinion, goes to Louise Nevelson and Thornton Dial. The Nevelson sculpture on view will have viewers who have never encountered her work before asking why in the world anyone talks about Pollock when Nevelson was his contemporary. Her work is more technically rigorous, more conceptually intriguing, and more relevant to the spirit of New York, where both she and Pollock worked. Pollock, for all practical purposes, broke a little bit of fresh ground by borrowing and perfecting the ideas and methods of other artists. Then after getting famous for taking the next logical step, because he was buddies with an influential critic, Pollock self-destructed. His paintings are transfixing, but Nevelson accomplished much more than Pollock, was more original, and worked for much longer, leaving behind a far more intriguing and thought-provoking legacy of art and ideas.
A Long Missing Voice
Then there is Thornton Dial. His “Shadows of the Field” (2008) is, to my eyes and my mind, the most haunting works in the show. Its epic nature is contained within its materials, its construction, its colors, and the hidden worlds — both physical and metaphysical — that lurk within its form. Assembled from found and discarded waste materials, the piece is intended to evoke the legacy of sharecropping, the unjust and often brutal system of farming into which Dial was born in 1928. A massive assemblage of twine, synthetic cotton batting, burlap, sheet metal, cloth rags, and metal, it has the physical presence of exhaustion. It embodies the coming together of hardness and vulnerability. Created when the artist was 80 years old, it also belies his self-taught hand. Indeed, while Pollock was getting rich and drinking himself to death, Dial was living in poverty, working himself to the bone just trying to survive in a racist social system that kept most black Americans out of museums, not only as artists but even as paying visitors.
Perhaps as this exhibition moves forward in time other definitions of what is epic might emerge, and other even more powerful, and more intriguing works will enter the fray — the exhibition dates are open ended after all, and the works on view, taken from the permanent collection of The Met, will be periodically switched out. But for now, “Shadows of the Field,” which is one of ten works by Dial that the Met recently acquired, makes the most epic statement. It says that an untrained Southern black sharecropper made some of the most powerful and meaningful abstract artworks of the past 70 years, surpassing the work of artists who enjoyed far more privilege and opportunity than he. It also signals that while angst might indeed be an unavoidable part of our human condition, the art that flows from it can be, and often is, a saving grace.
Featured image: Louise Nevelson - Mrs. N's Palace, 1964–77. Painted wood, mirror, 140 x 239 x 180 in. (355.6 x 607.1 x 457.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of the artist, 1985 © 2018 Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
By Phillip Barcio
