Francis Bacon: Paintings from the 1950's

The Milwaukee Art Museum

by Amy Misurelli Sorensen

I had marked Francis Bacon’s “Paintings from the 1950’s” on display at the MAM on my “to do list” while I was home in Wisconsin for spring break. I wanted to proceed into the exhibition with a dispiriting voice, recently disappointed by a “muddy mess of a pope” painting on display at the Met in New York. Looks like the Met had an abstract pro-Americana agenda at the time of this purchase; it is a diminutive and mediocre piece in comparison to the works on view in Milwaukee. Unfortunately, The Met, one of the most attended art museums in the world, gives little recognition to Bacon as one of England’s most celebrated figurative painters of the twentieth century.

I was also disturbed with Bacon’s film memoir, Love is the Devil, which I viewed days before the exhibition. The film is a half-ass documentary on the tortured life of Bacon and strategically highlights the tortures he administered to himself, friends, and lovers. The opening scene initiates a narcissistic portrayal of Bacon with an aggravated burglary. Bacon calmly encounters the thief in his studio, he propositions the thief “Go to bed with me and you can take anything you want.” The documentary did not depict his expulsion from his family at the age of sixteen for being gay, his father’s brutality towards the young Bacon, or the devastating losses of his beloved nanny and male lover. It did not emphasize the anxieties and struggles of learning to paint. The film made Bacon out to be a monster. It works successfully with its visual distortions mimicking the technique Bacon used in his paintings. However, it did not compliment Bacon’s psychological sensitivity of portraying the figure. The self-consumed, loathing monster, I envisioned, died at the doorway of this exhibition.

In this exhibition, I recognize the trials and tribulations Bacon faced with the process of painting. The paint and his content bastardized Bacon, like his family. Bacon knows human tragedy and despair in their most primal states. He is also a great painter.

Upon entering the gallery, I am confronted by a photomural of Bacon’s infamous studio littered by resources. The walls are spotted, used by Bacon as an unlimited palette. The studio is windowless, with the exception of a skylight, echoing the chaos and confinement found in his work. On display are more than fifty paintings from a prolific decade in Bacon’s life. Many of the paintings, revealed to me for the first time, are on loan from museum and private collections from around the world. They reflect the self-taught Bacon’s plagued life. After familiar abandonment, he encompassed a Bohemian lifestyle dominated by the bottle, sex, and gambling. He lived without a fixed address for years all while establishing himself as an artist. It was not until the 1950’s that Bacon gained financial and artistic success, thirty years after he started to paint.

Bacon taught himself to paint. He dedicated himself to habit and practice. He studied from the masters. “Figure with Meat” on loan from the Art Institute of Chicago, depicts a screaming pope and flanks of meat showing Bacon’s obsession with Velazquez and Rembrandt. Also included in the exhibition are sphinxes, animals, studies from and of Van Gogh, and triptychs of the twisted faces of friends, including protégé Lucian Freud. Pablo Picasso, Bacon’s greatest influence may be credited for the dynamic single figure compositions referencing cubist and surrealist traditions. He researched film, the media, and his community with an intuitive eye. He questioned the process of painting-by-painting on the wrong or unprimed side of the canvas. He used tools, including his hands to manipulate the paint. He vigorously built up the paint to create seductive textures juxtapose saturated washes. His palette is rich and brilliant with fuscias, crimsons, pinks, and minty green. I dare say, in Bacon’s biggest defense, the quality of reproduction of his paintings do little justice to their presence in person. I actually compared the exhibition catalogue to the works on the wall at the exhibition, and the book’s plates were dull, off color, and dark in comparison. What a shame and discredit to such an exemplary show.

I encourage fans and foes of Bacon to view this traveling retrospective; it will be traveling from Milwaukee, WI to Buffalo, NY in May.

Be skeptical of reproductions, good paintings should look better in person.

Be critical of the early financial success of young emerging artists and thieves today (umm Cicely Brown). It takes years; sometimes even a lifetime, to be a great painter.

Bacon takes the throne as the father of macabre. I admire his rejection of the two major art movements, Abstract Expressionism and Minimalism, of his time. He stays committed to the figure and instead of joining forces with American Modernism portrays the devastation of modern man.

“It comes from such a buoyant, optimistic person – these dark images, and that’s part of his genius,” – Michael Peppiatt curator, biographer, and friend of Francis Bacon.

Gucci Partially Anew by Andrew Blair

Pulling away from the Celebrity ideal that plagued Tom Ford’s Gucci Frida
Giannini has brought back moderation and humility to the Gucci name. Frida
Giannini, the new head of both the female and male lines, has made it a goal
to bring Gucci back to its modern roots, an idea established by Tom Ford (1).

Admiring Ford’s desires to reestablish Gucci’s vintage icons, Giannini
has engulfed every line with patterns, fasteners, and straps that where once
associated with the name Gucci.

With further aspirations to bring Gucci’s look full circle during its’ 85th anniversary,
Giannini remodeled the sexed-up Gucci instituted by Ford. With warm brighter
colors that dismissed Ford’s dark rich colors Giannini shows her appetite to develop
Gucci’sallure with her personal interpretation of Guccio’s original vision (2).

In an attempt to change Gucci’s appearance successfully Giannini’s first
line was light and fun, a departure from Ford’s serious and imposing style.
With the use of Gucci’s vintage Flora print, and the revamping of the Gucci
monogram with a lighter less dense typeface Giannini began Gucci’s ascension
past Ford’s sex driven ideals to the realm of beauty (3). From the catalogue to
the ad campaign Giannini’s progression towards Gucci’s principles of beauty
and métier where unmistakable.


No one would deny that Giannini’s progression of Gucci was necessary. With
the absence of Ford, Gucci needed to become anew, and Giannini answered this
desire cohesively and abruptly. Though the majority of critics would agree
with this, many thought that Giannini’s choices where safe and uninspired
(2). It is this overwhelming consensus that seems to hinder Giannini’s
vision, at least in how Gucci has chosen to portray her latest summer line
within their ad campaign.

With the notion that Giannini’s last line was too innocent, Gucci has chosen
to reestablish Ford’s mentality of sex over beauty. Because of this lack of
faith in Giannini’s vision Gucci has refashioned ads from Ford’s time at Gucci
in an attempt freshen up Giannini’s clothing.

With Ford’s vision of glamour infused into the current advertisements for
Gucci, Giannini and Gucci’s vision has been hindered. Using Ford’s tactics
deters both the progression of Gucci and the ideas instituted by Frida
Giannini. If Gucci is looking for a long term relationship with Giannini one
may assume her lines will need some breathing room away from that which was
Tom Ford.


Work Cited:
(1) Gucci by Gucci, Douglas Lloyd. Vendome Press, New York. 2006
(2) New York Times, Cathy Horyn,
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/30/fashion/thursdaystyles/30GUCCI.html?ex=1301374800&en=443406bbbf262ffb&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss,
March 30,2006.
(3) Style.com, Nicole Phelps,
http://www.style.com/fashionshows/collections/2007RST/review/GUCCI, June
14, 2006

Water Media on Paper Competition at Heineman Myers in Bethesda

Katherine Knight


I attended the opening of the Harriet L. Newbill 2007 competition for Water Media on Paper. I went to support four of my classmates who were entered in the competition: Amy Sorensen, Kelly Ulcak, Marty Weishaar, and Sharon Servilio, but I also went to see which one of them would win the competition. Since four out of the six contestants were from American University, it seemed a no-brainer that one of us would take away the $4000 prize, the only questions was who. Each of their pieces were so different: Amy’s provocative and confrontational acrylic-tinted prints, Kelly’s delicate organic patterns in watercolor, Marty’s colorfully abstracted contemporary landscapes, or Sharon’s quirky and whimsical gouache collages of everyday scenes. Each of them seemed to be using their very traditional media in a thought-provoking and non-traditional way; for the most part by denying the pastel softness and fluidity typically associated with water media, in favor of bright colors, sharp edges, and tight control.
In my estimation, this re-evaluation of the media should have been one of the criteria for a contemporary water-media competition. Unable to select a clear winner for myself, I decided that the prize would hinge on the judge’s personal taste. Little did I suspect what a problem this would turn out to be.

I noticed that something was off before I even left for the gallery. The reception was held on Sunday, as I have said, from 2:00 – 4:00 in the afternoon. While this is certainly not unheard of, every other reception I have ever been to has been held in the evening, and usually on a Friday or Saturday. Maybe they are hoping to attract the after-church crowd, I thought to myself sarcastically, and then laughed as I tried to picture my stereotypical church-goer face to face with one of Amy’s prints.

Upon entering the Bethesda gallery, I realized that my church hypothesis was not far off the mark. Scattered among the expected crowd of proud parents, art students, and neighborhood culturati was a significant showing of stately, pearl and tweed be-clad elderly men and women who indeed looked as though they came straight from church. A glance at the program confirmed my suspicions: the event was sponsored by the National Society of Arts and Letters, which I knew to be a non-profit, volunteer organization designed to ‘create opportunities’ for young artists. Who has the time and finances to ‘create opportunities’ for young artists? Elderly wealthy people. Yup, the tweedies were in charge. (A later visit to the NSAL website’s photo-directory was further validation. In fact, the Washington DC chapter, one of the oldest chapters, was originally known only as the Chevy Chase chapter.)

Wait, wait, wait. I stopped myself before I became too cynical. The competition was judged by a collection of outside artists and curators, among them Judith Brodie, prints curator for the National Gallery, Stephen Bennet Phillips, curator for the Philips Collection, and Nicholas Simmons, local watercolor phenom, and the only judge present at the reception. Surely these are just the sort of forward thinking people to appreciate the work of one of my friends.

Let me pause here to describe the work of the other two contestants. First was Shelly Voorhees; an Angelina Jolie look-alike whose darkly ethereal acrylic ink and watercolor figures seemed straight out of Interview with a Vampire (a fitting observation for which I can unfortunately not take credit). Next was Jennifer Davis, whose oversized watercolor portraits of young women (presumably her friends), while technically impressive, seemed stale in their photo-perfection and were very, very conventional. Incidentally, at 17 Davis should not even have been allowed in the competition (the age range being 18 – 29), but whatever.

When the results of the judging were announced I was disappointed, if not totally surprised given the circumstances, to hear that Jennifer Davis had won. A second component of the prize is an all-expenses paid entry and trip to the national National Society of Arts and Letters water-media competition (with a prize of $10,000). Surely our forward-thinking panel of judges had their audience in mind, and selected the artist most likely to please their conservative benefactors. Moments later, when I overheard judge Nicholas Simmons admit enigmatically that his initial choice had been ‘overruled’ I wondered if the Society had not in fact applied a little pressure on the panel to make a more conventional choice. Pure speculation, of course.

This whole affair got me thinking about two things. First, it made me consider the prejudices and biases that colored my experience from the beginning. As someone who has worked closely with the comfortable enough (if not affluent) ‘over 65’ crowd for several years, I should be the first person to admit that their tastes and views are as diverse as those of any other demographic. However it’s difficult not to fall back on the ‘rich elderly people are conservative’ stereotype when events such as this play to them so obviously. Second, I had to consider where the money is in the Art world. If a large portion of the Art market is controlled by the demographic described above, why do we drive ourselves crazy trying to make provocative, contemporary work that will inevitably alienate them? This competition served as a glairing reminder that, most likely, none of us are in it for the money, and that we all surely have a long, hard road ahead. Hopefully it will be enhanced by other sorts of rewards.

By Chance at DCAC

Lauren Rice



By chance, I wandered into the DC Arts Center on a pretty Saturday afternoon that just happened to be the next-to-last afternoon of an exhibition. D.C.A.C., a non-profit gallery focuses on local emerging artists and curators and I felt that the work on view might give me a good idea about the young or under-represented artists in the area. So I stopped putting off the visit and whaddayaknow, by chance, I had the opportunity to see the exhibition entitled By Chance. Naturally.

The idea for the exhibition is pretty fantastic. Inspired by a curatorial experiment by British artist Tacita Dean, the emerging curator of By Chance, Lisa McCarty, picked three artists whose work deals with chance. Next, each artist chosen by McCarty picked an additional artist unknown to the curator to join the exhibition. Therefore, the entire show itself turns into a painting problem. For example, artists choose to work with specific elements (medias), however what is made with them, well, a good portion of the outcome relies severely on, yep, you got it, chance. Furthermore, one conclusion in art making often determines the next question. It is too bad that the gallery space is so tiny—it would have been very interesting for this chain (or chance?) reaction to continue for a while longer. (I have to add that although small, the gallery has a great atmosphere. It’s funky and interesting, not pretentious at all.)

Anyhow, the work of six artists was on view at DCAC. And as it was not explained in the exhibition brochure, each artist’s use of chance occupied my mind as I toured the exhibition. The first work that caught my eye was the work of Thomas M. Lowry. Overall, his works were the ones I was most drawn to in the show. However, they felt very familiar, as if I had seen them before. And I don’t think I have actually seen his work before. However, despite my ignorance, his awkward drawings on paper and canvas had a Where the Wild Things Art feel that initially drew my interest. Lowry’s drawings seemed to involve chance because he was inspired to draw whatever was around him. A collage of 12 small drawings near the end of the exhibition (I loved how his drawings were either taped or tacked to the wall. Refreshing!) entitled Drawings from the Studio Floor was made up of cartoons, sketches and drawings of things around him such as a work called Things on My Desk that consisted of tiny juxtaposed renderings of objects currently occupying space on the artist’s desk. Lowry’s works gives the sensation that the artist is a collector, of things and information, and all of these things inform his work.

Printmaker Michael Mateson’s circles of luminous illumination on black grounds also intrigued me. I know nearly nothing about digital printmaking, however, I gathered that the chance element in his work had something to do with the printing process. (Duh.) Mateson’s prints were really beautiful, actually. They possessed both a fragility and awkwardness that transcended the viewer’s curious wonderings of what the source of the lights could be.

I also particularly liked one sculpture by LaRinda Meinburg. My first thought, though. was what is this made out of? The three small sculptures on a pedestal appeared heavy, as if made of stone or glass. In fact, these works were made of plastic water bottles. What a way to recycle! Again, I assumed that the work was created by accident somehow, that the artist did not have a specific intention in mind and let the material choose its own form.

Jym Davis’ video, too, held my attention for longer than I anticipated (I have video art ADD). The work was made up of two segments entitled White Space and In-Flux. Both sections involved a full screen of a face (perhaps the artist’s face?) and seemed to deal with the chance of the montage. Ghosts of images often appeared in the work and the face constantly disappeared or reappeared as pattern. It was a progression of images and I could only presume that connection of the images was developed by chance.

Jolly Cowboy, at The DC Arts Center

Lauren Rice

March 16-April 16, 2007


Lump Lipshitz’s text piece on view at DCAC’s Jolly Cowboy exhibition reads, “I never wanted to be a cowboy.” Contrary to Lipshitz’s opinion, I have always wanted to be a cowboy(girl). Or more accurately, I have always wanted to date a cowboy. (OK, and I always loved Tom Robbins’ Even Cowgirls get the Blues. The book, not the movie.) To me, the idea of the cowboy represents several disparities to which I am strangely attracted and repulsed. Among others, these dichotomies come to mind (and I am aware that some of these may not really be dichotomies….): innocence/guilt, sensitivity/distance, construction/destruction, sex appeal/misogyny, to reveal/ to conceal, to liberate/to enslave. I just can’t get Brad Pitt from Thelma and Louise out of my mind.

One definition for the word cowboy, which I find particularly interesting, is as follows: “An irresponsible or reckless person, especially a show-off or one who undertakes a dangerous or sensitive task heedlessly.” How did this come from “ a man who herds and tends cattle on a ranch, especially in the western United States?” Clearly, the former definition was derived from the stereotypical behavior of cowboys. I mean, we all know, Willie Nelson’s song “Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” Furthermore, American culture, which has (and still does), relied heavily on the cowboy agenda, is equally as compelling to me. So naturally, I was interested in reviewing a cowboy exhibition and was thrilled that it happened to be at DCAC. ( I love the space and it’s in my neighborhood.)

Based on the work in the exhibition and the corresponding catalogue, it seemed as if the participants felt similarly to myself. In most works, there was a clear attraction to the image of the cowboy, based on its choice as a subject. However, as in Lipshitz’s work, most pieces in the show posed a critical judgment on the cowboy ideal. Varying from not wanting to be a cowboy or being “sold on the cowboy wardrobe” all of these artists were similarly compelled to deal with issues of the “cowboy” in his or her work. I find this fascinating; it does not matter if one is obsessed, curious, or genuinely repulsed, they are still driven to create. However, I must add that much of the work in the exhibition felt as if the artist were bored with the idea of the cowboy, or was never really invested in the idea from the get-go.

Needless to say, I was not enthralled by the work in the exhibition. The idea for the show was far more interesting than the work involved. Some of the work felt like it was created specifically for the show and not based on any long-term interest. Other works, such as Rene Trevino’s drawings, showed the artist’s compulsion to create a detailed drawing, but were really not that interesting in terms of adding to ideas of the cowboy mystique or even what “art” is about. I mean, the cowboy is such a great subject—it is a person loved and hated, both compelling and repulsive. Overall, I did not get this sexy contradiction from a single work in the show.

I found the most interesting work to be a small diorama created by Ukrainian artist’s Elena Volkove’s daughter Katrina. And it wasn’t so much the cowboy aspect that drew me to the work, as the sweet creative innovation that made the other work feel dull and forced. Note to all artists: Never put work in a show also exhibiting children’s work, you will pale in comparison.