As the official state museum of art, the Georgia Museum of Art is fundamentally engaged with artistic developments happening throughout the state of Georgia. Recently, Pasaquan, an important Georgian visionary art site, has reopened. Located in rural Georgia, about seven miles outside of Buena Vista and about 30 miles outside of Columbus, Pasaquan is a psychedelic, pseudo-religious art complex featuring over 900 feet of painted walls and situated on more than seven acres of land. The site was conceived of and constructed by visionary artist Eddie Owens Martin (or St. EOM as he referred to himself) in the late 1950s. After St. EOM’s death in 1986 the site fell into relative disrepair with fading paint and structural concerns, but as of October 2016, the environment has been reopened to the public in a newly restored form, now reflecting its original state and Owens’s original artistic vision.
Pasaquan, 2017. Photo: Hillary Brown
“I’d recommend people go ‘while the paint’s fresh.’ That’s what Alan Rothschild, the chair of the museum’s Board of Advisors and a Columbus resident, told me, and I think it was smart advice.”
Eddie Owens Martin
Owens was born in Buena Vista, Georgia, in 1908 to a poor sharecropping family. He ran away at age 14 to live in New York City where he first began studying and creating art. In his 20s, Owens experienced the first of his fever-induced dreams in which he was visited by giant figures from the future. In this first vision, the figures told him, “You’re gon’ be the start of somethin’ new, and you’ll call yourself Saint EOM, and you’ll be a Pasaquoyan — the first one in the world.” In 1957 after his mother’s death, the newly consecrated St. EOM moved back to his mother’s 18th century farmhouse and there began constructing the Pasaquan site onto existing structures. St. EOM explained that he “built this place to have something to identify with. Here I can be in my own world, with my temples and designs and the spirit of God. I can have my own spirits and my own thoughts.”
St. EOM (Eddie Owens Martin). Photo: Columbus State University
Pasaquan
St. EOM’s Pasaquoyan aesthetic and spiritualism is defined by an interesting blend of various cultural motifs. His wall paintings reference both eastern and western major religions, featuring large-scale mandalas and crosses. He used masonry and bright colors to depict human forms and geometric patterns, a practice reminiscent of the bright colors and angular geometry found in ancient Aztec and other pre-Columbian works of art. He was also inspired by Edward Churchward’s writing on the fabled “Lost Continent of Mu” and the concept of a singular and peaceful ancient civilization. He created Pasaquan as a representation of his optimistic vision of the future as a cultural blend of peoples in a state of bright and fantastic unity. St. EOM has stated that his one-man religion, Pasaquoyanism, “has to do with the Truth, and with Nature, and the Earth, and man’s lost rituals.”1 He funded and built Pasaquan almost single-handedly with money he received from fortune-telling.
Great Goddess mural from the site of Teotihuacán, Mexico. St. EOM's work resembles that of the ancient Aztecs and Mesoamericans. Image: Wikipedia
Unfortunately, although skilled, St. EOM was not a trained construction worker and painter, and much of his work was left damaged after long exposure to the elements. When he passed away in 1986, the Pasaquan Preservation Society (PPS) took over the site in a non-profit effort to conserve this valuable work of art. Despite continuous efforts, the PPS lacked the funds to properly conserve the complex and it gradually deteriorated. In 2014, the Kohler Foundation stepped in to help with the renovations, bringing conservators from all over the U.S. to help with termite damage, fading paint and structural concerns in each of the six main buildings and surrounding walls. The project took roughly two years to complete and in late 2015, the conservators completed the process and donated the site to Columbus State University, which now oversees its preservation.
Wall under conservation, 2015. Photo: David Anderson, Columbus State University Archives
After conservation, 2017. Photo: Hillary Brown
Pasaquan is currently open for public visits from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. The site is closed during holidays and for the months of December and July. Visitors are asked for a suggested contribution of $10 for adults, $5 for seniors and $3 for students. Hillary Brown, our director of communications, recently visited the renovated site after wanting to visit for years. “I’m really glad I waited until after the restoration was complete. It’s a truly special place and worth a long drive from anywhere,” Hillary recounts, “I’d recommend people go ‘while the paint’s fresh.’ That’s what Alan Rothschild, the chair of the museum’s Board of Advisors and a Columbus resident, told me, and I think it was smart advice.”
Jamie Brener
Publications Intern
1 Tom Patterson, St. EOM in the Land of Pasaquan: The Life and Time and Art of Eddie Owens Martin (Jargon Society: Winston-Salem, North Carolina, 1987).
Beverly Buchanan died in 2015, but her art lives on. Born in Fuquay, North Carolina, in 1940, she pursued a career in science and medicine, with master’s degrees in parasitology and public health from Columbia University, New York. In the early 1970s, she shifted to a different path, studying at the Art Students League and beginning to make paintings and sculptures in a variety of media. Her success, especially with her series of works depicting shacks in the rural South, led her to pursue art full time and move back to the South. Among other places, she lived in Athens, Georgia, from 1987 to 2003.
Installation view of "Medicine Woman" at Brooklyn Museum, 2016. Photo: Jonathan Dorado
"Medicine Woman" is gift from the artist, facilitated by her friend and fellow Athenian Prudence Lopp before Buchanan’s death. It stands out among her work even as it clearly comes from the same hand, for “Medicine Woman” is much larger than the scale at which Buchanan usually worked. It uses found objects as in her other sculptures, but in wider variety, and she applied copious decoration to the figure, which also has a name: Evelyn.
In 1993, the artist wrote: “I was always looking for something for ‘HER.’ Something to add and mix [to this] ‘Healer.’” The sculpture took the artist almost seven months to complete and includes wood, glass, textile, paper, plastic, paint, stone, ceramic, foam core, masking tape, metal wire and aluminum foil. Some of these objects were adhered with glue that was failing regularly, but Buchanan was elderly and unable to perform the conservation herself. For this reason, "Medicine Woman" has never been on view at the Georgia Museum of Art. When the Brooklyn Museum approached the Georgia Museum of Art about borrowing “Medicine Woman” for its large retrospective exhibition “Beverly Buchanan—Ruins and Rituals,” which closed earlier this month, its staff agreed to cover the costs of conservation.
Amy Jones Abbe (pictured left), a professional conservator based in Athens who has performed conservation on many other objects for the Georgia Museum of Art, agreed to undertake the job. Working from a few historic photographs and consulting extensively with Shawnya Harris, the museum’s Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Curator of African American and African Diasporic Art, Jones Abbe first stabilized the sculpture and then used different glues to reattach objects that had fallen off. She then added a few minimally invasive screws and a piece of heat-treated pine
to hold the work firmly in place. A bit of sleuthing allowed her and Harris to determine where nearly every detached element had been placed originally and, essentially, put the jigsaw puzzle back together. Jones Abbe’s painstaking work should pay dividends, not only for visitors to the Brooklyn Museum, but also for future visitors to the Georgia Museum of Art, where “Medicine Woman” can now be displayed.
Each year, the Georgia Museum of Art at the University of Georgia presents the Lilian C. Lynch Citation to an African American leader for his or her contributions to African-American cultural education and service. This year, at the annual Black History Month Dinner, the award was given to Althea Sumpter for her work as a professor, artist, Emmy-nominated producer and ethnographer.
Althea Sumpter at the 2004 Fellowship of Friends of African Descent gathering. Photo credit: Vanessa Julye
Sumpter, a native of St. Helena Island, South Carolina, uses digital media technology to combine stories of her own Gullah Geechee culture with traditional historical, genealogical and documentary research. She is a founding member of the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor Commission and has served as its vice-chair and chair. She holds a doctoral degree (with concentrations in African/African American Studies and New Media Technology) from Clark Atlanta University, as well as bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of South Carolina. Formerly the director of media services and production at the Martin Luther King Jr. Center in Atlanta, Sumpter has also taught at Georgia Institute of Technology, Georgia State University and Clark Atlanta University.
Sumpter with curator Dale Couch
At the awards ceremony, Dale Couch, the museum’s curator of decorative arts and long-time friend of Sumpter, had the privilege of presenting her with the award. In her acceptance speech, Sumpter urged the audience to listen to their elders and record the stories they tell to create continuity between generations and document underrepresented cultures.
The late Ms. Lynch was a charter member of the Athens chapter of The Links, Incorporated and was dedicated to the arts as an advocate for cultural education in the Athens community. The Links, Incorporated, is a national volunteer service organization for African American women that focuses on the arts as one of its five key areas of service.
Previous recipients of the Lynch citation include Natasha Trethewey, Jeanne Cyriaque, Rudolph Byrd and Michael Thurmond.
The Georgia Museum of Art is pleased to present artist Larry Walker with the Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Award. The prize is given annually to an African American leader from Athens or northeast Georgia who has supported his or her community and the arts.
Walker is an esteemed professor emeritus and former director of the Ernest G. Welch School of Art and Design at Georgia State University. An artist and an educator born in Franklin, Georgia, he has participated in more than 200 group exhibitions and more than 40 solo exhibitions, which featured his abstract paintings, drawings and mixed-media works. One of his mixed-media works is on display in the Georgia Museum of Art’s permanent collection galleries. Walker is also a recipient of Atlanta Contemporary’s Nexus Award.
Shawnya Harris and artist Larry Walker
... the arts are about learning to live ...
At the awards ceremony, curator Shawnya Harris discussed Walker’s importance as an artist and a life-long educator before presenting him with the award in front of a sold-out crowd of more than 200 attendees. Walker then delivered remarks in which he addressed the power of art and said “the arts are about learning to live,” receiving a standing ovation.
Brenda and Larry Thompson
The Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Award is named for the couple who donated 100 works by African American artists from their collection to the museum and endowed a curatorial position (held by Shawnya L. Harris) to focus on art by African American and African artists. Larry Thompson teaches at the University of Georgia School of Law and is a UGA Foundation Trustee. Brenda Thompson is the chair-elect of the museum’s Board of Advisors. Previous recipients of the Thompson award include artists Emma Amos, Harold Rittenberry, Charles Pinckney and Amalia Amaki.
With Women’s History Month upon us, it seems an ideal moment to feature one of our current exhibits, “To Spin a Yarn: Distaffs, Folk Art and Material Culture,” on view through Sunday, April 16. Distaffs are inherently feminine objects; the word acts as both a noun, giving a name to the tool used to hold unspun fiber in the spinning process, and an adjective, to define a feminine aspect or association. Featured in the exhibition are about 40 distaffs hailing from Russia, Lithuania, Finland, Sweden, France, Germany, Albania, Greece, Serbia and Bosnia. Despite the geographic lines and design differences that separate these objects, the distaff retains its cultural significance across borders.
To better understand the cultural importance of the distaff, it may be helpful to consider representations of women and distaffs throughout history. Images of women spinning are not unfamiliar — they appear in paintings, carvings, stained glass windows, frescoes and illuminated manuscripts, among other artistic mediums. Frances Biscoglio, in her research on medieval representations of women spinning, parses out two separate perceptions of spinners: one created by the “hierarchal ordering of the medieval world” that views the spinner as an “ideal woman: charitable, industrious, obedient, a model of virtue, her time and space circumscribed by the patriarchal society that asserted its power”; and the other a more mythical interpretation of spinning that perceives the spinner as “the creator, life-giver, intermediary, and source of wisdom.”1
Karl Müller, Holy Family with John the Baptist, 1866
The notion of spinning as a sort of cosmic act, of taking formless fiber and creating something from it, is one that appears in classical mythology and also in the bible. The Virgin Mary is commonly portrayed spinning and is an interesting figure with which to consider the two separate representations Biscoglio discusses. Proverbs 31:19–22 says:
She stretches out her hands to the distaff,
And her hands grasp the spindle.
She extends her hand to the poor,
And she stretched out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of the snow for her household,
For all her household are clothed with scarlet.
She makes coverings for herself;
Her clothing is fine linen and purple.
A Serbian painted distaff with circular inset mirror.
This excerpt follows the heading, “Description of a Worthy Woman.” The association of spinning to altruism and diligence is not new, and is the mark of a worthy woman both in the bible and in medieval times. Paintings in which Mary spins are interesting, then, for the ways in which she seems to fulfill both archetypes of the hard working, obedient woman and the cosmic woman holding fate in her hands. In Karl Müller’s painting, Holy Family with John the Baptist, Mary sits to the side spinning while Joseph performs the duties of a carpenter. They are engaged in their menial daily tasks, but Mary gazes towards the center of the scene in contemplation. Biscoglio suggests that Mary inhabits a “role as intermediary between God and man, binding the divine and human together to forge a new reality” and that “portraits of the Virgin which show the spun thread passing across the center of her body demonstrate her powerful role in the divine plan.”2 For this reason, she is a unique representation of a spinner.
The distaff during this time, and continuing throughout history, manages to assume two almost contradictory meanings. It is on one hand a symbol of obedient domesticity at the hands of a patriarchal society and, on the other, a symbol of female power. The woman holding a distaff in art, then, is an intentional, yet difficult to interpret, representation of femininity.
Considering the many (distinctly feminine) associations attached with spinning, it is unsurprising that distaffs themselves occupy such an important space within different cultures. While the style and décor may change from Russia to France to Serbia, distaffs are items of great importance — women might receive two in their lifetime, and they were passed down between generations. Commissioned oftentimes as engagement gifts, a market emerged for the creation of distaffs, and they became increasingly elaborate. In the original exhibition catalogue, Michael Ricker says of the decorative element of the distaff: “a beautiful distaff reminds the spinner, in a sense, that they too are beautiful and appreciated.”3 When engrossed in such a tedious task, this reminder was probably much appreciated. An interesting addition to a couple of Serbian distaffs is the incorporation of a mirror — maybe this was a way to more explicitly remind a spinner of her beauty.
Ultimately tools of great womanly strength, Ricker remarks that distaffs are simultaneously “a tool, sculpture, and a work of architecture.”4 As a tool in their utility, distaffs increased the functionality and productivity of spinning. As a sculpture in its beautiful decor and three-dimensionality, a distaff is artful. As a work of architecture, distaffs contributed to the structure of both the home and the textile market. These are objects that paint portraits of many different cultures’ women and their fortitude.
Sarah Dotson
Publications Intern
1. Biscoglio, Frances M., “’Unspun’ Heroes:
Iconography of the Spinning Woman in the Middle Ages.” Journal of Medieval And Renaissance Studies 25, no. 2 (1995): 163–176. 2. Ibid., 171. 3. Ricker, Michael T., To Spin a Yarn: Distaffs, Folk Art and Material Culture (Nacogdoches, TX: Stephen F. Austin State University Press, 2013). 4. Ibid.
Following the end of slavery and the Civil War in the United States, two primary yet opposing figures emerged as leaders and thinkers in the African American community. Booker T. Washington (1856 – 1915) and W. E. B. Du Bois (1868 – 1963) pushed for the advancement of their people after over two hundred years of state-actualized oppression and degradation. Working against the failures of the Reconstruction period, Washington and Du Bois came to be the heads of polar-opposite ideological movements fighting for the same end. Finding themselves in the midst of this turmoil and striving for life and newness out of darkness, these two leaders helped forge African American — and, indeed, American — identity. The exhibition “Expanding Tradition: Selections from the Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Collection” on view from January 28 to May 7, 2017, showcases works by African American artists and depicts an engagement with African American cultural identity, a practice that can be linked back to these two seminal leaders.
Booker T. Washington was honored on a "Famous Americans Series" Commemorative U.S. Postage stamp, issue of 1940. Image: Wikipedia
Booker T. Washington was born into slavery in Hale’s Ford, Virginia and became free while still a child. Young Washington worked in mines and as a “house boy” and was eventually able to attend the Hampton Institute where he learned the importance of education. Washington became a teacher and gifted orator, and in July of 1881, he opened the Tuskegee Institute, an establishment that would serve as both headquarters for, and living proof of, the Washington ideology for the betterment of the race. Washington promoted what he called “the dignity of labor” and stressed the importance of hard work. He believed the progress of his people would come about through economic self-reliance and maintained that this was achievable, within the existing system, through trade education and diligence.
Du Bois offered an opposing perspective. Born five years after the Emancipation Proclamation in Massachusetts, he was the first African American to receive a doctorate from Harvard University and was a sociologist constantly studying his people and his “negro” identity. Du Bois spearheaded the Niagara Movement, which was founded to create a more radical strategy towards achieving racial justice and existed in opposition to the accommodationist policies of Washington. Du Bois, unlike Washington, believed in the necessity of gaining civil rights as a primary step in the search for advancement. He too believed in the importance of education but saw the industrial/trade education promoted by Washington as limiting. Despite their many disagreements, the thoughts and ideas of these two leaders often converge — specifically in the creation and promotion of a black American cultural identity.
W. E. B. Du Bois. Image: Hutchins Center for African and African American Research
Although this desire manifested itself in different ways, both Du Bois and Washington saw art as a means of forging an identity out of the darkness of slavery and Jim Crow–era South. In his NAACP speech “Criteria of Negro Art,” Du Bois addresses the importance of discussing art and deems it inseparable with beauty and truth. He describes art as a means to “face our own past as a people” and concludes, “Thus all Art is propaganda and ever must be” in its inextricable tie to truth. He also emphasized the need for self-representation during this time, as he recognized that what was depicted in the artistic record would very much be the future’s recollection of his people. He saw the creation of art as autonomy and hoped for his people to tell their own stories on their own terms. To Du Bois, art was a means of depicting the truth and one’s true self, an inherently radical idea in a country dominated by the white perspective.
Washington too has a distinct relationship with black art. Rather than focusing on the spiritual self-definement that preoccupied Du Bois, Washington focused on a mechanical, utilitarian creation of selfhood in the face of oppression. Washington constantly created and distributed photographs of himself and the Tuskegee Institute and by doing so, developed agency. In the book “Booker T. Washington and the Art of Self Representation,” Bieze argues, “Washington’s widely distributed images were part of a burgeoning modern form of self-representation”. He presented an aesthetic valuing nature and hard work, deciding utility itself would be beautiful. In many ways he worked to define “the early aesthetic of the new negro” (Bieze) through his dedication to visual demonstrations of cultural equality.
Wilmer Jennings, De Good Book Says (Church Series), 1935
Today, in “Expanding Tradition: Selections from the Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Collection”, we see the artistic progress that came out of this revision of American identity. The exhibition displays works by African American artists throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries and through this great range we get a true sense of African American art history and its continued cultural inquiry. In the painting “De Good Book Says (Church Scene)” (1935) by Wilmer Jennings, we see a lively religious scene featuring the animated expression of churchgoers under vibrant beams of light from stained-glass windows. Jennings depicts the spiritual nature of an African American community through this expressive work of art, and by doing so practices the self-definition promoted by Du Bois and Washington. In another painting on display, “Working Roots Series #10” (1987) by Freddie Styles, we see an abstract work on a red background, painted using the roots of plants. In many ways this engagement with roots parallels the engagement with cultural roots that is prevalent in works throughout the show. African American artists imagine and reimagine a rich past while engaging with an everchanging present. In this way they extend the practice of cultural agency and self-definition that once preoccupied Washington and Du Bois.
“Michael Ellison: Urban Impressions” opens this Saturday, February 18, and runs through May 21, 2017. Organized by Shawnya Harris, Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Curator of African American and African Diasporic Art, it features block prints and collage works on paper by the Atlanta-based printmaker and educator. This exhibition draws from a selection of Ellison’s block prints and collage works in the collection of Larry and Brenda Thompson.
Michael Ellison, Waiting Room, 1999
Ellison grew up in Collier Heights, a middle-class African American neighborhood in southwest Atlanta. He studied art at Atlanta College of Art on the GI Bill, where he learned printmaking. The title of the exhibition comes from the way in which one of Ellison’s early printmaking instructors, Norman Wagner, described Ellison’s subject matter, referring to his prints as “urban landscapes and/or impressions.”
Michael Ellison, Ding, 1991
After receiving his diploma from Frederick Douglass High School in 1970, Michael Ellison wanted to go to New York to further his study of the performing arts, despite his mother’s misgivings. In 1975, he joined the U.S. Army and served toward the end of the Vietnam War. While stationed in Europe, Ellison took advantage of the cultural offerings there, visiting museums and painting watercolors that he sold to friends. After he completed his tour of duty, Ellison briefly attended DeKalb Community College, then transferred to Atlanta College of Art (ACA) in 1981 on the GI Bill. He soon realized his affinity for printmaking, creating linocut and woodcut prints saturated with dense patches of color that also created texture. He often focused on social settings such as the black church, bars and other gathering places. Ellison said, “The bar is sort of like a modern icon. It’s similar to a house of worship for some folks.” In 1991 an electrical fire badly disfigured the artist. As he began to recover and re-learn how to make prints, he created works with striking colors focusing on scenes of isolation and community in urban landscapes. Ellison passed away from heart complications at the age of 48 in 2001.
Harris says, “Michael Ellison's work represents an important piece to the discussion of not only only African American printmakers, but also the history of Georgia-based printmakers, their unique narratives and their contributions to the medium.” This exhibition is part of the museum’s commitment to presenting single-artist shows by under-recognized African American artists.
Last week, our director of communications Hillary Brown and PR guru Michael Lachowski took us on a virtual tour of works by immigrants in our galleries to highlight their stories, from colonial times to the twentieth century. The artists include John Smibert, who immigrated to the American colonies before the United States was its own country, and Willem de Kooning, who arrived in America as a stowaway and later became a naturalized citizen and recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. We received requests for the video transcript, which we present as a springboard for viewers to delve deeper into the individual experiences of each featured artist.
John Smibert
Born in Edinburgh, Scotland; emigrated to the American colonies intending to take a teaching position at a new college in Bermuda; the college never came to be, and Smibert settled in Boston.
Jeremiah Theus
Born in Switzerland; immigrated with his family to the Province of South Carolina at the age of 19; South Carolina’s General Assembly gave land grants and transport funds to encourage European Protestants to settle there.
William Keith
Born in Scotland, raised by his grandparents; immigrated to New York City with his family when he was 12 and became famous for painting American natural wonders
Pierre Daura
Catalan artist who lived and worked in France, then fought on the side of the Spanish Republican forces (against Fascist General Francisco Franco) until he was wounded; Franco’s government revoked his Spanish citizenship; his American wife became ill in 1939, and while they were getting her medical treatment in the United States, World War II broke out; he and his daughter became naturalized American citizens in 1943.
O. Louis Guglielmi
Born in Cairo to Italian parents; his father was a professional violinist and the family traveled frequently; in 1914, they moved to the Italian slum in Harlem, NYC; he often painted scenes of the poverty he saw there.
Jan Matulka
Born in Bohemia (now part of Czechoslovakia) and emigrated to the Bronx as a child, with his family; “Between 1917 and 1918 Matulka traveled around the United States and the Caribbean as the first recipient of the Joseph Pulitzer National Traveling Scholarship, painting as he went. While in the Southwest he became one of the first modern artists to portray the Hopi snake rain dance.” He was “one of the first artists to bring avant-garde painting methods to the States.”
Ben Shahn
Born in what is now Lithuania; his father was exiled to Siberia for “possible revolutionary activities” in 1902, but fled, and the family immigrated to Brooklyn in 1906; he worked for the Farm Security Administration during the Depression, alongside Walker Evans and Dorothea Lange; with his wife, he painted murals for the Bronx post office inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “I See America Working.”
Bror Julius Olsson Nordfeldt
Born in Sweden and emigrated to the US with his family when he was a child; he registered for the draft during World War I and supervised the camouflage of merchant ships in San Francisco; he is well known for his paintings of New Mexico’s indigenous culture.
Willem de Kooning
One of the most influential artists of the 20th century, Willem de Kooning was born in the Netherlands and immigrated to the United States as a stowaway on an English ship bound for Argentina, seeking the American dream; he worked for the Federal Art Project during the Depression but had to stop because he was not an American citizen; he was naturalized in 1962 and received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1964.
Philip Guston
Born in Montreal, Canada, where his Ukranian Jewish parents had fled to escape persecution. He moved with his family to Los Angeles as a child, where they encountered further persecution, by the Ku Klux Klan, and his father hanged himself. In 1931, Guston and the artist Reuben Kadish painted a mural to raise money for the defense of the young African American men known as the Scottsboro Boys, unjustly accused of raping two white women on a train. The Los Angeles police defaced the mural but were found not guilty. Guston worked for the Works Progress Administration, painting a post office mural in Commerce, Georgia, then turned to abstraction before formulating a new style of representational art that remains influential even in the 21st century.
Ilya Bolotowsky
Born to Jewish parents in St. Petersburg, Russia. He immigrated to the United States in 1923, settling in New York City. He is well known for his geometric abstractions and for cofounding the group American Abstract Artists.
Arshile Gorky
Born Vostanik Manoug Adoian, in Khorgom, in the Ottoman Empire; he fled the Armenian Genocide at the age of 13 and emigrated to the United States a few years later; he was one of the first artists employed by the Works Progress Administration, and his work was extremely influential on the abstract expressionists and others.
Hans Hofmann
Born in Bavaria, where he worked as a scientist and engineer until he immigrated to the United States in 1932; in New York City, he taught at the Art Students League, then left to found his own schools, where he shaped dozens of well-known artists, including Lee Krasner and Helen Frankenthaler.
Hedda Sterne
Born in Bucharest, Romania, and narrowly escaped from the Nazis in 1941, when she fled to New York City. In 1944, she married the artist Saul Steinberg and became a US citizen. She was the only woman in the famous photograph of the Irascibles in Life magazine.
Mark Rothko
Born in the Russian Empire, in what is now Latvia, into a Jewish intellectual family; worried that his older sons were about to be drafted into the Russian army, Rothko’s father immigrated to the United States, and Mark, his mother, and his sister followed shortly thereafter; he began pursuing art in the 1920s, when he took classes at the Art Students League, in New York City, and met Gorky; he became a US citizen in 1938, fearing that the Nazi influence in Europe would lead to the deportation of Jews in America, and changed his name from Rothkowitz to Rothko.
Jimmy Ernst
Born in Cologne, Germany, to surrealist painter Max Ernst and Luise Straus, a well-known Jewish intellectual; in February 1933, a month after Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, the SS searched her apartment; Jimmy went to live with his grandfather and immigrated to NYC in 1938; he successfully petitioned for the release of his father from internment, but his mother was sent to Auschwitz concentration camp, where she died.
For Benny there was no line where his activism ended, and his art began. To him, using his brush and his pen to capture the essence and spirit of his time was as much an act of protest as sitting-in or sitting-down was for me. I can see him now: thinking, speaking, articulating what needs to be done and in the next few moments trying to make real what he had been contemplating. He was honest to a fault, and I think it was his determination to speak the plain truth that shaped his demand for justice and social integrity. He never aligned with any political group, but would offer the full weight of his support to anyone he thought was standing for truth....
Benny Andrews’s long and prolific career is eloquently synthesized in Lewis’s account of the artist’s character. His commitment to both art and activism manifests in the many series, paintings and drawings he created. Recently exhibited at the Georgia Museum of Art in “Storytelling: The Georgia Review’s 70th Anniversary Art Retrospective” and soon to appear in “Expanding Tradition: Selections from the Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Collection,” the truthfulness and impact of Andrews’s work (both inside and outside of the art world) has not gone unnoticed. It is our honor to exhibit pieces by Andrews twice within just a couple of months. His lifelong dedication to art and activism is an important reminder of why we create, promote, and invest in art.
Born and raised as the son of sharecroppers in Plainview, Georgia, Andrews was one of ten children. The first in his family to graduate from high school, he went on to graduate from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 1958 after he served as a staff sergeant in the Korean War. Upon finishing school, Andrews moved to New York City. After spending a few years working in the city, Andrews received an invite from Bella Fishko to become a member of the Forum Gallery. His first New York solo show was mounted later that year, and he began meeting artists such as Bob Thompson, Jacob Lawrence, and George Segal (three artists whose work can also be found within the Georgia Museum of Art’s galleries.) Representation with Forum projected Andrews into the New York art scene, and his introduction to other artists became integral as he encouraged others to protest and oppose acts of discrimination from New York’s leading art institutions.
At once exhibiting an interest in abstraction, surrealism and figuration, Andrews’s work has a unique way of achieving unification despite its pastiche-like quality. While he may paint a large surrealist landscape (i.e. Circle Study #11) in one stroke, he creates a mixed-media portrait in the next. On view in “Expanding Tradition” is Poverty (America Series), which is composed of oil and graphite on paper with painted fabric collage. Seen in videos chronicling his process, Andrews roams the archives of his studio, drawing not only inspiration from the works that line the walls but oftentimes cutting figures or images out of past canvases themselves. This method of creation reads in the collage-like nature of his product, a remarkable blend of textures, colors, and, ultimately, of experience. Of his incorporation of fabric, Andrews says in American Vision (June/July 1992), “Where I am from….We wear rough fabrics. We actually used the burlap bagging sacks that seed came in to make our shirts. These are my textures.”
Drawing from his rural upbringing, heritage, and the cultural climate of his moment, Andrews’s output of work is extensive, socially critical, political and personal. Politically engaged as Andrews’s work is, however, it cannot be said that his oeuvre exists only for the time in which he experienced and created these representations of poverty, racism, and sexism – the themes in his work remain relevant today and are poignant reminders of the necessary role that artists play in the fight for justice, equality and love.
In 2011, the Thompsons donated 100 works of art to the Georgia Museum of Art, and this exhibition provides an overview of certain aspects of the Thompsons’ commitment to art collecting over the last several decades, in tandem with discussions about the shifting artistic and political landscape for African American artists found in their collection. Artists include contemporary artists such as Willie Cole, Whitfield Lovell, Kevin Cole and Kara Walker as well as historical artists such as Elizabeth Catlett, Charles Sebree, Beauford Delaney and Benny Andrews. Rare Great Depression–era works by Norman Lewis, Charles White, Dox Thrash and Rose Piper will also be exhibited.
Left to right: Larry D. Thompson, Shawnya L. Harris and Brenda A. Thompson
“Expanding Tradition: Selections from the Larry D. and Brenda A. Thompson Collection” is on view from January 28 to May 7, 2017. The accompanying catalogue, published by the museum, features a statement of the history and meaning of their many years of collecting as well as a lead essay by Harris, which provides a detailed survey of the artists in the exhibition.
“To Spin a Yarn: Distaffs, Folk Art and Material Culture” opens this Saturday, January 21, and runs through April 16. Sponsored by the Friends of the Georgia Museum of Art and organized by the Stephen F. Austin State University Galleries, this exhibition consists of about 40 decorated wooden distaffs from the collection of Michael T. Ricker.
Detail of a short-form distaff, 1845 (Sweden, probably Vätö, Uppland)
The biggest question we get when discussing the exhibition is: What’s a distaff?
A distaff is a tool used in spinning, which is the process of converting raw fibers — like wool just sheared off the sheep — into thread or yarn. Until the rise of manufacturing in the late 1700s and early 1800s, spinning was an important art as it was the only way to produce thread or yarn for weaving into cloth and textiles. Distaffs were used to hold raw wool or fiber (for example, linen or cotton) in position during spinning and could also be used in conjunction with a spinning wheel.
Dating from the 19th and 20th centuries, the distaffs featured in “To Spin a Yarn” come from regions across Europe (in Russia, Lithuania, Finland, Sweden, France, Germany, Albania, Greece, Serbia and Bosnia), each of which has its own style. Visitors will see three different types of distaffs. Distaffs from Russia often featured a large base for the spinner to sit and use her weight to hold up the distaff. Short ones with no base sometimes attached to a spinning wheel. Long distaffs without a base could be held under the arm, tucked in the belt or, as seen in the video, tucked between the knees. Here a woman in Breb, Romania, uses a distaff in the traditional manner, working with raw wool by hand.
The museum will also show a “walking wheel,” or large spinning wheel, in the exhibition from its own collection, which was donated in 1997 but has never been on view. All three types of distaffs can be used with a spinning wheel or a drop spindle. The wheel creates the momentum needed to wind thread around a spindle or bobbin, while drop spindles are weighted to create the same spinning momentum to collect the thread. In the video demonstration by spinner Pegg Thomas below, she holds a small amount of llama roving (fibers brushed in one direction and ready for spinning) in her hand as she turns the wheel to wind the fiber around the spindle. If she were to use a distaff, the roving would have been wrapped around the distaff.
Distaffs were more than tools. Originally simple sticks, distaffs evolved into highly decorated objects with intense cultural significance, more important for their meanings than for their function. In some ways, they were the equivalent of an engagement ring today: a gift from a young man to his hoped-for spouse. A more expensive and elaborately decorated distaff expressed wealth and status. The time and money spent on these objects help to show the important place of cloth in a pre-industrial era. Today, we appreciate these diverse distaff traditions as splendid examples of folk art and material culture.
Distaff, early 20th century (Russia, Archangel province, Puchuga village)
"The Irascibles," 1950. Photo by Nina Leen.
Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
"Advanced and Irascible: Abstract Expressionism from the Collection of Jeanne and Carroll Berry" and companion exhibition "Artists of the New York School" open this Saturday, January 14, and run together through March 19.
"Advanced and Irascible", which closes on April 30, showcases the efforts of collectors Jeanne and Carroll Berry to gather one work by each of the so-called “Irascible” painters of abstract expressionism. The Irascibles earned their nickname after sending a signed, open letter to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to protest the lack of what they called “advanced” art in its exhibition of contemporary artists in 1950. Artists such as Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Adolph Gottlieb, Willem de Kooning, Hedda Sterne and Ad Reinhardt are represented. In their letter, the artists wrote, “for roughly a hundred years, only advanced art has made any consequential contribution to civilization.”
Characterized by large, gestural paintings, the Irascibles defined the abstract expressionist movement and influenced the trajectory of modern art. A photograph of them, published by Life Magazine in 1951, became the defining image of the abstract expressionists for the remainder of the 20th century.
Almost ready: waiting for the accompanying wall labels to be mounted.
"Artists of the New York School" features works from the museum's permanent collection and several private collections. Containing paintings, sculptures and works on paper, the show highlights artistic trends of the “New York School,” or artists who were active in New York City in the 1950s and 1960s and primarily worked in abstraction. Works by female artists such as Louise Nevelson, Michael (Corrine) West, Helen Frankenthaler and Anne Ryan are included, along with works by artists Robert Goodnough, James Brooks, Frank Stella, Philip Guston and Gerome Kamroski.
An untitled metal sculpture by Robert Goodnough was a gift to the museum in 2016 and will be on view for the first time in the exhibition. An eight-foot-high mixed-media work by Fritz Bultman that uses gouache and collage is a highlight, as is an untitled tall wood sculpture by Nevelson.
Although diverse in medium and technique, the artists of the New York School were key in establishing the United States as a place that welcomed avant-garde art. While visibly influenced by art movements that originated in Europe, such as surrealism and abstraction, the New York School artists innovated in terms of content and material.
The University of Georgia launched its billion-dollar capital campaign, Commit to Georgia, on November 10, and as part of the campaign, the museum is tasked with raising more than $20 million over the next few years. The campaign has three priorities that shape its focus: increasing access for students from Georgia and beyond, enhancing the student experience and solving world problems through research and service. So how does the Georgia Museum of Art fit into all of that?
Heather Malcom (right), with Cyndy Harbold, president of the Friends of the Georgia Museum of Art
First and foremost, the museum is committed to its role within the University of Georgia. Our mission includes the same three pillars as that of the university: teaching, research and service. Our public service is the easiest aspect to see. We serve tens of thousands of visitors a year and bring free visual arts education across the state to communities that need it.
We educate at the same time. We lead gallery tours. We provide a hands-on teaching venue for university students in all disciplines. We supply K–12 teachers with materials that meet state standards at no cost. And we produce the next generation of museum professionals through experiential learning. Finally, we are committed to research. Our curators are faculty members, and every exhibition we organize begins with hours in the library. We’re rewriting art history every day, documenting Georgia’s history and making connections among disciplines.
Though we rely on private gifts for all our programming, numbers aren’t the whole story. When Larry and Brenda Thompson gave us 100 works by African American artists and endowed a curatorial position to focus on that understudied area of art history, their gift served the same three priorities as the campaign. Increasing access isn’t just about scholarships. It’s about making students from a wide variety of backgrounds feel like they belong and providing them with an unparalleled experience while they’re here. The Thompsons’ gift, now reflected in our reinstalled galleries, pushed us toward greater inclusiveness.
That spirit of inclusiveness has also enhanced the student experience, providing models for students of diverse backgrounds to see themselves represented in art. And by validating the importance of all creators, the Thompsons’ gift brings us together as humans, uniting us instead of dividing us. That kind of commitment to the differences that art can make in the lives of individuals is exactly what we’ll be asking of you in the coming years. Together, we can change lives through art.
