Edmund de Waal, an annunciation (2019). Porcelain, steel, gold, alabaster, aluminum, and plexiglass. Displayed below Virgin and Child, with Saints and Donor (ca. 1441−43), by Jan van Eyck and Workshop. Elective Affinities exhibition, The Frick Collection.
Edmund de Waal is the justly acclaimed British author of The Hare with Amber Eyes, a superb history/memoir of the Ephrussi banking family, of which he is a scion. He is also the creator of an unprecedented temporary exhibition now at the Frick Collection in New York City. Entitled Elective Affinities, it is the first exhibition of work by a living artist in the museum’s main galleries. Lamentably, it presents a dismaying contrast with the Frick’s permanent collection—as well as with his admirable book. It also exemplifies much of what is wrong with the contemporary artworld.
Elevating “Pots” to “Sculptures”
In his book, De Waal refers to himself quite simply as a “potter” by profession. Publicity materials about him tend to use the fancier term ceramicist. Either way, it means a craftsman who shapes pottery on a potter’s wheel and bakes it a kiln.1 Unlike traditional pots, which serve a primarily practical function, De Waal’s ceramic creations are made only for display, in minimalist installations made to convey meaning of some kind. Remarkably nondescript and repetitive in themselves, his pots allegedly gain import from their mainly site-specific arrangements (more on that below). Such work has brought him prestigious commissions—ranging most recently from the Frick exhibition to his Psalm in Venice’s Jewish Ghetto in conjunction with this year’s biennale—as well as numerous artworld accolades.
Appropriately enough, the Frick show was organized by Charlotte Vignon, the curator of decorative arts—as befits an exhibition of ceramic pots. Yet its press release and other materials repeatedly refer to De Waal’s work as “sculptures” and to him as a “sculptor.” As it happens, Henry Clay Frick collected sculptures, as well as vases, furniture, and other works of decorative art. I have no doubt that he knew the difference between them. In today’s artworld, such meaningful distinctions have been dispensed with. But it is particularly disturbing to witness a traditionally conservative institution like the Frick succumb to the muddling of concepts and debasement of standards.
Unrealized Intentions
At a press preview for the Frick exhibition, De Waal spoke with the utmost sincerity of his reverence for the permanent collection and the home it is housed in, which he first visited at the impressionable age of seventeen. In a lecture given at the Frick, he recalls the “epiphany” he experienced on seeing Chardin’s Still Life with Plums there.
Jean-Siméon Chardin, Still Life with Plums (ca. 1730), oil on canvas, 17 3/4 × 19 3/4 in. (45.1 × 50.2 cm). The Frick Collection.
Remarkably, De Waal was primarily struck not by the objects themselves but by Chardin’s placement of them— by “the way they were placed in the world, . . . which had presence, which had some kind of meaning in the world.” As he explains, inspired by Chardin’s example, he is still dealing with how objects are placed in the world.
What De Waal missed in that life-changing epiphany seems so obvious as not to need stating. The meaning in Chardin’s painting mainly emerges not from how the objects are placed but from what they are—objects of everyday life that we have some experience of and can therefore relate to—luscious plums, a refreshing glass of water, a glossy carafe, etc. In contrast, what meaning can be gleaned from De Waal’s abstract arrangements of nondescript pots and slabs? He has said that he intends them to create a “dialogue” with the collection. I would argue that they are utterly mute partners in that dialogue. They are, in effect, jarringly anomalous intruders—if one notices them at all (surprisingly, De Waal has stated that he doesn’t mind if one misses them).2
The inability of these works to speak for themselves (as the paintings and sculptures in the permanent collection so effectively do) very likely prompted the curatorial decision to provide viewers with audio files of the “artist” explaining each work, as well as of the music that he says helped to inspire it. Much as I love music, knowing what De Waal chose to listen to while he worked is of minimal interest to me. What matters is what he made of that inspiration—which, I insist, is very little indeed.
Hare with Amber Eyes, ivory netsuke figure from the Ephrussi family collection.
Ironically, the unpretentious miniature sculptures known as netsuke figures—which play such a prominent part in De Waal’s family narrative—are far more eloquent than his ambitious installations of pots aspiring to the condition of sculpture.
What Would Mr. Frick Think?
At a press preview for the De Waal show, the Frick’s director, Ian Wardropper, made much of the fact that Mr. Frick himself had collected “contemporary art”—as if that gave license to the present exhibition. The analogy is preposterous. The contemporary work collected by Frick consisted of relatively traditional works of realist painting and sculpture. Millet [more] was a particular favorite. There were no installations of abstract ceramics in industrial-looking vitrines.3 Installation is a postmodernist genre whose origins lay in the anti-art impulses of the 1950s and ’60s, long after Frick’s death.
Henry Clay Frick died in 1919. His acquisition of contemporary art is amply documented in the insightful biography by his great-granddaughter, Martha Frick Symington Sanger—who discerns a “profound psychological relationship between the man and his paintings.” As she persuasively argues, many of his acquisitions of both old and new art were probably inspired by their visual resemblance to people and places from his past.
Frick’s interest in contemporary art was sufficient for him to attend the 1913 Armory Show. But the only work he bought there was a still life of flowers by Walter Pach—though he is also reported to have expressed strong interest in Paul Cézanne’s Femme au Chapelet (Old Woman with a Rosary), which had already been sold. These were hardly revolutionary works, however. Moreover, I suspect that the appeal of the Cézanne, in particular, was mainly personal, stemming primarily from his deep attachment to his maternal grandmother—a devout woman who was “his spiritual mainstay and most ardent supporter,” according to Sanger, who cites several Frick acquistions that she suggests were similarly inspired.
If Mr. Frick’s museum now wishes to exhibit contemporary work truly consistent with his taste, they would do well to turn to the classical realists (see, for example, “Contemporary Art Worth Knowing”), rather than to the latest artworld stars such as De Waal.
In today’s anti-traditional artworld, such a turn would be revolutionary indeed.
Notes
- The process can be viewed in a BBC video entitled What Do Artists Do All Day?. In referring to De Waal as an “artist,” the BBC apes the artworld’s promiscuous terminology—which is not missed by viewers, one of whom aptly comments: “He churns out pots and calls it Art, is that it?.” ↩
- The piece titled an alchemy is so inconspicuously placed in the Frick Library that on noticing my searching for it a guard stepped forward to point it out to me, a service I saw him perform for other visitiors as well. ↩
- De Waal stresses the importance of the vitrines as an integral part of each work. ↩
Thank you, Michelle Kamhi, for such an insightful article about the De Waal exhibition at The Frick Collection. If Mr. Henry Clay Frick were alive today, he would have not allowed such an exhibition to take place. It would horrify him to see it. I’m not presuming to speak for him, but I’m almost certain of such an assumption. Despite debate about what constitutes fine art, craft, representation, mere copying, and so forth, the issue here is whether the Director, the Board of Trustees, and the curators of The Frick Collection are staying true to Mr. Frick’s stipulations and legacy (with regard to exhibiting De Waal’s work). I would guess a resounding “No.” I enjoy Mr. De Waal’s writing very much and I can enjoy seeing his pottery installations to some extent, but not in The Frick! As Michelle aptly points out, if the Frick is opening up to exhibiting contemporary artists, why don’t they follow the great example of Robert Simon Fine Art, the Old Master gallery that recently put on two fabulous exhibitions, featuring excellent contemporary fine artists—the exhibition “The Unbroken Line: Old and New Masters” in May 2018, and more recently with the exhibition of paintings by Anthony Baus in February 2019? There is contemporary work by artists Jacob Collins, Colleen Barry, Will St. John, Edward Minoff, Justin Wood, Rachel Li, Dale Zinkowski, Mackenzie Swenson, Savannah Cuff (all exhibited at Robert Simon Fine Art), and so many more whom I have written about, that I believe Mr. Frick would most definitely approve of and collect.
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Thanks very much for your comment, Milene. As it happens, I wrote about Robert Simon’s Unbroken Line exhibition in “Old and New Art — Continuity vs. Rupture.“
The point in question is this. Are both artists attempting to do the same thing in different ways—cut to the essence of things?
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Like the other abstract pioneers, Mondrian was engaged in the futile endeavor of trying to represent a world of “pure spirit” free of the “taint” of material reality. But as I’ve argued in Who Says That’s Art? and What Art Is, he failed. As for De Waal, he has stated that he aimed to create a “dialogue” with the paintings in the collection. In my view, he has also failed.
Bob – “His art, however, always remained rooted in nature.” what !! Mondrian didn’t use the color green because it was the color of ’nature’.
The flaw in Michelle’s comment is her assumption that meaning is in the artwork. The artwork —any artwork—has no inherent meaning. All meaning is ascribed to artworks by individuals and by cultural assessment. Also what Mr Frick might have preferred, and Michelle’s presumption that she knows what he would think of the DeWaal exhibition, actually supports the truth that meaning is not in the artwork but in the minds of those who view it.
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As indicated by dictionary definitions, William, meaning strongly implies intent on the part of the maker or speaker. The notion that the meaning of an artwork is merely “ascribed” by each viewer therefore turns the concept on its head. And though we can’t be sure what Mr. Frick would have thought of De Waal’s installations, we can make an educated guess based on what we do know about his taste.
It would make an interesting comparison between what Mondrian set out to do in his paintings and what De Waal is attempting to do. Both being concerned with geometry and space.
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What do you think Mondrian set out to do?
As per wiki synopsis.
I am in total agreement with this article. Mr. Frick never showed an interest in non-representational art, nor in blurring the line between decorative and fine art. Frick created one of the world’s greatest private collections by taking exceptional care to choose artworks that reflected his own personal values and aesthetics. Shame on the curators of the Frick for not honoring this man’s high artistic sensibility and standards by showcasing de Waal’s empty concoctions.
Well said, Molly.
What the Frick should exhibit is beyond my response to this subject.
The subject mentioned is craft (as wheel-thrown pottery) and art and ‘fine Art’.
Within the simple craft of painting, I recognize plums, a glass of water, a glass jug and maybe loaves of bread or squash of some sort (the etc) . Still life = wall decoration. That’s not ‘Art’, it’s painting as a craft on canvas. (‘oh how ‘real’ that plum is . . . what color, what rhythm!).
Then there’s potters who are ‘crafters’ on the wheel—making pottery all day . . . cups and saucers and mugs and bowls and dinnerware—and then there are those who design the same kinds of items (maybe even on a wheel), but then they make molds and copy or mass produce these items (something like 3D engraving really) and ‘potters’ cry ‘wolf’!
But it is ‘craft’—whether painting, pottery, or mold-making—when the object and objective is to serve a physical purpose (yet even ‘entertainment’). How ‘well’ it’s done depends on the skill of the ‘crafters’. But the ‘craft’ is not the ‘art’. If a cup or a bowl or a pot cannot be used it is likely no longer in the world of ‘craft’ (yet in today’s world may be an ‘entertainment craft’).
So then, must the artist be a ‘fine craftsman’ first?
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To answer your closing question first, Mike, an artist must indeed first master his “craft” in my view. But I don’t agree with your claim that a still life painting is mere “wall decoration.” Of course we value the skill with which it’s painted, but we also value what’s represented. Though other painting subjects are of greater significance, I nonetheless include still life paintings at one end of my spectrum of Art.
Thank you Michelle. I’m wondering about “what’s represented” — not sure I understand .
On one level, simply ‘copying’ what’s there, as a still-life or sculpture like a Greek bust, simply involves the skill of the craft involved, but really lacks ‘creativity’ (which I desire in a ‘work of art’) — something beyond ‘representation.’
The ‘order’ (arrangement) of the items presented in a still-life doesn’t strike me as ‘important’ enough to raise the ‘work’ beyond craft. Why aren’t flower arrangements then ‘works of art’? Why not the skill and placement involved with taxidermy?
De Waal seems to have a special ‘quirk’ in this regard – whether psychological or ‘other’. It seems he’s ‘following his bliss’ and got caught in the spotlight.
Mike confuses terms like copy, and represent. To copy is to duplicate. A drawing of a still life is not a copy but a resemblance.
The resemblance need not represent the still life. Anything can be claimed to represent (symbolically stand for) anything else.
Mike devalues placement in composition. Placement is crucial in many topics. The placement of one letter after another in writing is obviously crucial in conveying meaning. The placement of piles of bricks, steel, etc. is crucial to constructing a building. The placement of musical notes on a score determines the sounds to be played. And so on. In more subtle ways the placement of images in a painted composition can evoke the mood, even the content being offered.
Mike, think about your words. Start with the word copy. No one can copy the basket of apples in doing a drawing. The very best one can do is to make something that people who share cultural conventions of seeing and naming agree resembles the basket of apples. And there are many ways to do that, some yet unknown.
William Conger,
Note that my use of the word “copy” has single quotation marks which suggests a special meaning for my use of the word – it’s not the dictionary meaning. I can appreciate your pointing out this clarifying definition.
So then, what do you call Chardin’s “Still Life with Plums”? And what is the significance of the alignment of objects
in the painting?
mike h
I would prefer the aquarium be filled with fish instead of shapes you can find at Hobby Lobby.
The article makes perfectly clear the naivety of the commentaries defending works such as De Waal’s “an annunciation.”
I have to agree with Michelle.
The skills-based works are somewhat thin when placed against works that have been heavily laboured on, both physically and conceptually.
I personally can enjoy and appreciate handmade ceramic sculptures that indeed are constructed with that three-dimensional intent; however, I do take issue with “pots” being included as high art.
I can see that cylinders have a resemblance to man-made structures and could be metaphorically used to make a statement around industry, for example; however, some licence has been taken in this case, I would suggest.
Indeed, Bob. Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!
Michelle’s arguments presume that art must resemble subjects. But art can also represent subjects, which does not require resemblance. Representation can include symbolic subjects. The Chardin still life may resemble subjects, the objects shown, but at the same time it may represent other concepts, such as the intentionally arranged placement of the subjects, and thus depict cultural symbols. Her insistence on resemblance as the essence of art is the fatal flaw in her art theory and art definition.
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William,
You’ve failed to grasp my theory. What I insist upon is that (fine) art—as contrasted with “decorative art”—must be intelligible, and that the key to intelligibility is resemblance to things in reality. Moreover, if you’ve read my book, you should know that I’ve argued that representational art can often embody concepts beyond the immediate subject matter. But such concepts are always related in some way to the subject matter. Your reference to “intentionally arranged placement of the subjects . . . depict[ing] cultural symbols” strikes me as incoherent.
Ah, the continuing seduction of the contemporary art world….
Again and again we see such sad debasements from our best institutions.
Still, your wonderful blog post is a reminder of the glories to be viewed at the Frick, the gift that (so far) “keeps on giving”.
Thank you for pointing it out.
I respond to Mike who wants me to say why the arrangement in Chardin’s Still Life With Plums is interesting. First, it obviously is arranged, not random. One notes that the composition of depicted objects neatly fits within a triangle, with the base aligned with the table plane, the frontal bottom edge of the painting. This, then, is a composition that conveys stability, inviting the viewer to linger on each part of the painting — both depicted objects and depicted spaces around them — while assured of contemplative order. In the Renaissance Leon Battista Alberti defined a beautiful and harmonic composition as one in which “nothing can be altered except for the worse.” Chardin, within his historical context, achieves that frozen moment of perfection, perhaps as a metaphor of a state of mind, alert to the play of light, color, texture of paint as if actual things, and to our love of order, to a fusion of self and other.
William,
Have you contemplated the original Chardin?
Yet this is an ‘eye of the beholder’ experience as I ask again in regard to “placement“ , and I ‘still’ find it more interesting when my imagination is fired…. With this painting, I have to imagine the plum in the glass etc. . . there is nothing there but ‘decoration’, something pleasing on the wall to take my mind off the history painting. The painting is an antique (an antique craft), not Art.
Thats true. There is a triangular basis to the composition and that adds stability.
I would argue that there is a number of alternative compositions of the objects that would give the equivalent sennse of stability.
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This discussion has strayed too far from the subject of my post, which was De Waal’s installations, not Chardin’s still life.
Michelle, I’m wondering why Chardin’s painting is so prominently displayed in your article without ‘the dialogue’ response of Edward de Waal? I’d like to see his ‘triangle’ response mentioned by William and Bob in the Plums painting.
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I showed the Chardin because De Waal had said it played a key role in his early inspiration as a potter. He did not create a companion “dialogue” piece for it in the exhibition.