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Scratch and sniff
Charles Burchfield at the Whitney in New York (preview)
The most exciting art exhibit of the season won't be in Philadelphia but rather in New York City. There the Whitney is honoring Charles Burchfield with a show, "Heat Waves in a Swamp," that will run through October 17.
Frankly, I'm always astonished at how Burchfield's name tends to draw a blank with people— even people who claim to care about art. To my mind, Burchfield is the great American artist. This man could do it all.
Do you like Edward Hopper's moody urban landscapes? Check out Burchfield's paintings of Midwest cities painted in the 1930s.
Do you like Andrew Wyeth's nature mysticism? Burchfield offers mysticism on steroids.
Are you a follower of Abstract Expressionism? Burchfield takes you to places that the Pollocks and the Gorkys never dreamed of. They explored a new way of seeing. Burchfield did plenty of that, but he also looked for ways to include aural effects in his art.
For Burchfield, it's not enough to paint a moonlit forest; he wants you to hear the stray birdcalls and feel the whirring of the cicadas on your skin. If scratch-and-sniff technology had been around, I truly think that Burchfield would have considered utilizing it as well, the better to make his art an overwhelming sensory experience—almost musical in nature. This sets him apart from the Abstract Expressionists, whose work is more cerebral in nature and largely limited to projecting a visual impact.
Perhaps because Burchfield did a spell designing wallpaper, he caught on early to the need for overall visual unity. And because he was a nervous man, prone to ulcers, Burchfield may have been a bit more aware of the crawling heat of an August night and the shatter-effect of a cicada's call.
Everything he does is compelling, whether it is WPA-approved realism or nature studies that teeter on the verge of total abstraction, because he took it all so very seriously. I doubt that Burchfield ever knocked one off for the taxman. He probably even sweated over his wallpaper commissions.
So here is the conundrum: How could a man who seems to have led such an unhappy life have found such exaltation in his art? Burchfield reminds me of Christopher Cross, the luckless Sunday painter portrayed by Edward G. Robinson in the 1945 film Scarlet Street.
One of Burchfield's urban paintings portrays a street with three buildings. Two have their shop windows illumined; one is in total darkness— and that is the one your eyes are drawn to.
I personally can't wait to see this show.♦
To read Andrew Mangravite's subsequent review, click here.
Frankly, I'm always astonished at how Burchfield's name tends to draw a blank with people— even people who claim to care about art. To my mind, Burchfield is the great American artist. This man could do it all.
Do you like Edward Hopper's moody urban landscapes? Check out Burchfield's paintings of Midwest cities painted in the 1930s.
Do you like Andrew Wyeth's nature mysticism? Burchfield offers mysticism on steroids.
Are you a follower of Abstract Expressionism? Burchfield takes you to places that the Pollocks and the Gorkys never dreamed of. They explored a new way of seeing. Burchfield did plenty of that, but he also looked for ways to include aural effects in his art.
For Burchfield, it's not enough to paint a moonlit forest; he wants you to hear the stray birdcalls and feel the whirring of the cicadas on your skin. If scratch-and-sniff technology had been around, I truly think that Burchfield would have considered utilizing it as well, the better to make his art an overwhelming sensory experience—almost musical in nature. This sets him apart from the Abstract Expressionists, whose work is more cerebral in nature and largely limited to projecting a visual impact.
Perhaps because Burchfield did a spell designing wallpaper, he caught on early to the need for overall visual unity. And because he was a nervous man, prone to ulcers, Burchfield may have been a bit more aware of the crawling heat of an August night and the shatter-effect of a cicada's call.
Everything he does is compelling, whether it is WPA-approved realism or nature studies that teeter on the verge of total abstraction, because he took it all so very seriously. I doubt that Burchfield ever knocked one off for the taxman. He probably even sweated over his wallpaper commissions.
So here is the conundrum: How could a man who seems to have led such an unhappy life have found such exaltation in his art? Burchfield reminds me of Christopher Cross, the luckless Sunday painter portrayed by Edward G. Robinson in the 1945 film Scarlet Street.
One of Burchfield's urban paintings portrays a street with three buildings. Two have their shop windows illumined; one is in total darkness— and that is the one your eyes are drawn to.
I personally can't wait to see this show.♦
To read Andrew Mangravite's subsequent review, click here.
What, When, Where
“Heat Waves in a Swamp: Painting of Charles Burchfield.†Through October 17, 2010 at Whiney Museum of American Art, 945 Madison Ave. (at 75th St.), New York. (212) 570-3600 or whitney.org/Exhibitions/CharlesBurchfield.
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