.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
Lot Essay
Jean Michel Basquiat’s Untitled (Man with Crown) is striking testament to the artist’s enduring exploration of the power of iconography. Executed in 1982, the present work exemplifies Basquiat’s persistent thematic engagement with sociopolitics through representations of race and power.
Untitled (Man with Crown)’s significant provenance enriches Basquiat’s connection to the downtown New York subculture of the 1980s. First in the collection of fellow artist Brett dePalma, Basquiat drew the present work after both artists had returned from Modena, Italy, in the aftermath of Basquiat’s incendiary first solo exhibition at Galleria d'Arte Emilio Mazzoli. Years later, the work then made its way into the stewardship of Diego Cortez – the artist-turned-curator best known for his support of the late artist, along with the epochal exhibition New York/New Wave at MoMA PS1 in 1981, where both Basquiat and dePalma were participating artists in the show. By bringing together “a coalition of punks, No Wave musicians, young painters, graffiti artists, poets, performers, and more radical-type forefathers,” Cortez’s landmark show played a crucial role in defining the sprawling energy of downtown New York art movement that had been brewing since the mid-1970s. (G. O’Brien, Artforum, New York, Vol. 41, no, 7, p. 108). This marked Basquiat’s first inclusion in a museum exhibition and the major launch pad for his breakthrough in the art world.
At a young age, Basquiat aspired to be a comic book artist. A number of his works from the 1980s are dedicated to the plethora of cartoons and comics books enjoyed by the young artist. “Basquiat saw a microcosm of the world’s socio political situation mirrored in children’s cartoons” (R. D. Marshall, “Jean-Michel Basquiat and His Subjects,” in J.-L. Prat, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Paris, Galerie Enrico Navarra, 1996, vol. 2). He admired this medium’s ability to engage complex issues such as society’s institutionalizations of racism, injustice, and misguided representations of good and evil. Adorning the mysterious black figure with a crown and a halo, Basquiat crystallizes these sociopolitical engagements in the present work.
The present work draws direct inspiration from the front cover of the Italian comic book Diabolik, which Brett dePalma had brought back with him from Modena. The original fumetti neri (Italian for "black comics"), this comic book series is named after its protagonist, an anti-hero who steals and kills but is respected for his high morals. Basquiat reimagined the composition – with the protagonist’s back occupying the foreground – and elevated it with his iconic crown symbol. In doing so, he not only complicates the distinguishment between good and evil, but also plays into the reading of the superhero as a conflicted character.
The kinglike figure becomes a literal beacon of Basquiat’s composition – crowned and venerated, he radiates light rendered through energetic marks of yellow pastel. Still, the figure’s face remains unseen. The viewer comes to recognize the near-celestial power of the subject through iconography rather than physiognomic treatment. Here, Basquiat calls upon traditions of the comic book genre yet again. The vigilante superhero – whose ancillary qualities are his simultaneous anonymity and ubiquity – retains power despite and because of his varied identity markers.
Untitled (Man with Crown)’s significant provenance enriches Basquiat’s connection to the downtown New York subculture of the 1980s. First in the collection of fellow artist Brett dePalma, Basquiat drew the present work after both artists had returned from Modena, Italy, in the aftermath of Basquiat’s incendiary first solo exhibition at Galleria d'Arte Emilio Mazzoli. Years later, the work then made its way into the stewardship of Diego Cortez – the artist-turned-curator best known for his support of the late artist, along with the epochal exhibition New York/New Wave at MoMA PS1 in 1981, where both Basquiat and dePalma were participating artists in the show. By bringing together “a coalition of punks, No Wave musicians, young painters, graffiti artists, poets, performers, and more radical-type forefathers,” Cortez’s landmark show played a crucial role in defining the sprawling energy of downtown New York art movement that had been brewing since the mid-1970s. (G. O’Brien, Artforum, New York, Vol. 41, no, 7, p. 108). This marked Basquiat’s first inclusion in a museum exhibition and the major launch pad for his breakthrough in the art world.
At a young age, Basquiat aspired to be a comic book artist. A number of his works from the 1980s are dedicated to the plethora of cartoons and comics books enjoyed by the young artist. “Basquiat saw a microcosm of the world’s socio political situation mirrored in children’s cartoons” (R. D. Marshall, “Jean-Michel Basquiat and His Subjects,” in J.-L. Prat, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Paris, Galerie Enrico Navarra, 1996, vol. 2). He admired this medium’s ability to engage complex issues such as society’s institutionalizations of racism, injustice, and misguided representations of good and evil. Adorning the mysterious black figure with a crown and a halo, Basquiat crystallizes these sociopolitical engagements in the present work.
The present work draws direct inspiration from the front cover of the Italian comic book Diabolik, which Brett dePalma had brought back with him from Modena. The original fumetti neri (Italian for "black comics"), this comic book series is named after its protagonist, an anti-hero who steals and kills but is respected for his high morals. Basquiat reimagined the composition – with the protagonist’s back occupying the foreground – and elevated it with his iconic crown symbol. In doing so, he not only complicates the distinguishment between good and evil, but also plays into the reading of the superhero as a conflicted character.
The kinglike figure becomes a literal beacon of Basquiat’s composition – crowned and venerated, he radiates light rendered through energetic marks of yellow pastel. Still, the figure’s face remains unseen. The viewer comes to recognize the near-celestial power of the subject through iconography rather than physiognomic treatment. Here, Basquiat calls upon traditions of the comic book genre yet again. The vigilante superhero – whose ancillary qualities are his simultaneous anonymity and ubiquity – retains power despite and because of his varied identity markers.