.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
拍品专文
Operating at the confluence of cultural anthropology and socially nuanced abstraction, Mark Bradford has created a prominent place for himself in today’s rapidly expanding art world. Working in a singularly inventive mode that mines the depths of the urban environment and the history of painting in equal measure, his monumental canvases ask questions about the place of Black artists in the art-historical timeline. The Next Hot Line, included in his first solo exhibition at the Hammer Museum in 2015, is an enthralling example of Bradford’s signature style and his ongoing conversation about marginalized communities and their place in the art world. “As a twenty-first-century African American artist,” he muses, “when I look back at Abstract Expressionism, I get the politics, I get the problems, I get the theories, I can read [Still’s] manifestos, but I think there are other ways of looking through abstraction. To use the whole social fabric of our society as a point of departure for abstraction reanimates it, dusts it off. It becomes really interesting to me, and supercharged. I just find that chilling and amazing” (M. Bradford, “Clyfford Still’s Paintings”, in The Artist Project: What Artists See When They Look at Art, New York, 2017, p. 46). By confronting these art historical trends head-on, Bradford seeks to reexamine and resuscitate the dialogue around social politics in painting without being beholden to particular tropes and expected results. His abstractions are built upon materials found in his own life and often assert themselves through titles and text that provoke a new questioning of the status quo.
“As a twenty-first-century African American artist, when I look back at Abstract Expressionism, I get the politics, I get the problems, I get the theories, I can read [Still’s] manifestos, but I think there are other ways of looking through abstraction. To use the whole social fabric of our society as a point of departure for abstraction reanimates it, dusts it off. It becomes really interesting to me, and supercharged.” Mark Bradford
A massive amalgam of interconnected dots, lines, and energetic swatches of color, The Next Hot Line looks like a cross between a well-worn street map and a scientific diagram of firing neurons in the human brain. Given Bradford’s indebtedness to the city he works in and the materials he gleans from his walks around the neighborhood, this could be quite close to the truth. In the foreground, a large grouping of lacerations in black and gray form the focal point while areas of red and blue in the lower middle and upper left portions fade into view the longer you look. Elsewhere, streams of black dots populate the visual landscape as they wind their way through the composition and lead us from one area to the next. Bradford’s exacting interactions with paint and torn paper on the work’s surface create a textural landscape that glows and vibrates in the viewer’s vision. "I tend to obliterate the canvas with paper so it becomes opaque, almost like a wall, and then I begin to build. Between the first layer and the final surface layer of paper is where all the action happens," (M. Bradford, quoted in C. Picard, "Mark Bradford on class and identity in South Central LA," The Art Newspaper, May 7, 2010). The linear forms, streams of dots, and areas of mottled color in The Next Hot Line all stem from the artist’s active interference and his patience as the canvas continues to change throughout the process.
“I tend to obliterate the canvas with paper so it becomes opaque, almost like a wall, and then I begin to build. Between the first layer and the final surface layer of paper is where all the action happens.” Mark Bradford
Noted for his particularly meticulous practice on a large scale, Bradford’s aesthetic was born out of observation of his urban surroundings. Noticing the way in which paper posters, signs, and notices were constantly pasted on top of each other throughout the city, the artist took an interest in their varying methods of deterioration. One layer would rip and allow a previous layer to shine through. Building up strata in his studio in the same way, Bradford cuts, tears, and otherwise dismantles and rebuilds his work many times before the work is finalized. As he builds and excavates his many layers, forms become visible that gradually grow to overtake the once-pristine backdrop. Each work is a testament to the time and care taken by the artist as he finesses and coaxes the final image from its raw origins. Like the disintegrating flyers and banners, each new incision results in a new juxtaposition of form, line, or color.
Speaking about his practice in relation to the late musician Miles Davis, the painter noted, “When he does improvisational jazz, it is so structured around this history of what he knows. [With my work] there is improvisation, but I know what I put under there. I keep exacting notes. Every time I put on a different piece of paper, I take a picture and it goes into my database. I know exactly what color I put on yesterday. So when I’m sanding, I know it’s a dark gray.” (M. Bradford, quoted in G. Edgers, “Outside the paint,” The Washington Post, October 10, 2019). Approaching his work with an exacting knowledge of the materials and the way in which they will respond to his incursions allows Bradford to fearlessly riff and play like any great jazz musician. As he works, the composition swerves in many directions before coalescing into a brilliantly interconnected visual construction.
As an artist included in Thelma Golden’s pivotal 2001 exhibition Freestyle at the Studio Museum in Harlem, Bradford’s early career saw him catapulted onto the international stage. Along with this newfound notoriety, his paintings began to be conceptualized under the idea of ‘post-black’. Golden spoke about this term, noting that the category was "characterized by artists who were adamant about not being labeled as 'black' artists, though their work was steeped, in fact deeply interested, in redefining complex notions of blackness," (T. Golden, quoted in C. Byrd, “Is there a ‘post-black’ art?,” Art Papers Magazine, Atlanta, 2002, p. 35). Though the term has sometimes been debated (as many terms are with the scholarly realm), Bradford’s work fits into its framework readily. Growing up in South Central Los Angeles, the artist was well aware of the disparities between different neighborhoods and social groups. To wit, his works take on the very space in which traditionally underserved people live and how areas are affected by racial and social injustices while also exerting influence over their denizens. Pieces like The Next Hot Line often resemble maps or diagrammatic drawings, alluding to their beginnings as Bradford walked the streets looking for materials and inspiration.
“As a twenty-first-century African American artist, when I look back at Abstract Expressionism, I get the politics, I get the problems, I get the theories, I can read [Still’s] manifestos, but I think there are other ways of looking through abstraction. To use the whole social fabric of our society as a point of departure for abstraction reanimates it, dusts it off. It becomes really interesting to me, and supercharged.” Mark Bradford
A massive amalgam of interconnected dots, lines, and energetic swatches of color, The Next Hot Line looks like a cross between a well-worn street map and a scientific diagram of firing neurons in the human brain. Given Bradford’s indebtedness to the city he works in and the materials he gleans from his walks around the neighborhood, this could be quite close to the truth. In the foreground, a large grouping of lacerations in black and gray form the focal point while areas of red and blue in the lower middle and upper left portions fade into view the longer you look. Elsewhere, streams of black dots populate the visual landscape as they wind their way through the composition and lead us from one area to the next. Bradford’s exacting interactions with paint and torn paper on the work’s surface create a textural landscape that glows and vibrates in the viewer’s vision. "I tend to obliterate the canvas with paper so it becomes opaque, almost like a wall, and then I begin to build. Between the first layer and the final surface layer of paper is where all the action happens," (M. Bradford, quoted in C. Picard, "Mark Bradford on class and identity in South Central LA," The Art Newspaper, May 7, 2010). The linear forms, streams of dots, and areas of mottled color in The Next Hot Line all stem from the artist’s active interference and his patience as the canvas continues to change throughout the process.
“I tend to obliterate the canvas with paper so it becomes opaque, almost like a wall, and then I begin to build. Between the first layer and the final surface layer of paper is where all the action happens.” Mark Bradford
Noted for his particularly meticulous practice on a large scale, Bradford’s aesthetic was born out of observation of his urban surroundings. Noticing the way in which paper posters, signs, and notices were constantly pasted on top of each other throughout the city, the artist took an interest in their varying methods of deterioration. One layer would rip and allow a previous layer to shine through. Building up strata in his studio in the same way, Bradford cuts, tears, and otherwise dismantles and rebuilds his work many times before the work is finalized. As he builds and excavates his many layers, forms become visible that gradually grow to overtake the once-pristine backdrop. Each work is a testament to the time and care taken by the artist as he finesses and coaxes the final image from its raw origins. Like the disintegrating flyers and banners, each new incision results in a new juxtaposition of form, line, or color.
Speaking about his practice in relation to the late musician Miles Davis, the painter noted, “When he does improvisational jazz, it is so structured around this history of what he knows. [With my work] there is improvisation, but I know what I put under there. I keep exacting notes. Every time I put on a different piece of paper, I take a picture and it goes into my database. I know exactly what color I put on yesterday. So when I’m sanding, I know it’s a dark gray.” (M. Bradford, quoted in G. Edgers, “Outside the paint,” The Washington Post, October 10, 2019). Approaching his work with an exacting knowledge of the materials and the way in which they will respond to his incursions allows Bradford to fearlessly riff and play like any great jazz musician. As he works, the composition swerves in many directions before coalescing into a brilliantly interconnected visual construction.
As an artist included in Thelma Golden’s pivotal 2001 exhibition Freestyle at the Studio Museum in Harlem, Bradford’s early career saw him catapulted onto the international stage. Along with this newfound notoriety, his paintings began to be conceptualized under the idea of ‘post-black’. Golden spoke about this term, noting that the category was "characterized by artists who were adamant about not being labeled as 'black' artists, though their work was steeped, in fact deeply interested, in redefining complex notions of blackness," (T. Golden, quoted in C. Byrd, “Is there a ‘post-black’ art?,” Art Papers Magazine, Atlanta, 2002, p. 35). Though the term has sometimes been debated (as many terms are with the scholarly realm), Bradford’s work fits into its framework readily. Growing up in South Central Los Angeles, the artist was well aware of the disparities between different neighborhoods and social groups. To wit, his works take on the very space in which traditionally underserved people live and how areas are affected by racial and social injustices while also exerting influence over their denizens. Pieces like The Next Hot Line often resemble maps or diagrammatic drawings, alluding to their beginnings as Bradford walked the streets looking for materials and inspiration.