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拍品专文
The light comes pouring in from all over; it changes every hour of the day; and although most times it is a delicate and steely gray in color, it can take fire at sunset.(J. Russell, “De Kooning: ‘I See the Canvas and I Begin”’, New York Times, 5 February 1978).
Created two years after his triumphant return to the medium of painting, Willem de Kooning’s 1977 painting Untitled, is exemplary of the confident stylistic shift in the direction of his work. Sweeping and gestural brushwork recalls the abstraction of his earlier paintings, while sumptuous pools of tea green and golden yellow evoke the organic forms and aesthetic of his new beloved landscape in East Hampton.
De Kooning contains the essence of summer in the ruddy pink glow of an everlong sunset that shimmies in the upper register of the canvas as ribbons of white and peach wave across crests of rippled water. An abstract wading figure emerges from the composition golden as an afternoon, with bowed legs and outstretched arms that become distorted higher on the body, such that the head is undecipherable as a head, only a suggestion of where the neck ends. One can almost feel the heat against the figure’s back, as strokes of red gently contour the curve of a water-warped spine. Fits of blue and green merge at the figure’s body, further complicating the lack of any sense of depth. The tone and quality of the lines ambulate between sensually curved, erratically zagged, and calmly pooling. Neither background nor foreground are given precedence or clarity over the other. The painting reflects an abstract tendency teetering on the edge of representation.
The works of 1977 are remarkable for their ecstatic palettes and vibrant energy. Catalyzed by his East Hampton environment, de Kooning’s interests during this time began to revolve around the relationship between the elements of light, water, reflection, and movement. Though the artist moved into his East Hampton abode in 1963, it wasn’t until the mid-70s that he became consumed by its natural world, the specific slants of light, the topographic swells of earth. “When I moved into this house,” de Kooning observed in 1976, “everything seemed self-evident. The space, the light, the trees--I just accepted it without thinking about it much. Now I look around with new eyes. I think it’s all a kind of a miracle.” (W. de Kooning, quoted in M. Prather, Willem de Kooning Paintings, exh. cat. Washington. D.C. 1994, p. 197).
De Kooning created rapturously through this period. Fearless and with a unique freedom, he produced a volume of work as open and free flowing as his environment. It is unsurprising that the forces of water and light were so pivotal in his frenzy. Both are elements of change, adaptable to circumstance and malleable, even ephemeral, in form, lending themselves well to a mind tuned towards abstraction. Like the impressionists before him, de Kooning worked only during the day, taking advantage of the abundant natural light. A hallmark of the paintings of this period, “The light comes pouring in from all over;” noted the critic John Russell, “It changes every hour of the day; and although most times it is a delicate and steely gray in color, it can take fire at sunset, with conjunctions of red and purple such as Mondrian used to monitor as a young man when he was painting landscapes in Holland” (J. Russell, “De Kooning: ‘I See the Canvas and I Begin”’, New York Times, 5 February 1978). Russell’s remarks were regarding an exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in 1978 entitled “Willem de Kooning in East Hampton.” The show shifted critical attention from his early “Women” paintings, to his newfound interest in luminous landscape.
For Untitled, the light is blazing and all-consuming in its jubilation, like the imprint of the sun pressed behind the eyes, even as one turns away from it. But this impassioned, feverish effect was created while maintaining absolute control over the compositional whole. Dancing reflections are articulated through masterful line, and though the composition resists clearly defining space, the canvas soaks up so much of the artist’s energy and intention that delineating traditional space is irrelevant to the painting’s legibility. It is visceral in that way, a pure distillation of the human experience of nature. One doesn’t have to travel to East Hampton, or even be familiar with its landscape, to feel certain of its character. In this work, de Kooning has given shape to its soul.
Created two years after his triumphant return to the medium of painting, Willem de Kooning’s 1977 painting Untitled, is exemplary of the confident stylistic shift in the direction of his work. Sweeping and gestural brushwork recalls the abstraction of his earlier paintings, while sumptuous pools of tea green and golden yellow evoke the organic forms and aesthetic of his new beloved landscape in East Hampton.
De Kooning contains the essence of summer in the ruddy pink glow of an everlong sunset that shimmies in the upper register of the canvas as ribbons of white and peach wave across crests of rippled water. An abstract wading figure emerges from the composition golden as an afternoon, with bowed legs and outstretched arms that become distorted higher on the body, such that the head is undecipherable as a head, only a suggestion of where the neck ends. One can almost feel the heat against the figure’s back, as strokes of red gently contour the curve of a water-warped spine. Fits of blue and green merge at the figure’s body, further complicating the lack of any sense of depth. The tone and quality of the lines ambulate between sensually curved, erratically zagged, and calmly pooling. Neither background nor foreground are given precedence or clarity over the other. The painting reflects an abstract tendency teetering on the edge of representation.
The works of 1977 are remarkable for their ecstatic palettes and vibrant energy. Catalyzed by his East Hampton environment, de Kooning’s interests during this time began to revolve around the relationship between the elements of light, water, reflection, and movement. Though the artist moved into his East Hampton abode in 1963, it wasn’t until the mid-70s that he became consumed by its natural world, the specific slants of light, the topographic swells of earth. “When I moved into this house,” de Kooning observed in 1976, “everything seemed self-evident. The space, the light, the trees--I just accepted it without thinking about it much. Now I look around with new eyes. I think it’s all a kind of a miracle.” (W. de Kooning, quoted in M. Prather, Willem de Kooning Paintings, exh. cat. Washington. D.C. 1994, p. 197).
De Kooning created rapturously through this period. Fearless and with a unique freedom, he produced a volume of work as open and free flowing as his environment. It is unsurprising that the forces of water and light were so pivotal in his frenzy. Both are elements of change, adaptable to circumstance and malleable, even ephemeral, in form, lending themselves well to a mind tuned towards abstraction. Like the impressionists before him, de Kooning worked only during the day, taking advantage of the abundant natural light. A hallmark of the paintings of this period, “The light comes pouring in from all over;” noted the critic John Russell, “It changes every hour of the day; and although most times it is a delicate and steely gray in color, it can take fire at sunset, with conjunctions of red and purple such as Mondrian used to monitor as a young man when he was painting landscapes in Holland” (J. Russell, “De Kooning: ‘I See the Canvas and I Begin”’, New York Times, 5 February 1978). Russell’s remarks were regarding an exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in 1978 entitled “Willem de Kooning in East Hampton.” The show shifted critical attention from his early “Women” paintings, to his newfound interest in luminous landscape.
For Untitled, the light is blazing and all-consuming in its jubilation, like the imprint of the sun pressed behind the eyes, even as one turns away from it. But this impassioned, feverish effect was created while maintaining absolute control over the compositional whole. Dancing reflections are articulated through masterful line, and though the composition resists clearly defining space, the canvas soaks up so much of the artist’s energy and intention that delineating traditional space is irrelevant to the painting’s legibility. It is visceral in that way, a pure distillation of the human experience of nature. One doesn’t have to travel to East Hampton, or even be familiar with its landscape, to feel certain of its character. In this work, de Kooning has given shape to its soul.