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拍品專文
The Guston Foundation confirms that this lot will be included in the future catalogue raisonné of the drawings of Philip Guston.
One of the most recognizable artists to turn from Abstract Expressionism in favor of a style uniquely his own, Philip Guston’s enigmatic figuration and achingly personal iconography have carved out a singular niche in the history of postwar and contemporary art. Window is a provocative but intimate example of the artist’s lifelong respect for drawing, not as a means of working out ideas for paintings but as a wholly expressive form in and of itself. Charged with the same subversive dynamism and wit as his larger works in oil, this graphite on paper composition continues to work with issues of personal trauma, racial tension, and social upheaval in the late 20th century that are emblematic of Guston’s late period.
Rendered in dark graphite on a stark white ground, Window is overtaken compositionally by a burly figure dressed in a rumpled costume. Seemingly made from a patchwork of smaller pieces of fabric, the individual’s clothing is distinct for its inclusion of a pointed hood with small slits for eyes. A signature of Guston’s later iconography, the hood creates a menacing subject for the work that is often seen as a stand-in for the artist himself. Two gloved hands, one holding a cigar, gesture toward an unseen counterpart while a view of high-rise buildings is visible outside. The window itself, its shade pulled all the way up, is partially blocked by the person. This occlusion adds to his dominance within the work. This oblique scene, like a frame pulled from a larger story with no other context, is typical of Guston’s working style and can be seen as a piece of his larger narrative.
Executed two short years after his return to figuration, Window is a rich sampler of Guston’s favored motifs. The hooded figure stands with its back to the titular window as if turning from staring at the city below to emphasize a point. Gesturing with his smoldering cigar between two thick fingers, this imposing character is at once mysterious, threatening, and cartoonish. A gloved hand, reminiscent of those most often seen on Mickey Mouse, points forcefully out of frame. This distinct visual language is indicative of Guston as both an artist and as a person with a storied past. Each drawing and painting that Guston produced from 1968 until his death in 1980 adds one more piece to the puzzle of his life.
One of the original founders of the Abstract Expressionist school, Guston and his classmate, Jackson Pollock, had been introduced to the work of Pablo Picasso and Giorgio di Chirico early on by a teacher. While employed by the Works Progress Administration, Guston worked with representation until abandoning it for the trademark gestural abstraction of the New York School. After years of success in this style, Guston made a sudden change in 1968 when he returned to representative painting. Eschewing the formal qualities and expressive compositions, the artist lamented, “I got sick and tired of all that purity. I wanted to tell stories” (P. Guston, quoted in A. Kingsley, “Philip Guston’s Endgame”, Horizon, June 1980, p. 39). Drawing upon the lyrical sketches of Picasso and the apprehensively-composed paintings of di Chirico, Guston employed a bevy of symbols and recurring components to create uncertain narratives and tensely-rendered tableaus.
Although it is arguable that Guston is known more for his paintings during his late period, the artist was vehement about the importance of drawing to his practice. Works like Window are concrete evidence of Guston’s mind at work as he invented new scenarios and arrangements for his motley cast of characters and objects. The artist espoused the virtues of his practice, saying, “The act of drawing is what locates, suggests, discovers. At times, it seems enough to draw, without the distraction of color and mass. Yet it is an old ambition to make drawing and painting one.... On a lucky day, a surprising balance of forms and spaces will appear and I feel the drawing making itself, the image taking hold. This, in turn, moves me towards painting—anxious to get to the same place, with the actuality of paint and light” (P. Guston, quoted in Philip Guston: Drawings 1947-1977, New York, 1978, n.p.). The fluid conversation between Guston’s drawing and painting practices is evident in the similarities between the two. His inky linework is echoed in the confident application of paint, and the subtle gradations of painted color find their monochromatic cohorts in the artist’s approach to shading.
Guston’s upbringing was marked with trauma, having discovered his father’s body at the age of ten after the Russian immigrant had hung himself. After this, the young Guston would frequently hole up in a closet to draw characters from his favorite comics like George Herriman’s Krazy Kat and Bud Fisher’s Mutt and Jeff lit only by the light of a bare bulb on a string. This interest in cartoon figures and their linear rendering shows itself in his later drawings like Window while also making reference to a very personal set of objects, among them nooses, bare bulbs, and suspended legs and shoes. Henry Hopkins noted the artist’s aboutface toward representation, saying, “Whatever psychological dam had been blocking Guston’s creative surge had burst. Self-revelatory, self-deprecatory, urgent, tormented, dumb, sad, humorous, anything and everything but pretty, the hand and the heart were moving with a will of their own I felt that I knew what had happened” (H. Hopkins, quoted in Philip Guston, exh. cat., San Francsico Museum of Modern Art, 1980, p. 47). By mining his past and filtering it through his expressive linework and knack for forebodingly comedic imagery, Guston was able to accurately express his true nature as a person and an artist.
One of the most recognizable artists to turn from Abstract Expressionism in favor of a style uniquely his own, Philip Guston’s enigmatic figuration and achingly personal iconography have carved out a singular niche in the history of postwar and contemporary art. Window is a provocative but intimate example of the artist’s lifelong respect for drawing, not as a means of working out ideas for paintings but as a wholly expressive form in and of itself. Charged with the same subversive dynamism and wit as his larger works in oil, this graphite on paper composition continues to work with issues of personal trauma, racial tension, and social upheaval in the late 20th century that are emblematic of Guston’s late period.
Rendered in dark graphite on a stark white ground, Window is overtaken compositionally by a burly figure dressed in a rumpled costume. Seemingly made from a patchwork of smaller pieces of fabric, the individual’s clothing is distinct for its inclusion of a pointed hood with small slits for eyes. A signature of Guston’s later iconography, the hood creates a menacing subject for the work that is often seen as a stand-in for the artist himself. Two gloved hands, one holding a cigar, gesture toward an unseen counterpart while a view of high-rise buildings is visible outside. The window itself, its shade pulled all the way up, is partially blocked by the person. This occlusion adds to his dominance within the work. This oblique scene, like a frame pulled from a larger story with no other context, is typical of Guston’s working style and can be seen as a piece of his larger narrative.
Executed two short years after his return to figuration, Window is a rich sampler of Guston’s favored motifs. The hooded figure stands with its back to the titular window as if turning from staring at the city below to emphasize a point. Gesturing with his smoldering cigar between two thick fingers, this imposing character is at once mysterious, threatening, and cartoonish. A gloved hand, reminiscent of those most often seen on Mickey Mouse, points forcefully out of frame. This distinct visual language is indicative of Guston as both an artist and as a person with a storied past. Each drawing and painting that Guston produced from 1968 until his death in 1980 adds one more piece to the puzzle of his life.
One of the original founders of the Abstract Expressionist school, Guston and his classmate, Jackson Pollock, had been introduced to the work of Pablo Picasso and Giorgio di Chirico early on by a teacher. While employed by the Works Progress Administration, Guston worked with representation until abandoning it for the trademark gestural abstraction of the New York School. After years of success in this style, Guston made a sudden change in 1968 when he returned to representative painting. Eschewing the formal qualities and expressive compositions, the artist lamented, “I got sick and tired of all that purity. I wanted to tell stories” (P. Guston, quoted in A. Kingsley, “Philip Guston’s Endgame”, Horizon, June 1980, p. 39). Drawing upon the lyrical sketches of Picasso and the apprehensively-composed paintings of di Chirico, Guston employed a bevy of symbols and recurring components to create uncertain narratives and tensely-rendered tableaus.
Although it is arguable that Guston is known more for his paintings during his late period, the artist was vehement about the importance of drawing to his practice. Works like Window are concrete evidence of Guston’s mind at work as he invented new scenarios and arrangements for his motley cast of characters and objects. The artist espoused the virtues of his practice, saying, “The act of drawing is what locates, suggests, discovers. At times, it seems enough to draw, without the distraction of color and mass. Yet it is an old ambition to make drawing and painting one.... On a lucky day, a surprising balance of forms and spaces will appear and I feel the drawing making itself, the image taking hold. This, in turn, moves me towards painting—anxious to get to the same place, with the actuality of paint and light” (P. Guston, quoted in Philip Guston: Drawings 1947-1977, New York, 1978, n.p.). The fluid conversation between Guston’s drawing and painting practices is evident in the similarities between the two. His inky linework is echoed in the confident application of paint, and the subtle gradations of painted color find their monochromatic cohorts in the artist’s approach to shading.
Guston’s upbringing was marked with trauma, having discovered his father’s body at the age of ten after the Russian immigrant had hung himself. After this, the young Guston would frequently hole up in a closet to draw characters from his favorite comics like George Herriman’s Krazy Kat and Bud Fisher’s Mutt and Jeff lit only by the light of a bare bulb on a string. This interest in cartoon figures and their linear rendering shows itself in his later drawings like Window while also making reference to a very personal set of objects, among them nooses, bare bulbs, and suspended legs and shoes. Henry Hopkins noted the artist’s aboutface toward representation, saying, “Whatever psychological dam had been blocking Guston’s creative surge had burst. Self-revelatory, self-deprecatory, urgent, tormented, dumb, sad, humorous, anything and everything but pretty, the hand and the heart were moving with a will of their own I felt that I knew what had happened” (H. Hopkins, quoted in Philip Guston, exh. cat., San Francsico Museum of Modern Art, 1980, p. 47). By mining his past and filtering it through his expressive linework and knack for forebodingly comedic imagery, Guston was able to accurately express his true nature as a person and an artist.