パームデザートギャラリー ウォークスルー 2022

Cottonwood Tree (Near Abiquiu), New Mexico (1943) by celebrated American artist Georgia O’Keeffe is exemplary of the airier, more naturalistic style that the desert inspired in her. O’Keeffe had great affinity for the distinctive beauty of the Southwest, and made her home there among the spindly trees, dramatic vistas, and bleached animal skulls that she so frequently painted. O’Keeffe took up residence at Ghost Ranch, a dude ranch twelve miles outside of the village of Abiquiú in northern New Mexico and painted this cottonwood tree around there. The softer style befitting this subject is a departure from her bold architectural landscapes and jewel-toned flowers.<br><br>The cottonwood tree is abstracted into soft patches of verdant greens through which more delineated branches are seen, spiraling in space against pockets of blue sky. The modeling of the trunk and delicate energy in the leaves carry forward past experimentations with the regional trees of the Northeast that had captivated O’Keeffe years earlier: maples, chestnuts, cedars, and poplars, among others. Two dramatic canvases from 1924, Autumn Trees, The Maple and The Chestnut Grey, are early instances of lyrical and resolute centrality, respectively. As seen in these early tree paintings, O’Keeffe exaggerated the sensibility of her subject with color and form.<br><br>In her 1974 book, O’Keeffe explained: “The meaning of a word— to me— is not as exact as the meaning of a color. Color and shapes make a more definite statement than words.” Her exacting, expressive color intrigued. The Precisionist painter Charles Demuth described how, in O’Keeffe’s work, “each color almost regains the fun it must have felt within itself on forming the first rainbow” (As quoted in C. Eldridge, Georgia O’Keeffe, New York, 1991, p. 33). As well, congruities between forms knit together her oeuvre. Subjects like hills and petals undulate alike, while antlers, trees, and tributaries correspond in their branching morphology.<br><br>The sinewy contours and gradated hues characteristic of O’Keeffe find an incredible range across decades of her tree paintings. In New Mexico, O’Keeffe returned to the cottonwood motif many times, and the seasonality of this desert tree inspired many forms. The vernal thrill of new growth was channeled into spiraling compositions like Spring Tree No.1 (1945). Then, cottonwood trees turned a vivid autumnal yellow provided a breathtaking compliment to the blue backdrop of Mount Pedernal. The ossified curves of Dead Cottonweed Tree (1943) contain dramatic pools of light and dark, providing a foil to the warm, breathing quality of this painting, Cottonwood Tree (Near Abiquiu). The aural quality of this feathered cottonwood compels a feeling guided by O’Keeffe’s use of form of color.

ジョージア・オキーフ

<br>In Diego Rivera’s portrait of Enriqueta Dávila, the artist asserts a Mexicanidad, a quality of Mexican-ness, in the work along with his strong feelings towards the sitter. Moreover, this painting is unique amongst his portraiture in its use of symbolism, giving us a strong if opaque picture of the relationship between artist and sitter.<br><br>Enriqueta, a descendent of the prominent Goldbaum family, was married to the theater entrepreneur, José María Dávila. The two were close friends with Rivera, and the artist initially requested to paint Enriqueta’s portrait. Enriqueta found the request unconventional and relented on the condition that Rivera paints her daughter, Enriqueta “Quetita”. Rivera captures the spirit of the mother through the use of duality in different sections of the painting, from the floorboards to her hands, and even the flowers. Why the split in the horizon of the floorboard? Why the prominent cross while Enriqueta’s family is Jewish? Even her pose is interesting, showcasing a woman in control of her own power, highlighted by her hand on her hip which Rivera referred to as a claw, further complicating our understanding of her stature.<br><br>This use of flowers, along with her “rebozo” or shawl, asserts a Mexican identity. Rivera was adept at including and centering flowers in his works which became a kind of signature device. The flowers show bromeliads and roselles; the former is epiphytic and the latter known as flor de jamaica and often used in hibiscus tea and aguas frescas. There is a tension then between these two flowers, emphasizing the complicated relationship between Enriqueta and Rivera. On the one hand, Rivera demonstrates both his and the sitter’s Mexican identity despite the foreign root of Enriqueta’s family but there may be more pointed meaning revealing Rivera’s feelings to the subject. The flowers, as they often do in still life paintings, may also refer to the fleeting nature of life and beauty. The portrait for her daughter shares some similarities from the use of shawl and flowers, but through simple changes in gestures and type and placement of flowers, Rivera illuminates a stronger personality in Enriqueta and a more dynamic relationship as filtered through his lens.<br><br>A closer examination of even her clothing reveals profound meaning. Instead of a dress more in line for a socialite, Rivera has Enriqueta in a regional dress from Jalisco, emphasizing both of their Mexican identities. On the other hand, her coral jewelry, repeated in the color of her shoes, hints at multiple meanings from foreignness and exoticism to protection and vitality. From Ancient Egypt to Classical Rome to today, coral has been used for jewelry and to have been believed to have properties both real and symbolic. Coral jewelry is seen in Renaissance paintings indicating the vitality and purity of woman or as a protective amulet for infants. It is also used as a reminder, when paired with the infant Jesus, of his future sacrifice. Diego’s use of coral recalls these Renaissance portraits, supported by the plain background of the painting and the ribbon indicating the maker and date similar to Old Master works.<br><br>When combined in the portrait of Enriqueta, we get a layered and tense building of symbolism. Rivera both emphasizes her Mexican identity but also her foreign roots. He symbolizes her beauty and vitality but look closely at half of her face and it is as if Rivera has painted his own features onto hers. The richness of symbolism hints at the complex relationship between artist and sitter.

ディエゴ・リベラ

ブランディワイン・リバー美術館が編纂したカタログ・レゾネによると、『Puritan Cod Fishers』の下絵は、N. C. ワイエスが1945年10月に亡くなる前に完成させたものである。この項目には、スケッチの画像、画家の碑文、タイトル「Puritan Cod Fishers」が記録されており、カタログでは「代替」とされている。いずれにせよ、この大きなキャンバスはアンドリュー・ワイエスの手によって描かれたユニークな作品であり、父親のデザインと構図が、優れた息子の手によって結実した、明確な共同作業であったと後にアンドリュー・ワイエスは回想している。アンドリューにとって、それは深く感じられ、感動的な体験だったに違いない。父親の細部と本物へのこだわりを考えると、小さな帆船のラインは16世紀に使われていたエシャロットを表している。その一方で、アンドリューは、父親がしたかもしれない以上に、落ち着きのない海の色合いを深めたと思われ、その選択は、作業の危険な性質を適切に高めている。

アンドリュー・ワイス＆N.C.ワイス

WILLEM DE KOONING - 手漕ぎボートの女 - マソナイトに敷き詰められた紙に油彩 - 47 1/2 x 36 1/4 in.

ウィレム・デ・クーニング

<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>From the earliest days of painting during the nineteenth century, which was precipitated by the advent of Impressionism, Renoir established a reputation as the finest portrait painter among the emerging landscapists. Works such as Lise with a Parasol (1867) demonstrated his ability to capture the essence of his subjects with a distinctive flair, setting him apart from his peers. Inspired by a transformative trip to Italy in 1882, Renoir shifted his approach, emphasizing modeling and contours with smooth, blended handling, integrating a new found rigor and clarity reminiscent of the old masters. Often referred to as Renoir’s “Ingres period,” he retained the reputation of the painter best suited to manage the traditional process of recording a sitter's likeness with the distinctive flair and vibrancy of an Impressionist. </font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3> </font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>By 1890, Renoir’s style evolved again. He thinned his pigments to achieve a jewel-like translucence, infusing his works with a tender, ethereal quality. This final phase reflects the physical limitations of encroaching rheumatoid arthritis but also a deeper, more reflective approach to his subjects, capturing their inner light and character with subtle, luminous strokes. </font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3> </font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>No longer obliged to rely upon society portrait commissions, by 1900, Renoir began to focus on portraits and studies of family, close friends, and neighbors. “Fillette à l’orange”, painted in 1911, extends our appreciation of his very personal, intimate style and reputation for imbuing his portraits of children with all the affectionate charm he could muster. It avoids the softer, generalized approach that prompted his son Jean’s remark that “we are all Renoir’s children, ”idealized versions of beauty and sensuality expressed in universal rather than with physiognomic specifics. We may never know her identity, but her likeness is vivid because Renoir concentrates on her face and expression. Nevertheless, the interplay of light and color highlights her features and brings to life the tender and affectionate nature characteristic of Renoir’s later portraits. An orange as an accessory is often included in portraiture as a symbol of fertility. Yet, here, it seems to serve as a formal element for the artist to demonstrate his skill at displaying its size, shape, and heft in this young girl's hand.</font></div>

ピエール=オーギュス・ルノワール

ウィンスロー・ホーマー

<div>In the mid-1920s, Rufino Tamayo embarked on the crucial development phase as a sophisticated, contemporary colorist. In New York, he encountered the groundbreaking works of Picasso, Braque, and Giorgio de Chirico, along with the enduring impact of Cubism. Exploring painterly and plastic values through subjects sourced from street scenes, popular culture, and the fabric of daily life, his unique approach to color and form began to take shape. It was a pivotal shift toward cosmopolitan aesthetics, setting him apart from the nationalist fervor championed by the politically charged narratives of the Mexican Muralist movement.  By focusing on the vitality of popular culture, he captured the essential Mexican identity that prioritized universal artistic values over explicit social and political commentary. The approach underscored his commitment to redefining Mexican art on the global stage and highlighted his innovative contributions to the modernist dialogue. </div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div>Like Cézanne, Tamayo elevated the still life genre to some of its most beautifully simple expressions. Yet high sophistication underlies the ease with which Tamayo melds vibrant Mexican motifs with the avant-garde influences of the School of Paris. As "Naturaleza Muerta" of 1935 reveals, Tamayo refused to lapse into the mere decoration that often characterizes the contemporary School of Paris art with which his work draws comparisons. Instead, his arrangement of watermelons, bottles, a coffee pot, and sundry items staged within a sobering, earthbound tonality and indeterminant, shallow space recalls Tamayo's early interest in Surrealism. An overlayed square matrix underscores the contrast between the organic subjects of the painting and the abstract, intellectualized structure imposed upon them, deepening the interpretation of the artist's exploration of visual perception and representation. In this way, the grid serves to navigate between the visible world and the underlying structures that inform our understanding of it, inviting viewers to consider the interplay between reality and abstraction, sensation and analysis.</div>

ルフィーノ・タマヨ

No artist bridged the gap between European Modernism and American Abstract Expressionism the same way Hans Hofmann did. The reason is simple. He was trained in Parisian academies prior to World War I and was friendly with Henri Matisse, Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque, and, most significantly, Robert and Sonia Delaunay. Conversely, his endeavors as a teacher and later, as a mature artist in full command of his abilities were stimulated — made possible even — by the exhilarating New York milieu that gave rise to Abstract Expressionism. So perhaps it is not surprising that unlike most of the Abstract Expressionists who pursued a single iconographic look — Rothko’s soft-edged rectangles, Franz Klein’s enlarged calligraphic strokes, Clyfford Still’s dark, ragged shapes — Hofmann was constantly reaching for different and contradictory effects. That meant his paintings were wildly varied and that they carved a wide swath toward the most exciting avenues available to contemporary abstraction. Hofmann proved to be a gallant experimenter, refusing to settle on a single style for long.<br><br>The Climb was painted in 1960 at a time when most American painters were pushing abstraction in new directions. Not surprisingly, as an outlier, it does not evoke Hofmann’s usual “push and pull’ technique. But it is very much a painting of its time, marked by a sensuousness and a deft, painterly touch. It suggests what Irving Sandler characterized as Hofmann’s hedonistic touch, an optimistic celebration of the lyrical abstraction that overcame the burning darkness of painting in the 40s and trumped even the lighter palette of Pollock or Pousette-Dart that emerged later. While the passages of The Climb are brushed rather than poured or stained, it reflects the delicate lyricism of his former student, Helen Frankenthaler who, since 1952 had experimented with floating areas of color, absorbed into the canvas with watercolor-like ease. She, in turn, had inspired a generation of Color Field painters including Morris Louis and Kenneth Noland. On the other hand, these short bands and prismatic slurries recall those halcyon days in Paris when Hofmann worked through color theory with his good friend Robert Delaunay and thought a lot about prisms. Hofmann not only retained elements of Synthetic Cubism, but the lessons he learned from the Fauves and the artists who verily invented abstraction, Wassily Kandinsky, Kasimir Malevich, Frantisek Kupka, and Piet Mondrian to name a few of the key players. The Climb is a glorious expression of a painter drawing from both the past and the present, painting in a playful, but not frivolous manner fully informed and prepared to express his abilities as a painter, simply, and with great conviction.<br><br>As New York City became the avant-garde’s global hub in the 1940s, radical, new approaches to art, such as action painting and abstraction, took root among the informally grouped New York School painters. By 1950, Abstract Expressionism was well underway, but the movement was often overlooked by institutions. When the Metropolitan Museum of Art announced its plan to exhibit a survey of contemporary American painting, many of the New York School painters felt there was a bias against more “progressive” art in the museum’s selection process, prompting them to draft an open letter protesting the show.<br><br>The letter garnered attention, and Life magazine published an article on the protest in January 1951, “The Irascible Group of Advanced Artists Led Fight Against Show.” To accompany the article, Nina Lee photographed 15 of the 18 painters who signed the letter, including Hans Hofmann, Willem de Kooning, Adolph Gottlieb, Ad Reinhardt, Richard Pousette-Dart, William Baziotes, Jackson Pollock, Clyford Still, Robert Motherwell, Barnett Newman, and Mark Rothko. Today, this article is considered a turning point in the prominence of Abstract Expressionism, and the artists involved are often referred to as the “Irascibles.”

ハンス・ホフマン

マルク・シャガール

The frame of reference for Irish American Sean Scully’s signature blocks and stripes is vast. From Malevich’s central premise that geometry can provide the means for universal understanding to Rothko’s impassioned approach to color and rendering of the dramatic sublime, Scully learned how to condense the splendor of the natural world into simple modes of color, light, and composition. Born in Dublin in 1945 and London-raised, Scully was well-schooled in figurative drawing when he decided to catch the spirit of his lodestar, Henri Matisse, by visiting Morocco in 1969. He was captivated by the dazzling tessellated mosaics and richly dyed fabrics and began to paint grids and stipes of color. Subsequent adventures provided further inspiration as the play of intense light on the reflective surfaces of Mayan ruins and the ancient slabs of stone at Stonehenge brought the sensation of light, space, and geometric movement to Scully’s paintings. The ability to trace the impact of Scully’s travels throughout his paintings reaffirms the value of abstract art as a touchstone for real-life experience.<br><br><br>Painted in rich, deep hues and layered, nuanced surfaces, Grey Red is both poetic and full of muscular formalism. Scully appropriately refers to these elemental forms as ‘bricks,’ suggesting the formal calculations of an architect. As he explained, “these relationships that I see in the street doorways, in windows between buildings, and in the traces of structures that were once full of life, I take for my work. I use these colors and forms and put them together in a way that perhaps reminds you of something, though you’re not sure of that” (David Carrier, Sean Scully, 2004, pg. 98). His approach is organic, less formulaic; intuitive painter’s choices are layering one color upon another so that contrasting hues and colors vibrate with subliminal energy. Diebenkorn comes to mind in his pursuit of radiant light. But here, the radiant bands of terracotta red, gray, taupe, and black of Grey Red resonate with deep, smoldering energy and evoke far more affecting passion than you would think it could impart. As his good friend, Bono wrote, “Sean approaches the canvas like a kickboxer, a plasterer, a builder. The quality of painting screams of a life being lived.”

ショーン・スカリー

<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Hans Hofmann's <em>Baal</em> channels the charged energy of its evocative title, rooted in ancient Semitic tradition. The name refers to a lord or master but also carries associations with primal forces of nature, chaos, and creation. Hofmann's work reflects this duality, blending structured design with the untamed vitality of gestural abstraction to create a composition oscillating between entropy and order.</font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Painted at age 65, <em>Baal</em> also showcases Hofmann's willingness to revisit earlier disciplines while addressing the challenges of mid-century abstraction. Its vibrant palette and bold use of complementary colors, particularly the juxtaposition of red and green, heightens the painting's dynamism. His muscular brushwork also reflects his lifelong experimentation with the tension between form and freedom; undulating lines and biomorphic forms evoke the surrealist influence of Miró and the spiritual resonance of Kandinsky's gestural abstractions. Like these predecessors, Hofmann sought to translate "inner necessity" into visual expression, guided by his fertile imagination. Yet the planal elements and curvilinear shapes of <em>Baal</em> also reflect the influence of improvisational painting, a hallmark of Abstract Expressionism as practiced by contemporaries like Arshile Gorky, among others. It is a composition that teems with movement and energy, suggesting a cosmos in flux—chaotic yet deliberate.</font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Exhibited the same year at Betty Parsons Gallery in New York, <em>Baal</em> signals Hofmann's evolution as a master and innovator. With its vivid dynamism and symbolic title, the painting epitomizes Hofmann's ability to infuse abstraction with elemental power, crafting a deeply personal exploration of form and color.</font></div>

ハンス・ホフマン

<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Hans Hofmann's "<em>Astral Image #1"</em> of 1947 captures a pivotal moment in his artistic evolution as he wrestled with the competing forces of linearity and painterly abstraction. Exhibited in the same year at Betty Parsons Gallery in New York—Hofmann's first show with Parsons — the painting represents a phase of intense experimentation in which Cubist-inspired linear elements took center stage. Lines arc and stretch across the canvas, creating a dynamic framework that opens into areas filled with flatly applied alizarin crimson. These contrasting forces give the work a sense of tension and vitality.</font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>During this period, Hofmann's reliance on linearity provided a departure from the more fluid, painterly dynamism of his earlier works. From 1944 to 1951, this linear impulse permeated his practice, signaling a prolonged exploration of modes of expression in which he grappled with reconciling abstraction and structure. While some viewed this phase as a retreat from the energetic breakthroughs that defined American art's rise to global prominence, others recognized the distinctiveness of these paintings. <em>Astral Image #1</em> challenged the framework of Hofmann's singular vision, blending Cubist discipline with the vibrant, unruly energy that remained a hallmark of his oeuvre.</font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>The work's flat planes of bright alizarin crimson, contrasted with the angular momentum of the lines, evoke a cosmos of restless energy, hinting at the celestial themes suggested by its title. This painting reflects Hofmann's deliberate explorations during the late 1940s that underscore his unique ability to create works that resist easy categorization, standing apart as deeply personal explorations of form and color.</font></div><br><br><div> </div>

ハンス・ホフマン

PIERRE BONNARD - Soleil Couchant - 油彩・キャンバス - 14 1/2 x 22 1/2 in.

PIERRE BONNARD（ピエール・ボンナード

<div><font face=Calibri size=3 color=black>Camille Claudel's life story reflects an era when societal constraints often dimmed the brilliance of women; their genius was viewed as a threat to the male-dominated world. Most introductions to Claudel are steeped in misleading biographical details related to her as Rodin's assistant, mistress, or lover, associations that diminish her achievements as a first-rate sculptor whose work borrows little from Rodin in style or subject matter. Despite these challenges, Claudel's legacy has endured, celebrated through exhibitions, biographies, and films since her rediscovery in 1982. </font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Calibri size=3 color=black><em>“La Vague (The Wave),”</em> a remarkable sculpture of three women frolicking joyfully, embodies Claudel's passion for art and connection to nature. The women, their hair unruly like the sea, are depicted in a moment of freedom and abandon, yet the looming wave hints at the inevitable sorrow to come—a metaphor for Claudel's life, shadowed by fate. This piece, initially shown in plaster and later cast in bronze with an onyx marble wave, draws direct inspiration from Hokusai's <em>“The Great Wave,”</em> reflecting the Parisian fascination with Japanese art at the time. While <em>“La Vague”</em> showcases Claudel's technical mastery and the influence of Japanese aesthetics, it also poignantly symbolizes her acceptance of the overpowering forces of nature and the tragic course her life would ultimately take. This bronze, cast in 1997, is one of only two not held in a museum, further emphasizing the rarity of and reverence for Claudel's work.</font></div>

カミーユ・クローデル

<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Any analysis of Hans Hofmann’s oeuvre is incomplete without considering his small landscapes, which occupied him between 1940 and 1944. These works capture a pivotal moment in his artistic evolution, transitioning from Matisse-inspired figurative still lifes, portraits, and interiors to the pure abstraction that would later define his career. “Landscape #108” exemplifies this shift. Its compressed composition and severe clustering of intense colors prefigure the artist’s mature works, channeling the same ferocious dynamism that is the hallmark of our appreciation for the artist. The Fauvist palette and electric strokes vibrate with energy, their interplay of light and dark creating a rhythmic tension that feels almost musical. While modest in scale, the painting’s boldness and dynamism hint at the daring risks Hofmann would later embrace in his larger abstractions. Rooted in Fauvism and resonant with Kandinsky’s early work, “Landscape #108” remains a robust testament to Hofmann’s evolving visual language during this transformative period.</font></div>

ハンス・ホフマン

$<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Hans Hofmann explored linearity and color with persistence during the late 1940s, creating a tension between Cubist structure and gestural abstraction. In this painting, <em>Fruit Bowl #1</em>, the linear impulse takes center stage, with dynamic black contours weaving and unspooling across the canvas, limning forms that merely hint at a still-life composition. Hofmann's approach is far from conventional; the traditional fruit bowl is fractured and reimagined into an abstract interplay of geometric and organic shapes. The addition of bright, flatly applied patches and demarcation of green, red, and yellow punctuates the composition, adding an energetic entropy and vitality. Hofmann's raw, alluring, yet slightly uncomfortable palette and gestural freedom elevate the piece beyond its Cubist origins, revealing an artist deeply engaged with the challenges of mid-20th-century abstraction. Hofmann's lines and color fields balance spontaneity with control, oscillating between chaos and structure.</font></div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black><em>Fruit Bowl #1</em> reflects Hofmann's ongoing dialogue with earlier European modernists while pushing toward the freer instincts of American Abstract Expressionism. Often criticized as misaligned with the rising dominance of gestural abstraction, paintings from this period in Hofmann's career remain his own—vibrant, exploratory, and unapologetically personal.</font></div>$