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<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Clyfford Still occupies a monumental position in the history of modern art, often heralded as the earliest pure abstract painter to work on an expansive scale. By the early 1940s, Still had already arrived at a radically abstract visual language that transcended the aesthetic frameworks of his peers, rejecting representational imagery and producing canvases that were immense in size and conceptual ambition. Pollock famously confessed that “Still makes the rest of us look academic,” and Rothko once kept a Still painting in his bedroom as a guiding inspiration. His work was, as critic Clement Greenberg remarked, “estranging and upsetting” in its genuine originality, a raw and elemental confrontation of form and color that defied conventional expectations.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>For viewers familiar with Still’s oeuvre, his paintings typically evoke a powerful physicality: vast canvases covered in richly textured layers of pigment—earthy blacks, ochres, siennas, and cadmiums—applied with a trowel-like rigor that recalls weathered geological formations. These thickly encrusted surfaces often alternate with more thinly painted passages, all juxtaposed against large swaths of bare canvas that lend his compositions a sense of immense scale and open-ended possibility. This aesthetic, rooted in the grandeur of raw and elemental presence, often manifests as jagged, opaque forms whose stark contrasts convey a primal energy.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black><em>“PH-589”,</em> on the other hand, marks a transition in Still’s career, where his already profound engagement with abstraction began to evolve toward greater spareness and a deeper exploration of the expressive potential of voids and open space. Painted in 1959, the expected density of his earlier surfaces gives way to a lighter touch and a more restrained use of paint. Against largely unpainted ground, two jagged shapes of continental significance hang suspended, their edges torn and irregular, as if wrested from the canvas itself. The bare canvas, which had served as a compositional counterpoint in Still’s earlier works, now asserts itself as a dominant feature, heightening the power of the painted forms while introducing an ethereal sense of light and space.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>This shift was both aesthetic and philosophical. By the late 1950s, Still had grown increasingly disenchanted with the art world, distancing himself from its commercial and critical structures<em>. “PH-589”</em> is an anticipatory event before his move to rural Maryland in 1961 that coincided with a period of introspection and formal refinement when Still began to strip his compositions down to their essential elements. As Still explained, he sought to fuse color, texture, and form into “a living spirit,” transcending their materiality to evoke the human capacity for transcendence.</font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black><br><br>This painting signals the burgeoning openness of Still’s later works, where the interplay of painted forms and unpainted ground would become a defining characteristic. By the 1960s and 1970s, Still’s palette grew lighter, his gestures sparser, and his use of emptiness more deliberate, creating compositions that were at once monumental and ephemeral. Yet the seeds of that evolution are already present here in the restrained yet powerful interplay of color and space. His revolutionary approach to abstraction—both in scale and in spirit—provided a foundation upon which the Abstract Expressionists built their legacy. At the same time, his work resists easy interpretation, demanding instead an unmediated confrontation with its raw, elemental presence. With its terse eloquence and rhythmic vitality, this painting is both a culmination of Still’s early achievements and a momentous portent of his later innovations.</font></div>

CLYFFORD STILL

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.

GEORGIA O'KEEFFE

Between Île-de-France and Burgundy and on the edge of the Fontainebleau Forest lies the medieval village of Moret-sur-Loing, established in the 12th century. When Alfred Sisley described its character to Monet in a letter dated 31 August 1881 as “a chocolate-box landscape…” he meant it as a memento of enticement; that its keep, the ramparts, the church, the fortified gates, and the ornate facades nestled along the river were, for a painter, a setting of unmatched charm. An ancient church, always the most striking townscape feature along the Seine Valley, would be a presence in Sisley’s townscape views as it was for Corot, and for Monet at Vétheuil. But unlike Monet whose thirty views of Rouen Cathedral were executed so he could trace the play of light and shadow across the cathedral façade and capture the ephemeral nature of moment-to-moment changes of light and atmosphere, Sisley set out to affirm the permanent nature of the church of Notre-Dame at Moret-sur-Loing. Monet’s sole concern was air and light, and Sisley’s appears to be an homage keepsake. The painting exudes respect for the original architects and builders of a structure so impregnable and resolute, it stood then as it did in those medieval times, and which for us, stands today, as it will, for time immemorial.<br><br>Nevertheless, Sisley strived to show the changing appearance of the motif through a series of atmospheric changes. He gave the works titles such as “In Sunshine”, “Under Frost”, and “In Rain” and exhibited them as a group at the Salon du Champ-de-Mars in 1894, factors that suggest he thought of them as serial interpretations. Nevertheless, unlike Monet’s work, l’église de Moret, le Soir reveals that Sisley chose to display the motif within a spatial context that accentuates its compositional attributes — the plunging perspective of the narrow street at left, the strong diagonal recession of the building lines as a counterbalance to the right, and the imposing weight of the stony building above the line of sight.

阿尔弗雷德·西斯利

19世纪70年代初，温斯洛-霍默经常在位于纽约州哈德逊河和卡茨基尔山之间的一个小农庄附近绘制乡村生活场景，该小农庄因其出色的麦田而世代闻名。今天，赫尔利因激发了荷马最伟大的作品之一--1872年夏天绘制的《鞭子的Snap》而更为著名。在其他许多受该地区启发的画作中，《站在麦田里的女孩》感情丰富，但没有过度感伤。它与1866年在法国画的一幅题为《在麦田里》的研究报告以及次年他回到美国后画的另一幅报告直接相关。但荷马无疑会对这幅作品感到最自豪。这是一幅肖像画，一幅服装研究画，一幅具有欧洲田园画伟大传统的风俗画，也是一幅戏剧性的逆光、大气的巡回画，浸透在迅速消逝的阴暗时刻的光线中，并带有羊脂玉般的花香和麦穗的点缀。1874年，荷马送了四幅画给国家设计学院的展览。其中一幅名为 "女孩"。难道不是这一幅吗？

温斯洛荷马

<div>When forty rural Sacramento Delta landscapes by Wayne Thiebaud were unveiled at a San Francisco gallery opening in November 1997, attendees were amazed by paintings they never anticipated. This new frontier betrayed neither Thiebaud’s mastery of confectionary-shop colors nor his impeccable eye for formal relationships. Rather, his admirers were shocked to learn that all but seven of these forty interpretations had been completed in just two years. As his son Paul recalled, “the refinements of my father’s artistic process were ever changing in a chameleon-like frenzy.” The new direction had proved an exhilarating experience, each painting an affirmation of Wayne Thiebaud’s impassioned response to the fields and levees of the local environment he dearly loved.   </div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div>Viewed from the perspective of a bird or a plane, "The Riverhouse" is an agrarian tapestry conceived with a kaleidoscopic range of shapes and simple forms; fields striped with furrows or striated fans, deliriously colored parallelograms and trapezoids, an orchard garnished pizza-shaped wedge, and a boldly limned river, the lifeline of a thirsty California central valley largely dependent upon transported water. "The Riverhouse" is a painting that ‘moves’ between seamlessly shifting planes of aerial mapping that recalls Richard Diebenkorn’s stroke of insight when he took his first commercial flight the spring of 1951, and those partitions engaging a more standard vanishing point perspective. Thiebaud explained his process as “orchestrating with as much variety and tempo as I can.” Brightly lit with a fauve-like intensity, "The Riverhouse" is a heady concoction of vibrant pigment and rich impasto, one that recalls his indebtedness to Pierre Bonnard whose color Thiebaud referred to as “a bucket full of hot coals and ice cubes.” Among his many other influences, the insertion of objects — often tiny — that defy a rational sense of scale that reflects his interest in Chinese landscape painting.  As always, his mastery as a painter recalls his titular pies and cakes with their bewitching rainbow-like halos and side-by-side colors of equal intensity but differing in hues to create the vibratory effect of an aura, what Thiebaud explained “denotes an attempt to develop as much energy and light and visual power as you can.” </div><br><br><div> </div><br><br><div>Thiebaud’s Sacramento Delta landscapes are an integral and important part of his oeuvre. Paintings such as "The Riverhouse" rival the best abstract art of the twentieth century. His good friend, Willem de Kooning thought so, too.</div>

韦恩·蒂博

<div><font face=Lato size=3>Widely recognized as one of the most consequential artists of our time, Gerhard Richters career now rivals that of Picasso's in terms of productivity and genius. The multi-faceted subject matter, ranging from slightly out-of-focus photographic oil paintings to Kelly-esque grid paintings to his "squeegee" works, Richter never settles for repeating the same thought- but is constantly evolving his vision. Richter has been honored by significant retrospective exhibitions, including the pivotal 2002 show,  "Gerhard Richter: Forty Years of Painting," at the Museum of Modern Art, New York.    "Abstraktes Bild 758-2" (1992) comes from a purely abstract period in Richter's work- where the message is conveyed using a truly physical painting style, where applied paint layers are distorted with a wooden "Squeegee" tool. Essentially, Richter is sculpting the layers of paint, revealing the underlayers and their unique color combinations; there is a degree of "art by chance". If the painting does not work, Richter will move on- a method pioneered by Jackson Pollock decades earlier.    Richter is included in prominent museums and collections worldwide, including the Tate, London, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, among many others.</font></div>

格哈德·里希特

<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>

鲁菲诺·塔马约

Tom Wesselmann will undoubtedly be remembered for associating his erotic themes with the colors of the American flag. But Wesselmann had considerable gifts as a draftsman, and the line was his principal preoccupation, first as a cartoonist and later as an ardent admirer of Matisse. That he also pioneered a method of turning drawings into laser-cut steel wall reliefs proved a revelation. He began to focus ever more on drawing for the sake of drawing, enchanted that the new medium could be lifted and held: “It really is like being able to pick up a delicate line drawing from the paper.”<br><br>The Steel Drawings caused both excitement and confusion in the art world. After acquiring one of the ground-breaking works in 1985, the Whitney Museum of American Art wrote Wesselmann wondering if it should be cataloged as a drawing or a sculpture. The work had caused such a stir that when Eric Fischl visited Wesselmann at his studio and saw steel-cut works for the first time, he remembered feeling jealous. He wanted to try it but dared not. It was clear: ‘Tom owned the technique completely.’<br><br>Wesselmann owed much of that technique to his year-long collaboration with metalwork fabricator Alfred Lippincott. Together, in 1984 they honed a method for cutting the steel with a laser that provided the precision he needed to show the spontaneity of his sketches. Wesselmann called it ‘the best year of my life’, elated at the results that he never fully achieved with aluminum that required each shape be hand-cut. “I anticipated how exciting it would be for me to get a drawing back in steel. I could hold it in my hands. I could pick it up by the lines…it was so exciting…a kind of near ecstasy, anyway, but there’s really been something about the new work that grabbed me.”<br><br>Bedroom Brunette with Irises is a Steel Drawing masterwork that despite its uber-generous scale, utilizes tight cropping to provide an unimposing intimacy while maintaining a free and spontaneous quality. The figure’s outstretched arms and limbs and body intertwine with the petals and the interior elements providing a flowing investigative foray of black lines and white ‘drop out’ shapes provided by the wall. It recalls Matisse and any number of his reclining odalisque paintings. Wesselmann often tested monochromatic values to discover the extent to which color would transform his hybrid objects into newly developed Steel Drawing works and, in this case, continued with a color steel-cut version of the composition Bedroom Blonde with Irises (1987) and later still, in 1993 with a large-scale drawing in charcoal and pastel on paper.

托姆·韦塞尔曼

<div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Irving Norman conceived and created <em>The Human Condition</em> at a time when he must have reflected deeply on the totality of his life. Given its grand scale and cinematic treatment, it impresses as a profound culmination of his artistic journey, synthesizing decades of themes, insights, and experiences into a single monumental work. A man of great humility and an artist of uncommon skill, he translated a horrendous war experience into impactful allegories of unforgettable, often visceral imagery. He worked in solitude with relentless forbearance in a veritable vacuum without fame or financial security. Looking to the past, acutely aware of present trends, he knew, given the human predicament, he was forecasting the future. As one New York Times reviewer mused in 2008, "In light of current circumstances, Mr. Norman's dystopian vision may strike some…as eerily pertinent," an observation that recalled recent events.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Irving Norman's figures, manipulated by their environment and physical space, are of a style that exaggerates the malleability of the human form to underscore their vulnerability and subjugation. This literal and symbolic elasticity suggests that these figures are stretched, compressed, or twisted by the forces of their environment, emphasizing their lack of autonomy and the oppressive systems that govern their existence. While these figures reflect vulnerability, Norman's structural choice in <em>The Human Condition</em> creates a stark juxtaposition that shifts attention toward the central tableau. A commanding female figure, rising above the calamitous failures and atrocities of the past, is joined by a man, forming a symbolic "couple,” suggesting the unity and shared responsibility of a new vision. Their hands, magnified and upturned, present these children as a vision offering hope and renewal for the future. The gesture, combined with the futuristic clothing of the diminutive figures, reinforces the idea of an alternative path—a brighter, forward-looking humanity. The central tableau acts as a metaphorical offering, inviting the viewer to consider a future untouched by the weight of darkness from which these figures emerge.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Here, Norman underscores a hopeful, if not optimistic, vision for generations ahead. The structural decision suggests a deliberate shift in focus: the darker scenes relegated to the sides represent the burdens, past and present. At the same time, the central figures embody the potential for a future shaped by resilience and renewal. This juxtaposition distinguishes <em>The Human Condition</em> as a reflection of Norman's later years, where a tempered hope emerges to claim the high ground over the war-mongering, abject corruption, frantic pleasure-seeking, and the dehumanizing effects of modern society.<br><br></font></div><br><br><div><font face=Lato size=3 color=black>Throughout his long career, Norman stood tall in his convictions; he turned, faced the large, empty canvases, and designed and painted complex, densely populated scenes. As for recognition, he rationalized the situation—fame or fortune risked the unsullied nature of an artist's quest. Ultimately, <em>The Human Condition</em> is a summation of Norman's life and work and a call to action, urging us to examine our complicity in the systems he so vividly depicted. Through meticulous craftsmanship and allegorical intensity, it is a museum-worthy masterwork that continues to resonate, its themes as pertinent today as they were when Norman painstakingly brought his vision to life.</font></div>

欧文·诺曼