Word: self-portraits
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...last week's show were those that made no effort to be beautiful and that sacrificed the esoteric for the immediate. Préfète Dufaut's childlike Harbor at Jacmel was as flat, bright and familiar as any postcard, and Wilson Bigaud's self-portrait behind bars had the harshness of a flashbulb photo. Even these, standouts though they were, lacked most of the qualities that critics associate with good painting. Yet, as Poet Rodman suggested in his book, the qualities they did possess were the ones most lacking in modern art and most essential...
...picked up my Aug. 8 copy of TIME. (I always turn to Music first, then Art, People third, and then to the front inside cover and read straight through to the ad on the back.) I never did get beyond Art of that issue, however, because there was a self-portrait and the pathetic story of Sekoto! "I dashed back to the gallery waving my copy of TIME, and showed it to De Cardonne, saying, 'Let's get this to Sekoto right away!' Imagine my astonishment when he called into the little back room where...
...monster open-air cabana over beds of dazzling yellow marigolds, were low-keyed oil portraits with little sunshine in them. California cautiously separated the conservative sheep from the modern goats, awarded two sets of prizes. First prize (conservative) went to 31-year-old Chet Engle for his satirical self-portrait Tarquin. First prize (modern) went to 39-year-old Sueo Serisawa, for his portrait of his wife, Mary 1949. (Said Serisawa, who won honorable mention in last year's Pepsi-Cola competition with Mary 1948: "I use my wife as a model because she's always available around...
...Hubert Raczka had painted a lonely little figure through the bars of a fire escape, called it Insignificance. The Portland Museum School's Robert Galaher had wrapped his hulking Circus Worker in a sad, smokelike haze, and Milwaukee's John Pagac had contributed a fatly photographic Self-Portrait that might have been inspired by reflections in a beer bottle on a morning-after...
Taking his red-slippered ease in the garden of his Riviera villa last week, the frail, friendly painter thought he might do some more portraits: "Someone wants me to try a self-portrait and I've been putting it off and off. Now I rather think I'd like to have a go at it." Meanwhile he supposed he would go on filling his days with sketches of the surrounding landscape, and escorting his pretty wife to the Casino at Monte Carlo now and then in the evenings, for a spot of gambling...