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Tag: rip
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APPRECIATION: Carole Caroompas (1946–2022)
The Cantankerous and the LovableCarole Caroompas, an artist and widely admired teacher whose work encompassed painting, drawing, collage, prints and performance, died on July 30, 2022.
In 2007, Western Project, which represented Carole for many years, published a catalog in which various artists, including Alexis Smith, Mike Kelley, Roy Dowell, Paul McCarthy and Karen Carson, paid tribute to Carole’s work and her influence on other artists.
Here is what I wrote for that catalog:
Carole’s paintings are a synthesis of contradictory elements, a fusion of high intellect and low culture. A dialogue is forged between the ephemeral – film stills from the 1950s and 1960s, rock musicians of the 1970s and 1980s, psychedelic posters, kitchen kitsch – and the eternally recurring: longing, dissolution, security, ecstasy, death. Each side contributes to this conversation raucously but without drowning out the other voice; and at unexpected moments, the conversation can take a turn for the tender.
If these paintings had an aroma, it would be the combined scents of ancient libraries and rock clubs at 1 am. They are not ingratiating, though they are beautiful – they are made in a painterly syntax that is by turns rough, nuanced, complexly layered, blunt, carefully adjusted. These paintings do not suffer fools easily. The symbolic language is idiosyncratic, demanding slow reading, and frantic zigzagging patterns disrupt the eye’s easy movement across the surface. The brushwork is variously knotted, rubbed and scraped. These are not works that pluck at your sleeve and plead with you to like them. But after spending some time looking at them, you won’t be able to get them out of your mind. They are like nothing else.
Carole’s work was honored with many awards, including the Guggenheim, a Gottlieb award, two NEA awards, a California Community Foundation Fellowship and a COLA grant. She had a long exhibition history, beginning in 1972, and her work was included in many public and private collections. Her art was examined in two mid-career surveys: 1983 at Cal State Northridge, and 1998 at Otis, where she was a beloved teacher for many years.
Carole Caroompas in 1983, Photo by Michael Kurcfeld But this dry recitation of facts does not catch what was so marvelous about Carole. She was a complex amalgamation of the cantankerous and the lovable. As Cliff Benjamin, her long-time dealer and close friend said, “She dared to live as she desired.” Her appearance was striking: Ava Gardner wearing a Cramps t-shirt, in a cloud of cigarette smoke. She was deeply loyal, fierce in her opinions, generous in her studio visits, convinced that every man was in love with her (and much of the time she was right). She had a wonderful sense of humor and took teasing well, dishing it right back out. No one could match her personal style, either artistically or in terms of self-presentation. She was sui generis and leaves a great vacancy in the artistic community.
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R.I.P. Chuck Close
Remembering the great self-portraitistAlmost all of Chuck Close’s paintings were based on photographs he took himself. In the mid-1980s, when I was a curator of photography at the Art Institute of Chicago, I contacted Close with the first museum proposal he had had to do an exhibition of the photographs. He was at the time in a New York hospital convalescing from the collapse of an artery in his spine. He was nevertheless responsive to the idea, so I went to see him in the hospital, and the exhibition came to fruition some months later.
Close’s most recent portrait paintings had been based on photographs that were life-size made by an enormous Polaroid camera. Close could stand inside the camera while each exposure was made so he could make an instantaneous decision which one to print as a basis for his painting of the subject.
These were the photographs – a mix of portraits and some nude studies – from which the exhibition was primarily drawn. The impression this may have made that he was recuperating along with his art work was misleading, however, for he was now permanently paralyzed from the his shoulders down. Yet he managed to overcome even this tragedy by having a brush taped in his hand and then wielding it by a combination of physical therapy and sheer grit, until he had restored his painting to the point at which the massive stroke had interrupted it.
Chuck Close, Self-Portrait, 2005 Around a decade after the exhibition of life-size Polaroids, I got Close involved with making photographic images that were the opposite in both size and history. They were modern-day daguerreotypes, a 19th-century portrait process creating a unique image on a chemically treated metal plate only a few inches in size. This became yet another process Close reinvented as signature images all his own.
Since then I had stayed in touch with Close, visiting him in his Soho-adjacent studio whenever I was in town. The most recent visit, in the fall two years ago, was a melancholy one. The first thing he told me was that his first wife and oldest daughter would no longer speak to him, nor would his recent, second wife who had also, now, divorced him. Among the reasons for all this rejection were recent advances he’d made toward young women who were the models for nude photographs he was now making, and who had also rejected him.
While such bad behavior on Close’s part cannot be forgiven or glossed over, neither should the fact that, despite his personal shortcomings, he was a genius who bent the history of art in all the media he adopted to his own, unique will.
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Tribute to L.A. Sculptor Kenzi Shiokava (1938-2021)
L.A. sculptor Kenzi Shiokava died June 18 at age 82. His passing was announced by the Japanese American National Museum. JANM featured Shiokava’s totemic wood sculptures in the 2017 Pacific Standard Time exhibition “Transpacific Borderlands: The Art of Japanese Diaspora in Lima, Los Angeles, Mexico City, and São Paulo.” The artist was an ideal fit for the show. Born to Japanese immigrant parents in Santa Cruz do Rio Pardo in the state of São Paulo, Brazil, at age 25 he followed his sister to Los Angeles in 1964.
The young Shiokava enrolled in the Chouinard Institute (now CalArts) focused on painting. Fulfilling a sculpture requirement his senior year of 1972, he struck upon his life’s work: Carved found wood, arranged vertically in clusters. He went on to earn his MFA from Otis Art Institute (now Otis College of Art and Design) in 1974. From small found wood pieces such as railroad ties, he moved up to sections of tree trunks and telephone poles, often several feet above head height. He tapered them and hollowed them out using only hand tools. He appears to have arrived at many a form by carving away sections of burnt wood to reveal the contrasting unburnt wood beneath. The totems seem both ancient and modern. Mixed in with these form-centric works are assemblages–wood pillars with cascades of macramé, electronic wires and found materials both organic and non. The artist was influenced by L.A.’s Black assemblage artists, his contemporaries, including John Outterbridge, Noah Purifoy and Betye Saar.
Kenzi Shiokava. Installation view, Made in L.A. 2016: a, the, though, only, June 12 – August 28, 2016, Hammer Museum, Los Angeles. Photo: Brian Forrest. Shiokava made a living as a gardener, notably for Marlon Brando, while maintaining a studio practice in Compton,. (Brando acquired one of his sculptures, as did Jack Nicholson.) He showed at such local institutions as the Watts Towers Arts Center and even MOCA but was not widely recognized until he was 78 years old. It was then that the Hammer Museum presented a large installation of his work in the 2016 Made in L.A. biennial. Nothing else in the museum-wide exhibition came close to his singular, fully-realized vision, honed over decades. Opening night found the artist overcome with joy. As new admirers approached to congratulate him–many stooping to meet his eyes, as he stood under five feet tall–he threw his arms around them, the lei at his neck swinging. Visitors voted him best in show via voting stations around the museum, earning him the Mohn Public Recognition Award of $25,000. L.A. Times art reviewer Carolina A. Miranda declared Kenzi Shiokava the biennial’s “breakout star.” In a KPCC Off-Ramp interview during the exhibition’s run, he said, “Now I know my work is going to survive me.”
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William T. Wiley (1937–2021)
Paying tribute to an influential artistInfluential Northern California artist William T. Wiley passed away on April 25 in Greenbrae, CA. His combination of irreverence and spirituality so keenly reflected the spirit of our times, where we don’t know quite what to believe, but would all like to believe in something good. Like Wiley, many artists have worshipped at the altar of daily art practice, with a Zen-influenced mindfulness as their guide. Always a champion for the causes of social and environmental justice, and with an infectious, if occasionally groan-inducing, pun-intensive, sense of humor, Wiley was one of a kind.
William T. Wiley @ Hosfelt Gallery, 2015 William Thomas Wiley was born in Bedford, Indiana, in 1937, his family moving around a fair amount as his father, a construction foreman, took a succession of jobs. For a period they lived in Texas where they ran a combination gas station/diner, sometimes decorated with the young Wiley’s cartoons and drawings of horses. Later they settled in Richland, Washington where Wiley was encouraged by a prescient art teacher to pursue a career in fine art. This motivated his move in 1960 to the Bay Area to study at California School of Fine Arts, now San Francisco Art Institute. Wiley had a prodigious natural aptitude for art, and received a full scholarship to the school. Wiley also had a kind of low-key, hip disposition that was a good fit with the counterculture vibe of an era where the beatnik generation was giving way to flower children in San Francisco.
William T. Wiley, Manhood Test, 1969 San Francisco in the 60s was heavily influenced by the Beat scene, with writers like Alan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassidy and Lawrence Ferlinghetti reading their work in North Beach; words, music and art were closely intertwined. In addition to composing his poetic writing, which became enmeshed in the work, Wiley became part of a band, playing harmonica and guitar. With a breadth of media spanning painting, drawing, printmaking, assemblage and sculpture, one might well propose that his true calling was conceptual art. An enigmatic found object, Slant Step, acquired a talismanic significance in Wiley’s oeuvre. Former student Bruce Nauman, who later would himself influence the older artist, absorbed Wiley’s unspoken understanding that just about anything could, and would, be integrated into his art practice, and that the community of like-minded artists with whom he shared this journey were at least as important to him as the work itself.
William T. Wiley, Agent Orange, 1983 Almost immediately after graduating, in 1963 Wiley moved to Davis to accept a teaching job at UC where a critical mass of fine artist/teachers such as Wayne Thiebaud, Robert Arneson, Robert Hudson, Cornelia Schulz and Manuel Neri drew art students flocking to the sun-baked suburb west of Sacramento. The fiercely independent and quirky style of work created by Wiley and his cohorts came to be known as Funk Art, with its combination of casual and eccentric vibes, often displaying a bit of a rough-hewn esthetic. Venerable curator Peter Selz mounted a seminal “Funk” exhibition in 1967 at Berkeley Art Museum including Wiley, Joan Brown and Robert Arneson, among others.
William T. Wiley, Buster in the Light, 2003 Wiley’s work often features an eclectic melange of Zen-inflected puns and spoonerisms, liberally scrawled across a variety of two- and three-dimensional surfaces. Often these take the form of landscape or still-life subjects, gardens with stumps or eddying streams, intertwining vistas of tools, still life objects, vines and plants, revealing his deep connection to nature and the kind of rural life where voluntary simplicity meets absurdist humor in an altered state of consciousness. With the ranches and farmlands of the rural west adjacent to where he and his cronies crafted meticulously-wrought, idiosyncratic artworks, his exhibition at SF’s Hansen Fuller Gallery in 1971 yielded a review in the New York Times where Hilton Kramer christened his style “Dude Ranch Dada,” a phrase that stuck.
William T. Wiley, On the Left… We? Attempt a New Sign for the Palate. On the Right, Gold Man Sacks the World, 2010 Humor and jokes often propel the work, and Wiley constructed over the years a cast of characters that often act as autobiographical stand-ins. These include Mr. Unnatural, an affable, befuddled figure with handlebar mustache always wearing a wizard hat/dunce cap, and Buster Time, a winged hourglass who reflects on the fleeting nature of life. These characters could easily have stepped out of an underground comic, in fact, the truckin’ figure of R. Crumb’s Mr. Natural in Zap comix one clear source. His deep concern for mankind and the fate of the planet directly informed later works where he confronts existential issues such as war, pollution, racism, political malfeasance and general bad behavior, as well as an increasing preoccupation with his own mortality.
William T. Wiley, No Bell Prys for Peace with Predator Drone, 2010 A show of Wiley works curated from their collection is currently on display at SFMOMA. Wiley participated in numerous significant shows including Harald Szeemann’s “Live in Your Head: When Attitudes Become Form,” a 1969 exhibition at the Kunsthalle Bern in Switzerland that helped to define the Conceptualist and Minimalist art movements, the Whitney Annual and Biennial, two editions of the Venice Biennale, and Documenta V in Kassel, Germany. He had a major retrospective, “What’s It All Mean: William T. Wiley in Retrospect” in 2009 at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art in Washington, DC, and a noteworthy, sprawling show at SF’s Hosfelt Gallery in 2014. The Manetti Shrem Museum of Art at UC Davis has a major exhibition of Wiley’s work scheduled for 2022, “William T. Wiley and the Slant Step: All on the Line.”
Wiley, who succumbed to complications of Parkinson’s, was predeceased by his younger brother, Charles, an artist at Industrial Light and Magic in San Rafael. He is survived by his wife, Mary Hull Webster of Novato, ex-wife Dorothy Wiley of Forest Knolls, his sons Ethan Wiley of Forest Knolls and Zane Wiley of San Rafael, as well as four grandchildren. Innumerable former students and colleagues also mourn the loss of this iconic figure.