Julian Schnabel 1978-81 is an interesting project curated by Alison Gingeras displaying four of the artist's masterpieces, one painting at a time, every two weeks. The rotating show is on view until March 30th at Oko in the East Village, a curatorial space run by Gingeras and Luxembourg & Dayan. I had the opportunity to ask Alison a few questions.
Alexandre Stipanovich: This painting, The Patients and the Doctors, is Schnabel's first of his broken plates series. What inspired the ceramic destruction?
Alison Gingeras: Before making the piece, Schnabel had spent several months in Italy and Spain to immerse himself in art history and aesthetics. He recounted to me that he saw numerous examples of ceramic tiles pushed into concrete in public parks or buildings; this gesture and texture inspired him to experiment with broken plates when he returned to his New York studio. The inspiration for the shape of The Patients and the Doctors—the extreme three-dimensional architectural relief of the support—came from the size of a closet in one of the rooms where he stayed in this period. He's described this architectural dimension and the anti-flatness of the work as an "anti-cubist" painting.
AS: What is the process? Did he crack the plates directly on the canvas?
AG: The work started out horizontally, in the tradition of the American Abstract Expressionist notion of the "all over painting"––think Jackson Pollock dripping paint on the canvas on the floor of his barn. Ceramics were broken both on and off the canvas, and the shards were affixed using various unconventional materials such as Bondo (a car body material) and denture paste. After a certain point, Schnabel stands the work upright and works on it vertically, in the more traditional easel-painting orientation. He painted some figurative elements on top of the plates in The Patients and the Doctors.
AS: Critics often refer to Schnabel's Mexican cultural heritage, since he grew up in Texas near Mexico's border. I would say it manifests itself through this piece––the organic backround with colorful ceramics has a southern vibe to it.
AG: To a certain extent, I’m sure his early experiences in Texas influenced this and other works as well. I think the cultural influence in The Patients and the Doctors is more likely from his autodidactic study of Spanish art––his first-hand experience of Velázquez, Goya, Spanish decorative arts, and urbanism definitely informed this work. He's also told me that after he finished The Patients and the Doctors, he saw Matisse's famous version of The Stations of the Cross at the Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence, rendered in black paint on top of white tiles. He often states that he would have never made The Patients and the Doctors had he seen the Chapelle de Vence before that!
AS: How does the title relate to the piece?
AG: The title comes a 1946 poem by Antonin Artaud called Les Malades et les Médecins. I believe Julian chose this title because it offered a biting commentary on contemporary society. He admired Artaud’s suggested power reversal—turning the doctors into patients.
AS: Why did you choose these four specific pieces?
AG: I wanted to show four works from the earliest part of Julian’s career in order to highlight the varied, radical material experimentation that he was pioneering. The first work we showed at Oko was a wax painting executed from 1975-79; the second was the very first plate painting; the third is a drop cloth piece from 1981; the last is a painting of velvet glued on velv
Alexandre Stipanovich: This painting, The Patients and the Doctors, is Schnabel's first of his broken plates series. What inspired the ceramic destruction?
Alison Gingeras: Before making the piece, Schnabel had spent several months in Italy and Spain to immerse himself in art history and aesthetics. He recounted to me that he saw numerous examples of ceramic tiles pushed into concrete in public parks or buildings; this gesture and texture inspired him to experiment with broken plates when he returned to his New York studio. The inspiration for the shape of The Patients and the Doctors—the extreme three-dimensional architectural relief of the support—came from the size of a closet in one of the rooms where he stayed in this period. He's described this architectural dimension and the anti-flatness of the work as an "anti-cubist" painting.
AS: What is the process? Did he crack the plates directly on the canvas?
AG: The work started out horizontally, in the tradition of the American Abstract Expressionist notion of the "all over painting"––think Jackson Pollock dripping paint on the canvas on the floor of his barn. Ceramics were broken both on and off the canvas, and the shards were affixed using various unconventional materials such as Bondo (a car body material) and denture paste. After a certain point, Schnabel stands the work upright and works on it vertically, in the more traditional easel-painting orientation. He painted some figurative elements on top of the plates in The Patients and the Doctors.
AS: Critics often refer to Schnabel's Mexican cultural heritage, since he grew up in Texas near Mexico's border. I would say it manifests itself through this piece––the organic backround with colorful ceramics has a southern vibe to it.
AG: To a certain extent, I’m sure his early experiences in Texas influenced this and other works as well. I think the cultural influence in The Patients and the Doctors is more likely from his autodidactic study of Spanish art––his first-hand experience of Velázquez, Goya, Spanish decorative arts, and urbanism definitely informed this work. He's also told me that after he finished The Patients and the Doctors, he saw Matisse's famous version of The Stations of the Cross at the Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence, rendered in black paint on top of white tiles. He often states that he would have never made The Patients and the Doctors had he seen the Chapelle de Vence before that!
AS: How does the title relate to the piece?
AG: The title comes a 1946 poem by Antonin Artaud called Les Malades et les Médecins. I believe Julian chose this title because it offered a biting commentary on contemporary society. He admired Artaud’s suggested power reversal—turning the doctors into patients.
AS: Why did you choose these four specific pieces?
AG: I wanted to show four works from the earliest part of Julian’s career in order to highlight the varied, radical material experimentation that he was pioneering. The first work we showed at Oko was a wax painting executed from 1975-79; the second was the very first plate painting; the third is a drop cloth piece from 1981; the last is a painting of velvet glued on velv