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LESLIE/LOHMAN ARCHIVE NO. 19
Mel Odom
Bernard Perlin |
About Face: Portraits from the Permanent Collection By Wayne Snellen
Portraits: They are the major point of recognization of a person. The role of the portrait artist in the ancient past has been to capture a likeness which would help to perpetuate an afterlife. But some cultures believed that a portrait captures or steals the soul, thereby doing harm to the person portrayed. In the 18th century portraiture became a major genre for prominent artists. However, in non-Western societies it is less likely to emphasize visual likeness than in Western cultures.
The skills to produce a likeness of another person are considerable and have been and are highly prized. Wealthy patrons could afford the exorbitant prices but the average citizen could not. The miniature, the silhouette (named after Etienne de Silhouette, 1709–1767) often embellished with gold, and the paintings of the limners were alternatives especially popular with less wealthy citizens in colonial America. Photography changed all that.
The portraits in this show, “About Face: Portraits from the Permanent Collection”, range from the true “portrait” to loose interpretations of the subject, and even beyond. When we look at these images what do they say to us? The charming portrait of the young man by Neel Bate is in many ways as much of a self-portrait as the Bruce Cratsley photograph of Neel Bate is, although older and stressed out. The two “kiss” portraits—are they lovers? Perhaps. Phillip Osborne’s 1975 painting is a highly stylized interpretation, very much of a period; while Todd Yaeger’s 2004 rendering is more realistic and intimate, also very much of a period. We are voyeurs in both cases. The Chuck Nitzberg piece is almost intimidating. The figure is looking down on the viewer from above and I’m left wondering what was the artist’s intent—to dominate me? James Snodgrass’s Four Friends reflects a group of friends by the seaside—yet are not portraits in the traditional sense. They are ideas, satirizing a state of mind, and they seem to say more about you and me than about the persons depicted or even the artist. Stretching the idea of “portrait” still further is Snodgrass’s Eye. In a more surreal sense it depicts the artist so I don’t think it is stretching things too much if we say it is a self-portrait. Deni Ponty’s drawings are preliminary sketches for larger paintings which seem to catch the real identity of the sitter in the traditional sense. Jack Slomovits’s photograph 2 Boys, 1998 (a 6-part series mounted as one piece.) is a portrait in the broadest sense of the term—a portrait of sex. Jack Pierson’s photographs of himself and of Aaron Copland and Quinten Crisp are views into three very different worlds: Copland, the musician, quietly contemplating his next composition; Crisp, the flamboyant queen in his black velvet fedora; and Pierson himself, against an expansive background of isolation. The self-portrait is featured in the work of Jack Pierson, Patrick Angus, John Lesnick, Richard Taddei, and maybe Frank Carlson—the subject is always available. But why the self? Does an artist have some special understanding of the self that others don’t? One can use props to express a darker side of oneself as in the Lesnick Future Icon series or use mythology to highlight the great expanse of history and culture to which gay men have contributed much. Bernard Perlin’s five drawings are excellent examples of the highest quality drawing, and the portraits are true expressions of the sitters’ souls. Grant Anderson’s 2003 Angel is another perceptive look at the sitter who seems to be thinking, almost out loud. John Kirslis, Gene Bagnato, and David Martin each offer images that seem to be in their own world although the Martin sitter is aware we are observing him, perhaps judging him, as well. Edward Hausner’s photograph of Janet “Genet” Flanner is an honest display of truth. It doesn’t flatter Flanner and seems to show a time-worn worldliness that was her trademark. The two Mel Odom drawings are striking images—one staring directly at us, the other with eyes masked. Gerhardt Pohl’s two photographs are particularly interesting. Both have to do with leather and S&M. The double portrait is especially well done and displays all too vividly the two sides of many gay men’s lives—one hidden, closeted, the other blatenly eroticized. Portraits are remarkably versatile in that they can “stop time,” raise a person up for admiration, confer status and symbolize wealth or satirize and poke fun at the sitter. And they also can tell us as much about the artist as they do about the sitter. So, do these images add up to a better understanding of the individual? Do they tell us more about the artist than their other work/genres?
With a couple of exceptions these portraits are all “head shots” and leave out the other views, such as the half, three-quarter or full body portrait. Even so, the “head shot” is an effective means of expression and includes perhaps the greatest of all, the Mona Lisa, by Leonardo Da Vinci. How can we top that? ________________________ Additional sources: |
Comments? Corrections? Questions? Requests? E-mail us: The Leslie-Lohman Gay Art Foundation