"John Ashbery & Marcel Duchamp (& Me) by Tosh Berman. Read it here:
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| Dry point table, 1981 Mixed media on wood 12 x 24 inches (45 x 60 cm) |
When I hear the two words together, Saul and Steinberg, I immediately think of him as the illustrator for New Yorker Magazine. This is true, but one can't measure a person's worth from just one source. Looking at the catalog of a show that took place in 2019 at the TOTAH Gallery in New York City, I become aware that there is a larger landscape that Saul Steinberg worked on. Going through this catalog, which is available at the gallery, and in an edition of 300, it's a great jaunt through an artist's career that is small in size but focused on his greatness.
The humor in his drawing is very tongue in cheek but sophisticated in that Manhattan manner that I love so much. Trotzky in New York, 1982 is an image of Trotsky with an apple pie and coffee at a New York Automat, dated January 28, 1917. That year, he spent 10 weeks in the city, and to see such a Russian iconic Marxist figure in an Automat is funny alone. Still, Steinberg's drawing is very sweet, and there is an absurdity mixed in. I don't know the origin or why this work was done. It could have been for a publication or article on Trotsky in New York, or it can be just a witty commentary on the clash of cultures. Perhaps the automated world of Capitalism within the framework of a Marxist enjoying his pie and cafe.
I'm intrigued with his works on wood, mainly through the medium of ink, collage, paint, and pencil. One, Dry Point Table (Illustration above), he gives equal space to each image. It reminds me of Marcel Duchamp's Box in a Valise, which is his entire works put in a suitcase. In a series of works on wood, which resembles looking at a tabletop, Steinberg is not complete, but there are personal items that are placed neatly. The viewer can connect the pen, the portraits, and an image of a book opened to Steinberg's art.
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THE BLIND MAN
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Edited by Marcel Duchamp, Pierre-Roché, Beatrice Wood. Introduction by Sophie Seita & Translation by Elizabeth Zuba Ugly Duckling Presse, ISBN: 9781937027889 |
What surprises me the most is thinking that this publication is very much like a zine one can find at the Printed Matter Book/Zine Festival. It's quirky, passionate, and absolutely modern. Marcel Duchamp and his pal Henri Pierre-Roché arrive in New York City and meet the artist Beatrice Wood. The mighty trio produced The Blind Man as a support for the first exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists exhibition put together by Duchamp, Man Ray, Katherine Dreier, and others.
Interestingly, the editors/publishers were visual artists, except for Pierre-Roché, who was an art collector, curator, and novelist who, late in life, wrote "Jules and Jim." Some hinted that the novel is based on a relationship between the three editors, or it could have been another threesome. Still, the bohemian lifestyle produced this magnificent publication that only lasted for three issues. Like all good things, there is a beginning, and then… life goes on. One of The Blind Man's notable aspects is the first mention of Duchamp's classic avant-garde work, "The Fountain," which was sent to the art festival was turned down because it was dirty (urinal) and mass-produced made by a commercial company. R. Mutt, the artist (Duchamp), claimed it's a work of art because he says so! The first of the famous ready-mades by the genius artist.
The Blind Man's beautiful concept is that anyone can contribute an article or even have art by children. Anarchy as an art publication. Among some of the others, Mina Loy, a fascinating figure in the early American Avant-Garde world, being an artist, writer, poet, and a significant presence in the bohemian art world, has a major hand in The Blind Man. There's poetry, a manifesto for the publication, and then a somewhat rave art review for Maret Oppenheim.
The beauty of The Blind Man and other artist orientated magazines/journals is that a small community produced works that have a lasting and profound presence in our contemporary times. The Internet killed the importance of a hard copy journal. Still, it can't replace the beauty of holding, seeing, and reading a publication. The slight production mistakes of the original production of this publication are more of charm than distress. The people at Ugly Duckling Presse did a remarkable job producing a box-set of this small but big as an inspiration for the scene then and even now.
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