Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts

October 8, 2019

Art Studio Upheaval

This is a fun, and awkward post to write.

I am in the midst of a serious reorganization-upheaval of my art studio. Somehow the studio has become a dumping ground for a lot of shit I don't want to deal with.

I've been going through boxes and piles of artwork that I've been avoiding for over twenty years. Drawings, photographs, journal entries, scraps of paper with scrawled notes and sketches from age 18 until now.

IT IS SO MUCH!

And most of it is clearly like my worst depictions of teenage (and twenties' and thirties') angst and depression. Not to mention postcards, receipts, and tax papers from every failed business and art gallery I've owned or managed. All neatly piled in boxes that I've hauled from one studio to the next over and over throughout the years.

So, here I am happy to report that I have not only mustered the courage to look at all of this head on, but I've been able to purge most of it once and for all. Some of it was way more difficult to throw out, but I made a point of not only tossing things into the bin, I ripped them to shreds first.

Can you say Catharsis?

The memories are there and of course I'm still the same person and all, but I don't need the baggage anymore. I have saved a few gems, at least they're gems to me, and I suppose this is the fun part, sharing these silly self portraits with you!

This is a drawing I made when I was 18. Pastel on newsprint, 18x24". My eyes have never been that big btw and my hair has never been that straight, but there it is! It was part of an application for something and I remember the person reviewing it saying to me, what did you get bored by the time you got to the hair? Obviously I didn't get accepted into whatever it was!

This was a school assignment copied from a photograph from I'm pretty sure St. John's University, ca. 1992. Pencil on Bristol paper 16x16". I was damn cute as a four year old wasn't I?! Oh and the brown dots are moldy bits from being stored in my parent's basement for a few years.

This doesn't actually look like me either but I do like this little painting. Oil on canvas, 1999, 10x11"

... self portraits


My mother has often referred to me as stubborn. I used to agree with her but mostly because I liked thinking of myself that way. It implied that I had my own opinion, which gave me a personality, which I desperately craved when I was younger because all evidence pointed elsewhere.

But it has more to do with something else I think. It's not that I refuse to believe certain things, it's just that I need to see it for myself first. I can't believe in anything until I've made up my own mind about it. My daughter is the same way. She won't take my word for it. Maybe it's not the worst thing, except that it does end up taking an awfully  l o o o o o o n g  time to process things.








September 24, 2019

how to fall in love with yourself


Samantha Palmeri, Good Job, 2019, oil, charcoal, and pigment on canvas, 50 x 54 inches


It seems like everything happens in the fall.

Three years ago in October I was on the floor pretending to be a dolphin sobbing like a baby. sort of if I can remember correctly, in between writhing around and laying in a fetal position in a dark room full of strangers all doing the same thing. except for the sobbing part, because when the instructor said to give yourself a big hug and tell yourself you loved yourself, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who burst into tears. At that moment I couldn't have been farther away from knowing what that felt like or how to do it. Three years later I am not sobbing on the floor, but this notion of self-love still eludes me.

When you google self-love, some twenty something with a nose ring and perfect eyeliner appears on a video saying maybe you haven't done this or thought about it in like a year or so, so here's what you should do. really? Millennial self-help is such an oxymoron.

How to fall in love with yourself could very well be the most cliche thing ever. but what if it's like the most important question to ask. after all, trying to figure out how to fall in love with someone else or how to get them to fall in love with you is exhausting and counterproductive. I'm starting to understand, or at least pretending really hard to, that all that matters is the being okay with yourself part.

So, I'm willing to give this thing a try. TRY
or Don't Try as Charles Bukowski would say, but either way it's just there, and you're just there, and whether you meet in the middle, fall madly in love, or go to the bar and forget all about it, it's still gonna be there no matter what, so you might as well..........


This article might not legitimately be about life as a working artist, but you know, confidence goes a long way. My work is about relationships, and this probably is the most important one.









June 13, 2019

How to deal with negative feedback




Most days I welcome feedback of my work. I can take a subjective opinion or a well thought out critique, even if I disagree, even from people who don't know that much about it.

But some days are difficult. There are moments when I feel especially vulnerable, and am overly sensitive and susceptive to the smallest criticism or critique. 

Recently I heard just the tiniest negative comment about my paintings and it threw me. I went to the studio and mentally applied that one comment to everything I was working on. I was more annoyed at myself for letting it affect me than the comment itself which was inconsequential at best. 

Sometimes it's good to take a step back and remember who we are and why we're doing what we're doing. I keep a journal in my studio specifically to jot down thoughts that I'm having a hard time articulating. Here's what I wrote: 

Fuck it! No one's here but me- my spirit- my soul- my body- my mind- We're working today and fuck everything else



May 2, 2019

Making it up the mountain

I've been making my way up the mountain. That's both real and metaphorical.




The walk up Beacon mountain starts just three houses from mine. I've climbed to the top a bunch of times, but lately it seems like more of a struggle.

Today I'm happy to say I made it even further up.
The bugs getting stuck in my hair were actually more of a challenge than the steep climb. Which reminded me of course of a song my father used to sing to me. Because most things in life remind me of a song my father used to sing to me.

Hair from the play Hair:
"Darlin', give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair. Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen. Give me down to there hair, shoulder length or longer. Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair. I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, Matty, oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen. Hair, hair, hair, hair."

I have this idea to make a book of photocopies of my hair. Here are the first two.










March 18, 2019

Shaolin*: the forgotten borough

Who we are has so much to do with where we are from.

Something's been on my mind about place and belonging. So many artists talk about where they're from and how much it's influenced their work and their lives. Whether they left a place by choice or not, whether they stayed, returned, or were never able to, whether they hated it or loved it, it has played an important role.


I was born and raised in Staten Island, New York, and lived there until I was 29.



Staten Island has a very ghetto mentality. By that I am being quite inclusive as far as race and discrimination. It's less about poverty, but definitely about fear, isolation, and cultural starvation.

Staten Island is divided by neighborhoods. There are 19 stops on the Staten Island Rapid Transit. Each one has its own personality. In my era, neighborhoods were divided into territorial gangs. My neighborhood gang was called the Albee boys because we lived on the cross street of Albee avenue. The Albee boys were rivals of the New Springville boys. In 1991 Thomas Bickerton's big brother was beaten to death with a baseball bat by the New Springville boys and his name was spray painted under the overpass a block from my house. I remember this distinctly because Thomas Bickerton had jumped up to kiss me in the courtyard of PS 36 during our Kindergarten recess, and I had been friendly with him ever since. I graduated from a high school with a population of almost 4,000. There were exactly two African American students in my graduating class. In the last election almost 75% of the people from my old neighborhood voted Republican.

Staten Island is divided by the north shore and the south shore. My neighborhood on the south shore was made up mostly of people who had moved from Brooklyn to Staten Island, including my family. People who commuted to Manhattan to work every day but didn't spend much time there after working hours. My friends and I didn't hang out in the city, we hung out on the corner, in back of the high school parking lot, or literally at the giant rock in the woods by my house.

In 1986 I was accepted to the high school of performing arts for ballet. I didn't go. I have no recollection of what that conversation was like, but for a sheltered 13 year old from Staten Island, the idea of riding the ferry to the train by myself to Fiorello La Guardia every day wasn't even in my peripheral.

There are five boroughs of New York City: Manhattan, Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island. Staten Island is the only borough that doesn't physically connect to Manhattan. There is no bridge or train that goes directly to the city. Commuters take a train to a ferry, or a bridge to a tunnel, or some combination which often includes driving from New York to New Jersey to New York again. From Annadale it took me an hour and a half to get to midtown Manhattan. A half hour train ride, a 20 minute ferry ride, a ten minute subway, plus the walk to, and the wait for, each of these operations. There are three bridges that cross over to New Jersey and exactly one bridge that crosses to Brooklyn. This is not an accident. It symbolizes a great cultural divide. In 1993 65% of Staten Islanders voted to secede from NYC. With mostly no interest in taking advantage of/enjoying any of New York City's culture, art, spirit, energy, there was also no interest in paying its expenses/tax bill.

Staten Island, often referred to as the "forgotten borough", if you didn't already know, was also once home to the largest garbage dump in the world. T h e   w o r l d.  It was seen from outer space... for real. On a particularly stale day one could smell the dump from miles away.

It took me years to accept that the place I grew up in was, well, kind of embarrassing. A way more suburban than urban, left out, dumped on borough under a giant shadow of one of the greatest cities in the world. When I worked in the city I never volunteered that I was from Staten Island. People would make fun of the dump or the ferry or the fact that New Jersey was easier to get to.

I hated Staten Island when I was growing up. I was shy and artistic and I didn't get anyone's inside jokes about the Staten Island mall. I was a cheerleader but I couldn't do a cartwheel. I had no connection whatsoever to the place I was from. When I was a senior and about to graduate high school, my parents went to an open school night and incidentally met with my art teacher. Mrs. D'Agostino was shocked that I had absolutely no plans for any specific college or to pursue art in any way. She's the reason I became an art major. Not because she was particularly inspiring, but because she was the only one who'd suggested it.

I think I let the place I was from define me for a long time. I'm beginning to understand that the place itself is just part of a story I tell myself about who I am, and that's something I can change.




*Shaolin is what the Wu Tang Clan called Staten Island in the early 1990's.


February 6, 2019

#artistproblems

Some of you already know, but just to say for the record, I have left my job at the Garrison Art Center.

That's a long story but the positive is that I've been able to get my painting schedule back and focus on full time work in the studio again.

Here's how it's been going. Last week out of sheer frustration I threw my paint brush on the floor while exclaiming, I can't believe I forgot how to paint! A few days later I was feeling like a painter again and actually enjoying myself. Hashtag artist problems. This morning I added a new painting to my website www.samanthapalmeri.com. I'm excited that work for my upcoming show in September at the Catalyst Gallery is finally well on its way.

I've decided to leave the paintbrush on the floor just to remind myself, every day is a new day.


half blurry picture of paintbrush on the floor.
palette table with that little rubber hand I won at a Funky Spunky Literature Night
I'm kinda obsessed with it. 
my newest painting. doesn't have a title yet. oil on canvas, 40 x 40 inches



January 21, 2019

Reference images for paintings


I've spent the last week preparing canvases. Cutting, pasting, screwing, priming, etc. I have not decided how to tackle the actual painting part yet. Today I printed some reference photos as a point of departure, a jumping-off point to get me started. 
It is everyday things that I find most interesting. I catch a glimpse of something and imagine a whole world within it and around it. These glimpses can sometimes be very personal parts of me and my day. Mostly they evoke something greater than just color or composition, something I can't really articulate. One day I would like to publish a whole book of my reference photos and collages. 
 
dreadlocks. this color. 


cherry tomatoes from the garden



this is dough.


a dwarf maple tree in my backyard



 


food that's gone bad and ends up in the trash is both an ongoing challenge, and resource for my work.
stemming from my desire to never let anything go to waste and my guilty conscience when it does



spotted this giant ball of rope at a friend's studio



                                                          
clearly I'm obsessed


this is not a staged photo. the dirty dishes were really piled that high 


Some photos are from Instagram and Pinterest. Sorry some image credits are unknown. If I've swiped a photo from you unknowingly, thank you! and let me know so I can give you credit.



January 8, 2019

Pragmatic distances

There are two things I've learned over the years, from running my own business, working for non-profits, and painting in my studio.

  • One is, don't take things personally, and 

  • Two is, most answers to most dilemmas are found in the most practical details. It's usually staring you right in the face, though sometimes it's your own face that's in the way of seeing it, if that makes any sense.


Relating to my studio work, the practical details start with my work space. When I'm in the studio I'm having a physical relationship with my work and my environment. Sometimes the simplest things make the biggest differences and I have to laugh at myself for not realizing it sooner.

How I go about the physical act of painting is so important to my work. Like the distance between me and the canvas while I paint. I have had days where nothing was working and all of a sudden I realized I was standing too far away from the canvas. Even six inches too far made a huge difference. I'm interacting with my paintings as if I were swimming around inside them almost. So anything that disconnects me is a distraction. For example, I spent years wearing rubber gloves while I painted. In the summer I'd be sweating and have to change them every hour, in the winter they'd get stiff and tear. Without them I'm so much happier. I'm able to literally feel the paint, and that adds a great deal to my relationship with the work.

Stolen burnisher is second from the right. Second from the left is an antique wooden handle screwdriver that belonged to my grandfather.

Other practical details include the tools I use. I've grown a serious attachment to some unlikely utensils, like toothbrushes and old screw drivers. For unknown reasons, back in (I think) 1992, I stole a burnishing tool from my printmaking class. Don't ask me what I thought I was going to use it for. It's been floating around every studio I've had, at the bottom of every pile of things I never look at, all these years. Until recently. I don't know what made me finally start using it, but it scrapes off paint like nobody's business and I can honestly say it's my favorite thing right now!

Speaking of utensils, there's a giant icing spatula (aka palette knife) I've been eyeing at the fancy kitchen shop on Main Street for a while. It could seriously be the next best thing...

It's good to get older because you do get wiser after all. I'm learning a little more each day what works for me, and that tiny changes can often make huge strides.



January 3, 2019

Artist of the week Elizabeth Murray

Bowtie, 2000
Everybody Knows, 2007, oil on canvas, 87 1/4 x 93 inches

(the last painting made before the artist died in 2007)


To follow through with some of those unfinished posts I recently mentioned, here is Artist of the week Elizabeth Murray.


Elizabeth Murray's heroic paintings are as fearless as the life she seems to have led. A woman who wanted it all, and achieved it against all the odds; to have her children and family, and her artwork all playing center stage at once. She is a hero and an absolute inspiration. 
The Sun and the Moon, 2005, oil on canvas on wood, 9 feet 
Do the Dance, 2005, oil on canvas on wood, 9 1/2 x 11 feet
Kind of Blue, 2004, oil on canvas on wood, 9 x 11 feet
Midnight Special, 2000, oil on two canvases, 92 7/8 x 129 1/2 inches
Bill Alley, 2006, 3D lithographic construction, 35 x 41 1/4 inches
Hey Madge, 2001-02, oil on canvas on wood, 53 x 48 inches
Worm's Eye, 2002
Cry Baby, 2000, oil on canvas, 105 3/4 x 105 3/4 inches
Path/Door, 2002
Mister Postman, 1998, oil on canvas, 82 x 77 inches
for a better sense of scale: Bop, 2002-03, at MOMA

As always, I try my best to include the correct information for the images I post. In this case I was unable to find full descriptions for a few of the paintings. 

With one exception, these paintings are all from 2000-07. There are so many more layers to her work and it's nice to see the progression throughout the years, but these just screamed EXUBERANCE to me so that's why I chose them. 

Further looking and reading:

Pace Gallery
elizabethmurrayart.org
Art21
Everybody Knows, a PBS film



December 31, 2018

Happy New Year

Sending you a very Happy New Year's greeting! 


Today, New Year's Eve, will be a feast with friends. Boeuf Bourguignonne, chocolate mousse, sparkly decorations, and champagne cocktails like "Ernest Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon".

A good title to lead with: Green, 2018, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 inches


It's been a busy year, so much that I currently have 35 posts in the drafts folder half written and waiting to be finished. But, hey, that's 35 half finished essays I can look forward to completing.

I had a conversation with a friend recently who reminded me that all artists struggle to some degree with an often debilitating balancing act. The times when we are filled to overflowing with great new ideas and motivation are coupled with times when we can't find the energy to get dressed in the morning. We talked about creating deadlines and goals to anchor us throughout the year, and especially the winter months.

So..., I have been stockpiling ideas and materials lately in anticipation of what I'd like to be a busy art making season ahead. I've started a knitting project, a drawing project, and just bought a miter saw and tools to literally cut and paste some wonky stretcher bars together. I've been wanting to do this for years and I am so excited! I mean, I bought a saw! It's totally going to be a good year.

I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be having a solo exhibition of new work at the Catalyst Gallery in September. I am also very pleased to have been asked to be part of a group exhibition, curated by artist and owner of Theo Ganz Studio, Eleni Smolen, celebrating Women's history at the Howland Cultural Center in March.

There is so much more I hope to share with you in the coming months.

Thank you so much for continuing to read and support the ArtWrestler blog..


September 6, 2018

unfinished paintings; new beginnings



This morning I put on my painting clothes and sat in the studio for the first time since the beginning of August. My studio literally has cob webs and the stale smell of mildew. Every year the end of summer feels like this, a little sad for the end of the season, for all the artwork I inevitably didn't get to work on, and the momentum I didn't keep going; at the same time, excited and a little anxious for a new season, new schedules, new times. Is it insanity when you keep doing the same thing expecting different results?


At the moment I have four half finished paintings and a new box of supplies waiting for me. I have a calendar that is about to get the word STUDIO scrawled across its days. My daughter just went back to school, and my husband just went back to work... 



detail of unfinished painting






























August 10, 2018

Abject Felicity

When Not looking is as important as looking!

I was just thinking how important it is to be able to put work away and come back to it. When you're deeply involved in a painting, sometimes you just can't see it anymore and you need to be able to not look at it for a while. When you come back to it and can actually see it for what it is, one of two things will occur: you'll realize it's a mess and what were you thinking, or you'll realize how much better it is than you thought and wow, who even painted that.

The same thing happens with writing. I do the same thing with this blog. I re-read my old posts, not very often, but occasionally. Sometimes I actually put them back in the draft folder! But sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised that what I was thinking really came out in words.

Today's blog post was meant to be about something completely different, but I came across this excerpt from a recent exhibition proposal I submitted. Oh yeah, writing proposals and grant applications also falls under the category I'm-too-immersed-in this-to-even-know-what-it's-about-anymore. In this case I'm really pleased to have read it this morning and thought, who the hell even wrote that! Take a look:

Samantha Palmeri, Waste not, 2018, oil on canvas, 60 x 60 inches



Concept:
Abject Felicity is an exhibition of new abstract paintings. My work explores the interconnectedness of nature, body, spirit and metaphor. The relationship between our internal and external influences is played out through color and form; with entangled lines and texture often personifying internal struggle, or joy. The repetition of knitted braided forms unfolding through mood and chance are all obscured within the process of making, and through the filter of abstraction.
The paintings in Abject Felicity will be directly informed by my daily living as a woman, artist and mother. Specifically they will reference the discarded food that ends up in the garbage, piles of dirty laundry, and other domestic cast offs. The term abjection literally means the state of being cast off. The concept of waste is rife with metaphor and can be interpreted in a multitude of ways both culturally, regarding social change, and personally, regarding identity and spirituality.
The reference images I work with are not chosen randomly. I am not simply drawn to intertwining lines and forms, I am interested in how they are entwined and how that interaction personifies our human and cultural interaction; the moving in and out of each other. The dualistic nature of all things.

Relevance:
Painting is a means of connection. I've found that the more personal and specific I am in my work, the more people can relate to it. If I have a personal connection to the work, I'm opening up for the viewer a chance to experience a real and compelling connection as well. The only way to elevate the cultural is through the personal.
It's important to present the work in a proper setting; an intimate space but large enough where each piece has breathing room, and where the work and the viewer can get the experience they deserve.


For all intents and purposes this proposal is still active if anyone is interested...

All images © 2018 Samantha Palmeri
To join my mailing list please click www.samanthapalmeri.com



July 28, 2018

Getting paid for doing what you love


Status update: for the first time in sixteen years I am not the one writing my own paycheck!!

So happy to share this announcement from The Garrison Art Center



Dear Friends of the Art Center, 
 
We are excited to introduce you to our new Exhibitions Coordinator, Samantha Palmeri.
 
 

 
Samantha Palmeri has a demonstrated history of working in the arts as an artist, curator, teacher and arts administrator. Previously the owner and director of two contemporary art galleries, Catherine Street Gallery and The Art House Gallery, she has also just finished two successful years as the Director of Beacon Open Studios, a sponsored project of BeaconArts, a nonprofit community organization. A graduate of the School of Visual Arts, Samantha is the recipient of several awards and grants. Her paintings have been exhibited in galleries and museums in New York and New Jersey. Samantha is a member of Garrison Art Center and has exhibited in our member show. Currently she lives in Beacon with her husband and daughter.





June 24, 2018

the patience of making art


Thank you Brainpickings for posting this this morning:


Rilke on the Lonely Patience of Creative Work


“The most regretful people on earth,” the poet Mary Oliver wrote in contemplating the artist’s task and the central commitment of the creative life“are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
That is what Rainer Maria Rilke (December 4, 1875–December 29, 1926), another great poet with a philosophical bend and uncommon existential insight, explored a century earlier in the third letter collected in his indispensable Letters to a Young Poet (public library) — the wellspring of wisdom on art and life, which Rilke bequeathed to the 19-year-old cadet and budding poet Franz Xaver Kappus.
1902 portrait of Rainer Maria Rilke by Helmuth Westhoff, Rilke’s brother-in-law
Rilke’s first letter to his young correspondent had laid out his core ideas about what it takes to be an artist. Building upon that foundation in the third letter, he echoes his contemporary Franz Kafka’s assertion that “patience is the master key to every situation” and considers the master key to the creative life:
Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer. It does come. But it comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly still and wide. I learn it daily, learn it with pain to which I am grateful: patience is everything!
The patience of making art is a lonely patience — one that demands the solitude essential for creative work, be it art or science, so widely recognized by creators across time and discipline. “Oh comforting solitude, how favorable thou art to original thought!” wrote neuroscience founding father Santiago Ramón y Cajal in considering the ideal environment for intellectual breakthrough“Nourish yourself with grand and austere ideas of beauty that feed the soul… Seek solitude,” Eugene Delacroix counseled himself as a young artist in 1824. “Solitude, a rest from responsibilities, and peace of mind, will do you more good than the atmosphere of the studio and the conversations,” the young Louise Bourgeois counseled an artist friend in the following century, just as the poet May Sarton was exulting in her sublime ode to solitude“There is no place more intimate than the spirit alone.”
Art by Isol from Daytime Visions
Rilke articulates this vital incubatory solitude of creative work to his young correspondent in a sentiment of growing poignancy and urgency amid our age of instant and ill-considered opinions:
Leave to your opinions their own quiet undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be pressed or hurried by anything. Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one’s own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist’s life: in understanding as in creating.
He echoes Goethe’s largehearted, increasingly needed wisdom on the only appropriate response to the creative labors of others and writes:
Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing so little to be reached as with criticism. Only love can grasp and hold and be just toward them.
Letters to a Young Poet — which also gave us Rilke on what it really means to lovethe life-expanding value of uncertainty, and why we read — remains one of the most beautiful, profound, and timeless works ever composed. Complement this particular portion with Rachel Carson on writing and the loneliness of creative workand Virginia Woolf on the relationship between loneliness and creativity, then revisit Rilke on the nature of creativity.




May 25, 2018

Artist of the week: Leon Golub

Finally made it to the MET Breuer to see the Leon Golub show just before it closes on May 27th. So amazing to see this work close up, and experience the enormity of both the materials and subject matter. Golub's work is so much about power struggle, and it is expressed so perfectly through his materials. The violent torn and raw canvases, and the dry dragging of paint look almost as painful as the atrocities they depict. If I had to describe Golub's work with one word, it would be Monstrous. 

Excerpt taken from the MET's statement:
His devotion to the figure, his embrace of expressionism, his fusion of modern and classical sources, and his commitment to social justice distinguish his practice as an artist.
Alongside the monumental, terrifying Gigantomachy IILeon Golub: Raw Nerve features paintings from the artist's most important series....  that represent subjects of longstanding interest to the artist, from mercenaries, interrogators, and the victims of violence to political figures, nudes, and animals, all of them rendered in the raw, visceral style for which he is justly celebrated.
Together, these paintings attest to Golub's incisive perspective on the catastrophes that afflict human civilization and his critique of brutality and belligerent masculinity. The artist's work has much to teach us in the twenty-first century, as does his belief in the ethical responsibility of artists.
detail, Two Black Women and a White Man, 1986, acrylic on linen, 120 x 163 inches






detail, Two Black Women and a White Man, 1986, acrylic on linen, 120 x 163 inches

Two Black Women and a White Man, 1986, acrylic on linen, 120 x 163 inches

Installation view at the MET

The Conversation, 1990, acrylic on linen, 92 x 170 inches


Colossal Torso III, 1960, lacquer on canvas, 82 x 96 inches

Tete de Chevall II, 1963, acrylic on canvas, 81 x 81 inches

Combat I, 1970, offset lithograph



detail, Gigantomachy II, 1966, acrylic on linen, 9 x 24 feet


detail, Gigantomachy II, 1966, acrylic on linen, 9 x 24 feet


detail, Gigantomachy II, to show scale


Gigantomachy II, 1966, acrylic on linen, 9 x 24 feet


Leon Golub (1922-2004) was married to artist Nancy Spero (1926-2009)

Further looking and reading:
The Canvas takes Shape, on Youtube
The Paris Review
Leon Golub: Raw Nerve




Champ de Bataille, 1965, oil on canvas, 91 x 66 inches



Leon Golub in his studio


detail, Vietnam II, 1973, acrylic on canvas, 9 x 37 feet


Riot I, Lithograph

The Go-ahead, 1986, acrylic on canvas, 120 x 192 inches