Sincerity and calm: Mingei at Pace Gallery

Mingei: Are You Here?

PACE / 508 West 25th Street, through April 5, 2014

Mingei was a Japanese folk craft movement established in 1926 when the Japan was experiencing rapid westernization and urbanization.  As stated in the press release for this exhibit:  [Mingei] sought to maintain the cultural identities and traditions of varied histories across Japan. The title of the exhibition refers to the philosophical ethos of Mingei which champions the everyday, ordinary and utilitarian objects created by nameless and unknown craftsmen.”

Kettle hook hanger, Daikoku Type, 19th century, zelkova wood

What makes this exhibit so wonderful is the juxtaposition of work from across centuries and traditions, both eastern and western, all linked by the devotion to principles of simplicity and sincerity.  Again, quoting from the press release: "According to Soetsu Yanagi, Founder of the Mingeikan -- Japan Folk Crafts Museum, 'Dishonesty, depravity, and luxury - this is what Mingei objects must avoid at all costs; all that is natural, sincere, safe and simple -- these are the characteristics of Mingei art.' "

James Lee Byars ink on paper drawing (see full caption below) and Kenzo Tange, Chair, 1957, plywood frame and back, upholstered seat

James Lee Byars, Untitled, c. 1959, ink on Japanese paper, in 4 parts.  Please note that the central area is actually uninflected black ink; what reads as dark spots is a reflection from a gallery wall.

The exhibit, curated by Nicolas Trembley, includes more than 80 items (paintings, sculptures, works on paper, ceramics and textiles) made by unnamed Japanese craftsmen, Eastern and Western 20^th century artists and designers, as well as contemporary artists. On view: a 16th century ceramic sake container, a 1981 obsidian sculpture by Noguchi, elegant porcelain pottery designed by Peter Muller, as well as tattered pre-WWII Japanese textiles. The 30 artists include Anni Albers, Josef Albers, Isamu Noguchi, Ruth Asara, James Lee Byars, designers Peter Muller, Kenzo Tange, and Charlotte Perriand, as well as other contemporary and traditional artists.  Apart from several brightly hued hangings, much of the work reflects a rich but neutral palette of black, white, tan and brown.

It is beautifully installed and fortunately, there are no labels to interfere with the experience of gazing at the work. (An exhaustive list is available at the gallery desk if you want all the details. All caption information is from the gallery list.)  There are even a couple of benches in the gallery to allow for more relaxed contemplation, which this work most certainly encourages.  The one annoyance (which will be evident from the photos) was that it was difficult to fully enjoy the works framed under glass because of excessive reflections. 

Sgrafo Modern Korallen Series (designed by Peter Muller), c. 1960-1980, porcelain

Lee Ufan, From Winds, 1982, watercolor on paper

While I will be returning to the gallery for a second (and probably third) look, the standouts this time were the ink on paper drawings by James Lee Byars, works by Noguchi and the Kenzo Tange chair. Several of the older ceramic pieces were placed in protective vitrines and I was unable to capture decent photos, but I will add images of more of the textiles after a return visit.

For installation views, visit the Pace website by clicking here. 
To read an article about the exhibit in The Brooklyn Rail, click here.

Front row, far left: Sake Bags, Pre-WWII. Center: Mino, Farmers rain cape, early 1900s, woven rice straw, hemp and seawood.  Right: Backpack, late 1800s, indigo dyed cotton, fiber.  Back: James Lee Byars, Untitled, c. 1960, ink on Japanese paper

Front, left:  Valentin Carron, Pot 1, 2013, concrete. Front, right: a glimpse of an 18th century stoneware sake bottle. Wall, left: Robert Ryman, Marshall, 1998, oil and acrylic on stretched linen. Right: Ruth Asawa, Untitled (S. 114. Hanging, Six-Lobed Continuous Form within a Form with One Suspended and Two Tied Spheres), c. 1958, iron copper and brass wire.

Left: Ruth Asaw (see above). Center: Isamu Noguchi, Untitled, 1981, obsidian. Right: Charlotte Perriand, Low chair, c. 1950, bamboo. On the wall: N. Dash, Untitled, 2014, adobe, pigment, acrylic, linen, jute, wood support

From left: Anni Albers, Haiku, 1961, cotton, hemp, metallic thread, wool; Josef Albers, Tialoc, 1944, woodcut; Josef Albers, Above the Water, 1944 woodcut; Josef Albers, Astatic, 1944, woodcut; Josef Albers, Zelle/Tents, 1932, woodcut.  Courtesy the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation.

Small abstractions: Intimate and expansive

Artists have been painting large scale canvases since the late Renaissance, and these paintings are filled with scenes depicting religious parables, historical events and occasional moments of ordinary life. They were intended to inform as well as show off the technical mastery of the artists as they rendered complex architectural space, the landscape, and scenes replete with human activity. (For the ultimate in monumental Renaissance works, see Tintoretto's Paradise-- a whopping 30 feet high x 74 feet wide).

(You might be wondering where I'm going with this--just where are the small abstractions mentioned in the heading?  Read on.) 

COURBET  Allegory: The Artist's Studio, 1854   11'8" x 19'6" inches

 
As abstraction began to take hold during the mid-20th century, the focus of the newer monumental works, now devoid of concrete subject matter, shifted towards color, gesture, and emotion. Accompanying this was a change in the experience for viewers, who were no longer reading a painting to be informed, but rather to be transformed. What became mythic was the experience of the color or gesture, rather than the historical moment. The source of wonder was the depth of the spiritual charge of the painting, rather than the skill of an artist in rendering lifelike details.

POLLOCK    One: Number 31, 1950        8'10" x 17'6"

MARDEN The Propitious Garden of Plane Image, Third Version, 2000-2006    6' x 24' (six panels)

To enter a gallery space lined with enormous paintings can be dazzling, humbling, spiritual, and at times overwhelming. When the paintings are installed with enough room to breathe, when we can view them from far enough away to see them in totality yet not be distracted by other works, it is perhaps possible to enter a meditative state. It is at times possible to have the paintings take over and lose oneself in them. 

But to take in a monumental painting in a single glance, we are often quite distant from it--too far away to simultaneously delight in seeing the painter's hand while losing ourselves in universe of the painting. And when we move closer to see the surface, the subtleties, the marks of the hand, we have lost the totality of the image. We are likely to peruse just a small area of a monumental painting from this intimate distance. Of course, looking at these paintings on a computer screen at a fraction of their actual size completely changes the experience. But you have been there, so close your eyes and recall the experience.

 
And this is where my discussion turns to the beauty of small abstractions, which I often find simultaneously intimate and expansive.  Paintings of this size demand that you lean into them.  Something magical happens when you draw close to a small painting and your entire gaze falls on the image. The rest of the world seems to disappear and the universe of the image is all encompassing. 

 

KLEE   Fire in the Evening, 1929      oil on cardboard     13 1/4 x 13 1/4"

ALBERS    Study for Variant, 1947     oil on paper     9.25 x 12.437"

Your attention rests on the the irregularity of the surface and the most subtle gradations of color. Perhaps you are viewing the painting from the same distance as the artist when it was first painted. Paintings of this size do not allow the artist to hide, so the conversation with the artist begins to feel more direct. The intention behind the work comes through with powerful and concentrated clarity.

REINHARDT    Untitled, circa 1935      gouache on board      5-1/8 x 4-1/8"

SERUSIER     The Talisman, 1888     oil on wood panel    10-1/2 x 8-1/2"

  

DIEBENKORN    Cigar Box Lid No. 7, 1976     oil on board    9 x 7-3/4

You notice marks and underpainting that are only visible because you are standing at most an arm's length from the work. What appeared to be a solid band of color from a few feet away is revealed to be numerous narrow bands neatly stitched together.  And once you are engaged in this dialog with the artist as maker, you linger because there is no need to step back. The entire image is there to hold you. 

BOURGEOIS   Untitled, 2005    Fabric     9-3/8 x 11"

H. MIRANDA WILSON    Time of Night, 2012    oil on panel   9 x 12"

Some small works are incredibly intricate, while others resonate with seeming simplicity. They may be boldly painted or beckon quietly. But they each exert a pull on me that far exceeds their modest size.

FRECON  version o, dark to light, 2008     oil on panel     10 x 8"

SCULLY  Untitled from Ten Towers, 1999    aquatint and etching      image 10 x 4"