A5: BRINGING ROMANCE BACK INTO PAINTING (A3)

If renowned painters Rembrandt, Velázquez, John Singer Sargent and Norman Rockwell knew that their exquisite masterpieces and virtuosic skill were being compared to the lusty-busty bimbos, erotic-aristocratic women and pitiful middle-aged-matrons that reside within the portraits of John Currin, they would be spinning in their graves. Not to say that Currin’s technical knowledge and execution isn’t on the level of these legendary masters, but the crude content and sarcastic milieu is hardly the image of classic beauty and historically traditional subject matter. Currin has been called the “reigning King du jour” (Esplund 87) when it comes to painting. Although such praise is unnecessary, Currin is aware of his talent and skill and has prided himself as being the best figurative artist in the co

ntemporary painting world.

John Currin creates a paradox between idealization and devaluation of the female form, creating an aesthetic utilizing methods of distortion and shock techniques, along with his knowledge of his audience to compose his images. These intelligent, provocative juxtapositions call us out on our deepest fantasies and the damage lurking directly behind them. Currin is credited for the revival of painting and the re-emergence of the human figure within the context of painting. However, he is also known “not only for saving painting but also for making it relevant again and up-to-date” (Esplund). During the early-to-mid1990’s, painting, particularly figurative painting, was virtually absent in the art world. At that time, the art world was flourishing with photography, video and installation type art. It was heavily fueled with politics, political correctness and social identity issues. Currin’s goal was to make a name for himself by straying form the norm and doing what nobody else was really doing: painting. In an interview with Karen Rosenburg, a writer from New York Magazine, Currin claims that “as a kid, I kind of thought that art had just stopped in the fifties, and that it turned into hippies doing things naked. In art-history books, it always ends with some guy from the seventies who just ahs neon lights” (qtd. In Rosenburg). He wanted to bring back the kind of art that he admired, such as Picasso and Gustave Courbet to name a few. So he started small, with easel size paintings of women. He began with taking his imagery from photographic sources, like old yearbooks, and then moved on to live models. Later on, he went back to using photographic sources, which became a vital and integral part of his artwork.
The majority of Currin’s portraiture are depictions of the female form. He is known for “distorting the figures in a way which manages to be both slick and distasteful, but more often he depicts clothed or partially clothed women with outsize busts” (Lambirth). His mutations of women have been the source for much debate on whether or not Currin is chauvinistic or if he just has a schoolboy type of lust and fetish for breasts. His work even provoked Kim Levin, a writer for the “Village Voice” to call out for a boycott of his first solo show due to his crude portrayal of the female. However, this call to action actually worked in Currin’s favor, sparking interest and bringing in floods of eager readers to the show, curious as to what all the commotion was about (Fineman).
Some of the more controversial pieces are part of a series involving portraits of young ladies with basketball-sized breasts (See Fig. 1). This series came about as a product of Levin’s call to boycott, Currin responded by saying “You want sexism? I’ll give you sexism!” (qtd. in Fineman). These portraits are strangely erotic with a sad sense of humor. These depictions of busty babes reveal Currin’s absolute passion for paint. The contorted bodies are rendered with an overall sense of realism, with an elimination of any noticeable brush stroke or evidence of paint, where as the faces are layered with thick strokes of paint as if they were lathered on by a butter knife instead of the bristles of a brush. This impasto style painting resembles the “caked” faces of women as a result of slathering on too much make-up. Michael Kimmelman, an notorious supporter of John Currin was quoted in an article in Hypatia (A Journal of Feminist Philosophy) in describing Currin’s work “a kind of burlesque, combining bosomy nudes reminiscent of Playboy illustrations with theatrical nods to the old masters/calendar pinups/nude blondes with absurd cantaloupe-like breasts” (qtd. in Brand). Currin’s passion and mastery of paint is revealed through the paint itself on the canvas, and also through his ability to combine his old-master type techniques with more modern subject matter and social issues. His work is often related back to old 70’s pin-up girls and playboy spreads, not only because of his ridiculously enlarged breast, but also within the structure of his compositions—the women, their positions and body language, their expressions and their interactions with each other, as well as with the viewer. These paintings of mutant maidens are manifestations of fantasies, as are many of Currin’s other works. The women portrayed are every schoolboy’s wet dream, magnificent breasts flopping around with luscious locks of hair, and women measuring each other’s boobs for lingerie with bra in hand.

Fig. 1. John Currin, “The Bra Shop” 1997. Gagosian Gallery, New York.

Distortion is a major element in Currin’s work, not just of the physical attributes of the female figure, but also in the content of his work. Within the form of the human body, Currin stretches it, elongating the necks and torsos, while pumping up the bosoms and giving them somewhat of “spaghetti” arms. The content of his work creates a distortion between what the viewer expects and what the painting exposes.
An essential factor in his work being as successful as it is, is it’s shock value to his audience. John Currin’s other portraits of women are composed of pretty, superficial façades with underlying depths of vulnerability and an air of sarcastic arrogance. The first thing that the eye is drawn to in a portrait is the face, and then if present, the hands come second. Currin utilizes this theory and manipulates it to successfully draw in and entice his audience. At first glance, you are confronted with a portrait of a lady, her expression is smug, exuding a confident elegance, but as your eyes continue to scan down her body they stumble when they come across her fingertips which reveal a cut-out heart, wheel chair, or raggedy clothing. You realize the proud pretty face you had so quickly dismissed is actually a mask for her impotence, lacking qualities or handicap (see Fig. 2). Some of his women were a little less then elegant, but much more haggard and worn out looking. Currin described the matrons in this series of work as “paintings of old women at the end of their cycle of sexual potential … between the object of desire and the object of loathing” (Fineman). These are women that the general public wouldn’t expect to be immortalized and glamorized in a painting, which is one the key reasons for Currin to produce this series. It’s the marriage between his incredible skill and clever absurdity that makes his paintings so exciting and interesting and wonderful all at the same time.

Fig. 2 John Currin, “The Cripple”1997. Gagosian Gallery, New York.

John Currin returned to his roots in the traditional style of painting and produced a series of female nudes very much resembling the nude paintings of the old masters like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. His portraits are full bodied nudes of women done in a very traditional chiaroscuro style. The dramatic lighting accentuates the curves of the female form that have been manipulated and exaggerated. The bodies are once again stretched and the curves have been dramatically rounded, with bulbous tummies and apple bottoms. The figures are rendered realistically and with a delicacy and grace that is also reflected in the positions of the figures themselves.
Currin’s attention to shock value and going against the norms and political correctness of society is nothing new. In the early nineties his work heavily involved the portrayal of the same relationship between different people. He created a series of paintings of older men entering into affairs with young pubescent girls. Within each work the characters are clearly of the same breed, older stately men being admired and taken by these young high school girls. A prime example of this series is his painting, “The Never-ending Story” (see Fig. 3). The distinguished professor-like man is standing tall and proud looking off into the distance, with a half naked child-like girl fondling over him. Like all the paintings in the series there is no explicit sexual activity being shown between the two, but instead the sexual tension and lust is delicately shown through body language and facial expressions. The girl is wide-eyed staring at him, almost as if she is being intoxicated by his power and worldly charm. This illusion of the girl being completely consumed and entranced by the dignified father-figure lover is present in each of the relationships shown through the series.

Fig. 3. Currin, John. “The Neverending Story” 1994. Gagosian Gallery, New York.

Continuing to explore more taboo subject material, Currin continued with a series of homosexual relationships. These portrayals of men had more of a sense of humor to them, like most of Currin’s work. They are satires on the world’s perceptions of the stereotypical homosexual relationship in the late 1990’s and glamorizes the femininity found within their daily routine. He takes the stereotypes and exaggerates them, for example in “Homemade Pasta” he shows two men making homemade noodles in the kitchen. This domesticity and delicacy in which the men are handling the limp noodles feeds into the stereotypes of gay men. Further pushing the stereotype, the men are wearing aprons, which feminize them, and then they are placed within a kitchen environment with a selection of wine glasses, a house plant, pink drapery and unique kitchen appliances which also ties back to femininity and implies the cultured lifestyle of a homosexual couple. Another example in his painting “Painters,” he shows us two middle aged men painting a house, but one of them is playfully brushing paint on to his blushing partner’s nose. Once again, Currin shows us a sneak peek into a love affair without the blatant nudity or explicit sex scenes. Nevertheless, these scenes caused controversy and made their audience uncomfortable, exactly what Currin aimed to do.
Although his work is successful in portraying affairs without the presence of explicit
sexual encounters, Currin was not afraid to step out of the clean-cut material and start working with more raunchy and crude sex scenes. Currin’s most recent work is exactly that. In that same interview with Karen Rosenburg, Currin expounded on his more recent works: “ [there] are a few paintings based on hard-core pornography. It's not a shock tactic. In every art school in the world there's a guy doing porn. As a failed shock tactic, that's kind of interesting to me” (qtd. in Rosenburg). His new paintings are scenes of what seem to be distinguished aristocratic women of class engaging in intimate sexual activities. The most famous of these series is his painting of “The Danes” (See Fig. 4) In this painting Currin’s subjects are three figures, two females and one male. These three are all actively involved in the threesome, eyes closed and fully enjoying themselves.
When the viewer is confronted with this painting, they feel as if they are voyeur looking in on a private bedroom scene. Your gut instinct tells you to look away, but your curiosity overcomes that and takes over. Your eye is pulled in and follows set diagonals within the composition, first at the man and woman on top kissing— with her tongue fully extended and thrusted into his mouth, and then down to the second woman’s face whose mouth is hanging open as if she has lost control over her own self due to the intense enjoyment. Then, as Currin planned, the eye is brought to the hands, all found between their own body’s spread legs pleasuring themselves. The women are fully in the nude, the male pant-less with his shirt completely unbuttoned. However, even in the nude, Currin shows us that these are women of distinction and upper-class by their elaborate up-do hairstyles and jewelry, as well as with the title. There is even more distortion of context within this intricate entangling of bodies with the strange similarities within the physical attributes of the females, as if they could be related, even identical twin sisters.
Another notorious example from the series is “The Kissers.” This depiction of a love affair is a close-up of two figures kissing, so close up that the second figure is ambiguous as to whether it is a male or female. The figure in the foreground is topless, revealing her as a women, but her partner is fully clothed, but wearing a golden chain around his or her neck, which could imply that it is in fact another woman—another example of Currin’s fascination with taboo relationships. In this very intimate interaction the woman closest to us is naked but has her white gloves and gold bracelet still on which ties back to the idea of upper-class aristocracy. The ambiguous figure in the back has their hand groping the front woman’s breast and their tongue erect entering the woman’s open mouth. These paintings along with the rest of the series are satires on the upper-class with these supposedly very prude and distinguished ladies and housewives, symbolized by their jewelry, sophisticated hairstyles and lavish environments (dining rooms with ornate wall paper and good china on display) engaging in provocative positions and raunchy erotica, distorting our views of the prestigious aristocracy.

Fig. 4. John Currin, “The Danes” 2006. Gagosian Gallery, New York.

All of Currin’s work reflects a true love for the art of painting. Currin has shown his distaste for contemporary figurative painting and brought the magic of traditional art back into the modern art world. He brings the beauty and romance back into art, the same romance that was vigilant and thriving in the portraits of John Singer Sargeant and Rembrandt, and now within the works of artists like Jenny Saville. Not only in his content but also in the actual paint on the canvas. His brushstrokes tell a story a secret love affair between him and the paint, from his experience to his methods and techniques to the execution of his work, there is an intimacy and passion. There is a sense of romance in process of painting, in his interview with New York Magazine, Currin reminisces, “I learned how to hold a palette, how to squeeze paint out of the tube. In art school, they don’t really show you that stuff. They do everything in their power to kill the attractiveness of the whole procedure” (qtd. in Rosenburg). Painting has become so much about the picture itself that the entire process is forgotten; even painters have an impatience to get to the end result, it’s all about instant gratification. However, standing in front of a canvas with brush in hand and dabbing that first bit of paint, getting lost in the layers of creamy flesh is a pleasure all in its own, no matter the end result. Currin brings that sense of beauty and getting lost in the romance of painting back into the art world and pulls all the wonder of the old masters into present day.