Art Since 1950

With her organic, carefully orchestrated sculptures, Rina Banerjee reveals a migration of ideas and cultural symbols. She interrogates historic objects— where they come from and the stories they can tell—in her distinctive works. In conceiving this work, the artist focused on domestic slavery. A Victorian birdcage, shaped like a large home, forms a central part of the composition. Birdcages reoccur across Bannerjee's diverse works. Here, the cage remains open, giving a sense of flight; the captive has fled bondage. Various meanings are assigned to objects by their creators and their owners. Banerjee ponders the value of goods and their perceived worth. Here, the prominent orange feathers were purchased from a website promising “authentic Asian goods,” while the large and whimsical gourds were grown locally in Florida and purchased on the land where they were harvested. In this work, Banerjee navigates the tension between the local and the global, and the notion of authenticity is explored and deconstructed. While the artist is interested in the movement of goods and people, her sculptures, like this one, testify to a migration of ideas as well. This work in particular is significant in her oeuvre not only for the ideas it imparts, but for its noteworthy presentations.

From his early street photography made in Harlem, New York City, to his iconic portraits of high-school students, Dawoud Bey creates emotive pictures of humanity. Bey’s pictures inspect and reflect upon the notion of place, which is a central thread in the Birmingham Project, of which the work here is a part. On the morning of September 15, 1963, four African American girls were killed when Ku Klux Klan members bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama. Later that same day, two African American boys were killed in separate incidents as a result of racial violence. To recognize these horrific tragedies on their 50^th anniversary, Bey created a series of diptychs of residents of the city. He identified young people who were the ages of the victims and then found adults who were approximately the ages those victims would have been if they had lived. He juxtaposes the adults and youth in black-and-white photographs taken in the Bethel Baptist Church in the city's Collegeville neighborhood, chosen for its role in the Civil Rights Movement, and in the Birmingham Museum of Art. The subjects here, as they do across the entire series, look directly at the viewer, an exchange of gaze that heightens the emotional intensity of the work. Though photographed separately, they are paired together through their individual yet parallel poses. Separated across generations, they are united in their resilience and recognition of the terror and tragedy of September 15, 1963.

Luis Camnitzer is a provocative thinker and artist. He makes work in myriad forms, choosing the format that he believes achieves his message or intent in the most direct manner. Like other conceptual artists, Camnitzer embraces the idea over the material manifestation of his creative practice.

Timelanguage derives from a new body of work that includes rigorous consideration of the notion of time. The series of prints begins and ends with blank pages. The made up, composite term “timelanguage” unfolds across the successive prints, which evolve from a light gray to a final black image. Since the end and the beginning are a different color, but similar in composition, cyclical time as well as linear time become paramount here. Moreover, time is ephemeral and elusive. While modern society may feel governed by time, encapsulating the notion of time as a single entity remains a perplexing task.

Elizabeth Catlett was known for sculptures that reflected both African American and Mexican identities. Catlett’s influences include the works of the Harlem and Chicago Renaissances, as well as modern and African art. Naima exemplifies the artist’s balance between the figurative and the abstract, potentially stemming from the influence of her mentor, modernist sculptor Ossip Zadkine (1888–1967). Catlett challenged Zadkine’s abstraction with her background in African art, blending her knowledge of the two to convey the essence of the subject without extraneous detail, but also without losing accessibility, as she created art to be consumed by everyday African American people. In keeping with this, she rejected the idea of the modernist “international figure,” instead creating a form that elicits sympathy from her viewers. Naima was inspired by her own granddaughter, Naima Mora, after she visited Catlett’s home in Mexico to study Spanish. Naima’s elongated profile fits within Catlett’s existing work, which draws from the cultural significance of the head in African art. In Yoruba figure sculpture, the head is the most vital part of a person. It is regarded as the epicenter of one’s individuality, sensory experience, nourishment, and wisdom. Just as Catlett wishes to portray the essence of her granddaughter, the head portrays the essence of human personality and the source of life in Yoruban culture, not only in the present, but also for the future.

Born Erland Ronald Cunningham near Boothbay, Maine, Earl Cunningham was inspired by the East Coast and spent considerable time painting Maine, Florida, and the Atlantic Ocean. In this painting, the artist explores both bold and soft blue hues, yet he often rendered the water and its accompanying coastal areas with unexpected colors such as coral, purple, and yellow. These color choices are reminiscent of Fauvism, the modern art movement characterized by distinctive and unanticipated uses of color and emotional evocations by French painters such as Henri Matisse (1869–1954) and André Derain (1880–1954). Furthermore, Cunningham’s smooth application of paint and flat perspective give the composition a modern sensibility. In Canal with Water Hyacinth, the artist presents an idyllic scene. The two small figures in the two boats in the foreground appear minuscule in comparison to the natural environment. Self-taught, he presented himself as a primitive artist on a 1968 business card; he recognized that promoting himself as such might help him with commercial sales. Well known locally, his first museum exhibition took place at Loch Haven Art Center (now the Orlando Museum of Art) in 1970. His work has been seldom exhibited in New York (1980 and 2008, for example), but his most important collectors, Marilyn and Michael Mennello of Orlando, have gathered the majority of the artist’s paintings at the Mennello Museum of American Art.

The first time Imogen Cunningham photographed the transcendental painter Morris Graves was in 1950 on the grounds of his private retreat outside Seattle. An introspective portrait study of Graves who as a conscientious-objector had refused to enter the military during World War II resulted in his imprisonment, Cunningham’s photograph is considered a classic portrait. The photographer commented about the image, “Many people think it’s the only portrait I’ve made. You know, he’s never said whether he like it or not.”

Nearly twenty years later, in 1969, Cunningham sought out the reclusive Graves to include him in her venture After Ninety, a project about old age. He turned her down. She was persistent and several years later, in 1973, he agreed to have her photograph him, musing, “How can anyone refuse a 90-year old like Imogen anything?” Cunningham was 90 and Graves 63.

As a college student, Imogen studied chemistry and worked in the botany department of the University of Washington. She became interested in photography in 1905 working with a 4 x 5 camera ordered through a mail-order correspondence school. Gertrude Käsebier’s 1907 article published in The Craftsman inspired her. Cunningham worked in the Seattle studio of Edward S. Curtis, a chronicler of Amerindians, for two years beginning in 1907, learning the fine points of platinum printing and retouching of negatives. Following a fellowship to Dresden, Germany where she studied with a photo chemist, viewed the International Photographic Exhibition and artwork at museums, she opened a portrait studio in 1910 upon her return to Seattle.

Throughout her career that spanned 70 years Cunningham featured portraiture and images of the body including nudes, however she is most well known for the photographs emanating from her affiliation with the California formalists group F/64 that included photographers Edward Weston and Ansel Adams. The name derived from the f-stop on the camera that provided the sharpest focus and depth of field. Inspired by these associations Cunningham developed her early style—close-ups photographs of industrial complexes, botanical plants and flowers—calla lilies and magnolias blossoms. Ten of these photographic studies debuted in the exhibition Film und Foto featuring works by American and European artists held in Stuttgart, Germany in 1929.

Audrey Flack received early attention in New York where she experimented with Abstract Expressionism and presented her first solo exhibition at the Roko Gallery in 1959. She chose not to continue with abstraction, and instead she started creating hyper-real three-dimensional works that referenced popular culture. The splattered paint on the Head of “Civitas” evokes her interest in abstraction and the potential of paint. During the 1970s, Flack’s work became defined by feminism, as she often explored stereotypes related to representations of women. This sculpture belongs to a series of works she began in the 1980s, which focused on mythic female deities. A larger version that reveals the woman’s full body and shows her standing on a sphere is permanently installed in Rock Hill, South Carolina. The source for this smaller work, Four Visions (gateway to the City of Rock Hill) (1990–91), consists of four 12-foot goddesses. These female-centered public monuments are now frequently associated with Flack’s feminist oeuvre. The Head of “Civitas” possesses a proud and triumphant countenance inspired by classical sculptures.

This large painting exemplifies the experimental floor paintings created by Sam Gilliam with his “soak-stain” technique during the late 1960s and mid-1970s. Soak-stain practices typically involve artists diluting the paint to create a thin mixture and literally soaking the canvas in paint. During this period in Gilliam’s career, he produced a number of important works. Here, the artist creates an emphatic and even fantastical energy around the entire composition, punctuated with spots of thick paint. Abstract artists like Gilliam explore the potential of paint. In works like this and others from the same time period, “the paint was poured, splashed and mopped, and the canvas was rolled, folded, crumpled and only sometimes restretched.”

Gilliam represented the United States at the Venice Biennale in 1972, and his work remains incredibly relevant: his singular approach to abstraction augmented the narrative of twentieth-century American art. Moreover, his works inspired and continue to inspire subsequent generations of artists, including David Hammons (b. 1943) and Oscar Murillo (b. 1986), for example, who both push the limits of abstract painting and consider materials traditionally conceived of as two-dimensional as multidimensional.

Ramiro Gomez was born in San Bernardino, California in 1986 and currently lives and works in Los Angeles. Across different media, Gomez makes visible the too-often invisible physical effort of construction laborers, landscapers, nannies, and other unrecognized workers. In this work, he takes a glossy magazine page and inserts the labor that remains absent in the constructed image of domestic life as depicted in advertising, home décor, and fashion magazines. The thinness of the page and the torn edges emphasize the tangible quality of the forms and reinforce the experience of flipping through the pages of a magazine like Architectural Digest and ripping out a page of interest.

The artist began with magazine interventions as a result of his own experiences as a nanny and the labor of his parents who immigrated from Mexico. His ghostly figures appear in posh surroundings, as exemplified by this pool scene. His work resonates beyond Southern California. Gomez explains: “What I am painting about isn’t anything new—it’s in fact very familiar, immediately recognizable to everyone without getting lost in translation. Labor is everywhere, the cast is different, but the role is the same.” The artist’s work recognizes laborers working in Los Angeles and beyond, and in doing so fills a void in visual culture and popular consciousness.

Felrath Hines embraced a language of abstraction. His paintings of the late 1950s demonstrate a shared affinity with Abstract Expressionism and Color Field painting, while his later work shows the artist’s interest in Minimalism and Hard-Edge painting. Here he demonstrates a keen attention to color and form and an expressive approach to paint reminiscent of the abstract compositions of American artists like Phillip Guston (1913–1980). The bright hues of red, blue, and a hint of purple, among other colors, draw the viewer into the work as the organic forms slowly and softly recede into one another.

Originally from Indianapolis, Hines began studying art formally at the age of 31. He moved to Chicago, where he attended events at the Southside Community Arts Center and studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. He lived in New York for many years, where he found it difficult to garner attention for his paintings. He did find support, however, among other artists, writers, and musicians like Harry Belafonte (b. 1927) and James Baldwin (1924–1987). They buoyed one another during lean years. Of note, Hines was a member of Spiral, a group of black artists that included Norman Lewis (1909–1979) and Romare Bearden (1911–1988), who were engaged in the Civil Rights Movement. After working in New York for many years, he relocated to Washington, D.C. In addition to his own practice, Hines held the position of Chief Conservator at the city's Hirshhorn Museum and National Portrait Gallery.

Ramiro Gomez was born in San Bernardino, California in 1986 and currently lives and works in Los Angeles. Across different media, Gomez makes visible the too-often invisible physical effort of construction laborers, landscapers, nannies, and other unrecognized workers. In this work, he takes a glossy magazine page and inserts the labor that remains absent in the constructed image of domestic life as depicted in advertising, home décor, and fashion magazines. The thinness of the page and the torn edges emphasize the tangible quality of the forms and reinforce the experience of flipping through the pages of a magazine like Architectural Digest and ripping out a page of interest.

The artist began with magazine interventions as a result of his own experiences as a nanny and the labor of his parents who immigrated from Mexico. His ghostly figures appear in posh surroundings, as exemplified by this pool scene. His work resonates beyond Southern California. Gomez explains: “What I am painting about isn’t anything new—it’s in fact very familiar, immediately recognizable to everyone without getting lost in translation. Labor is everywhere, the cast is different, but the role is the same.” The artist’s work recognizes laborers working in Los Angeles and beyond, and in doing so fills a void in visual culture and popular consciousness.

This work demonstrates Doris Leeper’s ardent commitment to geometric abstraction. While she originally chose representational imagery and practiced with paint in an expressionist manner, her mature approach, as evidenced here, was minimal and exhibited a commitment to hard edges. Although this small-scale work serves as an excellent example of her abstract compositions, much of Leeper’s works, both sculptures and paintings, were large in scale. The flat and thin application of paint is typical of her painting; moreover, the intense red and pink hues present here are not uncommon in her work. She employed a varied palette but was actively engaged with bright colors.

Despite being raised in North Carolina, Doris (known as “Doc”) Leeper, who moved to Florida in 1958, is now considered to be one of state’s most significant artists. She exhibited throughout the state and some of her works can be seen in public spaces today such as the Orlando International Airport, the campus of the University of Central Florida, and at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, of which she was a co-founder. Leeper was further supported in the region by several corporations that acquired her work. The Museum possesses 50 works by Leeper in its permanent collection, ranging from early pieces that reveal her expressive approach to representational art, to her more recognized and dedicated Minimalist aesthetic. In addition to paintings, prints, and assemblages, the museum houses some sculptural work, including maquettes made in anticipation of public art projects.

The sources for many of Whitfield Lovell’s figurative drawings come from found photographs. He collects objects and serves as an archivist, and he transforms historic photographs of black Americans into his own highly recognizable visual art form of wood constructions. Here, a woman’s stately elegance is reinforced by her high collar, long sleeves, and the bustle of her dress. The source image for this drawing is likely a studio portrait. Lovell’s hand renders the woman’s figure and the creases and draping of her dress in a highly naturalistic manner.

In addition to the use of found photography, and the presentation of his drawings on reclaimed wood, the juxtaposition of an object, here a radio, is a common attribute of the artist’s oeuvre. Some of the works he creates with musical instruments play music, while others, like Patience, do not. Lovell avoids literal readings between the objects and the drawings in his work, and instead encourages a visual experience of surprise and heightened intrigue. For example, the cathedral-style radio presented here was popular in the early 1930s and the woman’s dress relates to the late nineteenth century. Despite being from different eras, the work possesses a similar ornamental architecture. His wood forms with found-object juxtapositions yield distinctive tableaux with an “incantatory quality.”

The phrase presented here in pink and green neon is a haunting reminder of the fragility of personal security and of a just society. The statement is attributed to the Protestant pastor Martin Niemöller, who spoke out against Germans who were complicit in the rise of Nazi power and the horrors experienced by Jews and others during World War II. Variations of his original, spoken quote exist. One version cites him follows:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Patrick Martinez, born and raised in Los Angeles, gleans inspiration from daily life in his city. In the case of this work, driving home from his studio at night he witnessed various businesses' use of neon. The format of Then They Came for Me derives from ATM signage. Neon beckons people to a particular business, and this type of plea for attention functions in a different, though related manner in this piece, within a contemporary context fraught with political and racial tension. Martinez is deeply impacted by issues such as police brutality and immigration legislation, which are important to his family, friends, and community. Moreover, popular culture—from neon signage to hip-hop music, graffiti, and even Pee-Chee school folders—seeps into his work.

Lorna Simpson addresses race and gender in ways that resist an exact interpretation of her work. Counting combines compartmentalized images and text within a single composition, a reoccurring approach in the artist’s oeuvre. At the top of this composition, an image of a woman’s clavicle bone appears, a part of the female body that is both fragile and often cited for its beauty. The slight detailing of her neckline enhances her femininity. This gentle ornamentation contrasts with the threat of violence against this particular part of the human body. The image is accompanied by text that makes reference to a schedule, although the significance of the timeframes remains undefined. The various types might reference continual, even dizzying labor. In the middle of the composition, a smokehouse is depicted; both image and text recall colonial plantation history in the United States and suggest the horrors of slavery. In the bottom image, the hair of an African American woman is presented in a circular formation, and the numbers are indicative of its structure. All of the images here relate to either the construction of the built environment or to the assembly of human form. Each of the visual forms possesses political and cultural weight.