Frank Lloyd’s blog

John Mason solo exhibition at Ferus Gallery in 1959.
Photo by Robert Bucknam

Kristine McKenna, a Los Angeles based author and curator, will sign copies of her latest book on November 21, 2009.  The book signing event will take place at the Frank Lloyd Gallery, from 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. The recently published book, The Ferus Gallery: A Place to Begin, is an illustrated oral history of the Ferus Gallery, a storied enterprise that showcased modern art during the late 1950s and 1960s. Drawing from 62 new interviews and more than 300 photographs (most previously unpublished), the book retrieves a lost chapter of twentieth-century American art.  The text is written and edited by Kristine McKenna.

Kristine McKenna is a noted author, art expert and co-editor of the critically acclaimed publication Semina Culture.  Kristine has also organized numerous exhibits about American music and art, and has written for the New York Times, Rolling Stone, the Los Angeles Times, Art in America, and many other major publications.

In 1950s California, and especially in Los Angeles, there existed few venues for contemporary art.  To a whole generation of California artists, this presented a freedom, since the absence of a context for their work meant that they could coin their own, and in uncommonly interesting ways. The careers of Ed Ruscha, Wallace Berman and Ed Kienholz all begin with this absence: Ruscha’s early and iconic Pop images combine words with images, Berman pioneered installation art with his first Ferus show, and in March 1957, Ed Kienholz, in collaboration with curator Walter Hopps, co-founded one of California’s greatest historical galleries, Ferus. Within months of opening, Ferus gallery gained notoriety when the Hollywood vice squad raided Berman’s first–and, in his lifetime, last–solo exhibition, following a complaint about “lewd material.” Shows by Kienholz and Jay DeFeo followed, but 1962 was Ferus’ annus mirabilis, with solo shows by Bruce Conner and Joseph Cornell, and solo shows of Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol (his first gallery show ever).  The following year, Ferus also hosted Ed Ruscha’s first solo exhibition.  After Kienholz and Hopps moved on to other things–Hopps went on to mount the first American Duchamp retrospective at the Pasadena Art Musuem–the reins were handed to Irving Blum, who took over and ran the gallery until its closure in 1966.

Former Ferus artists currently exhibiting at the Frank Lloyd Gallery are John Mason, Larry Bell, Ed Moses and Craig Kauffman.

I’ve given a little bit of background on Betty Asher in my last post, regarding the sophisticated sensibilities of certain Californians—a group that definitely included Ken Price and Betty Asher.  I’ve also posted previously an amazing group photo from a field trip to Las Vegas with Marcel Duchamp. In the Archives of American Art interview with Betty by Thomas Garver, she describes the evening:

“At dinner we went to the Stardust and they have the follies or something, a girlie theater, and I was sitting next to Marcel at the table and the picture is a result of one of those girls in short skirts coming around with a big camera to take pictures. And just as she was about to click, I put my arm around Marcel, my fingertips very gingerly touched his shoulder because I didn’t want him to know that I was doing this, so I have this nice picture of Marcel with my arm around him.”

Asher’s collection of early Pop paintings, important works by sculptors such as Larry Bell, and ceramics (teapots, cups—famously—and figurative sculpture) was housed until the end of her life in an open and spacious condominium in Beverly Hills. I visited there during the early 1990s, and saw the variety of work—from a Jasper Johns Flag to a Philip Guston painting, from a Larry Bell to an Ed Ruscha. Betty continued collecting Ken Price’s work. Her legendary collection of cups, many of which are now in the LACMA permanent collection, was prominently displayed.  In an archive, I have found this photo of her living room.

In the late 1970s, along with business partner Patricia Faure, Betty Asher opened a gallery at 8221 Santa Monica Boulevard. Their idea was “to have not only our own small group of young artists, or artists we represented who wouldn’t necessarily have to be young. In addition to that we wanted to work with New York dealers in a way that hadn’t been done before. We wanted to bring work that we liked and that hadn’t been seen for a long time, or ever, in the Los Angeles area, to our gallery…” Asher recalled in the AAA interview.

Later, the gallery moved to Almont in West Hollywood. A new voluminous space was constructed behind a small bungalow, and Betty and Patricia Faure continued their exhibition program. Remarkably, they exhibited many ceramic artists, including Viola Frey, Marilyn Levine, and others–in addition to sculpture by Joel Shapiro and Michael McMillen, and paintings by Joe Goode, Margaret Nielsen, and dozens of others. I’ve been able to research these shows, and scan some of the images from the Asher Faure archives.  The image shown here is the installation of monumental figurative work by Viola Frey, which Asher championed during the 1980s, and also collected herself.

What’s fascinating is to compare that same room—the aforementioned gallery space behind the West Hollywood bungalow—when it has an installation of paintings by Craig Kauffman. In the next image, we can see a series of paintings by Craig Kaffman playfully known as the “cage paintings”—a loose, open architecture of painted lines that resemble the framing of a structure. Kauffman, an artist who exhibited many times at Asher Faure, has often used the skipping, playful line in his work. It’s great for me to remember this exhibit, and the integration of ceramics and painting at the Asher Faure Gallery.

I’ve been reading my way through huge piles of old catalogue essays, curatorial statements, and reviews about art in the 1960s.  I have an interest in these things from a dealer’s point of view, to be sure. After all, many of the artists that we represent were very active during that period of time.  The way that their work is presently perceived is often a result of the statements made by critics, curators and writers from the 1960s.  But I have a personal interest in the art and artists of the 60s, since that is my “point of entry”. I grew up then, and cut my teeth on contemporary art at the old Pasadena Art Museum.

I never tire of Peter Schjeldahl, and whether I come across his writing in an old catalogue or a new article in the New Yorker, it is poetic and insightful. One of the best articles has the unfortunately over-used title “Feats of Clay” (anyone who reads a lot of ceramic artists’ resumes has seen that show title far too many times).  The October 6, 2003 New Yorker essay’s subject is the ceramic art of Ken Price. I keep a copy around the gallery, and ruthlessly photocopy it for clients and collectors. At the beginning of the fourth paragraph, Schjeldahl states succinctly:

“Price has always been a tough sell in New York, and is practically unknown in Europe, owing to a hardwired prejudice in the art world against ceramics as a minor, retrograde medium. To overeducated eyes, a perceived relation of an art object to conventions of domestic function is corny unless pointedly ironic. Other cultures—Japanese and Chinese, Mexican and Southwest Native American—have not shared this bias. Alertness to those traditions is a richly civilized element of certain Californian sensibilities. Price’s art, witty and sophisticated while shunning irony, is grounded in the aesthetic quiddity of ceramics. Painting exercises the eye; sculpture echoes the body. Ceramics express and are addressed to the hand.”

It’s something that I read again today, after researching the Archives of American Art interview with Betty Asher, a formidable force in the history of Los Angeles Art. Betty Asher was an influential curator, collector, and dealer (in his appreciation for the Los Angeles Times, following Asher’s passing in 1994, critic Christopher Knight knowingly acknowledged her as a “triple threat”). Asher was one of the first people to collect Pop Art, as is often cited, but began collecting before that movement. She chronicled the many ventures of her collecting history in an interview with Thomas Garver for the Archives of American Art. I think it is a great way to begin to understand, indeed, the more sophisticated Californian sensibility, in which ceramics were given space in celebrated collections as well as significant galleries. Asher, of course, exhibited many artists whose primary medium was fired clay—such as Viola Frey, Marilyn Levine, and Richard Shaw, among others. That part of her collection must have stemmed from her familiarity with the work of Ken Price. Here’s the passage in the AAA interview:

“BETTY ASHER: Well, probably the first large painting I bought was a Lobdell, and it was a large black painting. And then I bought Bob Irwin and Frank Stella and Ellsworth Kelly.

THOMAS H. GARVER: Now this is not the late fifties.

BETTY ASHER: That probably was early sixties, right. But late fifties was Lobdell. And I got interested in Kenny Price, and the entire group at Ferus, you know.”

I’ll be posting some examples of the Asher Faure Gallery’s integration of ceramics with painting and other sculpture—following along from the posts about Felix Landau, Ferus, and Janus Gallery.

Last week I hopped on an early morning Amtrak train from Penn Station to the 30^th Street Station in Philadelphia. The short trip on the Northeast Regional is common for commuters, but unusual for me.  I was in New York on business, and I had reserved a full day for art viewing in Philadelphia.  My day-long plan included a timed-entry ticket to the Cézanne and Beyond exhibit, a tour of the collections in the Philadelphia Museum, and a visit to the Institute of Contemporary Art.

I arrived in plenty of time for Cézanne and Beyond, a show that made me believe again in painting, museums, and exhibitions.  It’s worth every inconvenient wait, and it’s worth every moment when your view gets blocked—that’s the way it is with blockbuster shows.  This brilliant exhibit juxtaposes and connects the painters that follow Cézanne’s pivotal move into the flattening of space, the structure of painting, and repeated study of subject matter. I was blown away by room after room, but especially struck by the last sequence.  Ellsworth Kelly, Piet Mondrian, and Jasper Johns followed the shifting density and light of Cézanne’s painting of a large pine.  It was a stunning juxtaposition—simply categorized as “Trees”.

I thought about writing more about the Cézanne and Beyond show, but wound up becoming overwhelmed by the crowd and the chattering acoustiguides. As I’ve noted before, I like my museum experience to be a bit sparer. So it was best for me to retreat through the other galleries—with superb collections but without so many people.

I wandered upstairs to find the Art of Japanese Craft exhibition, a delightful collection that is the gift of connoisseur Frederick McBrien III.  It is in 3 galleries, just off the large skylight indoor garden area that contains the Japanese teahouse. How wonderful to come to a quiet area within the building, and what a great location for the show. This is a sensitively assembled collection of a true connoisseur, our gallery friend and patron, Fred. The wide range of works extends from a waterfall ink drawing on silk scroll to exquisite lacquered containers, as well as contemporary ceramics.

The nature-based imagery of Japanese craft of the Meiji period (and beyond) is strongly represented in this collection.  The emphasis on the revival of Japanese craft shows in the delicate woodcarving and extraordinary inlaid lacquer ware.  More recent porcelain vessels evoke nature through shape and process, and present new reflections of the craft.

There is a wonderful description and video of the tea ceremony just outside the special exhibit, which tells the function and purpose of the tea ceremony. Since is it based in the deliberate observation of detail and the contemplation of nature, the tea ceremony celebrates the imperfections and processes of nature. The Way of Tea teaches appreciation of fleeting moments; concentration on the sounds and the movements teaches attention to detail.  I had found a respite from the urban environment and the crowds.

Two weeks ago, I called my friend Monte Factor and invited him to go to the Hammer Museum.  Monte and his late wife Betty were early supporters of contemporary art in Los Angeles, and long ago acquired the work of Lynn Foulkes.   So I knew he would be a good museum companion for my second visit to Nine Lives in L.A. at the Hammer.

The show starts and ends with Lynn Foulkes, appropriately.  Foulkes’ space is totally unreal, a kind of compression and illusion that is found in dioramas. Constructed of such unlikely materials—from carved plywood to found objects and even common towels—the paintings and the space totally work.  The artist’s one-man band is featured on recordings near the exit for the show. One can listen on headphones. Both Monte and I were entranced by the constructions and the music.

A few days later, I helped to arrange for the Getty Research Institute to come and interview Monte at his home.  The GRI was responsive and inquisitive, ably represented by Andrew Perchuk and Rani Singh. Monte gave a guided tour of his home and collection. When he flipped a switch at the base of one Ed Keinholz assemblage, two blue lights flashed on at the top edge. Monte explained that the gun, which is pointed at the viewer, is set to go off once in the next 200 years.  ”Ed wanted the message to be about risk and contingency in our everyday life. There is live ammunition in the gun. He got in a lot of trouble with the German police over this piece,” added Monte.

Later in the afternoon, there was a moment that gave me goose bumps. As Andrew Perchuck and Rani Singh came upon a photograph mounted on one wall, there was a moment of recognition of Los Angeles art history. Andrew calmly asked Monte to identify the people in the photograph, from left to right.  He repeated what had been written about the picture before:  “This photograph was taken in the showroom of the Stardust Hotel in Las Vegas in 1963. From left to right are Teeny Duchamp, Richard Hamilton, Betty Factor, Bill Copley, myself clenching a cigar, Walter Hopps, Betty Asher, and Marcel Duchamp.”

If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that we learn about art through our friends. Collectors and exhibitions inspire us; they give us a worldview based on exploration. Scholars tell us that the origins of museums came from the cabinets of curiosities in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Europe. The obsessions and discoveries of collectors are expanded versions of that, usually displayed in a domestic setting, as something to be shown and discussed with friends.

In my last post, I mentioned an organization called the Friends of Contemporary Ceramics. It’s a non-profit support group for the ceramic arts, and has helped tremendously with exhibition funding, publications and educational symposia during the FCC’s fourteen year history. As with many art support groups, there are also trips to attend important exhibits, and seek out fascinating collections.

Great shows have been supported by the FCC, which was founded by Linda Leonard Schlenger in 1995 (that’s Linda on the right in the photo, along with Peter and Ann Voulkos in the center, and me). The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s 1999 show Clay into Art was just one of the highlights. The FCC gives an annual award to a contributor to the field, and helps to sponsor exhibitions in the field of ceramics.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll let you know that I am on the board of directors of the FCC. I organized two trips to Los Angeles, and helped the group to become better acquainted with artist’s studios, museums and private collections. We gathered many of the most important artists for a lunch at the gallery. This photo shows, from left to right, the late Ralph Bacerra, Harrison McIntosh, Toshiko Takaezu, John Mason, Ruth Duckworth, and the late Roseline Delisle.