Stuart
Davis: In Full Swing
…realism
doesn’t merely include what one immediately sees with the eye at a given
moment. One also relates it to past experience, … to feelings, ideas and … the
totality of the awareness of it…. By realism I don’t mean realism in any
photographic sense. Certainly not. —Stuart Davis
San
Francisco is fortunate this summer in hosting three exemplary painting shows:
young Monet at the Legion of Honor; Diebenkorn and Matisse at SFMOMA; and, less
heralded but no less important or inspiring, or revelatory, Stuart Davis at the
de Young. Davis is less well known than the others, but his dazzling work deserves
the red carpet treatment, too. Donald Judd, not someone who might be suspected
of maximalist tendencies, after seeing a Davis show, suggested that an
appropriate reaction might be applause: “Stuart Davis has more to do with what
the United States is like than Hopper.”
In Full Swing features some
seventy-five of the artists works, mostly oils on canvas, but also preparatory
drawings and smaller paintings in gouache and casein. The show originated at
the Whitney Museum last year, and is accompanied by an excellent short film tracing
Davis’s evolution from Ashcan-school street realism; through Cubism, which the
artist encountered as an exhibiting young watercolor artist at the famous 1913
Armory show, and in more concentrated form on a 1928 yearlong stay in Paris; to
his mature style, dating from the 1930s, which derived from American-scene observation
but transformed it utterly into joyous, electrifying visual music. Davis’s ebullient syncopations of bright
colors and interlocking shapes are uniquely his own (despite occasional
resemblances to Picasso, Matisse, Léger, and Miró), Peter Schjeldahl
characterized Davis as “a polemicist and a happy warrior for modernity as the
heart’s blood of what he called, invoking the nation’s definitive poet, “the
thing Whitman felt—and I too will express it in pictures—America—the wonderful
place we live in.”
Occupying
several meandering galleries on the museum’s second floor, the works are hung
chronologically, for the most part (although the careful viewer will need to
look at dates, as the direction of pedestrian traffic flow is not always clear).
Deviating from this chronological
progression are several groupings of paintings and drawings showing Davis brilliantly
reworking themes, sometimes from decades past, like a musician riffing on old
standards. Jazz was one of Davis’s longtime passions, beginning in his youth, when,
“hep to the jive,” he frequented the
rough bars of Newark NJ, and continuing through his life. A playful but telling inscription from Duke
Ellington in American Painting
(1932/1952-44) makes this clear: ‘It Don’t Mean a Thing if It Ain’t Got That
Swing.” (The painting also features stylized renderings of Davis and Federal Arts Project colleagues Willem
deKooning, John Graham and Arshile Gorky, whose cavalier attitude toward
politics ended his friendship with Davis, who had abandoned painting for
organizing, before becoming disgusted with lefty kowtowing to Stalin. Davis: “I
took the business as seriously as the serious situation demanded and devoted
much time to the organizational work. Gorky was less intense about it and still
wanted to play.” Gorky, who admired
Davis’s stand on pictorial flatness and pure abstract forms, and killed himself
in 1946, when the painting was yet unfinished, may be the figure who has been
canceled out.)
While
Davis’s paintings are timeless, they are also historic windows into the art of
the early twentieth century, combining aspects of Cubism, Abstract Expressionism,
and, with their playful deployment of the everyday imagery of commercial
America, Pop. (Cubism did this, too , but on
the lesser scale of the Parisian café, calmer than the dynamic,
commercial American street.) To follow Davis’s career is to recapitulate
the phylogeny of American painting (except for Surrealism, which had no appeal
to this son of artists, high-school dropout and student of real life). Davis died in 1964 at the age of seventy-one,
of a stroke. His final, unfinished painting is here, still bearing the masking
tape that he used to achieve the crisp lines that contrast so well with his
pastry-chef paint surfaces. Its title, Fin, or End, inspired by a French movie’s
final frame, is the last thing Davis painted. Holland Cotter wrote: “What Davis got right was belief: the belief
that he was doing the one sure, positive thing he could do, and that he would
keep doing it, no matter what, in failure or success, in sickness or in
health. That’s the lesson young artists
can take away from his show…” In our faithless, feckless times, governed by academic
learned helplessness and commercially induced moral slackness, these are
lessons worth learning or relearning.