ROBERT RUSSELL
ROBERT RUSSELL
PUT OUT THE GOOD STUFF
By Andrea Bowers
Robert Russell’s falling teacup paintings encapsulate whimsy and surrealism in a delightful fusion of imagination and artistic skill. With meticulous detail and vibrant colors, Russell transports viewers to a world where teacups take flight against dreamy backdrops, defying the constraints of reality. Each painting invites contemplation on the nature of possibility and invites the viewer to embark on a journey of wonder and exploration. Through his unique vision, Russell not only challenges conventional notions of art but also inspires a sense of childlike wonder in those who encounter his work.
The above quote was wri en by ChatGPT when prompted to write a paragraph about Robert Russell’s falling teacup paintings. Despite its vacuity, I fear many people would be satisfied or even impressed by this statement and not question the authorship. This essay pits me against technology, much as Robert Russell mines the vastness of digital space to find signs of “real life.”
Russell was one of the first artists I knew who was commi ed to using Google search not just as a tool for finding imagery but also as a conceptual strategy. This research methodology for source material continues to be a strategy in his work today, including in his new Falling Teacup paintings. The first time I recall him using Google search for a body of work was for his 2013 series, “Men Who are Named Robert Russell.”. The 22 portrait paintings were the result of a Google search of his own name. It was a seemingly simple move with complicated layers of meaning.
This body of work contemplates self-portraiture and sel ood in a time when personal identities and information are being funneled through and defined by digital algorithms. The paintings were hung on a grid with empty spaces, suggesting that his authorship is exposed in the act of editing and curating the Google search— or perhaps that the manual limitations of painting allowed him to complete only 22 portraits.
Russell’s portraits reference Gerhard Richter’s “48 Portraits”, which depict solely white European or American males, born between 1824 and 1904, who influenced modernity. Richter selected them from 270 portrait photographs that he collected from encyclopedias and lexicons.
The difference is that Russell’s men, whose images stand in for a self-portrait, are ordinary and anonymous people, and we, as an audience, don’t recognize any of them. There is something self-effacing and democratic about this gesture. In contrast with the monumental personas and accomplishments of Richter’s men, Russell seems to be honoring ordinary lives, with all their vicissitudes. Where Richter maintained a position of ambivalence, Russell, as a Robert Russell himself, suggests that he is the opposite of glamorous. His edit of images reveals a struggle with racial and gender politics as well as the privilege of living in a cis-male body. Many of these portraits seem a bit creepy, perhaps because they don’t adhere to our current standards of handsomeness, yet the sincerity in the labor of painting pays homage. The installation of paintings has a good dose of humility and humor, since ultimately they are substituting for a portrait of the artist himself, and they are all too human.
I met Russell in 2006 through Charles Gaines and Roxana Landaverde, soon a er he graduated from California Institute of the Arts. He had been Charles Gaines’s teaching assistant. We became part of an inner circle of friends who met through the art school and have known each other for years. Writing this sends me back to considering the discourse we were having in the 1990s and the 2000s. Although Russell graduated from CalArts over a decade a er I did, we are close enough in age to have studied with similar teachers, so much of the generational zeitgeist is similar.
During those decades, the Pictures Generation was a force to be reckoned with, and Tom Lawson, author of “Last Exit: Painting,” was the dean of the art department. There were many debates and discussions around the ethical pitfalls of representation. Charles Gaines was discussing the linguistics of metaphor vs. metonym in his Content and Form class, and Connie Hatch was teaching a course on the Situationists. It was impressed upon us as part of the CalArts pedagogy to understand that “representations” were a completely different entity than the thing they represented. As young artists, we were taught to be wary of the power of representations because they were o en used by capitalism to oppress some and privilege others. Pictures could control our lives. They could promote racism, sexism, and homophobia. They could create false histories. But underlining all of this is a uniquely Californian Conceptual Marxist optimism in utopian ideologies. Through creative critical analysis, we could make art and the world a be er place. Included in this outlook was the ethical demand for the Situationist pursuit to find authentic experiences outside of capitalism and the conviction that the search for autonomy was crucial for artists. It is my belief that Russell still maintains an optimistic hope for progressive ideas and sel ood despite the cool, slightly sarcastic and ironic surface of his paintings.
Russell and I both apply highly refined techniques to copying images. Where I use pencil and colored pencil, Russell’s incredible trompe l’oeil style relies on paint. Both of us use the term “photorealism” to describe our work. The terms new realism, super realism, photographic realism, and hyperrealism were all used in the 1970s to describe the artistic process of painstakingly copying photographs. Russell and I chose this approach for very different reasons. I was interested in a way of working that was outside of the modernist tradition of celebrating male subjectivity as genius. I was also looking to honor the people and politics I was rendering through my hours of labor. In the 1970s there was an assumption that there was truth in a photograph. Linda Chase, in her essay “Existential vs. Humanist Realism” quoted E. H. Gombrich in his discussion of the history of illusionist painting: “It is an interesting and undeniable fact that many great artists of the past were fascinated by the problem of visual truth, but none of them can ever have thought that visual truth alone will make a picture into a work of art.”
Russell’s work reveals what an erroneous premise this is in 2024. We now live in a world where pictures are routinely manipulated and are o en invented by artificial intelligence. It can be difficult, even impossible, to determine veracity. Gregory Ba cock wrote that 1970s photo realism “was an art that depended not upon faith but upon more verifiable experiences.” Robert Russell’s paintings are made from a time in history in which there are no verifiable images and much of the content we’re exposed to is disinformation. No ma er how accurately rendered or copied his images are, there is no believing in visual truth, so perhaps we have to look for what he has faith in. Photo realism was criticized for its mundane and abject imagery. Now, we are drowning in abject imagery, and yet Russell is willing to mine these images.
The following prophetic/uncanny quote from Lawson’s “Last Exit: Painting” seems highly influential to Russell’s practice:
To an unprecedented degree the perception of the “natural” is mediated these days. We know real life as it is represented on film or tape. We are all implicated in an unfolding spectacle of fulfillment, rendered passive by inordinate display and multiplicity of choice, made numb with variety: a spectacle that provides the illusion of contentment while slowly creating a debilitating sense of alienation. The camera, in all its manifestations, is our god, dispensing what we mistakenly take to be truth. The photograph is the modern world. We are given li le choice: accept the picture and live as shadow, as insubstantial as the image on a television screen, or feel le out, dissatisfied, but unable to do anything about it. We know about the appearance of everything, but from a great distance. And yet even as photography holds reality distant from us, it also makes it seem more immediate, by enabling us to “catch the moment.” Right now, a truly conscious practice is one concerned above all with the implications of that paradox.
It is hard to believe that when Lawson’s essay was published in 1981, we did not have personal cell phones, personal computers, or social media.
The paradox between debilitating alienation and an insatiable need for immediate content has exploded beyond imagination. I think Russell took Lawson’s words to heart, he works out from this paradox with paint.
A er his series of “Men Who are Named Robert Russell.”, the artist made a new body of work entitled, Book Paintings, canvases of a “made up” group of artists’ monographs. I assume the process of inventing these went something like this: Using Google search, Russell chose images of art works. He digitally manipulated them in photoshop to fit on a preexisting image of a cover of a coffee table book and found a tasteful and believable font, perhaps his own handwriting, that repeats throughout the series. Then he painted them meticulously in monumental scale. Another example of self-portraiture, these book paintings represent the artists Russell admires. He creates a strategy that allows him to freely appropriate these artists’ paintings. Some of his selections of artists might be seen as embarrassing by the tastemakers and intellectual elite in the art world. But parody is used as camouflage. As stated in the press release for the exhibition, “Homage is parody. Parody is homage.” It seems as if the self-disclosure is embarrassing but that honesty, although buried, allows these works to reflect upon the human condition.
The source material for his two most recent bodies of work comes from internet searches for images of teacups offered for sale on eBay and online estate sales. In the first grouping of teacups, which was shown in 2021 and titled Teacups, the cups are placed on black backgrounds, and their flowers become still lifes of transitory items. The paintings directly reference memento mori, a reminder of the inevitability of death. They imitate sixteenth century and seventeenth century vanitas paintings, a genre of art that uses symbolic objects in still lifes to remind viewers of their mortality. I can’t help but remember our endless discussions as graduate students about the death of painting. Ironically, painting reigns supreme as an art form in today’s market. But these works function as eulogies to the utopian possibility of meaning in painting or even a sense of truthful representation. In a recent interview, Russell explained to me that, “the internet is trying to find the bo om of what you want—the basest desires.”
In the Teacup oeuvre, Russell has moved from self-portraiture to reflections on kinship. The teacups are examples of family heirlooms. What Russell is focusing on is the deaccessioning of unwanted belongings inherited from family members. He finds online images of family heirlooms that are being sold for as li le as $5. The motivations for selling the teacups are at the heart of this work. Grandma has died, and the family is encumbered by the worldly items she le behind. The task of ge ing rid of them is seen by Russell as a contemporary ritual.
Teacups were first imported to England from China in the 1700s because of the British obsession with high tea. Royal Doulton and Limoges are two prominent European companies that produce collectible china tea sets. Brides in the United States would ask for tea sets through their bridal registries. Formal tea sets have become much less popular in recent years, so the generations that collected them in the United States would have been those of our grandmothers and greatgrandmothers.
When describing his family’s traditions while he was growing up, Russell said, “the good stuff ” was locked away in the cabinets and not used. Russell is Jewish, and for him the Teacup paintings have a class and cultural specificity. The paintings are metonymic of family heritage and assimilation.
Lamm, 2023
Oil on canvas 21 x 21 inches 53.3 x 53.3 cm
Oil on canvas
20 x 24 inches
50.8 x 61 cm
Gaines stated in “Reconsidering Metaphor/Metonymy: Art and the Suppression of Thought” that metonymy is “formed in a part to whole or cause and effect relationship where the part stands for the whole or the cause stands for its effect.”
Russell described his underlying political position in these paintings by stating, “Middle class assimilated Jews’ best path forward was to behave not Jewish.”
On his Instagram, in a post from June 2, 2024, he stated, “I made ... 40 enormous teacup paintings at the beginning of the Covid pandemic. They felt like a kind of elegy. They still do, but now I see them more as vessels for a ention.” In Russell’s newest series, the teacups are now animated, a move from photo realism to surrealism. Like melting clocks, these images capture the moment just before the teacups are smashed. The photorealist process of literally recording is replaced by the psychological subjectivity of the artist. Russell is illustrating a deeply personal desire to sha er a generational practice of assimilation. He describes these falling teacup paintings as an “alchemical process,” and continues, “We are allowed to do magic in painting.” Russell has found a way to deal with painting as not only an aesthetic process but also as a critical practice. The alchemy of turning the images of assimilation into beauty is now becoming a tool of criticism. It is apropos that he fondly remembers Lari Pi man telling him to always use the good stuff—put out the good china.
Sitzend Fowl, 2023
While researching the porcelain teacups, Russell came across porcelain figurines of animals such as bunnies, lambs and dogs made by the company, Allach. Large-scale paintings of these figurines were exhibited in 2023 in an exhibition titled, Porzellan Manufaktur Allach named a er the company that fabricated the porcelains. This factory was taken over by the Allgemeine SS in 1939 orchestrated by former Nazi party leader Heinrich Himmler. The factory used forced labor of those imprisoned under the regime to make the figurines. The information about this company was so limited that Russell reached out to a US soldier who liberated Dachau with his regimen. Breaking his research methodology and perhaps breaking his cynicism regarding representation, Russell has changed his research methodology once limited to Google to now include contacting an invaluable elder important to his community and our understanding of history. This move shows a utopic belief in the role of art and painting to record and reevaluate history, a major shi in his thinking. Russell explained to me that prior to this body of work, “I felt like I needed to be a much be er painter to take on certain subjects. This subject is as serious as a heart a ack, and I wanted to feel as though I at least had the chops to take it on. I guess I felt mature enough as an artist to deal with the subject ma er.” He finally believed that his paintings were worthy of being accepted and respected by communities that he loves.
The artist’s facture of these paintings drives the politic. Russell turned the miniature figurines into large-scale paintings. The scaled shi is intentional because he wants these very cute, serene, seemingly benign objects to become monstrous. In the work he aims to diminish the brushwork by using so er, longer brushes offering a clearer window into the subject. While the teacups reference the problems of cultural assimilation, in the Allach figurines Russell has frontally taken on a mature political voice. These paintings are about reclamation and restoration. Through a commitment to painting his aim is to redeem these objects. As Russell wrote, “I wanted to send the paintings of these objects through my Jewish body, thereby making them into the Jewish objects they are.”
Falling Teacup #4, 2024
Oil on canvas
80 x 70 inches
203.2 x 177.8 cm
Falling Teacup #5, 2024
Oil on canvas
70 x 45 inches
177.8 x 114.3 cm
Falling Teacup #6, 2024
Oil on canvas
80 x 50 inches
203.2 x 127 cm
Falling Teacup #7, 2024
Oil on canvas
46 x 38 inches
116.8 x 96.5 cm
Falling Teacup #8, 2024
Oil on canvas
48 x 48 inches
121.9 x 121.9 cm
Falling Teacup #9, 2024
Oil on canvas
38 x 30 inches
96.5 x 76.2 cm
Falling Teacup #10, 2024
Oil on canvas
42 x 32 inches
106.7 x 81.3 cm
Falling Teacup #11, 2024
Oil on canvas
32 x 22 inches
81.3 x 55.9 cm
Falling Teacup #12, 2024
Oil on canvas
75 x 62 inches
190.5 x 157.5 cm
Falling Teacup #13, 2024
Oil on canvas
70 x 60 inches
177.8 x 152.4 cm
Falling Teacup #14, 2024
Oil on canvas
60 x 49 inches
152.4 x 124.5 cm
Falling Teacup #15, 2024
Oil on canvas
30 x 24 inches
76.2 x 61 cm
ROBERT RUSSELL
Born in Kansas City, MO in 1971
Lives and works in Los Angeles, CA
EDUCATION
2006
MFA, California Institute of the Arts, Santa Clarita, CA
1994
BFA, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, RI
SOLO EXHIBITIONS
2024
Miles McEnery Gallery, New York, NY
2023
“Porzellan Manufaktur Allach,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2022
Miles McEnery Gallery, New York, NY
2021
“Teacups,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2020
“A Theory of Clouds,” OSMOS Station, Stamford, NY
2019
“Book Paintings,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2018
“Moore. More. Moore.,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2016
“Lisa,” The Cabin LA, Los Angeles, CA
2015
“Tonic Immobility,” Burrard Arts Foundation, Vancouver, Canada
“Amateurs,” LA><ART, Los Angeles, CA
“Sein und Schein” (curated by Cay Sophie Rabinowitz), Big Pond Artworks, Munich, Germany
2013
“Men Who are Named Robert Russell,” OSMOS, New York, NY
“Men Who are Named Robert Russell,” François Ghebaly Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2010
“Masters,” François Ghebaly Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2007
“Sca ershot,” Anna Helwing Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2005
“Pink,” Anna Helwing Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
“Robert Russell: Recent Work,” Limn Gallery, San Francisco, CA
2003
“Skaters,” Frumkin/Duval Gallery, Santa Monica, CA
2002
“Eight Gardeners,” Frumkin/Duval Gallery, Santa Monica, CA
2001
“A er Images,” Frumkin/Duval Gallery, Santa Monica, CA
GROUP EXHIBITIONS
2024
“Meshuganah,” A Very Serious Gallery, Chicago, IL
“The First Taste,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, New York, NY
2023
“Revival I XVIIIE SIÈCLE,” Gowan Contemporary, Geneva, Switzerland
2021
“Mystic Truths” (curated by Brooke Wise), NeueHouse Bradbury, Los Angeles, CA
2020
“Good Company: Pt. 1,” Anat Ebgi Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2019
“The Conversation,” Anat Ebgi at Minnesota Street Projects, San Francisco, CA
2016
“Perfect Day,” Roberts & Tilton Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
“The Art of Politics,” Pasadena Convention Center, Los Angeles, CA
2015
“Loosely Bound: Launch of Material Press,” Material Press, Los Angeles, CA
“Men Named Robert Russell” (for Material Press), Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, CA
“Manifest: Justice,” Los Angeles, CA
2013
“P&CO,” Thomas Duncan Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2012
“The Dorian Project,” Second Guest Projects, New York, NY
“Los Angeles Contemporary Tendencies” (curated by Annka Kultys), Helene Bailly Gallery, Paris, France
2011
“The New Verisimilitude,” M+B Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
“The Los Angeles Initiative - Rema Hort Mann Foundation,” Honor Fraser Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
“On Forgery” (curated by Andrew Berardini and Lesley Moon), LA><ART, Los Angeles, CA
2010
“Summer Group Show,” Susanne Vielme er Los Angeles Projects, Culver City, CA
“Billboard Project,” Portugal Arte 10, Lisbon, Portugal
“California Dreamin,” Portugal Arte 10, Lisbon, Portugal
2009
“Dile antes, Dandied, and Divas,” Gavlak Projects, Palm Beach, FL
2008
The Cartin Collection at Ars Libri, Boston, MA
“Going Out of Business,” Anna Helwing Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
2007
“Distinctive Messengers,” House of Campari, Venice, CA
2006
“Farewell to Icon,” Anna Helwing Gallery, Los Angeles, CA
“MFA WMD’s: Selections from LA Schools,” Track 16 at The 2nd Annual L.A.Weekly Biennial, Santa Monica,CA
“Collisions & Pileups: MFA Thesis Exhibition,” Armory Northwest, Los Angeles, CA
“Nightmares of Summer,” Marcello Marvelli Gallery, New York, NY
2001
“The World of Figure,” Limn Gallery, San Francisco, CA
2000
“The Changing Face of Portraiture,” Guggenheim Gallery, Chapman University, Orange, CA
RESIDENCIES
2015
Artist in Residence, Burrard Arts Foundation, Vancouver, Canada
Published on the occasion of the exhibition
ROBERT RUSSELL
FALLING TEACUPS
11 July – 23 August 2024
Miles McEnery Gallery
515 West 22nd Street
New York NY 10011
tel +1 212 445 0051
www.milesmcenery.com
Publication © 2024 Miles McEnery Gallery
All rights reserved
Essay © 2024 Andrea Bowers
Publications and Archival Associate
Julia Schlank, New York, NY
Photography by Dan Bradica, New York, NY
Christopher Burke Studios, Los Angeles, CA
Catalogue layout by Spevack Loeb
ISBN: 979-8-3507-3344-0
Cover: Falling Teacup #4, (detail), 2024
