Art is Not an Intellectual way of thinking by Universitetet i Agder, Kunstsamlingen

ART IS NOT AN INTELLECTUAL WAY OF THINKING Kristiansand Kunsthall PB–1

Art Is Not an Intellectual Way of Thinking Glemte tegninger fra beatkulturen i San Francisco

Undiscovered drawings from the Beat era in San Francisco

Kuratert av Curated by Mette-Line Pedersen Cecilie Nissen

Kristiansand Kunsthall

Innhold (Norsk) Content (English) Forord. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Introduksjon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Frem i lyset – Glemte tegninger fra beatkulturen i San Francisco. . 12 Into the light – Undiscovered drawings from the Beat era in San Francisco. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14

Arthur Monroe – An interview. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

I Should Go to the Very Centre. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Katalog . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Catalogue. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27

Reidar Wennesland, nummer seks fra venstre, 1920-tallet.

Gruppebilde fra SĂ¸rlandsfesten pĂĽ Klubben, 1924.

Forord Cecilie Nissen Daglig leder/kunstnerisk leder Kristiansand Kunsthall

På 70-tallet fant en helt spesiell kunstsamling veien fra San Francisco til Kristiansand. Det skjedde da legen og samleren Reidar Wennesland donerte sin «beat-samling» til Kristiansand katedralskole (1971) og Høyskolen i Agder (1978). Wennesland var fra Kristiansand, men levde mesteparten av sitt liv i San Francisco. Han var en av svært få i sin samtid som så noen verdi i Beat-miljøets billedkunst. Samlingen inneholder verker av både kjente, og av ukjente kunstnere, og er antagelig den største i sitt slag utenfor USA. Kristiansand Kunsthall har nå gleden av, gjennom et samarbeid med Universitetet i Agder, å vise samlingens papirbaserte arbeider som tegninger og collager til publikum. Mye av dette materialet har aldri tidligere blitt vist, og er derfor enestående både i internasjonal og nasjonal sammenheng. Det vil i tillegg også bli vist plakater og filmmateriale, blant annet et nylaget intervju med kunstneren Arthur Monroe. Majoriteten av kunstnerne representert i utstillingen ble aldri innlemmet i noen sentrale amerikanske samlinger. Tvert om forble de alternative og uavhengige. De forkastet tradisjonelle gallerier, og viste heller bildene sine på såkalte Metart Galleries, som var kooperativer organisert etter non-profitt-systemer. Det var den kunstneriske prosessen og friheten som var drivkraften i deres kunstnerskap – ikke at arbeidene skulle ende opp som investeringsobjekter. Beatmiljøet var sterkt preget av troen på å skape et nytt moderne formspråk for en ny tid. I 2014 feirer vi grunnlovsjubileet i Norge. Begrepet ytringsfrihet gjør dermed at denne samlingen aktualiseres på nytt. Den inviterer til refleksjon og handling rundt kunstnerens rolle og kunstens funksjon i samfunnet. Beatmiljøet reflekterte en antimaterialistisk og frihetssøkende tidsånd. Kunstnerne stilte kritiske spørsmål til verdiene i det amerikanske etterkrigssamfunnet; På den ene siden det økende materialistiske samfunnet, og på den andre siden mccarthyismen, politisk og seksuell sensur, frykt for atomkrig og den kalde krigen. I dag gjør likestilling, kulturelt mangfold og nye medier at den offentlige debatten har blitt mer åpen enn hva den var i etterkrigstidens USA. Det er samtidig tankevekkende at billedkunst fra denne subkulturen i San Francisco har endt opp blant skoleelever og studenter i en liten by i bibelbeltet i Norge. Med utstillingen følger to publikasjoner. Den første belyser samlingen og inneholder et stort billedmateriale. Den andre vil bli utgitt ved utstillingens slutt, og er en litterær respons hvor ulike samtidsforfattere har blitt invitert til å skrive i relasjon til utstillingen og beatbegrepet. Dette er et ledd i Kristiansand Kunsthalls strategi om å satse på publikasjoner knyttet opp mot utstillingene og å undersøke grenseoppganger til andre kunstarter, slik som litteraturen. Jeg vil rette en spesiell takk til kunsthistoriker Mette-Line Pedersen, rådgiver på fakultet for kunstfag ved Universitetet i Agder, som det har vært en glede å samarbeide med om utstillingen. Hun har gjort en formidabel innsats i å skaffe finansiering til prosjektet, samt å gjøre innsamling av informasjon og kuratorarbeid.

4–5

Fra legestudiene i Oslo. Reidar Wennesland er personen i midten på bildet til venstre og til venstre på bildet til høyre.

Reidar Wennesland på tur med venner på fotballkamp i Mandal, 1920-tallet.

Preface Cecilie Nissen Managing director/ Art supervisor Kristiansand Kunsthall

In the seventies an extraordinary art collection found it´s way from San Francisco to Kristiansand. This occurred when the doctor and collector, Reidar Wennesland, donated his «Beat collection» to two schools in Kristiansand, namely the Katedralskolen (1971) and the Høyskolen i Agder (1978). Wennesland himself grew up in Kristiansand, but spent most of his adult life overseas, mainly in San Francisco. He was one of a select few that really appreciated the art of the San Francisco Beatniks. The collection contains works of both known, lesser known and wholly unknown artists. It is, with every probability, the largest of it´s kind anywhere in the world. This summer Kristiansand Kunsthall has the great pleasure, in a collaboration with UiA (The University of Agder), of exhibiting the paper based works of this collection for the first time. Much of the material – collages and drawings – has never been viewed by an audience, and is therefore to be considered unique in a national as well as international context. We will also exhibit original posters and films, including a brand new interview with the artist Arthur Monroe. The majority of artists represented in the exhibition was never embraced by significant American art galleries. On the contrary, they were left to their alternative and independent status. Furthermore the artists themselves rejected traditional galleries, and chose instead to show their work in so-called Metart Galleries. These were alternative spaces, non-profit based cooperatives, which allowed for the idea of an artistically driven and marked-free practice. Art became a way of expressing a new form language for a new time and generation. 2014 sees the 200-year celebration of the Norwegian constitution. The relevance of the term freedom of speech therefore seems to renew the importance of Beat. The exhibition at hand invites us to reflect on the artist´s place and role in their society. What artistic possibilities existed in the post-war society of the United States? What were the cultural consequences of McCarthyism, political and sexual censorship, fear of nuclear war and cold war? In todays world the combination of gender equality, cultural pluralism and new forms of media allows the cultural discourse to be much more open and inclusive than it was for the Beat artists. At the same time, it is a highly curious fact that the art of a self named sub-culture in San Francisco, has ended up in a small town in the bible-belt of Norway to the benefit of local school children and students. The exhibition is accompanied by two catalogues. The first (and present) contains illustrations of the artwork and a selection of texts on the exhibited work. The second catalogue, which will be published towards the end of the exhibition, contains a range of free, literary texts written by invited authors. They are written as independent and modern «answers» to the question of Beat and Beat art. This is part of Kristiansand Kunsthall´s artistic direction and strategy, to strive to reflect on- and connect to other art forms. I would especially like to thank Mette-Line Pedersen, Councillor at the Department of Art at UiA, for her collaboration and contribution to the exhibition. Besides gathering information and being co-curator, she has made possible the financing of the project through a formidable effort.

6–7

Over: Reidar Wennesland i leiligheten sin i San Francisco. Reidar Wennesland var opptatt av b책de kunst og dyr. Her en byste av ham selv, en skulptur av en ape, samt en av hans levende aper.

Introduksjon Mette-Line Pedersen Kunsthistoriker og rådgiver for UiAs kunstsamling

Tittelen på utstillingen referer til Fletcher Bentons intervju i hans studio i San Francisco 19. februar 2014. Da jeg begynte i min stilling i 2012 som rådgiver for Universitetet i Agders kunstsamling, var det ulike spørsmålstillinger som dukket opp omkring forvaltning og formidling av Wennesland-samlingen. Og ikke minst: beats forbindelse til samlingen. Turen måtte gå til San Francisco for å oppsøke kildene til beatkulturen. Intervjuet med Arthur Monroe førte muligens til flere spørsmål enn svar, men i ytringsfrihetens ånd, snakket han fritt og usensurert. På jakt etter synlige rester av abstrakt ekspresjonistisk kunst i San Fransisco, var det overraskende få referanser til samlingen å finne på The Beat museum – kun noe få bilder av Michael Bowen. På City Lights Bookstore bugnet det selvfølgelig med beatlitteratur, men hvor var kunsten? Da jeg snakket med tilfeldige kunstnere i San Francisco, hadde de ingen kjennskap til billedkunsten fra beatgenerasjonen, men bekreftet at beat-myten lever i beste velgående i San Francisco fremdeles. Det var kun et innblikk jeg fikk på min korte reise, så noen skrå sikker slutning er umulig å komme med, men det kan virke som kunsten i beatkulturen er en glemt subkultur. Det kan virke som om malerne har kommet i skyggen av forfatterne, men så skal det sies at de heller ikke var opptatt av berømmelse på lik linje med dem. Det er fantastisk å se Jay DeFeos tegninger nyrestaurert av papirkonservator Hanna Finborud. Vi viser også papirarbeider som på sikt trenger konservering. Men dette belyser samlingens fremtidige utfordringer i forhold til konservering og forvaltning. I tråd med en gjenbruksestetikk som henspiller til beatkulturens antimaterialistiske attitude, har vi valgt å innramme deler av kunsten med «gjenbruksrammer». Dette har vært en spennende samling å kuratere, men samtidig problematisk i mangel på kilder, informasjon, konserveringsbegrensninger, økonomiske begrensninger – med andre ord mange ubesvarte spørsmål. Men vi mener at dette er en unik samling som fortjener oppmerksomhet og som har høy relevans i dag. Ytringsbegrepet ble i sin tid utfordret av beatgenerasjonen. Samtidskunstens oppgave er gjerne å stille flere spørsmål enn den gir svar, å skape reaksjoner, gi ubehag/behag; alt – men ikke være lydig? Kunsten i dag er selvreflekterende, og kunsten kan være for massene eller for de få, kunsten kan være politisk etc., men det kan virke som den ikke skal være i en risikosone, for da vil den kunne skape for stort ubehag hos betrakteren. I et internasjonalt perspektiv blir fremdeles kunstbegrepet kneblet, og både forfattere og kunstnere opplever daglig sensur og en innskrenking av kunstnerisk frihet. Kunstutstillingen vil forhåpentligvis vise en kunsthistorisk, sosiologisk og poetisk reise der individets frihet og kreativitet står i sentrum, som igjen aktualiserer både kunstbegrepet og ytringsfriheten – og som kan få oss til å åpne øynene for nye (ulydige) historier og subkulturer. Takk til Cecilie Nissen, daglig leder for Kristiansand Kunsthall, for et godt samarbeid. Mer informasjon om samlingen finnes nå på www.digitaltmuseum. no og www.kunstsamling.no

8–9

Reidar Wennesland with his animals in San Francisco.

Introduction Mette-Line Pedersen Art historian and Visual advisor at the Faculty of Fine Arts, UiA

The title of this exhibition is extracted from an interview with Fletcher Benton at his studio in San Francisco on the 19th of February 2014. When I first started work as Councillor for the art collection at the University of Agder, various questions concerning the conservation and presentation of The Wennesland Collection began to surface. Not to mention: what was the true connection to Beat? I realized I had to make a journey to San Francisco to trace the sources of the Beat culture. Although my interview with Arthur Monroe was a genuine and free thinking conversation, it quite possibly yielded more questions than answers. In my attempt to locate any visible remains of abstract expressionism in San Francisco, I found but a few references to The Wennesland Collection (in some paintings by Michael Bowen at The Beat Museum). At the City Lights Bookstore however, the shelves were virtually bulging with Beat literature. Where then was the visual Beat art? Speaking to random artists about the town, I found they had little or no knowledge of the visual arts of the Beat Generation, but that the Beat-myth was very much alive. Based on my short stay, I was hardly able to draw any certain conclusion about the status of Beat art in San Francisco today. Never the less, it was my firm impression that it remains a forgotten sub-culture. It seems to me that the artists have been placed – or rather chosen to place themselves – in the shadow of the Beat writers. This of course makes some sense, since we are dealing with a brand of artists who’s agenda did not include posing for fame or popularity. The paperworks of The Wennesland Collection remains a challenging material – both to trace in history and to present in a modern gallery. I still think it is a highly worthwhile task, and that the the uniqueness and artistic quality of the collection deserves much more attention. It is marvelous to behold Jay Defoe’s drawings in a newly restored version by Conservator Hanna Finborud. It gives a sensation of being close to history looking at the randomly chosen and often worn down paper inside the frame. In the spirit of recycling and the re-use of material that characterized the Beat artists, we have chosen to frame some of the paper art with second hand frames. In their time, the Beat artists partook in the shaping of the term freedom of speech. Today artists still have a role of questioning more than answering, to provoke a reaction, to induce various feelings, even discomfort. Everything but to obey. Art today is self reflecting, and it can appeal to the broad masses as well as to the elite. It can be political or non-political. At the same time, censorship is something we still encounter across the world. Once again we are faced with the importance of freedom of speach and expression. Our exhibition will hopefully display an artistic, sociological and poetic journey where the individual freedom and ability to create is a central message. If we are willing to listen, and to look, we will discover the forgotten works and sub-cultures of The Beat Artists. I would like to thank Cecilie Nissen, Managing director/Art supervisor of Kristiansand Kunsthall, for a great collaboration. More information on the collection is readily available at www. digitaltmuseum.no and www.kunstsamling.no

10–11

Frem i lyset – Glemte tegninger fra beatkulturen i San Francisco Mette-Line Pedersen Kunsthistoriker og rådgiver for UiAs kunstsamling

Hvorfor kaller du det beat? spør Arthur Monroe meg i dokumentarfilmen som presenteres på utstillingen Art is not an intellectual way of thinking. I februar 2014 reiste jeg til San Francisco for å oppsøke kildene til beatkulturen, og intervjuet blant andre Arthur Monroe i Oakland. Det eksisterer en rekke definisjoner på beat-begrepet. En definisjon er “By avoiding society you become separate from society and being separate from society is being BEAT – Gregory Corso”. En mulighet er å se Beat som en forløper til Hippie-bevegelsen, en annen er – slik Arthur Monroe antyder – å oppløse ideen om at Beat var en samlende retning i det hele tatt. Kunsten i perioden blir for eksempel sjeldent omtalt separat som «beat-kunst», og blir dermed sett på som en del av beatgenerasjonen på 1950-tallet, og som en subkultur. Spørsmålet vi må stille her, er hvorvidt Beat-kunst er et dekkende begrep for samlingene på KKG og UiA i Kristiansand og for tegningene vi nå stiller ut. Det er utfordrende å se på samlingen som en helhet fordi verkene inneholder ulike stilarter, og mangler kilder. Tegningene er derfor problematiske å analysere/kontekstualisere. I stedet for beat som en samlebetegnelse, vil vi belyse tegningene som et resultat av en østkyst/vestkyst problematikk, der fellesnevneren er amerikansk ekspresjonisme som stilart. Tradisjonelt er amerikansk ekspresjonistisk stil fra California forbundet med tredimensjonale arbeider. Det vil si assemblages, som er skulpturelle enheter, satt sammen av konkrete materialer som kan være jernskrot, maskindeler, gips, trestykker og bølgepapp. Her starter dilemmaet med å tyde samlingen til Reidar Wennesland, fordi det nesten ikke eksisterer assemblages i samlingen. Samtidig beveger vi oss altså inn på en østkyst/vestkyst differens, fordi abstrakt ekspresjonisme med assemblages, er ulik New York-skolen med for eksempel action painting og colour field og som har satt sitt avtrykk i kunsthistorien. Fellesnevneren for de to regionene er stilretningen, den abstrakte ekspresjonismen, som oppstod i tiårene etter andre verdenskrig, og som har sin opprinnelse i USA. Abstrakt ekspresjonisme har også blitt omtalt som The New York School. Det var den første kunstretningen i USA som fikk internasjonal betydning, og den dominerte i hjemlandet i perioden den oppstod i. Den nye kunstretningen markerte et skifte av kunstverdenens sentrum: fra Paris til New York. New York-skolen har hatt en enorm betydning for amerikansk billedkunst i det 20 århundre, ikke minst på grunn av de to svært innflytelsesrike kritikerne Harold Rosenberg og Clement Greenberg. I 1950-årene blomstret det figurative ekspresjonistiske maleriet på vestkysten, i det såkalte Bay Area rundt San Francisco. California School of Fine Arts (i dag San Francisco Art Institute) var tilknyttet kunstnere som Clyfford Still, Mark Rothko og Ad Reinhardt. Mange av kunstnere vi ser på utstillingen var elever på SFAI. Alle var inspirert av blant annet musikken og poesien i beatkulturen. Vi ser derfor en kunststil på vestkysten som blander abstraksjon, figurasjon, narrative elementer og jazzreferanser. Materialet i samlingen blir i dag gjerne karakterisert som en «glemt periode» i kunsthistorien, som har kommet i «skyggen» av New York. Felles er et figurativt fokus, og ikke minst ser vi innflytelse fra Asia og Mexico i utrykkene som videre skiller seg ut

fra Østkystens mer abstrakte utrykk. Det varierende landskapet med ørken, sol, regn, sjø, lysendringer, virker inn på figurative elementer i vestkystkunsten og er et element som skiller seg ut i fra østkysten. Samlet sett viser tegningene en spontanitet som skaper stor variasjon i utrykkene; med mennesker, symbolikk og kombinasjonen tekst/motiv. Vi ser skisser som er utført på ulike typer papp, kartonger, ukeblader, som ikke akkurat oser kvalitet i materialvalg. Det gjelder for den sagts skyld også i dag, at kunstscenen i California er annerledes enn i New York og det fremdeles er en viss amper stemning mellom disse to regionene. Hovedfokuset for denne perioden har vært beatlitteraturen, mens selve kunstproduksjonen gjerne har kommet i bakgrunnen. Dette betyr igjen at det er en samling som mangler kilder. Derfor presenteres tegninger fra ukjente og mindre kjente kunstnere, hvorav de fleste i dag er døde. Alle var de del av en beatkultur og ble inspirert av den antimaterialistiske tidsånden som eksisterte i undergrunnsmiljøet San Francisco på 1950-tallet. Foruten skepsisen til det materialistiske samfunnet som eksisterte i USA, handlet materialvalget vel så mye om kunstnerens økonomisk dårlig stilte situasjon. I tråd med nevnte sponanitetsestetikk og med referanser til Dada-bevegelsen, lagde de deres egne kunstnerdrevne gallerier som The Six og Semina. Kvelder med diktopplesninger, kunst på veggen, happenings og samlingspunkter var viktigere enn å få fame i kunstmarkedet. Men det er viktig å presisere at kunstscenen, kunstkritikken og markedet i USA på den tiden lå på østkysten og ikke på vestkysten. Fletcher Benton bekrefter i sitt intervju at det ikke lå etablerte gallerier i San Fransisco på den tiden. For nordmenn er det verdt å merke seg at mange i Bay Area var inspirert av Munch, som vi vet malte sine egne opplevelser og følelser inn i bildene, så som forelskelse, sjalusi og melankoli. Vi ser samme type individualitet i tegningene: det er kunstnernes egne opplevelser og følelser som kommer til utrykk i skissene/papirarbeidene. For eksempel, ser vi et tydelig politisk budskap i utrykkene til Jess Collins med henvisninger til krigens herjinger, og ikke minst, Michael Bowens kommentar til Madonna og Barnet. Avslutningsvis er det viktig å fremheve at kunstnere fra San Francisco var opptatt av åndelige aspekter, blant annet fra buddismen. Det er fristende å tolke tegningene som varierer i utrykkene mellom abstraksjon og figurasjon, å si at den rene abstraksjon ikke er et mål i seg selv for beatgenerasjonens kunstnere. I så fall kan abstraksjonen snarere leses som visuelle representasjoner av usynlige, universelle krefter som forbandt tilværelsen med den åndelige verdenen. Bildene vi viser på utstillingen representerer en antimaterialistisk subkultur som har vært og er glemt i kunsthistorien, og der tegningene for første gang kommer frem i lyset.

12–13

Into the light – Undiscovered drawings from the Beat era in San Francisco Mette-Line Pedersen Art historian and Councillor at UiA

You call it Beat – why? Arthur Monroe asks me in the documentary presented at the exhibition Art is not an intellectual way of thinking. In February 2014 I travelled to San Francisco to seek out the sources of the Beat culture, and here I interviewed, amongst others, Arthur Monroe in Oakland. An array of definitions exists for the Beat concept. One definition is “By avoiding society you become separate from society and being separate from society is being BEAT – Gregory Corso”. One option is to see Beat as a forerunner of the Hippie movement, another is, as Arthur Monroe suggests, dissolving the idea of Beat being a unifying direction at all. For instance, the art of the period is rarely referred to as ‘beat art’ but rather seen as one component of the Beat generation during the 1950s, and as a subculture. The question we need to raise here is whether Beat art is a satisfactory term for the collection at KKG and UiA in Kristiansand and for the drawings currently at the exhibition. It is challenging to see the collections as a whole because the works contain different styles and very few reliable sources exists. The drawings are therefore difficult to analyse / contextualise. Rather than beat as an umbrella term, we want to highlight the drawings as a result of an East Coast / West Coast matter, where the common denominator is American Expressionism as a style. Traditionally American Expressionism from California is associated with three-dimensional works; in other words assemblages, sculp tural units that are put together by tangible material such as scrap iron, machine parts, plaster, pieces of wood and cardboard. This is where the dilemma of deciphering the Reidar Wennesland collection starts, because assemblages hardly exist in the collection. At the same time we do in fact move into an East Coast / West coast difference, because the style of Abstract Expressionism with assemblages is different from the New York school with action painting and colour field that has left its mark in art history. The common denominator for the two regions is the style, Abstract Expressionism, which originated in the decades after World War II and has its roots in the USA. Abstract Expressionism has also been described as The New York School. It was the first art movement in the USA that achieved international significance and it dominated domestically during the period it arose. The new movement marked a shift of the centre of the art world; from Paris to New York. The New York school has had an enormous impact on American visual arts in the 20th century, not least because of the two very influential critics Harold Rosenberg and Clement Greenberg. During the 1950s figurative expressionism blossomed on the West Coast, in the so-called Bay Area around San Francisco. California School of Fine Arts (today San Francisco Art Institute) was associated with artists such as Clyfford Still, Mark Rothko and Ad Reinhardt. Several of the artists we see at the exhibition were students at SFAI. They were all inspired by the music and the poetry of the beat culture. We therefore see an art movement on the West Coast that mixes abstraction, figuration, narrative elements and references from jazz. The material in the collection is today often referred to as a ‘forgotten era’ in art history, or described as painters who have been ‘overshadowed’ by New York.

The main focus of this period has been the beat literature, while the art often has been placed in the background. This in turn means that this is a collection that lacks sources. Most have passed away now. Therefore drawings by unknown and lesser-known artists are being presented. They were all part of a beat culture and were inspired by the anti-material zeitgeist that existed on the underground scene in San Francisco in the 1950s. A common factor for these drawings is spontaneity that creates a large variation in the expressions, everything from people, symbols and combination text / design. We see sketches that are done on different types of paper, carton, magazines, and that doesn’t exactly ooze quality of material. Besides an anti-materialistic attitude to the materialistic society that existed in the USA, this was as much about the artists’ dire financial situation. The artists didn’t have the means for expensive material; they were starving and had to use what they had at hand. In accordance with the esthetics of spontaneity and with refer ences to the Dada movement they created their own artist-run galleries such as The Six and Semina. Evenings with poetry readings, happenings and gatherings were more important than achieving fame in the art marked. However it is important to emphasise that the art scene, the art critic world and the marked in the USA at the time was on the East Coast and not the West Coast. Fletcher Benton confirms this in his interview that there were no established galleries in San Francisco at that time. Common is a figurative focus and not least, we see influences from Asia and Mexico in the expressions which further stands out from the East Coast’s more abstract expression. The varying landscape of desert, sun, rain and lighting changes affect the figurative elements of the West Coast art and is an element that stands out from the East Coast. This is still true today for that matter, the art scene in California is different from New York and a certain petulant atmosphere exists between the two regions. The artists were thinking immediately and spontaneously, and it is therefore natural to think of the artistic process as the artist getting an idea in his head and directly jotting the line down on paper. There are nudes that often would have a naive character. Emotions control the pen, different strokes depicts different individuals. There is no common thread in terms of themes and we do not know whether the artists knew each other’s work. For Norwegians it is worth noting that several in the Bay Area were inspired by Munch, who we know painted his own experiences and emotions, such as melancholy, jealousy and let passion form the paintings. We encounter the same kind of individuality in the drawings, where the artists’ own experiences and feelings that come to life in the sketches / paper works. For instance, we see a clear political message in the works of Jess Collins with references to the ravages of war and, not least, Michael Bowen’s comments to Madonna and Child. Finally, it is important to highlight that the artists from San Francisco were concerned with spiritual aspects, amongst others Buddhism. It is tempting to interpret the drawings that vary in expressions from abstraction and figuration, to say that pure abstraction is not a goal in itself for the artists’ of the beat generation. In that case abstraction can be seen as a visual representation of invisible, universal powers that connected existence with the spiritual world. The drawings at the exhibition represent an anti-material subculture that has been, and is, forgotten in art history, and where the drawings now for the first time come out into the light. 14–15

Arthur Monroe in his studio, 2014.

Arthur Monroe – An interview Arthur Monroe interviewed by Mette-Line Pedersen Transcribed and translated by Mette Cecilie Johansen

Arthur Monroe lives and works in what used to be a pineapple cannery in Oakland. Directly across the bay from San Francisco, this port city is frequently featured in violent crime statistics and listed as one of the most dangerous cities in the US. In February this year, after 6 months of emailing and contact with his daughter through Facebook, MetteLine Pedersen, from the Faculty of Fine Art at UiA and photographer Andy Fletcher are headed across the bridge to Oakland. Not actually knowing whether their scheduled meeting with Arthur Monroe is going ahead or not. Just as the BART train drives past overhead Arthur Monroe opens his front door. He greets them by asking ‘have you had breakfast?’ He tells them he is hungry and they drive to a nearby café. He orders scrambled eggs and tea. He no longer drinks coffee. Conversation is stale. He appears a little weary of his visitors. He is not comfortable with the camera, not happy to be photographed or filmed. For a while it seems the meeting is going to be very short and unproductive. After breakfast they drive back to his house. He sits down in a comfortable chair next to a grand piano. His home and studio is filled with works of art, books, music and photographs. Mette-Line Pedersen and Andy Fletcher show him the website for Digitalt Museum and the site for The Wennesland Collection. Before long the mood has changed and Arthur Monroe is speaking passionately about matters close to his heart. – ‘Do you still draw?’ Mette-Line Pedersen asks. – ‘All the time’ he replies. ‘Well I haven’t been so lately because I have been doing a lot of painting. But, yeah I have, when I have the time I always draw. I can show you some drawings.’ – ‘Did you always draw when you were little as well?’ – ‘All my life. ‘ he answers. ‘All my life, there has been nothing but drawings most of the time.’ Arthur Monroe is one of the last surviving artists of the Beat Era. Some of his contemporaries did not live to see their 30th birthday. They lived fast and died young. Others shone brightly for a while, then put their paintbrushes down and faded into artistic oblivion. Monroe was born in New York in the 1930s and spent his formative years in Brooklyn. He credits his grandmother for getting him started in art. He says she is the one who gave him a visual sense. She would show him how to draw, and as a result he was expressing himself through art before he learnt how to read and write. At the age of 12 he was awarded a scholarship to Pratt’s Institute for their children’s Saturday class. But as the only kid placed in a class of adults, he dropped out. He received his formal education at NY City College and University of California, Berkley. His road to San Francisco took him via Mexico, serving during the Korean War and a creative period in Big Sur. Along this way from Brooklyn to San Francisco he made friends with influential artists in other disciplines such as Charlie Parker and Henry Miller. After a quarrel in Big Sur he heads for San Francisco and meets a friend who says ‘Hey, man, I can get you a studio.’ He introduces Monroe to Michael McCracken who suggested they share the studio along with Michael Bowen. It was there, in that studio, that Monroe first met Reidar Wennesland.

16–17

The cultural mistake Arthur Monroe has attempted to bring The Wennesland Collection back to San Francisco for several years. He believes most people in San Francisco are unaware that the material is in Norway. A subject he is most passionate about. Mette-Line Pedersen asks him if he thinks it is wrong for the collection to be in Kristiansand. – ‘No, that doesn’t matter’ he replies. ’But for it to be an American collection and not to come to San Francisco at all, whatsoever, that is a mistake. That is a cultural mistake. Ok, let me put it this way’ he continues after a brief pause. ‘How would you feel about; oh San Francisco has my Edvard Munch’s and we can’t see it?’ Along with curator and writer Susan Landauer he has been trying to bring the collection back from Norway to say ‘Here, this was right here, in San Francisco.’ Frequently during the meeting Arthur Monroe goes off on a tangent. – ‘And this is something about Norway or Norwegians’ he says and peers over his glasses ‘Norway won’t spend money on foreign collections. Because it’s not Norwegian. So everybody that’s in that collection suffers unless somebody there wants to write a book. But then they don’t translate it into English. It costs too much money. So we get suffered again, and again, and again, repeatedly because they won’t do anything with the collection, they won’t publish beyond what you see here.’ He glances over at the books and points to an image of The Wise and Foolish Virgins by Jay DeFeo. – ‘These are the things that they had spent a great deal of money on repairing? I tried to say that, I went there several times to get them to take it down from the stairwell’ he says. In the past he has been left unimpressed with the conditions of the school, claiming they are contributing to the collection’s damage and demise. ‘That is against the tenants of the agreement’ he says pointing his finger. ‘So then when they realize ‘oh oh’, I could turn this into a legal situation where we would accuse Norway of not managing the collection or at least not giving it the consideration that you would any art. You don’t put any art underneath the skylights and let the horrid weather come down through the skylights, damage the pieces, as in the Jay DeFeo, because the paint was just lifting off off the canvas, like fingers coiling up. Well, the Norwegians said ‘It is not our fault.’ Well of course it is your fault, because I was there five years before and you didn’t do anything. And it’s gotten progressively worse. So they rushed the conservators into the school and the conservators said ‘Oh God!’ And the conservator worked on that week after week after week after week after week. She worked her heart out, in Oslo, because they had to transport the painting to the National Museum. And finally, they arrested that curling, and laid the paint back on the canvas and sent it back to the school. And don’t you know, the school put it back on the wall! The same wall!’ He slaps his knee, laughs heartily and puts his palm on his forehead. ‘Oh God no! They put it right back in the same condition. Oh my God! I said that Jay DeFeo is going to be dead before long.’ The women The painter Sonia Gechtoff once said ‘I wanted always, and still feel the same way, to be recognized as a painter, not a woman painter, a painter who happened to be a woman.’ In 2013 the Whitney Museum in New York held a Jay DeFeo retrospective. Today she is the best known

Arthur Monroe in his studio, 2014.

18â&#x20AC;&#x201C;19

female Beat artist. Arthur Monroe says about the female artists during the era: ‘You will find a lot more women in there than you do in most art collections. And that was not news to us. And certainly it wasn’t news to McCracken. Because he was seducing all those women that he could get his hands on. And they were in love with it, they loved him. And he had a great time. The rascal!’ He laughs vigorously. ‘But in any case the divisions was still strong, in other words you didn’t find that many women. But when you stopped and turned around and took a look, my goodness, you had more women than anybody else. And there was no prejudice against them, there was not discrimination, ‘well, that’s a woman, leave her out.’ No, there was no such thing. So Jay went around with the rest of them.’ When Mette-Line Pedersen asks why there are so few women painters represented in the collection. Monroe replies that ‘there weren’t that many woman painters, and then there weren’t that many woman painters that Reidar liked. Well enough to collect them.’ – ‘Why?’ Pedersen asks. ‘Was it not good enough?’ – ‘Well no, he didn’t collect just to be collecting’ Monroe answers. ‘He collected because there was something communicated that probably helped him to understand something he didn’t know about. Reidar Wennesland When talking about his old friend and patron Monroe’s voice softens. He looks through a book with the works that are in Kristiansand and points to one of his own pieces. ‘This was the first, the very first piece that I sold to Dr. Wennesland’ Monroe says. ‘That was the first piece. That’s when I had moved into the McCracken studio and started working. And he came up behind me and said ‘what do you want for this piece?’ I said ‘what do you want to pay?’ He said ‘well, come by my office and we’ll talk about it.’ That’s how I met him.’ It was the start of a long friendship. He tells the story of how Reidar Wennesland was instrumental in saving several painting by Edward Munch during WWII. He fondly recalls a story about one of Wennesland’s dogs and laughs. Arthur Monroe says he has thousands of stories about his friend and patron but that nobody is interested. ‘Too much history’ he shrugs his shoulders. ‘He was very generous’ he says. ‘This was a time when the young artists were struggling. ‘We were starving. We were literally living off the produce that was dropped on the streets in San Francisco. When they were selling it to the stores, and as they brought it off the truck some pieces would drop on the ground, so we’d would go along the block and pick ‘em up and put them in a little bag and bring them home and make a vegetable soup. Very healthy’ he says and pulls a face. ‘That’s how we were surviving. You know, but nobody cared. We could have dropped dead any one of us, and that would be just another body that they would pick up off the street and shove it in the morgue. But… It’s not changed, don’t think it has developed any sensibility.’ He continues ‘Oh yeah, people still think they can get these pieces for free or little, or nothing. Why? Because it’s not Picasso. Well, my goodness, do you know what a Picasso sells for? Yeah, $155 million. Oh, well that’s important. You guys are not selling for that much, so you don’t have any importance.’ The Beat label At the back of his home is his large studio. They walk around and Monroe tells them the roof of the studio had to be changed in order

to meet the city’s inspector requirements. But there are still problems. He points to a leakage where the water comes down from the roof and the brand new skylights. There are stains. ‘You can see it is still raining down there’ he explains. ‘And that is what we have to put up with. Blah, blah, blah’ he shrugs his shoulders again. His studio is filled with work in all stages of completion. He has remained faithful to the abstract expressionism through his career. ‘I don’t know what is abstract…’ he says ‘I guess… You know we have different theories what is abstract and what isn’t. I don’t know my definitions about it. Because you know often people that don’t draw or paint, they are quick to determine what is abstract, as if they know.’ He lets out a muffled laughter. Monroe questions the use of the Beat label. ‘You call it Beat. Why?’ He continues ‘they do it because it associates with the literature. You see the literature was more popular than the painters, because they were out to gain attention. The painters, like myself, were not interested in it, because we had had out bruises and our rejections. We see that the culture wasn’t that interested in us. They are today.’ So far his quest to bring the collection back to San Francisco has proved fruitless. He lists the museums and institutions he has been in touch with, but just waves his hands, shakes his head and says ‘None of them wanted it.’ – ‘So still it is like that?’ Mette-Line Pedersen asks. ‘What is the reason?’ – ‘Well because, they can attract more money with the exhibitions that they are proposing that they could of something that is of the past’ Monroe says. – ‘So it is all about the money then?’ Mette-Line Pedersen puts to him. – ‘When was it not?’ He replies and peers over his glasses. After a visit that lasted several hours Arthur Monroe says goodbye at the door. He once wrote ‘School of painting or not, there was definitely a movement in San Francisco’s North Beach art world in the 1960s. It may be better to leave the final decision about its importance to a time when it will be possible to look at all the paintings again and make the comparisons visually.’

20–21

Jay DeFeo working on what was then called Deathrose, 1960.

I Should Go to the Very Centre Dana Miller Associate Curator at the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York The text was first published in the book Jay DeFeo: No End: Works on paper from the 1980s, Botanicals: Photographs from the 1970s

1 2 3

Jay DeFeo, letter to Henry Hopkins, 21 June 1978, archives of Estate of Jay DeFeo. William Blake, “To God”, from “Notebook Epigrams and Satiric Verses” (c. 1808–12), in Alicia Paul Karlstrom, interview with Jay DeFeo, 18 July 1975, transcript of audiotaped interview, in Archives of American Art, San Francisco, part 2, pp.2, 9. Ostriker, ed., The Complete Poems of William Blake (London: Penguin Books, 2004), p. 628 Cy Twombly, 1956 application for Catherwood Foundation Fellowship grant for European travel, in Kirk Varnedoe, Cy Twombly: A Retrospective, exh. cat. (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1994), p. 61.

Jay DeFeo’s first toy was a pencil, or so her mother was fond of telling people. As a young girl, DeFeo drew constantly, and the arrival of each new coloring book was a monumental event. While she was in elementary school, a neighbor gave her a “how-to-draw” book, and she spent hours practicing her favorite exercise, how to draw the perfect circle. As a mature artist, the circle, along with the triangle, the cross, the square, the spiral, and the oval, became the basis of her formal iconography. DeFeo returned to these shapes again and again (she eventually bought a compass to help her with the perfect circle), although the wide variety of media she employed often belies the consistency of her vision. “I liken certain symbol shapes to what I call my ‘visual vocabulary’ and these shapes I respond to, wherever I find them, regardless of subject matter,” DeFeo wrote.1 In many cases these symbol shapes formed the central imagery of her works, functioning as apertures into the two-dimensional pictorial space. In providing an opening, the apertures reaffirmed the perception of depth, real or illusionary, in her work. For much of her career DeFeo was haunted by a William Blake poem, which seems a fitting touchstone for viewers of this exhibition as well: “If you have formed a Circle to go into, go into it yourself &see how you would do.”2 DeFeo’s first mature body of work was made while traveling through Europe on a fellowship from 1951 to 1953, the majority created during a sojourn in Florence. She was fascinated by the buildings and the “crumbly walls” she observed there, and her color palette consisted of dusty, earthen colors, which she ascribed to the “worn look” of European towns.3 Cy Twombly, another American artist in Italy at about the same time as DeFeo, responded in much the same way to the architectural surfaces of postwar Europe. In 1956 he applied for a grant to return to Europe, explaining, “Generally speaking my art has evolved out of the interest in symbols abstracted, but never the less humanistic; formal as most arts are in their archaic and classic stages, and a deeply aesthetic sense of eroded or ancient surfaces of time.”4 DeFeo studied cave painting, primitive art forms, and Renaissance architecture while in Europe, and her tempera on paper works from that time seemed to draw on their archetypal forms, or as Twombly articulated, their “symbols abstracted.” DeFeo returned to the United States in 1953 and the following year settled in San Francisco. During the next five years her approach to her art was dictated in part by the financial and spatial constraints of her circumstances. In 1958, three years after finding a large studio space on Fillmore Street, DeFeo began two of her hallmark works, The Rose and The Jewel. DeFeo finished The Jewel in 1959, and until 1966 she worked almost exclusively on The Rose. No known drawings exist from this time except for preparatory works related to The Rose. The surfaces of both massive works feature deep crevices and accretions, particularly The Rose, which projects almost a foot off the canvas support. Physically and emotionally exhausted after completing The Rose, DeFeo ceased making art for approximately three years. When she finally summoned the strength to work again in 1970, she began with an intimate mixed-media work on paper that she titled After Image. She also began using acrylic paint for the first time, experimenting with the illusion of volume and depth, rather than building actual volume 22–23

DeFeo, letter to Hopkins, 21 June 1978 6 Henry Hopkins, MATRIX 11: Jay DeFeo, exh. cat. (Berkeley: University ArtMuseum, University of California, 1978), p.1 7 DeFeo, letter to Hopkins, 21 June 1978 8 Ibid.

and depth as she had with oil. For DeFeo, the physical properties of her materials directed her approach. “I can’t separate ‘concept and technique’ because the medium does indeed become the message.”5 Despite the wide variety of materials and techniques, DeFeo’s method always included a labor-intensive process of addition and subtraction, building up and breaking down. As museum director Henry Hopkins once wrote about DeFeo, “The primary ingredient in her work method is time.”6 In creating The Rose, the sharpened knives that she used to carve and hack away at the accreted paint were as important as the multitude of tools she used to apply the paint. For many of her works on paper, the eraser became as crucial as the pencil, charcoal, or paintbrush. Before beginning a drawing, DeFeo often sprayed an acrylic fixative onto the paper support so that she could go over the surface numerous times without creating tears. Like Michelangelo, who believed that his role was merely to set free the preexisting statue hidden within the raw marble before him, DeFeo needed to remove portions of her composition before the finished image revealed itself to her. Knowing that her spontaneous marks would be given a disciplined, self-conscious appraisal afterwards, DeFeo could unleash her expressionistic impulses. “When the work is final, I have to feel I have pushed it as far as I possibly can (short of self-destructing) and very important, I can’t abide a single mark that strikes me as arbitrary.”7 The eraser was her way of reconciling her Apollonian and Dionysian tendencies. The eraser also was psychologically important for DeFeo, who was convinced that she lacked talent as a draftsman. In a handwritten postscript in a 1978 letter to Hopkins, DeFeo wrote, “Admittedly, the construct-destruct feature is also largely due to my ineptitude as a draftsman (recall the eraser collection – I’m still saving them).”8 In the early 1980s DeFeo used that collection of worn erasers as the basis for a series of drawings that she initially referred to as “the eraser series” and later titled the Eternal Triangle series, including two untitled works in this exhibition (pp.11 & 13) DeFeo photographed her old erasers, collapsing one stretched-out, kneaded eraser in upon itself to create a sculptural form of triangular folds not unlike a fortune cookie. For an artist who often chose to work with a grisaille palette, the black-and-white photographs presented certain advantages as models. DeFeo could manipulate her photographs to alter tonalities, emphasize contrast, and heighten shadows. These elements could then be employed as a means for guiding both the tonal and perspectival aspects of her drawings and paintings. The eraser photographs also possess a sense of ambiguous, artificially compressed space, an aspect of her paintings and drawings of this time. Perhaps equally important, DeFeo employed the camera lens as a means for sharpening and shaping her vision, using it to locate certain pictorial phases created from her visual vocabulary. Minor White once said that his goal was “to photograph some things for what they are, and others for what else they are.” That seems to be much the same spirit with which DeFeo used the camera. In several instances she extracted her “symbol shapes” from places where they were not readily visible, such as finding triangular crevices in a spent eraser. In 1981 DeFeo began a series of drawings using a 9H pencil (pp. 14 & 15), which were inspired by a plowlike piece of farming equipment that she also photographed. 9H is the hardest pencil available, one that has a high ratio of clay to graphite and is therefore closer in color to gray than black. Typically used for mechanical drawing, the pencils leave a hard, fine line that seems appropriate for a series that DeFeo described as very “refined and careful.” For DeFeo, such a rigid material naturally

Jay DeFeo, “Visual Concerns”, n.d. (probably 1983), handwritten notes, in archives of Estate of Jay DeFeo, p. 5. 10 Ibid., p.3. 11 Ibid., p. 7.

resulted in a highly illusionistic image, and architecture of triangular forms. And yet, despite its schematic, steel-edged precision, the drawing coalesces into a dreamlike image, an explicit but nonspecific mechanical apparatus hurtling through indefinite space. They “may appear to be more ‘cerebral,’” DeFeo wrote about the 9H Pencil series, “but they can be just as expressionistic, but not in the ‘obvious sense‘”9 In 1982 DeFeo reintroduced oil paint to her arsenal of tools after a hiatus of more than fifteen years. When she returned to oil, her experimentation and newly acquired facility with other materials allowed her to approach the paint differently. As she explained, “I don’t enjoy the use of acrylic. Presently my return to oil is an effort to use old familiar materials in new ways.”10 And when starting afresh with a new material or returning to an old one after a long break, DeFeo often cycled back to her set of favorite symbols. The triangular apertures at the heart of both 1982 Summer Landscape drawings (pp. 16 & 17) echo an early oil on canvas titled Easter Lily from 1956. DeFeo knew that a single, familiar icon from her visual alphabet could provide new statements “given a different time, emotional climate, new materials to explore.”11 In works such as Homage to Thomas Albright No. 3 (1983, p. 19) and Untitled (1984, p.20), one can intuit DeFeo’s sensual enjoyment of the physicality of oil paint. She seems to be reveling in its tactile qualities after so many years of deprivation, playing with surface differentiation. By 1986 DeFeo was working with great confidence on large-scale works on paper, such as Pearl II Oahu (pg. 23), which are more appropriately described as paintings on paper. And in 1987, in works such as Samurai No. 8 (p. 27), DeFeo went back even further into her history, reintroducing the tempera that had characterized her work in Florence. In the summer of 1987 DeFeo traveled to Africa, where she climbed Mount Kenya, fulfilling a lifelong dream of scaling a major mountain. The impact of that journey is registered in titles such as Mbili (1987, p.25) and Nane (1987, p.24), the Swahili words for “two” and “eight,” respectively. Nane, a lyrical work of oil and graphite, seems to slip back and forth between the figurative and the abstract, between the depiction of rugged mountain peaks and a texture study of jagged forms. DeFeo enjoyed exploring the gaps and the overlaps between the figurative and the abstract, taking recognizable, inorganic objects and making them organic and indistinct. Sometimes her titles provided clues to her inspiration or source imagery, sometimes they revealed nothing; DeFeo used black-and-white cardboard tissue boxes as a source for her Reflections of Africa series (1987-1989). The Seven Pillars of Wisdom series (1989, pp. 32 & 33) was derived from a pink ceramic cup given to her as a sixtieth birthday present by her ceramicist friend Ron Nagle, the R.N. in Pink Cup at Sea (for R.N.) from 1989 (p.35). In The Tissue of Falling Columns No.8 and No. 9 (1988, pp. 28 & 29), DeFeo combined hard-edged passages with soft, wispy strokes, using both oil and graphite. The fragile marks seem to be dispersing on a gust of air or dissolving into a stream of water, an effect that is amplified when the two drawings are viewed sequentially. The delicate portions hark back to her early drawings in the 1950s that she referred to as “the grass period,” including Apparition (1956), Persephone (1957), and The Eyes (1958). In those works, accumulated strokes of graphite take on the organic, pliable quality of hair, tentacles, or grass. The source imagery for The Tissue of Falling Columns series may have been the same as for the Reflections of Africa series, but the title comes from a piece of prose by John Muir, which reads in part: ”My first ramble on spirit-wings would not be among the volcanoes of the moon…. I should go to the very center of our globe and read the 24–25

whole splendid page from the beginning.”12 The writings of Blake and Muir resonated with DeFeo because they spoke of finding a way into the center. DeFeo sought to provide an opening for a viewer to enter the depths of her created world, to enter the two-dimensional picture plane. In Reflections of Africa No.9 and No.10 (1989, pp.30-31), the strong horizontal bar at the right seems to disappear into a laceration in the paper, located at the heart of the triangular fold, or the mountain peak, just to the left. One half-expects to lift the drawing and find the other side of the black bar beneath. But the opening DeFeo sought was as much for herself as for the viewer. Once she found an entrance into her own created world, she would be able to look outside from within or, as Muir wrote, “move about in the very tissue of falling columns, and in the very birthplace of their heavenly harmonies looking outward as from windows of ever-varying transparency and staining.”13

Jay DeFeo, 1960s.

John Muir, A Thousand Mile Walk to the Gulf (Boston and New York: Riverside Press for Houghton Mifflin, 1916), pp.41–42. 13 Ibid.

Katalog

Catalogue

26â&#x20AC;&#x201C;27

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Olje på papir 27,7 x 23,3 cm

28–29

Arthur Monroe Ukjent 책rstall Oljestift p책 papir 22,5 x 30,5 cm

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Oljestift på papir 30,5 x 36,2 cm

30–31

Arthur Monroe Ukjent 책rstall Olje og blekk p책 papir 33,4 x 33 cm

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Oljestift på papir 19,9 x 24 cm

32–33

Arthur Monroe Ukjent 책rstall Oljestift p책 papir 24 x 19,9 cm

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Penn og blyant på papir 21,6 x 27,9 cm

34–35

Arthur Monroe Ukjent 책rstall Tusj p책 papir 24,9 x 30,4 cm

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Olje på papir 28,8 x 27,8 cm

36–37

Arthur Monroe Ukjent 책rstall Tusj p책 papir 22,4 x 30,3 cm

Arthur Monroe Ukjent årstall Blekk på papir 64,7 x 55,1 cm

38–39

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent 책rstall Akvarell p책 papir 38 x 35,5 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Penn på rispapir 32 x 22 cm

40–41

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 papir (ukeblad) 24 x 21,8 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Olje på papir (ukeblad) 20,5 x 21,2 cm

42–43

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 ukeblad 34,4 x 26,4 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Skisse på avispapir 24,1 x 20,5 cm

44–45

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 ukeblad 23,3 x 21,5 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Penn på papir 21,5 x 27,9 cm

46–47

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent 책rstall Blekk p책 papir 30,1 x 25,3 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Blekk på papir 23,4 x 15 cm

48–49

Arthur Richer Ukjent 책rstall Oljestift p책 papir 33,9 x 27,6 cm

Arthur Richer Ukjent årstall Oljekritt og olje på papir 27,6 x 35,2 cm

50–51

Arthur Richer Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 papir 43 x 27,7 cm

Arthur Richer Ukjent årstall Akvarell på papir 24,8 x 33,7 cm

52–53

Michael Bowen 1962 Blyant p책 papir 30,5 x 22,9 cm

Michael Bowen 1962 Blyant på papir 30,5 x 22,9 cm

54–55

Michael Bowen 1956 Akvarell p책 papir 34 x 61 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Penn på papir 21,6 x 28 cm

56–57

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Tusj p책 papir 59,5 x 47,3 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Blyant på papir 29,6 x 27,7 cm

58–59

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Blyant p책 papir 35,3 x 28 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Blyant på papir 34,9 x 25,4 cm

60–61

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Oljestift p책 papir 28 x 21,5 cm

Michael Bowen 1959 Penn på papir 61 x 46,8 cm

62–63

Michael Bowen 1970 Collage 35,5 x 29 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Penn på papir 33,6 x 28 cm

64–65

Michael Bowen 1963 Collage 90 x 57 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Collage på plate 25,2 x 20,9 cm

66–67

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Kulepenn p책 papir 27,7 x 21,2 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Kulepenn på papir 27,8 x 21,3 cm

68–69

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Kulepenn p책 papir 25,5 x 26,5 cm

Michael Bowen Ukjent årstall Postkort 15,3 x 15,5 cm

70–71

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Akvarell p책 papir 30,5 x 22,9 cm

Michael Bowen (1959 Blekk på papir 60,5 x 46 cm

72–73

Michael Bowen Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 papir 32,6 x 42,7 cm

Hagzlbug Ukjent årstall Collage på papir 36 x 27,6 cm

74–75

Edmund Teske 1950-tallet Solarisert fotografi 19,5 x 27,8 cm

Ukjent kunstner 1960 Blekk på papir 27,1 x 35,4 cm

76–77

Fiedler Ukjent 책rstall Litografi 24,2 x 31,5 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Collage 50,6 x 59,8 cm

78–79

Keith Sanzenbach Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 papir 48,2 x 35 cm

Keith Sanzenbach Ukjent årstall Olje på papir 41,4 x 35 cm

80–81

Keith Sanzenbach Ukjent 책rstall Olje p책 papir 35,3 x 35 cm

Keith Sanzenbach Ukjent årstall Blekk på papir 18 x 26,5 cm

82–83

Wilfred S채tty Ukjent 책rstall Fargetrykk 85 x 55 cm

Wilfred Sätty Ukjent årstall Fargetrykk 85 x 55 cm

84–85

Wilfred S채tty Ukjent 책rstall Fargetrykk 85 x 55 cm

Ukjent kunstner 1970 Trykk på papir 30,5 x 22,9 cm

86–87

Richard Stehlin 1964 Oljestift p책 papir 20,4 x 25,6 cm

Field Ukjent årstall Penn og akvarell på papir 24,5 x 29,9 cm

88–89

Milton Wilson Ukjent 책rstall Collage p책 papir 44 x 59,9 cm

Ukjent kunstner Ukjent årstall Olje på rispapir 27,9 x 21,5 cm

90–91

Jay DeFeo Ca. 1956–57 Blekk på papir 15 x 10 cm

92–93

Jay DeFeo Ca. 1956–57 Blekk på papir 35 x 22 cm

Tusen takk til Universitetet i Agder og Kristiansand katedralskole Gimle for utlån av bil-der til utstillingen. Tusen takk til Wenneslandstiftelsen, Vest-Agder fylkeskommune, Fritt Ord og Sparebanken Sør, Grunnlovsjubiléet i Vest-Agder, Universitetet i Agder, Universitetet i Agder Formidlingsavdelingen, Den amerikanske ambassade og Kulturrå-det for finansiering av utstilling og publikasjon. En stor takk til Jan Oddvar Skisland, di-rektør ved Fakultet for Kunstfag UiA, for god støtte i arbeidet med prosjektet. Tusen takk til kunstnerne Arthur Monroe og Fletcher Benton for å kaste lys over histo-rien rundt samlingen og tidsepoken. Takk til fotograf Andy Fletcher, Co-regi Adrien le Call, skribent Mette Cecilie Johansen, Sigurd Tenningen for redaktørarbeidet til den litterære responsen, Yokoland for formgiving av publikasjoner, Galleri Haavik for innrammingsløsninger, papirkonservator Hanna Finborud, The Whitney Museum of Modern Art i New York for utlån av essay om Jay DeFeo, Kikki Wennesland, Kallestads Antikvariat og Kjell Hauge for utlån av historisk materiale og Michael Skoddan for support. En spesielt stor takk til Pål Gitmark Eriksen for faglige råd, innspill og tekstredigering i prosessen med publikasjonene.

We would like to thank the University of Agder and the Kristiansand katedralskole Gimle for lending us pictures to the exhibition. We would also like to thank Wennesland-stiftelsen, Vest-Agder fylkeskommune, Fritt Ord and Sparebanken Sør, Grunnlovsjubiléet i Vest-Agder, Universitetet i Agder Formidlingsavdelingen, The american embassy and Kulturrådet for financing the project. A warm thanks to Jan Oddvar Skisland, Director at the Faculty of Arts at UiA, for his support during the work process. Thank you so much, Arthur Monroe and Fletcher Benton, for shedding light on the history of the Beat collection - and period. Thank you photographer Andy Fletcher, Co-director Adrien le Call, freelancer Mette Cecilie Johansen and editor Sigurd Tenningen (literary catalogue). Thanks to Yokoland for the catalogue design, Gallery Haavik for framing pictures, The Whitney Museum of Modern Art in New York for lending us an essay on Jay DeFeo, Kikki Wennesland, Kallestad Antikvariat and Kjell Hauge for loans of historical materials and Michael Skoddan for support. A special thanks to Pål Gitmark Eriksen for artistic advice and text editing in the catalogue process.

94–95

ISBN 978-82-999074-1-5 © 2014 Kristiansand Kunsthall www.kristiansandkunsthall.no 1. utgave, 1. opplag 2014 Design: Aslak Gurholt (Yokoland) Satt i Apercu 8,5/10,5 Trykt hos Nilz & Otto Grafisk AS, Oslo Trykt på 120g Munken Pure Rough (Arctic Paper, Sverige) Materialet i denne publikasjonen er omfattet av åndsverklovens bestemmelser. Uten særskilt avtale med Kristiansand Kunsthall er enhver eksemplarframstilling og tilgjengeliggjøring bare tillatt i den utstrekning det er hjemlet i lov eller tillatt gjennom avtale med Kopinor, interesseorgan for rettighetshavere til åndsverk. Utnyttelse i strid med lov eller avtale kan medføre erstatningsansvar og inndragning, og kan straffes med bøter eller fengsel.

96–97