#chicago imagists

[jareckiworld]

James R. Perry — Domestic Interior II  (oil on wood, 1981/1982)

[skf-fineart]

Karl Wirsum (1939-2021) Cough, c. 1962-63 Oil on canvas, 20 x 20 inches

[tompuschautz]

Cosmic Vomit

[groc]

(via (48) Hairy Who - 1966-69 - Jim Falconer, Art Green, Gladys Nilsson, Jim Nutt, Suellen Rocca, Karl Wirsum - YouTube)

[y0suho]

Karl Wirsum

[4eternal-life]

Dominick Di Meo  (American, b. 1927)

Untitled  (blue and orange with black figures),  1965

Acrylic and synthetic polymer on canvas. /Courtesy of the artist

https://resources.depaul.edu/art-museum/exhibitions/dominick-di-meo

... he was a member of the so-called Monster Roster, Chicago artists (Chicago Imagists)  who in the mid-twentieth century developed a distinct approach to the human figure: disarticulated and often terrifying. Although his work has changed over time, there are also strong threads of continuity, none clearer than the motif of the disembodied face...

.... a round form with three small circles picking out elemental features that suggest an expression of surprise or horror. Sometimes these fill the picture plane, others are as tiny and repetitive as buttons. Large or small, they contribute to both the disquiet and the fascination Di Meo’s work engenders.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Ed Paschke, Mid American, 1969, oil/canvas (Art Institute, Chicago)

[mybeingthere]

Joseph Yoakum, Cherokee, c. 1890–1972, born in Ash Grove, MO; d. Chicago, IL

Joseph Yoakum, of Cherokee, African-American, and French-American ancestry, began drawing his fantastical landscapes while living in Chicago in his later years. He claimed the locations were drawn from memories of his time spent in numerous circuses as a youth, as a soldier serving with the U.S. Army during World War I in Europe, as a vagabond rail rider, and as a stowaway and stevedore in Asia and Australia. He settled in Chicago in the late 1920s, but did not begin drawing his animated recollections until 1962. It was the 1960s Chicago Imagists who were among the first to herald him.

[hyperallergic]

Miyoko Ito melded her inspirations — Cubism, Paul Klee, and surrealism filtered through the Chicago Imagists — to her awareness of luminosity and tonality, which came from studying watercolor and ink painting, and to her personal experience.  In her art, we glimpse something we cannot comprehend — a sense of longing and mystery, isolation and solitude fill the paintings.

More than 30 years after her death, Ito is having her self-named debut show at the spacious Matthew Marks Gallery.

[cosmicanger]

📝

I find myself contemplating the need for a more candid discourse within the realm of the arts concerning the pervasive racial lens through which all creative endeavors are filtered. It is disconcerting to observe a distinct dichotomy wherein white artists, predominantly cisgender men, are lauded for producing diminutive or miniature works that effortlessly earn the accolade of "fine art." In stark contrast, Black artists are compelled to generate monumental or consistently large-scale pieces to garner recognition within the same artistic echelons or to elicit sales and museum acquisitions.

The art world seems to perpetuate a prejudiced expectation that the merit of Black artists is contingent upon the size of their creations, a sentiment I find disheartening and emblematic of an entrenched anti-Black bias. This bias, both overtly acknowledged within art circles and insidiously prevalent beyond those confines, remains tethered to a dated ethos that champions the maxim "big is good," a mantra solidified by the white-dominated Pop Art movement of the 1960s and further entrenched in the 1980s on both sides of the Atlantic.

I distinctly recall challenging the work of Zac Segbedzi in the past, a body of work that, in my estimation, lacks a profound engagement with global anti-Blackness. While his technical proficiency and the amalgamation of kiki and bouba rendering styles are commendable, the essence of his figuration often relies on shock value, reminiscent of the Chicago Imagists and also devoid of a substantial exploration of the experiences of the most marginalized. If one endeavors to create "political paintings," they ought to transcend mere visual intrigue and actively confront systems of oppression, rather than merely adorn the cover of a bygone Vice Magazine.

In critiquing my own work, reminiscent of Beauford Delaney's cityscapes or group compositions, rendered in acrylic instead of oil due to the material's reduced toxicity and my financial constraints at the time, Zac dismissed them summarily as "bedroom paintings." This unwarranted dismissal, grounded in the size limitations of my studio space, exposed how race subtly dictates the perception of art objects. White artists, I noted, often share similar size restrictions or proudly boast about creating in confined spaces without facing the same unwarranted criticism.

This experience solidified my conviction that racial biases extend even to the physical dimensions of artistic expression. Unless Black artists conform to standards rooted in Greco-Roman traditions or the white art world's definition of "realism," their work is relegated to a category deemed less than "fine art." While exceptions exist, they often entail exploitative dynamics, exemplified by the plight of Gee's Bend Quilters or Marlon Mullen, underscoring the persistent material disparities faced by Black artists.

The prevailing consumer slogan, "Size Matters," holds unfortunate resonance within the arts, perpetuating a system that undervalues the artistic contributions of Black creators. Artists such as Trystan Williams (I strongly believe the work is boneless or gentrified Tony Cokes), seemingly appropriating text without due consideration, evoke a colonialist mentality akin to Mount Rushmore, an unsavory aspect that warrants reflection. The discrepancy in recognition between white artists engaging in found object art and their Black counterparts further underscores the systemic inequities within the art world.

Moreover, the prevalence of text or word art as a trend in the arts invariably leads to the erasure of Black artists working in this domain. The dearth of literature on Black word artists underscores the need for a concerted effort to rectify this oversight, perhaps through curated exhibitions or publications. The majority of white word art, I observe, tends towards self-indulgent self-flagellation, starkly contrasted with a reticence to engage in works addressing systemic issues like anti-Blackness.

In conclusion, the contemporary artistic landscape reveals a persistent imbalance in the treatment of Black and white artists, not only in terms of subject matter and technique but also in the often-overlooked dimension of physical scale. Urgent introspection is warranted, accompanied by a collective commitment to dismantle the deeply ingrained racial biases that pervade the art world.

[jareckiworld]

Barbara Rossi (1940-2023) — Icelandic [acrylic on masonite panel, 1981]

[theoriesanddocuments]

Miyoko Ito (American 1918-1983). Beth introduced me to this artist’s lovely paintings. Ito was associated with the Chicago Imagists--a very loosely affiliated group of artists that included Roger Brown, Christina Ramberg, and Ed Paschke. Seen in that context, Ito’s work stands apart in that it doesn’t contain narrative or the human figure. Her mysterious compositions, and understated use of color, seem to have inspired a new generation of admirers, as there have been a number of recent exhibitions of this work. 

The fourth painting seen here, left unfinished at the time of her death, provides a glimpse of her process. She appears to have designed the composition directly on the canvas, in charcoal, and we can see evidence of erasure and reconsideration. The other closeup image, a detail of Tanima or Claude M. Nutt from 1974, shows how she left the thin drawn charcoal lines uncovered and visible between her shapes. Fringes of green and red paint peeking out alongside the charcoal suggest she may have changed the color palette as she worked.

Heart of Hearts, Basking 1973. Oil on canvas, 44 x 32 inches. Source.

1948 1978. Oil on canvas, 22 x 30 inches. Source.

Tanima or Claude M. Nutt 1974. Oil on canvas, 46 3/8 x 33 inches. Source.

Detail of Tanima or Claude M. Nutt 1974. Oil on canvas, 46 3/8 x 33 inches. Source.

Untitled (unfinished) 1983. Oil and charcoal on canvas, 46 5/8 x 42 inches. Source.

Detail of Untitled (unfinished) 1983. Oil and charcoal on canvas, 46 5/8 x 42 inches. Source.

[deadendtracks]

yeah beyond grunge there's a lot more influences on the design of the time... zines for sure, i'm convinced the Chicago Imagists/Hairy Who, underground comix, etc... but there was also a weird 60s/70s revival, so psychedelia and hippy throwback stuff, etc. the 90s were a very strange time.

[tompuschautz]

Wowidow. Jim Nutt (1968).

Youdue. Karl Wirsum (1966).

Hairy Who? 1966-1969 Exhibition.

Art Institute of Chicago.

[y0suho]

Karl Wirsum