To Accept Completely The Values Of The Establishment In Which They Seek A Place

barnett newman's 1955 painting uriel hanging on a white wall at the art institute of chicago, is eight feet tall and eighteen feet wide. the right quarter of the canvas is a deep reddish brown, the color of old blood, perhaps, and the rest of the canvas is a pale aqua blue that might have been used on fiestaware or a bathroom tile in the 1950s, a disturbing combination. the border between the two color fields is made of a couple of newman's so-called zips, vertical stripes with rough, brushy, or clean-taped edges. one of these stripes is a deep aquamarine blue, but tbh, that is not apparent from this photo, which was taken by tocho t8, a blogger, in 2021. uriel spent decades in two private european collections, and was rarely reproduced. most of the online images of it are garbage, tbqh
Barnett Newman’s Uriel, 1955, 8 x 18 ft, installed at the Art Institute of Chicago in 2021 by the grace of its new owner, and photographed there by blogger Tocho T8

Jim Long’s Summer 2002 essay in the Brooklyn Rail on Barnett Newman’s crisis with painting in the mid-1950s, and the one painting he managed to make in two years, Uriel (1955), is great and insightful, but the last two paragraphs, one his, and one quoted from Newman, came out of nowhere and left me absolutely stunned:

“There is one more story that properly belongs to the period of Newman’s hardest struggles. In 1968, during the social and political events and dialogue, the publisher of Horizon Books asked Newman if he could publish a volume of his essays, notes, and statements. Newman replied that he would prefer it if Horizon would republish Peter Kropotkin’s Memoirs of a Revolutionist, and that he would write an introduction, in the hope of making a contribution to the dialogue going on within the Left. Horizon agreed, and in Newman’s introduction he allowed himself only one small personal digression:

In the ’40s, when artists got together of an evening, there was always someone who insisted on playing surrealist games. I recall one evening when everyone in the room had to say what destroyed him. I remember what I said. I said that I felt destroyed by established institutions. I was surprised to hear one of the artists present say that what destroyed him were people. He was perhaps wiser than I, for I had to go through that Darwinian lesson. Looking back, I think we were both right, because only those people practice destruction and betrayal who hunger to accept completely the values of the establishment in which they seek a place. It’s the establishment that makes people predatory.

Uriel was purchased in 2021 by Ken Griffin, in a deal organized by James Meyer and Iwan Wirth, for an undisclosed nine-figure price.

Barnett Newman, Other (1963)

a mostly red david diao painting is horizontal, with six or seven blue columns of years painted on it, each a different category of barnett newman's work. next to each year is the number of those works newman produced that year. diao's design echoes newman's own vertical zip motif, but the numbers also show large gaps in activity, and years when the numbers of works made is surprisingly low, an indication of newman's struggle with his work, and of diao's identification with that challenge. this painting was shown at greene naftali gallery in january 2024, i think.
David Diao, Barnett Newman: Chronology of Work (Updated), 2010, acrylic & vinyl on canvas, 84 x 156 in., image via Greene Naftali

One of many epic paintings David Diao made about Barnett Newman’s catalogue raisonné is a yearly tally of work, sorted by category, into zips. Every time I see it I think, “Other? What was the one other?”

a foamcore model of a synagogue by barnett newman is a toaster-sized rectangle transected by windows across the middle that expose the upper part of the interior. the toaster is sitting on a plinth and is photographed against a black background.
Barnett Newman, Model for a Synagogue, 1963, collection Centre Canadien d’Architecture

And then rewatching Diao’s 2013 Dia talk last night, I am reminded that Other is a synagogue Newman designed, Diao said, for an architectural competition. There’s a 2014 story at Grupa O.K. about Harald Szeemann wanting to borrow the model [fabricated by Robert Murray] for a show in 1983, and Annalee refusing to lend it. She left it to the in the CCA in Montreal in 1991.

LATER TONIGHT UPDATE: EXCEPT. Newman did not make this for a competition, but for an exhibition. As early as 1950-52, Newman had been considering designing a synagogue patterned after a baseball diamond. In mid-1963 he was working on the Cantos print series when Richard Meier, of all people, heard of his interest in synagogue design, and invited him to be the only non-architect in a show at the Jewish Museum, Recent American Synagogue Architecture. Newman also wrote an essay for the catalogue about synagogue architecture in the postwar context. His relationship with the Jewish Museum soured a couple of years later when he opposed what he felt the museum was wrongly implicating him with constrictive labels of Jewish Artist or Jewish Art. Mark Godfrey gets into this and other early postwar artists’ reckoning with Jewish identity and culture a bit in his 2007 book, Abstraction and the Holocaust.

David Diao: On Barnett (And Annalee) Newman

Installation view of David Diao: On Barnett Newman, 1991-2023, at Greene Naftali, showing BN: Cut Up Painting, 2014, center. image: greenenaftaligallery

Finally catching up to Adam Simon’s December post on Two Coats of Paint about David Diao’s now-closed show at Greene Naftali of 30 years of paintings relating to Barnett Newman.

Diao has so much going on in his Newman works, paintings about another painter, a subject which became a concept, and Simon does a good job pulling it together. In Jeffrey Weiss’ essay for a forthcoming catalogue of the works, he quotes Diao explaining that “his interest in Newman dates to a period associated with a crisis of faith in the viability of abstract painting.”

This language of faith and crisis and the mysteries of abstraction has echoes in the origins of one of my favorite of Diao’s Newman paintings from 2014, which was here called BN: Cut Up Painting. It’s the blue and white work above.

David Diao: BN: Cut Up Painting, 2014, 60 1/8 x 50 in., when it was photographing a little darker, and had a longer name, at its 2016 exhibition at Office Baroque in Brussels

When I wrote about Diao’s exhibition of the work in Brussels in 2016 [it was called Barnett Newman: The Cut Up Painting], I tried to pull together the accounts of its creation: Barney had asked his wife Annalee to cut up a painting that was finished, but, in his eyes, unresolved. She only did it after his sudden death, then anguished by a dream about the violent act, had it reassembled by a conservator. Barnett and/or Annalee’s work has been the subject of fascinating work by conservators, art historians—and Diao, but it has never been exhibited. Diao’s version is as close as we can get.

It really does seem like abstraction has been causing a lot of people a lot of grief over the years.

David Diao: Impeccable Touch [twocoats]
David Diao: On Barnett Newman, 1991-2023 [greenenaftali]
Previously, related, 2016: David Diao: Barnett Newman: The Cut Up Painting, 2014
Also: David Diao on Barnett Newman, from Dia’s Artists on Artists Lecture Series, c. 2013

Jasper Johns X Barnett Newman

Barnett Newman, Untitled, 1961, lithograph, 30x 22 in., ed.30, this one: MoMA

Jasper Johns has one of Barnett Newman’s first lithographs, Untitled, 1961, which Newman made at the urging of Cleve Gray, his artist friend who taught at Pratt.

Jasper Johns, Racing Thoughts, 1983, 121 x 191 cm, collection: Whitney Museum

Johns included the Newman print as an element in several of his trompe l’oeil-style paintings in the 1980s. The first, I think—I will doublecheck the catalogue raisonné later; right now I’m just trying to procrastinate something else—was Racing Thoughts, in 1983. That painting is now at the Whitney.

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