Introduction to Philip Guston
I was standing in Janet Trierweiler’s studio, a mentor of mine, and I vividly remember studying the wall that held her impressive collection of books. Whenever I would be in her studio, Janet would pull one of the heavy books off the shelf and discuss historical context, biographical information regarding the artist, and formal aspects of the paintings that were included in the beautiful glossy pages. Usually she chose books of artists that made up the Bay Area Figurative movement such as Diebenkorn, Joan Brown, David Park, and Paul Wonner, and more classical artists such as Sargent, Cassatt, and Homer.
One rainy day in July, Janet decided to show me the artist that was most dear and near to her heart and practice. She took down the book that was kept on the highest shelf, furthest away from her mess of oil paints, empty wine bottles, and large panels, and gently placed it on her stool. It was the Philip Guston Retrospective Book, filled with large pages of photographs of the late artist’s paintings from his early career until his death. I immediately fell in love with Guston’s work, especially his paintings and writings.
A few years after my initial exposure to Guston, I was at the San Francisco MOMA for the first time, and I walked into a room of one of its permanent collections. Already on a high after seeing Chuck Close’s work in the previous room, I was astounded to see Guston’s 1971 painting, Evidence, hanging on the wall right before my eyes. The white walls were filled with the neo-expressionist’s work, and I was was in awe. The dynamic compositions were more powerful than any photograph in a book could come close to capturing; the colors were complex and layered, opaque and translucent, the brush strokes were full of movement and intent. It was impressive how the paintings had such a powerful presence.
Guston’s complex outlook on painting, art history, as well as modern art is helping me better understand certain things I think about in my own practice as well as clarifying topics discussed regarding other artists. Throughout his youth and artistic career and into his last years of life, Guston was constantly chasing this limitless ‘want’ and ‘need’ for the unnamed rather than having a more concrete goal of a degree or fame. This constant and never-ending drive for the intangible is seemingly not the driving force behind the majority of young contemporary artists and student artists (from my own observation and experience). In this time in society, it is especially difficult to separate oneself from the competition with others as a result of the constant display of media, unbreakable ties with technology, and the palpable distancing and mistrust between human beings. I am motivated by the way Guston paved his artistic practice and outlook on life through his literary, philosophical, and theoretical knowledge and constant need for both self-reflection and discussion with peer artist friends. As I move forward in my art education and into my artistic career, this type of motivation and practice is something that I will be consciously implementing and thinking about to remind myself why I wanted to be a painter in the first place.