Profundity or Paint Rags?

One of the most common reactions from people experiencing their first taste of modern art is, "Gee, I could have done that." They see a few bright-colored geometric shapes scattered seemingly randomly on a canvas, or splotches of paint dribbled across it, and they assume that all they need is some paint and the nerve to tack high price tags on to their accidents in order to be an artist.

In fact when Helen Frankenthaler first exhibited one of her early abstract paintings, a teacher of hers asked her why she was exhibiting her paint rags. But Frankenthaler did not rise to her present fame by dabbling idly and relying on her name and good fortune to pull her through. Modern artists, believe it or not, have theory behind their work--complicated and highly-philosophical theory at times--that often ends up being a more important influence on their followers than the actual works of art.

The Stuart Davis show at the Fogg bills itself as a study of art and the theory behind art, and Davis certainly is an artist whose theory must be studied along with his painting. The concept of a show that sets out to tackle theory is intriguing and could conceivably win over a few modern art skeptics who only want to be told why the art world thinks the work of this artist deserves to be called Art.

Unfortunately, the Fogg show indicates that eager students of theory can not be satisfied by the Fogg show without the aid of the show's catalogue or a Faculty member from the Fine Arts department. Perhaps theory can only be explained in books and classrooms, but if this is true, it is hard to see how art like Davis's, which is built on careful study of color and space and interrelationships between the two, can ever win a popular following. People who do not have the time and expertise to wade through lenthy and obscure explanations of theory will have to form their opinions of modern art purely from observation of bizarre-looking canvasses that are often not aesthetically pleasing and require great open-mindedness to appreciate.

A few hints about the theory behind Davis's art are given in the chronology of Davis's life at the start of the show and in the pages from some of Davis's unpublished studies of theory that are displayed as art objects. But the hints are as frustratingly vague as they are tantalizingly interesting. In a study for his work "Reconditioned Eggbeaters," Davis scrawls, "Only a Marc is a Noun. Only an Operative Scar is a Noun. Art exists as a Syntax of Scars." Pages from one of his studies of color begin to explore the relationships between different colors and the impact of different series of colors. The chronology explains that Davis had a "desire to achieve intellectual clarification of the problems he found as a practicing artist." But if he achieved that clarification, the Fogg show does not enlighten the average viewer.

Ignoring the theory behind it, Davis's work holds up better in the eyes of the uninitiated than some other abstract art of the past 50 years because Davis usually gives the viewer a little piece of reality to hang on to--a word or a number slipped in among patches of color, or a form that distinctly resembles a human being. These touches are somehow reassuring to those who prefer traditional portrait and landscape art; Davis uses the reassurance to persuade viewers to move further into his art and enjoy the clever play of lines and shapes without worrying about what it all "means" or whether or not it is "good."

The show, which includes over 100 pieces, catalogs every step of Davis's career. Davis started out painting realism and moved quickly out of that stage under the influence of European post-Impressionists and cubists. Indeed the first two rooms of paintings strongly echo Picasso, Gris and Leger. Davis, as the chronology points out, was heavily involved in artists organizations, especially during the Depression, and campaigned for recognition of the political and social importance of art and artists. After the Depression, Davis developed some of his most important theories and settled into a style using brilliant colors, well-defined shapes and scattered words and numbers that the chronology describes as the "height of his career."

The subject matter of the paintings is usually fairly unimportant. Sometimes, however, the titles of the works give away Davis's intent and lead the viewer to play a guessing game to figure out how the abstractions represent what the title suggests. For instance, the mural Davis did for a studio in the Municipal Broadcasting Company looks at first like nothing more than a busy arrangement of abstract designs and bright colors. But, with a little imagination the viewer can make out forms that suggest radio towers, musical instruments and sound waves, and pretty soon, the whole painting begins to pulse with the rhythm of a jazz tune. Davis often incorporated his interest in jazz into his work, and he attracted the likes Duke Ellington and George Wettling to his exhibits as a result.

Standing alone, Davis's works are fun. In the context of his art theory, they pose perplexing but mind-teasing problems. The Fogg show is undeniably well-put-together and definitely worth a visit, but it disappoints if its goal is to explain how a modern artist like Davis comes to paint what he does.