Three Paintings from Alice Neel, The Early Years at David Zwirner
So rarely does one get to see early (and even bad) paintings from such a great painter. The early paintings have the same quality that I’d expect out of any artist’s early work; the feeling of searching, experimenting. Neel seems to emulate Cezanne one moment and Cassatt the next, exploring style and form, trying to develop her own voice. These works are at times dark and strange, they ooze with emotion and grime- the dusky, smoke-filled aura of depression-era New York City. Movie Lobby (1932) features two well-dressed women in the ornate entryway of what I can only assume is a movie theatre. By today’s standards, they may as well be entering the fanciest of fancy hotels. Neel articulates chandeliers, ornate decorative carpeting, a colonnade, and yellowish, potentially gold-leafed crown molding. The bright pink, high-backed chairs flatten, forms demarcated only via their contour lines. The scene is opulent yet bleak; the emptiness of the room along with the grey, dusty, storm-cloud-like ceiling isolates these two women, dead center in the canvas and starkly alone. I can’t quite tell if Neel is empathetic towards these two women, or callously judging them. Living in poverty at the time and recently released from a sanatorium, perhaps Neel felt jealousy towards those who have time to go to a movie theatre. Engulfed by the room, the women are viewed from a distance, simplified and almost featureless, like effigies for the wealthy who seek entertainment at a time like this. One of the women stares forward, but the other appears to look directly at Neel, slightly shocked to find that she’s being watched by the painter.
In Fire Escape (1948), Neel’s perspective emerges in another painting atypical for what many associate with her body of work. Buildings flatten into rectangular shapes that overtake the entirety of the canvas, broken apart by shadows stretching vertically down the painting. Golden light accrues on the brick buildings, Neel’s thick, dynamic brushwork makes them shimmer. The shadows of clothes hanging to dry dance along the brick surfaces, you can almost see them bobbing gently in the wind. This view, according to information from the gallery’s website, is the view from the kitchen in Neel’s cramped Harlem apartment, where she lived while raising her two sons. Given the context, the wrought iron bars of fire escapes and domineering effect of the buildings begin to induce claustrophobia. What was initially a beautiful array of dancing light now becomes a metaphor for the longing of space and freedom. One pale blue triangle of sky peeks from behind at the very top of the canvas, nearly managing to become the main character of the image.
Throughout the entire show, familial relationships feature prominently in Neel’s paintings. Multiple paintings of her two sons, Richard and Hartley, culminate in two portraits of them as adults, painted two years apart. Hartley (1957) shows her son seated in an arm chair looking directly out at the viewer. Personally, I found this painting just absolutely stunning. He stares out at you, his gaze fixed and expression subtly intense. Head leaning against one hand, he seems pensive and intelligent, relaxed but perhaps a little uneasy. He would have been around 16 at the time, and his posture seems reserved, delicate even. Arms carefully placed, legs crossed, a bit lanky and maybe awkward looking, this portrait captures an unromantic depiction of youth. In comparison to the more famous, 1966 portrait of Hartley- where he confidently stretches his limbs to overtake the whole of the canvas- this piece feels entirely different. I can’t quite say its an idealized, but it certainly is painted lovingly. Neel captures reality, but not in a photographic sense- she communicates an emotional reality through empathy with the sitter. Near these two portraits, the gallery provided a quote form Neel herself:
“A good portrait of mine has even more than just the accurate features. It has some other thing. If I have any talent in relation to people, apart from planning the whole canvas, it is my identification with them. I get so identified when I paint them, when they go home I feel frightful. I have no self — I have gone into this other person.… It is my way of overcoming the alienation. It is my ticket to reality.”
Identification with her subjects fuses their humanity into the painting, affixed emotion through strokes and color. Depicting her son so truthfully, posed elegantly yet also with the awkward discomfort of youth, results in a potent emotional interaction between viewer and portrait. Featured at the very end of the show, this portrait marks the beginning of Neel’s golden era, as she finds her voice and hones her portraiture. The following few decades would see enthusiasm for Neel’s portraits increase throughout the rest of her life- her legacy still growing to this day.
Alice Neel, The Early Years is on display at David Zwirner Gallery in NYC until October 16th, 2021.
