Page 43 - Studio International - February 1970
P. 43

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           Newman's 'internal shapes' have taken
           cognizance of the 'literal shape' of their
           canvas limits for over twenty years. What dis-
           tinguishes Newman's triangular paintings
           from his others is primarily the obvious excite-
           ment of non-perpendicular, non-parallel
           relations between internal verticals and
           external shape. The triangle, a more fixed
           geometric gestalt than the rectangle, is broken
           with more punch. That Newman's interest
           in using a triangular canvas was related to
           his work on  Broken Obelisk  is not irrelevant.
           For in monuments (not sculpture), the pyramid
           and obelisk have epitomized images of death
           and geometry since the time of the pharaohs;
           and three years before he began to plan
           Broken Obelisk,  Newman had stated in the
           catalogue of The New American Painting (1959)
           that 'It is precisely this death image, the grip
           of geometry that has to be confronted.' He
           did just that, with an explicitness which is
           almost literal in treating the obelisk as if it
           had been stood upside-down on the apex of
           the pyramid by some super-human hand,
           leaving rough edges to limit its skyward
           thrust; but the real break is made by the
           internal vertical axis, accentuated by pinching
           the over-all triangular shape into a meeting
           point more powerful for its seeming fragility.
           But it was only in the late sixties that New-
           man gave such explicit combat to canvas
           shapes other than rectangles. Although he had
           used  the rectangle in an exploratory way
           before, he had accepted its five-hundred-year
           tradition, and his shift is surely related to his
           involvement with his younger contemporaries
           as much as to the geometry which had plagued
           him for twenty years. This is not only appar-
           ent in the triangular canvases, but also in
           Shimmer Bright:  the only painting I know in
           Newman's oeuvre which uses a perfect square.
           Its white square is opposed and extended in
           the alteration of white and blue bands at the
           left—a format which relates to some of
           Noland's work. But the translucent brilliancy
           of the blues, and their hold against rather than
           within the geometrical figure, makes Shimmer
           Bright  more visually exciting and concep-
           tually concrete than Noland's more reticent
           painting.
           The beautiful thing about this is that New-
           man is still in dialogue with his context—with
           other artists whose work interests him, no
           matter what their style, age, or public repu-
           tation. The character of his context has
           changed, but Newman's erect and combatant
           stance in relation to his present and past has
           not. It is just more lofty in scale and wide-
           ranging in scope. A major retrospective of his
           work—all of it—is long over-due. It would be a
           concrete  refutation  of cherished art-world
           cliches like : 'Painters are verbally inarticu-
           late'; 'Stylistic revolutions are made only by
           artists under thirty'; 'Conceptual art requires
           the negation of objects'; 'An artist over fifty
           is creatively dead'; 'A sense of history in-
           hibits creativity'. 	q
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