An exclusive review by Peter Warner for two Don Van Vliet exhibitions from
1998 and 1999.
By Who & By What Is One Enlightened Or Deceived? Is it possible to judge
with an uncritical eye as if Captain Beefheart never existed?
Don Van Vliet - Recent Paintings
11th November - 5th December, 1998
Knoedler & Company
In association with Michael Werner Gallery
19 East 70 Street
New York, New York
10021 USA
Don Van Vliet - Works On Paper
28th January - 26th March 1999
Michael Werner Gallery
21 East 67
New York, New York
10021 USA
Captain Beefheart combed out his showbiz mane and became, after 20 plus years
on the stage, Don Van Vliet: citizen of the respectable and overall tame art world.
The audience is limited; sales ebb, flow, rise and fall with the daily closing
of the stock exchange. Even for the wealthy art remains a luxury. A serious conversation
piece for those with disposable income. Recouping ones investment can only be
passed off as a fabulous pipe dream. To what end will a Gallery/Agent/Broker justify
the intrinsic value of a particular piece of art? Is Don Van Vliet sold in a hush-hush
tone of his musical past? Or is the past strictly detrimental? Do art journals
ever contain a negative review of an art show? Is the unspoken rule that all High
Art has worth, great advances are to be made, that the artist shows promise and
will surely develop so one had best jump on the evening stage while the price
is good? In a field dependent upon pseudo-rumour and sham-faced promotion it is
of little mystery that a contrived prudery exists in that 'uncomfortable' universe
of bread-and-butter economics. When the butlers' tight white glove frees a film
of dust from atop a frame, what should be an indication for a junkyard sale becomes,
in this skewed world, reason for celebration. Why? Because the artwork has magically
become a rarity. There is no such thing as unsold product. There is only ever-more
valuable Art. The modus operandi being to keep past (meaning future) patrons picture-hooked,
secure in the belief that they haven't been played the sucker.
The picture itself is interchangeable; it is the signature that matters; law
dictates all must be of equal value.
God forbid if the chips are down. Try unloading that priceless painting and
breaking even. It's back to the gallery one bought it from. Aesthetics fall by
the wayside. Watch out for the dorsal fin. You're swimming in dangerous waters.
Used cars, fuller brush, ad space, art. HOW MUCH!!!???
The Art World is a scary place. Like a vagabond street peddler hawking disposable
utensils, one takes two steps backward and runs for their life. It is the startup
business of choice for trust fund babies. The proud employer of snooty department
store perfume-counter graduates. Peddlers of High-Brow horror and terribly shoddy
goods. High ceiling white column. Welcome to New York. From the low-rank unwashed
hippie-punk east village to the tourist-friendly suntan salon of Soho all the
way uptown to the museum hangover world of 57th Street and Madison Avenue. All
the necessary groundwork is in place. All We Need Is Art.
Don Van Vliet came from Art World obscurity straight into the Big Time. Why?
You know why. He's Captain Beefheart of course. It's been said that he's a musical
genius. Collaborated with Frank Zappa and gave it all up to focus on his art.
He's a child prodigy, you know. Self-taught. There's an angle to work with here,
boys. And besides, he wears the beret really well. A baffling fellow. Beyond rationalisation.
Like the art world. SOLD!
(At this point the author implores the reader to read on. This story does have
a happy ending and contains glowing praise of Don Van Vliet's work!)
A Van Vliet painting sells for approximately $15,000.00 American. A work on
paper: $5,000.00. This reviewer asks: would he spend the money if Don Van Vliet
were not Captain Beefheart? Is his judgement clouded by the fact that this is
a work by Captain Beefheart? How can a sketchbook (but one in a series) that contains
a single hasty page covered in infantile chicken scratches and has an asking price
of five big ones bring anyone closer to anything but disgust? Is someone enjoying
a prank? Was "New Work" needed to fill the holes for a show entitled "New Work"
that was glaringly devoid of "New Work?" The only explanation for this outrage
is that the childlike Don Van Vliet, aka Captain Beefheart, is the victim of yet
another "record" company. This time around it is known as Michael Werner Gallery.
A fan of Captain Beefheart And The Magic Band cannot begrudge Don Van Vliet
for making a living. It is rumoured that he is sick. It is believed that he collects
little if no royalties from his recordings. Over the years his artwork, gracing
many a Magic Band album, whetted the appetite of his admirers. His work has cut
through countless style. Seemingly dark and primordial; humorous and playful;
often appealingly careless and disposable (as in a freebie to a fan to cherish).
Prior to his 'discovery,' coming across a Van Vliet always proved a treat. Be
it in a rock 'n roll magazine, artsy journal or an oh-so-precious album cover
the carefully disseminated artwork stirred ones sense of greed for the supposedly
vast output of Don Van Vliet.
Enter A.R. Penck, a German artist of severely dubious talent, represented by
Michael Werner Gallery. This man knows how to work the ropes. He befriends Beefheart.
Beefheart is signed to Werner. Don Van Vliet is born.
KNOEDLER & COMPANY, established in 1846, is New York's oldest art gallery.
They have been housed in their current location for the past 25 years. It is a
beautiful, pristine late 1800's era building one block east of Central Park. Step
into the foyer and greet a modern well-designed interior that manages to break
the space up into three rooms without overly oppressive separation. The gallery
consists of two floors. Van Vliet deservedly takes the ground and a side room
reserved for smaller works. Sixteen oil-on-canvas paintings are in evidence (ranging
from 64 x 51 inches down to 28 x 24). Ten works on paper - india ink, pencil,
gold ink, gouache, zinc white, gold, etcetera (all roughly 20 x 14 ). And the
aforementioned series of sketchbooks, under glass, dated August - October, 1998.
The paintings are titled Dirty Champagne; Ten Thousand Pistols, No Bumblebees;
Bat Day In The Night; Pointed Satchels; Full Grown Babel, Curve In the Dirt, The
Drazy Hoops, No. 1; No. 2; No. 3; etcetera. Completion dates begin in 1993, slip
to five works in '97 and peter out with two in 1998.
Ones first impression is that the paintings are too large for the content within.
The dominantly white canvas is blinding. One could easily dismiss them as cave
painting facsimile. And everyone knows that that has been done to death. And so
I must ask: If this were not the work of Captain Beefheart would I even afford
them a second glance? I am afraid I must answer with a humbling NO.
But as these are the paintings of Captain Beefheart and I want to like them
I must dig deeper.
The paintings are loosely figurative; the usual recurring subjects: plantlife,
wildlife, rocks, sun-baked apparition (the desert). Earth-tones. Brown, black,
yellow, green. Two peculiar, largely white canvas with near-neon fucia and limegreen
patches. There is no depth perception; there is no discernible brush-control;
there are no 'mistakes.' The paint slips and slides forming painful, arthritic
floating shapes; a world wherein all subject elements battle and live in harmony.
The layers of paint employed is impressive (though to what purpose is anyone's
guess). This is painting for painting's sake. The process (release) is more important
than the result.
"I'm just trying to turn myself inside out onto the canvas."
And Van Vliet has succeeded. In many an instance triumphantly. The paintings
are genuinely spooky. One can sympathise with them (to empathise would be madness).
To stare into this batch of Vliet paintings is to find oneself lost in the desert
- a terrain that does not welcome human beings. A Vliet painting will never be
mistaken for a petting zoo. Is it possible that the odd, unidentifiable paint
stroke which surround the figures may be interpreted as human remains? I like
to think so--it makes the trip to the gallery worthwhile.
The works on paper date from 1989 to 1992. They are untitled; they are executed
in a variety of abstract style; they are of marginal interest. They leave absolutely
no impression beyond the feeling that the artist is breaking in his pencils.
The sketchbooks are not what is formally known as a sketchbook. In this case,
the book itself is the frame as only one page has been 'customised' to surely
help justify an exhibition originally entitled "Recent Paintings" and later changed
to "New Work."
It is a pity that the sixteen paintings did not satisfy the Art Establishment.
It would have been a decent, tight show. But five thousand for a phoney new work?
Sounds unconditionally guaranteed to me.
MICHAEL WERNER GALLERY, New York & Cologne, treats NYC to "...the first
exhibition in the United States to focus exclusively on Van Vliet's works on paper."
He is also, and this is stretching it, referred to as "...the avant-garde composer,
musician and poet." (These quotes and the following are taken from the official
press release.) The show is made up of 21 pieces, all untitled. Dates range from
1986 to 1990. Sizes range from 20 x 14 inches up to 30 x 22. India inks, gouache,
pastel, pencil, crayon, silver & gold. The exhibition was to include a series
of early works from the late Seventies but these were not available due to their
rarity.
"While he often takes months and even years to finish a painting, reworking
the thickly impastoed surface, his works on paper are prolific, free-form and
loosely rendered."
It is too bad only the rich can afford one.
Witness a sampling: a black female figure with nipple erect coiling man coiling
snake. Two-faced man men black buddah hands held overhead in tan red and grey.
A Vliet spider monkey with blue flower pot. Two black charcoal torso spooks one
with chin beard and hipster sunglasses. Scary black gold silver inverted swastika
upside down crucifix. Loose black white tan mess. Goose and giant snail head.
A porpoise bird. Abstract mustard. Pilgrim hat space ship floating in sky. Emmet
Kelly with big white mouth and bow tie. Longhaired man-monkey and horse on rocks
outlined in hard jagged pencil - truly staggering tan brown green.
Van Vliets' work on paper is not pretty; it's not really ugly either. It could
pass for 'outsider art'--the work of the mentally ill. Yet it is not. Van Vliet
is far too clever. He knows what he is doing. And yet he is at the mercy of the
image/transmission. If this were not the work of Captain Beefheart would I even
give it a second glance?
I answer with a resounding YES. But I'll pay no more than a thousand dollars
or less.