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拍品專文
“The boundaries of painting excite me. You've got the same old materials—just oils and a canvas—and you're trying to do something that's been done for centuries…I have always wanted to make paintings that are impossible to walk past, paintings that grab and hold your attention.” Cecily Brown
Known for her richly-painted canvases that occupy the space between figure, landscape, and pure abstraction, Cecily Brown has been at the forefront of a resurgence in painting since her career bloomed with force in the late twentieth-century. I Will Not Paint Any More Boring Leaves (2) is an early example of her mature output, and continues this virtuosic practice by creating depth and intrigue within an illusionistic space. Never one to sit on her laurels, Brown’s constant reexamination of the time-honored tradition of painting has garnered wide acclaim. “The boundaries of painting excite me,” she notes, “You've got the same old materials—just oils and a canvas—and you're trying to do something that's been done for centuries…I have always wanted to make paintings that are impossible to walk past, paintings that grab and hold your attention. The more you look at them, the more satisfying they become for the viewer. The more time you give to the painting, the more you get back” (C. Brown, “I take things too far when painting,” The Guardian, 20 September 2009). What at first glance might appear as a barrage of color, brushwork, and form, rewards careful observation with a discernible sense of space. But rather than give over an instantly recognizable subject, Brown’s works ask the viewer to question the structure of paintings and how we recognize three dimensions on a flat surface.
In the center of the composition, a predominately white form hovers. Festooned with creamy lines and gauzy brushwork, it is the focal point of I Will Not Make Any More Boring Leaves (2) and acts as a visual anchor in the sea of Brown’s frenetic painting. Looking at her paintings is like staring at a scene only to immediately forget how things look. One catches a tree trunk or blade of grass or small, leafy shrub out of the corner of one’s eye only to have it dissolve into a mass of painted color. Surrounded by these phantasms, the central figure operates on a roughly discernible ground plane. The bottom half of the painting is predominately painted in green and brown that mimics the sun-dappled tone of a forest floor. The upper half is interspersed with blue and exhibits several dark vertical thrusts that give the impression of skies and trees. Using these two sections as a base, background and foreground begin to materialize. However, all of this is merely speculation as color and conflicting abstract forms take over the field of vision in an attempt to catch the viewer unawares. The art historian Dore Ashton has noted about the artist’s practice, “She is a painter who makes journeys and tells herself stories—but in her own language: the language of painting... For a painter, a painting is a place. The whole meaning of illusion lies there, in creating the reality of a place within which the regard of the viewer is absorbed and rendered other” (D. Ashton, Cecily Brown, New York, 2008, p. 20). It is not part of Brown’s modus operandi to make a place for us to project ourselves, or even to represent a particular physical place. We are merely meant to enter in and let the painting envelop and control our vision.
The title of the current lot pays homage to the work of California conceptualist John Baldessari. His project from 1971, entitled I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art, was a self-referential piece that, by virtue of repetition and its tongue-in-cheek delivery, drilled the slogan into the artist (and viewer’s) brain. One can imagine Brown obsessively painting each leaf-like shape onto her own canvas until the sheer action overtakes her and the layers of paint reach a critical mass. This inborn referencing of art history should come as no surprise as the artist’s connection with the art world at large began in her early years. She would often accompany her father, art critic David Sylvester, to exhibitions in London where she frequently saw the paintings of family friend Francis Bacon. Her indebtedness to Bacon’s career is palpable in Brown’s thick, sumptuous application of paint, as is her predilection for abstract, figural compositions that seem to blend with their surroundings.
Studying at the Slade School of Art in the 1990s, Brown separated herself from her YBA contemporaries and their sharp conceptualism in favor of expressive oil painting and representative subjects. She noted, “Figures are the only thing that I’ve ever painted. I’m interested in the human need or desire to represent itself. I’m fascinated with human narcissism and obsessions with bodies.” (C. Brown, in O. D. Odita, “Cecily Brown: Goya, Vogue, and the Politics of Abstraction,” Flash Art 33, no. 21, Nov-Dec 2000, p. 74). Allying herself with this tradition of large canvases and heavily-populated scenes, Brown looks back at her forebearers but firmly plants herself in a contemporary realm. In the case of I Will Not Paint Any More Boring Leaves (2), the painter suggests her seemingly-traditional painting process is more closely linked to the heady YBA sector than one might initially surmise.
Known for her richly-painted canvases that occupy the space between figure, landscape, and pure abstraction, Cecily Brown has been at the forefront of a resurgence in painting since her career bloomed with force in the late twentieth-century. I Will Not Paint Any More Boring Leaves (2) is an early example of her mature output, and continues this virtuosic practice by creating depth and intrigue within an illusionistic space. Never one to sit on her laurels, Brown’s constant reexamination of the time-honored tradition of painting has garnered wide acclaim. “The boundaries of painting excite me,” she notes, “You've got the same old materials—just oils and a canvas—and you're trying to do something that's been done for centuries…I have always wanted to make paintings that are impossible to walk past, paintings that grab and hold your attention. The more you look at them, the more satisfying they become for the viewer. The more time you give to the painting, the more you get back” (C. Brown, “I take things too far when painting,” The Guardian, 20 September 2009). What at first glance might appear as a barrage of color, brushwork, and form, rewards careful observation with a discernible sense of space. But rather than give over an instantly recognizable subject, Brown’s works ask the viewer to question the structure of paintings and how we recognize three dimensions on a flat surface.
In the center of the composition, a predominately white form hovers. Festooned with creamy lines and gauzy brushwork, it is the focal point of I Will Not Make Any More Boring Leaves (2) and acts as a visual anchor in the sea of Brown’s frenetic painting. Looking at her paintings is like staring at a scene only to immediately forget how things look. One catches a tree trunk or blade of grass or small, leafy shrub out of the corner of one’s eye only to have it dissolve into a mass of painted color. Surrounded by these phantasms, the central figure operates on a roughly discernible ground plane. The bottom half of the painting is predominately painted in green and brown that mimics the sun-dappled tone of a forest floor. The upper half is interspersed with blue and exhibits several dark vertical thrusts that give the impression of skies and trees. Using these two sections as a base, background and foreground begin to materialize. However, all of this is merely speculation as color and conflicting abstract forms take over the field of vision in an attempt to catch the viewer unawares. The art historian Dore Ashton has noted about the artist’s practice, “She is a painter who makes journeys and tells herself stories—but in her own language: the language of painting... For a painter, a painting is a place. The whole meaning of illusion lies there, in creating the reality of a place within which the regard of the viewer is absorbed and rendered other” (D. Ashton, Cecily Brown, New York, 2008, p. 20). It is not part of Brown’s modus operandi to make a place for us to project ourselves, or even to represent a particular physical place. We are merely meant to enter in and let the painting envelop and control our vision.
The title of the current lot pays homage to the work of California conceptualist John Baldessari. His project from 1971, entitled I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art, was a self-referential piece that, by virtue of repetition and its tongue-in-cheek delivery, drilled the slogan into the artist (and viewer’s) brain. One can imagine Brown obsessively painting each leaf-like shape onto her own canvas until the sheer action overtakes her and the layers of paint reach a critical mass. This inborn referencing of art history should come as no surprise as the artist’s connection with the art world at large began in her early years. She would often accompany her father, art critic David Sylvester, to exhibitions in London where she frequently saw the paintings of family friend Francis Bacon. Her indebtedness to Bacon’s career is palpable in Brown’s thick, sumptuous application of paint, as is her predilection for abstract, figural compositions that seem to blend with their surroundings.
Studying at the Slade School of Art in the 1990s, Brown separated herself from her YBA contemporaries and their sharp conceptualism in favor of expressive oil painting and representative subjects. She noted, “Figures are the only thing that I’ve ever painted. I’m interested in the human need or desire to represent itself. I’m fascinated with human narcissism and obsessions with bodies.” (C. Brown, in O. D. Odita, “Cecily Brown: Goya, Vogue, and the Politics of Abstraction,” Flash Art 33, no. 21, Nov-Dec 2000, p. 74). Allying herself with this tradition of large canvases and heavily-populated scenes, Brown looks back at her forebearers but firmly plants herself in a contemporary realm. In the case of I Will Not Paint Any More Boring Leaves (2), the painter suggests her seemingly-traditional painting process is more closely linked to the heady YBA sector than one might initially surmise.