- 177
Patrick Caulfield, R.A.
Description
- Patrick Caulfield, R.A.
- Still Life with Figs
- oil on board
- 121 by 159.5cm.; 48 by 63in.
- Executed in 1964.
Provenance
Exhibited
Literature
Condition
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Catalogue Note
The confidence gained from being a full-time professional artist, and from the acclaim of being included in Bryan Robertson’s New Generation exhibition in March 1964, must have acted as a spur to exploring the bold, unabashedly decorative, image-based, highly formal and economical style that he had begun to develop only two years earlier. That the many pictures made in this year conform to highly traditional categories of painting such as landscape, interiors and still life suggests, moreover, that it was precisely by choosing to reinvigorate classes of painting long since abandoned by others as outmoded that the 28-year-old artist recognised the potential for carving out his own distinctive territory.
Still life proved a rich subject for American Pop artists, including Warhol, Wesselmann, Lichtenstein, Thiebaud and Oldenburg, and to a lesser extent for British artists associated with the movement, notably Blake, Hamilton and the sculptor Clive Barker. Caulfield’s approach to the subject is deliberately at odds with that of any of these artists, particularly with that of the Americans, perhaps as a conscious ruse to distance himself from a label he was always determined to shake off. In their first Pop paintings of the early 1960s, both Lichtenstein and Warhol took inspiration from newspaper ads, whose cheap printed look they emulated, Warhol soon turning to mass-produced supermarket products such as Coca-Cola bottles and Campbell’s Soup cans, which he replicated with methods of stencilling and photo-silkscreening that emulated the procedures of mass production. Wesselmann cut out photographs from magazine advertisements, posters and billboards as collage elements integrated within his paintings. Thiebaud painted ice cream sundaes and synthetic cakes in a painterly style, while Oldenburg made replicas of fast foods in rough plaster painted in garish colours and then as gigantic enlargements of sewn canvas stuffed with kapok. The clear intent in each of these cases was to create a self-evidently modern take on still life, free of the past.
Caulfield, by contrast, rooted his still lifes in European post-Renaissance painting, relishing the connections with art history and the prospect of reinvigorating those traditions in a subtle, less stridently assertive, manner. As he explained to me in conversation in 1980, seeing other artists use ‘whatever was up to date’ made him want to do something that ‘was more ambiguous in time. Not being old necessarily, something that could actually exist now that was of a timeless nature.’ So it is that he made reference to the Romanticism of Delacroix in Corner of the Studio, to 19th-century exoticism in paintings such as Still Life with Necklace and to the memento mori tradition in Still Life with Candle. A 20th-century artist using fruit as his subject matter would be likely to emulate Cézanne with his applies, rather than a 17th- or 18th-century Spanish bodegón, as Caulfield has here with his choice of figs: perhaps he had in mind Still Life with Figs and Bread c. 1770 by Luis Meléndez (National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC). Caulfield was certainly well-versed in Old Master paintings and sympathetic to them: for his Artist’s Eye exhibition at the National Gallery in London in 1986, he featured among other things a still life by Jan van de Velde and Velázquez’s Kitchen Scene with Christ in the House of Martha and Mary. The selection for him speaks at least in part of a romance with the continuity of painting across the centuries.
The simplicity of style here, as always for Caulfield, is deceptive, masking the sophistication by which he brings together different pictorial languages. The central motif of figs and bowl is pinned to the surface in a sign-painter’s idiom of flat areas of unmodulated colour and black outline, but it also floats on stacked planes of colour set at jaunty angles for decorative effect and to suggest spatial recession. The sky blue trapezoid against which the fruit is silhouetted summons a view through an imaginary window onto a distant cityscape conveyed in a ‘degraded’ modernist linear language such as one might find on 1950s textile designs. Suddenly one feels giddy and disorientated, both viscerally and in terms of the imagery, as if the rug has been pulled firmly from under one’s feet. Lulled into temporary complacency by the decorative appeal of the picture and by its easy relationship with past art, it is at this point that we wake up to the surprising originality and freshness of Caulfield’s subtle vision.
Marco Livingstone