His sharp eye for fashion (a chic red lip, a patterned scarf, a snazzy pair of sandals) can be deceptive. Such details are to Katz what apples were to Cézanne (whom Katz has called “the first artist I understood”): an invitation to eye the interplay of color and light, load a brush with oil, and master the depths of a painting’s surface. [“In the Museums”]
Details? Katz’s paintings have no details, no specificity. They’re massive simplifications. His figures have the blank look of mannequins.
Depth? That’s a laugh. There is no depth in a Katz picture. It’s all surface. Katz is a master of superficiality.
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