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Andrew Wyeth, "Farm Road" (1979) |
Peter Schjeldahl’s specialty is rhapsody, not annihilation. But he can be annihilating when he wants to be. Look what he says about Andrew Wyeth:
Wyeth isn’t exactly a painter. He is a gifted illustrator for reproduction, which improves his arid originals with slick surfaces and kicked-up color. In person, the works present expanses of moisture-starved pigment. Moving your eyes across them is like sledding on gravel. [Hot, Cold, Heavy, Light, 2019]
Andrew Wyeth isn’t exactly a painter? Come on! Look at his superb Farm Road (1979). It’s among the works – the Helga paintings – Schjeldahl is referring to. Look at the absorbed way that massive braided head is painted, every glowing filament laid on in painstaking tempera.
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Andrew Wyeth, "Black Velvet" (1972) |
Look at Black Velvet (1972), another Helga picture. John Updike said of it,
Among the finished paintings, Black Velvet seemed to me a triumph: a long nude, tawny white, reclines in space as black as the velvet ribbon around her neck. She is an American Venus, with something touchingly gawky in her beautifully drawn big bare feet, bent elbow, and clenched hands. [Just Looking, 1989]
I agree with Updike. Wyeth’s avid, detailed rendering of Helga is a mimetic tour de force. Schjeldahl’s opinion is shockingly wrong-headed.
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