Robert Ryman

WOW! For the first time someone was referred to this blog looking for Robert Ryman (and from France, nonetheless - Bienvenue!).

Most people do not know Robert Ryman, which is a terrible shame, but I think I know why. First, his work is almost completely resistant to reproduction. He paints often very close to white: white paint on white ground, or near-white ground, but sometimes has other colors delicately hidden in the mix. What one sees in his work are incredible subtlety of texture and hue.

Second, Ryman is mistakenly identified as a minimalist, and he is no minimalist, a la Judd. What he is closest to (and calling this brilliant sui generis painter anything is an error to some degree or another) is a subtle and restrained Abstract Expressionist. Ryman's work must be carefully studied, and not once either, to reveal its charms in full. Fortunately, when they built the new SFMOMA they had a small room entirely dedicated to his work. There was a period when I was going to the museum at least once a week, and would always spend a good twenty minutes in this room, usually looking at one or two paintings. I would see people walk in, quickly glance at the paintings, maybe mutter something like, "oh, all white canvas. titter titter." and move on, which was too bad, because if they had stopped, taken a good look, they would have seen something much more interesting and ultimately more rewarding than the works that always get more attention.

The first time I really got to look at his work was at a major retrospective at the old SFMOMA in the Veteran's Memorial Building at Civic Center. It was during my college years and had driven up to the City with some friends. I think they were not too impressed, but something grabbed me in those paintings. I went back again and again. When they opened the new museum, which still impresses me as one of the few contemporary pieces of architecture that I like, the first thing that I noticed was that the third floor collection of permanent works was called "From Matisse to Diebenkorn." Yipee! Diebenkorn is mentioned by name in the title! Sure enough, lots o'Diebenkorn. Perfect. On the fourth floor was the more contemporary stuff: boring crap by Gerhard Richter, moderately interesting dripped lead installation by Serra, hideous crap by Jeff Koons, and, what is in this little room? Stop breathing for a second. All Robert Ryman. Something like eleven paintings, arranged with ample space on the clean white walls, with the light wood, polished floor was incredible. Move over Rothko Chapel! For a modern space for contemplation, this was the ultimate.

It was in this room over the course of the next few years that I got to really study the textures, the compositions, and subtle colorations of this great painter. If our era has a modern artist in touch with the spirit of the Baroque, it is Ryman, yet he works his baroque in such subtle ways, that the experience is akin to walking into a silent church and very gradually noticing that a brilliant and loud Bach passacaglia is actually coming from the pipe organ, yet somehow obscured by silence, only revealing itself to those who stop and listen. That paradox embodies the experience of a long look at Ryman.

For good and for bad, the staff at SFMOMA changes things around from their permanent collection, and the little room is no longer the Robert Ryman exclusive room. They have a couple of his paintings up in the collection, and may some day restore this room to its Rymanesque purity, which would be wonderful.

I don't suppose that I recommend buying a book of Ryman reproductions, or searching him out on the internet. You really need to see it first hand, but next time you are in a museum and see his name, stop and look for a good ten minutes. Don't try to see anything in particular, just soak in the direction of the brush strokes, the shadows formed by the textures, any underlying marks. If you are getting distracted or not able to focus, move on and come back later, but do yourself the favor of really looking at the work of this often overlooked artist.