Essay by William Zimmer
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De Kooning's remark, he's quoting Kierkegaard, that "purity
of heart is to will one thing", has often seemed more cryptic
than enlightening. But it's a practical observation: to get to
the essence of your relationship to your art, your life as an artist,
you must explore one thing deeply -as De Kooning did "woman".
Pat Boyer has always described objects in the world,
through large gestures which might seem the opposite of concentration,
but the gestures have always been in the service of exploring one
thing in depth. For most of her career it has been the human figure
coalescing out of generous mark-making. Lately, though her focus
has become even narrower: an edifice which has come to fascinate
her, the Coliseum in Verona, Italy, built by the Romans in the
4th century AD. The essential shape of a coliseum lends itself
to Boyer's tendency toward amplitude in her drawing. Ellipses signify
capaciousness even more than circles do. And the ellipse works
because it isn't perfect; it can be played with, greatly distorted
without being destroyed. A coliseum is innately rambunctious if
you consider the kinds of activity that went on inside. The Verona
Coliseum was the site of a Bacchic festival, whose date corresponded
to the present-day Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras.
The choice of this antique subject wasn't a totally
conscious one, although Boyer spends part of every summer in Italy.
Italian architectural themes have persisted in her work, but the
Coliseum might be linked to something so basic to human nature,
that the first impulse might be to dismiss it. Boyer says that
the shape might have come out of the practice of doodling on a
telephone pad, the kind of rudimentary art made by anyone who's
stuck on the phone but with a pencil handy. The common form this
nonchalant, absent-minded doodling takes is repeated shapes, and
round, interlinked ones are frequent.
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It is one of the wonders of art making that something
as weighty as this series of Coliseum works can have its genesis
in something so insignificant. But such seeming unimportance has
figured strongly in the history of 20th century art, most notably
in Dada and Automatism, modes which depended strongly on psychology.
But another rather obscure, yet vivid source for Boyer's architectural
work might lie in a primary childhood experience. Her father was
an optometrist but also, she says, a dreamer. He envisioned houses
he would like to build and he took his family around the country
with him as he brought these houses to reality. The notion that
architecture and building should occupy a central point in one's
life might have taken root in Boyer then.
Boyer's Coliseum work is multifarious. What gives
it focus and unity is the persistent ellipse that figures in each
incarnation of the building. Sometimes Boyer presents what is essentially
an aerial view, and frequently lines adumbrating the central shape
give it a kind of alacrity as if it is spinning or whirling. Sometimes
the rows of repeating arches on the arena's face are the focus,
and this repetition often gets lively as if the arches are a crowd
of people, maybe the apparitions of those who once filled the coliseum
at festival time. Even when an image strays far from the boldly
declarative and becomes enigmatic and personal, there is the sense
of a place haunted with memories.
Boyer uses a variety of media to create these works,
but her colors usually partake of earth or terra cotta-like that
instantly put a viewer in mind of a monument from the past that
has survived. She continues to explore the human figure; another
subject is fading flowers, but the Coliseum is especially rich,
not only for its novelty but because it is large enough to contain
everything else.
William Zimmer, New York City, 1999
William Zimmer is a contributing critic for The
New York Times. |
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PAT BOYER - Essay by
John Mendelsohn
Pat Boyer's "Arena Series" is a meditation
on a classical theme, the Arena at Verona, Italy. Dating from the first
century, AD, this edifice bears a distinct resemblance to its contemporary,
the great Coliseum in Rome. In Boyer's vision, it has become the site
for unearthing provocative dualities: antiquity and abstraction, containment
and energy, culture and the body.
Boyer has taken the graceful order of the Arena's
curved, arched structure, and made it move. The ellipse spins and
whirls, become airborne. Layered and transparent, it multiplies into
twins and triplets, and more. Like a glowing lantern, it hangs in
the darkness, or cracks open in the light. Whipping lines trace centrifugal
energies, while heavy concentric rings bind space within space.
Not only does the structure move, the viewer moves
too. We fly high above the Arena, its elliptical lines constituting
a kind of labyrinth whose impenetrability holds an unspoken mystery.
Clues abound: here is an amphitheater devoted to cultural expressions,
both vulgar and refined. It has housed gladiatorial combat and chariot
races, as well as theater and opera. It is a monument, a ruin, and
a living building, still used today. It is an arena of social drama,
which in the artist's hands becomes a raw and elegant symbol for
the self, capable of both a cloistered interiority and unpredictable
vitality.
Using direct gestural drawing with graphite, as well
pastel and acrylic paint, Boyer re-conceives architecture as something
physically alive, a surrogate for the body. Allusions to the cell,
the eye, the spine, and the womb recur in the work, with the Arena's
identity shifting before us. This Coliseum, constructed of arched
portals, is seen as a porous membrane. Like an ovum, it is rigorously
self-contained, yet paradoxically open and capable of fecund transformation.
John Mendelsohn has written art reviews
and articles for Cover Magazine, the Jewish Week, ArtNet, and Internet
magazine. His essays have appeared in a number of exhibition catalogs.
Primarily focusing on contemporary art and photograph, he has also
written on historical exhibitions. He taught at Illinois State University
and the University of South Florida. He currently teaches at Fairfield
University in Connecticut.
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PAT BOYER: "VOICE OF VERONA"
Pat Boyer says that elliptical forms arise naturally
from the subconscious mind when people allow their hand to trace marks
on paper while they think of something else. In the history of twentieth
century art great importance has been given to the subconscious mind,
and it is certainly part of the expressionist heritage.
It was in 1967 that Anton Ehrenzweig formulated his idea
of 'sub-conscious exploration' (though this was simply the continuation
of Worringer's expressionist theory of creativity of some fifty years
earlier) and this can be summed up as, spontaneity, a rejection of
conscious vision, the 'subconscious chaos', the undifferentiated structure
of subliminal perception. These he considers to be the real sources
of creativity.
But what is immediately striking about this American
artist's work is its unsettling quality, its passion. Without a doubt
the unconscious element in Boyer's work leads her inwards and then,
without cutting herself off from the world, she openly reveals all
the emotion she finds there.
For Boyer the process of abstraction can only be realized
through emotional exploration and by following the expressionist path
first indicated by Kandinsky, a path she says to have been one of her
main inspirations as a girl: from the primitive intensity of Emil Nolde
to the creative significance of Chaim Soutine's passion.
It is above all by this last artist that Boyer has been
inspired to express - through the resonance of color, the deformation
of lines, and the exaggeration of physical characteristics - the impact
on the senses felt by the artist and conveyed to the viewer.
Using large and ample gestures that push out and explore
space, Boyer sparks into life a universe of twisted and turning ellipses,
at first sight seemingly animated by a centrifugal energy. We have
the impression that we are being propelled by all this into the perceptual
and existential world of the artist.
Pat Boyer's travels have been extensive since when, as
a child, she followed her brilliant dreamer of a father in his nomadic
life. The journey was both fantastic and terrible, but she came to
know new people, landscapes, and marvels.
And this came to be a part of her existence, something
she has digested and that has become part of her being, an itinerary
that both unsettled and propelled her creativity. But Pat Boyer's journey
is in no way geographical any longer: she is a tourist of herself.
This is the interior path she follows through a series of lines evoking
airy and light elliptical forms, forms that almost float in space,
apparently weightless.
In one of Spielberg's films the protagonist follows an
uncontrollable interior compulsion to search for a real confirmation
of a form, one that he has created and that contains a deep mystery.
He finds it and discovers what links him to that form.
The emotion of such a discovery of something both all-inclusive
and absolute, is fundamental for Boyer and becomes clear to us the
more we study her floating, apparently weightless forms: the oval and
transparent lines multiply and redouble, triplicate, become uncountable;
the repeated series of arches seem to become crowded with a silent
human company, a kind of identification of place and memory where the
memory encloses an unfathomable mystery.
Using pastels, pencils, and luminous acrylics applied
in thick strokes - often vigorous and swirling, at times in a more
contemplative manner - Pat Boyer evokes, from a structural point of
view, the dense color of ancient stones, of antique metal, and all
these she illuminates with a cloud of light and flashes, an evaporation
of lines that often enlarge as they rise, creating an effect of lightness
and of vertigo. What we discover is a monument, an ancient ruin, a
'historic palace' but one that still lives today, one that has 'a cloistered
interiority and unpredictable vitality' as John Mendelsohn has written.
Verona's Roman Arena is the place where the artist finds
both herself and the object of her interior research, an identification
of antiquity and abstraction, culture and physicality, past and present.
And yet while this reading of Boyer's work underlines our feeling of
uneasiness, we should also note that its innermost and profoundest
part is full of vibrations that liberate sounds, voices, and music
through the expansion and contraction of the form, just as we should
note the almost germinal reproduction of the work through the growth
of the arches and shafts of light, and through the sudden amazing rising
and plunging of the structure.
Boyer makes the architecture something living, a 'surrogate
for the body' as John Mendelsohn says. And we can read the allusions
to the physical body too: the eye, the cell, the backbone, the uterus
which are all inherent in the architecture. We can even discover hints
of a kind of porous membrane, like an ovule closed in on itself but,
even more paradoxically, fecund with change.
The first century Veronese amphitheater is interpreted
as a splendid and extraordinarily alive mutant, one that, in its journey
through time, is the custodian of the mystery of origins and their
variations.
Pat McCoy has said that when we look we are not always
prepared to grasp the whole object we see on front of our eyes. But,
he continues, this is not the only way to look, as Pat Boyer teaches
us. This is a unique occasion for seeing, through the sensibility and
the art of this fascinating and disturbing American, an Arena that
probably we were never previously aware of.
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