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Warrington
Colescott
(American,
1921- )
The History of Printmaking Suite
Color
etchings with aquatint;
22
x 27.5 inches each
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PC 1994.1 Ben Franklin at Versailles 1976 PC
1994.2
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1994.3
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1994.4
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1995.1
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1995.2
Entry of Lasansky into Iowa City 1976 PC
1995.3
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1996.1
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1996.3
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1996.4 Rauschenberg at Tamarind, in Hollywood
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1996.2
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| Warrington
Colescott has been called "the liveliest commentator on the American scene...
making the most of all the surface glitter." As a child in Oakland, California,
Colescott entertained his friends and family by writing and illustrating
a comic adventure strip that he continued working on in high school. The
artist spent memorable Friday nights in Oakland the "Moulin Rouge," a local
burlesque house. The combination of comedy and vulgarity that appealed
to him there as a youth would find its way into his later work. Having
acquired such an early interest in visual imagery, it comes as little surprise
that Colescott abandoned all hopes of becoming a doctor, hopes that were
harbored mostly by his parents, after his first year at the University
of California at Berkeley. He instead found his niche in college as an
art student. He continued cartooning while editing the student newspaper
and humor publication and eventually created the school mascot, "Oskie
the Bear." After earning his B.A. in 1942 and serving for four years in
World War II, Colescott returned to Berkeley to pursue his graduate degree
in painting.
Although he did not begin making prints until the late 1940s, when he began his lifelong professorship at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, his early pen and ink drawings foreshadowed the style of his later etchings. He combined a montage of places and events, loose drawing, and humor--qualities evident in the History of Printmaking series. After starting in serigraphy, Colescott's engagement with etching began around 1960. He considered his images as much a rich color study as a linear study, often using two or three copper plates and up to ten colors when printing. He often combines etching, drypoint, softground, and aquatint with photoengraving, letterpress, and cutting plates. As an artist, he does all of his own printing in his workshop, the Mantegna Press, usually working in editions of seventy-five. Colescott's taste for satire often earns him a place within the artistic tradition of Hogarth, Gillray, Daumier, and Rowlandson, a comparison that he is quick to deny. The artist says, "A lot of my prints aren't about that much. They're play-- with images and visual puns and sometimes personal jokes." Colescott makes use of all of these games in his series the History of Printmaking. He also takes free license to reinterpret history in the series, readily sacrificing complete accuracy for a witty, and crude if necessary, version of what could have happened.When Colescott created the print Ben Franklin at Versailles in 1975, it spawned a series that "yields up visual puns and whimsical asides," that examines eleven milestones in the history of the medium. The prints draw upon the styles, biographies, and relevant social histories of particular artists with the purpose of "[emphasizing] the quality of their art and, if possible, [drawing] parallels with our own time." Colescott's History of Printmaking Suite is a masterpiece on many levels; in storytelling, in imagery, and in technique and skill. The first print in the suite is Ben Franklin at Versailles. This image refers to Benjamin Franklin's stay as ambassador to the French court of Louis XV. Franklin was known for his charming and witty personality, his smoothness and likeable nature with the ladies, and his ability to entertain the nobility with his skills as a statesmen and an artist. This image shows how the nobility loved Ben and were willing to pose for him in front of the huge terrace to the gardens at Versailles. The second print in the series is Goya Studies War. This print shows the images that Colescott felt must have been going through Goya's mind when he made his gritty images in the Disasters of War. Colescott expresses this through the overall darkness in the print and the many direct quotations of Goya's work. Durer at 23, In Venice, In Love, His Bags Stolen plays on the idea of not very well known Italian printmakers copying images of well-known artist, such as Durer,then selling them and making a hefty profit. Thus the image of Durer's bag being stolen is a play on Marcantonio who imitated much of Durer's prints as he is shown here as the thief. It also shows the city's influence on Durer from his 1494 visit to the city. The fourth print in the collection is Rembrandt Bankrupt. This print is a very humorous, yet somewhat tragic scene, portraying Rembrandt's lack of understanding when it came to money. Rembrandt actually went bankrupt and had to auction off all of his personal collection just to have money to live. The fifth print in The History of Printmaking shows Stanley William Hayter in collaboration with Keiko Moti discovering viscosity printmaking. The room is actually the inside of Atelier 17 from Colescott's memory from his brief visit to the studio in 1953. The sixth print in the series is The Entry of Lasansky into Iowa City. Lasansky was originally from Argentina, but came to the US while still young and was given a job at the University of Iowa in 1945. This print is subtle with its humor as it would seem Lasansky is the one being carried in by the parade. A further look reveals that it is actually Lasansky at the far right walking in all but unnoticed as the football coach is actually being carried in triumph. The image is poking fun at the importance given to football in the Midwest, especially in a town that would be home to some of America's greatest printmakers. In Picasso at the Zoo, Colescott imagines the greatest artist of the 20th century as any other Spanish father entertaining his children on a Sunday afternoon. What makes Picasso a unique parent is that he is strolling amongst caged creatures of his own creation, masked women, somber diners, and the newly captured minotaur, images which are familiar to any admirer of Picasso's work. In Senefelder Receives the Secrets of Lithography capitalizes upon the sense of mystery and magic that accompanied the discovery of the technique that revolutionized the medium of printmaking. Lithography, which operates upon the assumption that grease repels water (a statement emblazoned upon Colescott's sky), involves drawing with grease pencil on Bavarian limestone and allows a painterly spontaneity unavailable with etching or engraving. When Alois Senefelder invented the method in late 18th century Germany, the process seemed so magical that there were those who insisted that he must have coaxed a secret recipe from ancient gods who inhabited with Bavarian forest. With all the drama of a Wagnerian opera (Senefelder was a composer by profession), Colescott creates a scene replete with rich oranges and reds, denoting firey magic, thunderbolts, and spots of black mystery. Lunch with Lautrec is Colescott's shameless attempt to imitate the style, and primary colors of Henri de Toulouse Lautrec's lithographic posters of fin-du-siecle Paris. For all of Lautrec's interest in the vibrant creativity of Montmartre literature, theatre and art, he was himself of somewhat frail constitution, due to the consanguinity of his aristocratic parents and a childhood accident which weakened his legs. Despite this, Colescott features Lautrec in his element, entertaining at one of his famous dinner parties, complete with famous guests and "can-can girls" swinging from the rafters. Rauschenberg at Tamarind, in Hollywood is an engaging scene, not of a particular artist but of a patron, an equally influential force in printmaking. In order to further lithographic production in the United States, June Wayne established the Tamarind Institute in 1960, which brought artists (who might have been ignorant of the process) together with skilled printers. Colescott likens the institute's operations to an elaborate musical, due to its proximity to Hollywood Boulevard and the collaborative nature of a studio in general. The print curators, inkers, and secretaries each take their part in different numbers, coming together for one grand finale, a lithographic print. Colescott concludes his series with The Last Printmaker. The artist makes use of his most vivid color in this apocalyptic vision. He likens the history of the world to the history of printmaking, from the primitive images carved in the caves of France to the subway tunnels of New York City. And while a Godzilla figure marches through the streets, buildings crumble, and helpless maidens are devoured, there is something visually appealing about the waves of green, red, and orange that tear through the town. Colescott suggests that as long as the world keeps turning, there will be an artist waiting to record its crude humor and beauty. Brooke
Woods
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