Evolution of the cock's comb: Arshile Gorky at Tate Modern

Arshile Gorky: A Retrospective

Tate Modern, London

Until 3 May 2010

Being originally from Buffalo, I have, amongst my mental wallpaper from the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, an image of Arshile Gorky's painting The Liver Is the Cock's Comb. So I was really looking forward to catching his retrospective at Tate Modern.

Unfortunately this is a report based on an extremely brief visit, due to spending longer than expected celebrating the Aberration opening (no regrets, mind) - I intend to return to Gorky, as the exhibition runs for another month. So here follows random thoughts:

Having only a very few minutes at the end of the late Saturday night opening, I had the advantage of having the paintings to myself, but the disadvantage of being shooed along by weary attendants waiting to go home.

Study for The Liver Is the Cock's Comb 1943, graphite and crayon on paper

Superficially it would seem Gorky was working on the same painting, over and over, for the last years of his life. It was interesting to see so many subtle reworkings.

In a way the showstopping room is the one with the family portraits, Room 7. Showing similarities with Matisse and Picasso, these portraits have a simplicity and gentleness, with their peachy-grey palettes. I was especially struck by the self portrait with imaginary wife.

I have just booked a bus ticket for Wednesday, to have another go (after attempting to get in Van Gogh at the Royal Academy one more time, first thing).

19 November 2010

Never did finish my thoughts on this show, and though it's long closed, I just wanted to add that a standout revelation for me was Gorky's treatment of hands.

On my return visit I had to look again to be sure I hadn't misremembered, but there they were, or weren't, rather. In one version of the portrait of the young artist standing by his seated mother, the hands, at his sides and on her lap, are palms down and fingers curled under, but only faintly visible under a sfumato haze of white. And one of the pencil drawings showed a hand, if I recall correctly, with the fingers awkwardly piled under one and other in a manner typical of student drawings.

Could it be that Gorky had trouble drawing hands with a sense of proportion, weight and perspective? Was he 'no good at hands'?

If so (and the evidence of my own eyes seemed to confirm this), then on the one hand it is a relief, as a practicisng artist, to see what might be regarded as a flaw in the work of a highly regarded painter. Because the 'flaw', though glaring in the drawing, is turned to good use in the painting, in that the insubstantial clouds of white paint covering the hands suggests further meaning, perhaps impotence or powerlessness of the figures, a cutting off, a shrouding. Or even a partial entry into another time, as the paintings were made many years after the photograph was taken. Perhaps Gorky's mother had died by that time; certainly he had moved away from his native Armenia, so they were unable to touch each other through distance as well as time.

Turning a flaw to advantage... certainly a tremendous thing for an artist, for everyone. (With thanks to Dexter Dalwood for that thought.)

Arshile Gorky at the Tate Modern website

Getting to Tate Modern:

Southwark tube is the closest, but I prefer Waterloo (walk over the pedestrian bridge alongside the rail bridge, turn left and walk along the Thames, following the signs for the annoying diversion away from the river just at the end - 15 minutes or so) or - even better - St Paul's tube station (walk around the cathedral and follow the signs down to the Millenium Bridge - 10 minutes)

Please vote for me to become the official blogger / artist for an expedition to the North Pole!

12 random things about my art

Pinhole photograph using Kodak Box Brownie camera, image copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2009

I wrote this article early in 2009 while still at the Aberystwyth School of Art, and in the last days of defining myself as two separate categories of artist, a photographer and a painter. I think of myself as an artist very differently now - and I haven't used Box Brownies in a while, though I probably will at some point in the future. 

1. I received my first 35mm camera as a gift from my father on my 12th birthday. It was a Pentax K-1000. I still use it, though not with the original 50mm lens.

2. I have a small collection of vintage cameras, including Kodak Box Brownies, that I use for my current work.

3. I first painted in oils around the age of 6. My father had an oil painting kit that he had obviously given up on. For my first efforts I used them like water colours.

4. My first gallery visits were at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in Buffalo, also around the age of 6. At that age, my favourite works were in the Pop Art room, particularly Lucas Samaras' Mirrored Room.

5. The best life drawing teacher I have ever had is Roy Marsden, FRSA. I have been attending his classes off and on for years.

6. I don't prefer photography to painting, or vice versa, although painting takes more energy. Also, I often realise retrospectively that what at first appeared to be photographic work was, in essence, actually painting (whether a negative was involved or not). This is because I work a lot with alternative processes, where light-sensitive chemicals are painted (by me) onto paper, often along with acrylic paints, oil pastels, etc.

7. The first art work I ever sold was a drawing of a neighbour's house, in charcoal. I think I was about fourteen at the time. I think she paid me ten dollars. Her name was Pearl.

8. My first solo exhibition was at Café Print, Lampeter, from October 2008 - Februrary 2009.

9. The nicest place I have ever painted is on the dunes at Ynyslas, near Aberystwyth.

10. The most unusual thing I have ever photographed is something that looks like a cross between a totem pole and a screw, which is actually part of the drive shaft of a passenger ferry, in Qaqortoq, Greenland.

11. I got into making videos because the creative writing class was already full and the same man was also offering a course in film and video production. It was like I'd always been meant to be making videos.

12. When I was seventeen I was on a photography course in high school and we had been assigned the theme 'garbage'. Hearing that I wanted to shoot 'something gritty', my father drove me to Niagara Falls, New York, not the falls but some of the chemical plants, where I photographed a series of dark drums visible through the chain fence enclosing the visitor's car park. Suddenly I spotted a man with a payloader who proceeded to block our car against the fence between two parked cars and said we couldn't take photos. I sat in the car while my father argued constitutional law and free speech with the man, which I realised was futile as he was wearing a trucker's cap that said 'Eat My S**t' (the man, not my father). Suddenly two police cars appeared and we were escorted to the onsite office. It was at this point that I discovered that police cars do not have handles on the inside rear doors. The onsite manager did not believe that I was a student, not a photojournalist accompanied by a reporter. I was wearing a black tweed wool coat with a black fedora and could not remember my photography teacher's husband's name to look up her phone number, as being a married woman she had no phone listing of her own. They rang my school, but it being Saturday, nobody was there. My school principal was a nun and I had no idea where she lived. Finally the weary police officer suggested that if I left the film with the company as requested, I could collect it next week once my identity was proved. As I handed over the film I realised I would never see it again, which indeed proved to be the case. On Monday my school principal and photography teacher were both outraged at the treatment they received from the company over the phone. I guess everyone was a little jumpy in Niagara Falls, after Love Canal. At the end of term I received a special photography award for courage. It didn't feel like it at the time. As we finally drove away, my father said he was really sorry about me losing the film. I pulled open the ashtray. There was the film, which during the constitutional rights argument I had with shaking fingers swapped for a fresh one.

Margaret Sharrow - portfolio presentation

It is that time of year for knocking knees and cursing memory sticks. That time when all single honours art students in their final year at Aberystwyth University School of Art each give a fifteen minute Powerpoint presentation on their art careers to date. They might talk about their artistic influences - but maybe not. They definitely include a review of the past two years' work with a sense of where the work will go next.

I was really interested in what everyone else had to say, and plan to mention some of the work in reviews. But perhaps I should also record what I said - if only to remind myself in case of needing to give the talk again, due to some unforseen hiccup in university marking, Tutor having come down with another round of the flu and, unthinkably, having that tidy black notebook with our marks whisked away by the faeries.

The presentation



Margaret Sharrow, Ynyslas, 2000. Oil on board with sand.

Well, thanks for listening, as it were. I'm registered for third year painting, but I'm just as involved in photography as my work is primarily mixed medium. I'll be talking about my past, present and future work, but within those three categories I will be presenting things thematically rather than chronologically.

I'm showing this image first as it is the first painting I did after a number of years of Not Painting, and denying to myself that this is a vital activity for me. This particular painting shows a strong influence of the Impressionists, which brings me to my first major influence on my work, not a single artist but a gallery.


Claude Monet, Towpath at Argenteuil, Winter, c. 1875

The Albright-Knox Art Gallery, in Buffalo, New York, where I grew up, has a marvellous collection of the Impressionists, including Monet, as well as a very strong twentieth century collection. I was taken on visits there from the time I was very small.


Pop art room, Buffalo, photo by the artist c. 2000

As a small child, I was particularly taken with the pop art, the bright colours, and also the Mirrored Room by Lucas Samaras, though I didn't know then that now I would be studying his Polaroids. You take off your shoes and go in and it's four walls plus floor and ceiling of mirrors, inside and out. If the gallery guard is nice they might close the door for you once you're in.


Margaret Sharrow, Self-portrait in Lucas Samaras’ Mirrored Room (1966), c. 2000



Pablo Picasso, La Toilette, 1906

I also enjoyed the pre-Cubist Picassos, for their bold, weighty figures.


Wassily Kandinsky, Fragment 2 for Composition VII, 1913

And when I was in high school, I grew to love the Abstract Expressionists: Kandinsky, Rothko, Pollock.

to be continued...

on to part 2 of the presentation

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