George Tooker retrospective at Pennsylvania Academy (1st review)

Few artists can withstand a retrospective exhibition and emerge with their reputations intact; George Tooker is not one of them. After viewing more than 60 of his paintings and drawings since 1945, you are satiated, almost somnolent— which is too bad. Although Tooker is definitely not top tier, he's an American artist worth noting, with one foot in the visual imagery of Piero della Francesca and the other in the social consciousness of American liberalism.

George Tooker, born in 1920, mastered the demanding technique of egg tempera under the tutelage of Reginald Marsh at the Art Students League and, privately, with Paul Cadmus. Working in layers of egg tempera on the brilliant white gesso, his finished effect is that of a smooth luminosity in a light palette. It's a cultural counterpoint to the dominant art trends of the 20th Century, directly opposite from Abstract Expressionism's gestural brushstrokes in oils or acrylics. Think Andrew Wyeth with different subject matter.

The exhibition, Tooker's first museum retrospective in 30 years, begins with his early paintings, such as A Game of Chess and Children and Spastics, with the figural distortions of German Expressionists. Otto Dix does not seem too distant. Tooker's Self Portrait of 1947 is a lyrical comparison of near abstract forms: facial curves aligned with a conch shell. It's a pure harmony of composition with no extraneous matter.

Contemporary scenes in Renaissance guise

As a narrative painter, Tooker's early works described contemporary episodes in Renaissance guise. Coney Island (1947-48) echoes a classical Pieta clad in the bathing costumes of his era. And Bird Watchers (1948, above) focuses on a male figure with palms turned outward, gazing upward, seemingly waiting for the Stigmata.

Two years later, Subway enlarges the patterning seen in Tooker's earlier Self Portrait, now in the guise of the modernity that is creating the psychological alienation of an industrialized society. This masterwork, now in the collection of the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York, defines our angst; everything beyond that is an afterthought.

His heart's in the right place, but is it art?

Although Tooker continued to paint contemporary scenes of daily life, his figures are static. They are icons as opposed to living, breathing human beings. I admire Tooker's liberal convictions, but subject matter ranks way down on my list of criteria for art. If you make art with a message, then convey the fatigue of the laundress with the force of Daumier.

One happy exception is Fig Tree (1955), a tongue-in-cheek, somewhat surreal view of boys hiding in the branches of a fig tree, wide-eyed from their view of the girl next door. It's the only humorous piece in the show and, probably, a comment on life as experienced in city neighborhoods.

Tooker painted individuals of different ethnicities in front of and behind windows or in group situations. Lunch (1964) is supposedly a commentary on the alienation of the black male figure from his white cohorts. But is it? They're all sitting in rows, eating their meal at long, narrow tables. Yes, the black man in the middle seems isolated from the group— but so does everyone else. Aren't they all silent, lonely individuals psychologically oppressed by a system they are powerless to change?


Another that made me wince

Dark Angel (1996) is another work that makes me wince. Is it religious imagery? A social message? Whatever, it's really not art.

These minor reservations notwithstanding, the exhibition, curated by Robert Cozzolino and jointly organized by the National Academy Museum, PAFA and the Columbus Museum of Art, Ohio, reminds all of us that figurative, narrative painting wasn't completely obliterated by the abstract movements of the 20th Century. It had a life of its own and existed on its own merits, providing a safe haven for many painters.



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