Johns, Warhol and the Vogels at Pennsylvania Academy

Skeptics might disagree, but this summer's destination to view exciting modern and contemporary American art is the Pennsylvania Academy's Hamilton Building. Its exhibitions announce a new definition of Academy art. It's no longer figurative in a brown tonality. The Academy has come back to life.

The first thing you see when you walk in is Jasper Johns's American Flag (1960-66), which hasn't previously been on public view in the U.S. Stop and look. It's a collage and paint on paper on canvas. Is it a painting or a flag? Would we be arrested if we burned it?

Yes, at today's dollar value. But think back to the era in which Flag was created. Johns wanted to use ubiquitous objects as subjects for his art so that we would contemplate the artist's actual hand work rather than the subject. Look at the paint drips, the almost visible newsprint beneath, the graceful brushstrokes that indicate freehand drawing. And the stars…they seem to sing.

My first quick reaction was, "I thought it would be larger." Then I looked again and again. It was worth it.

Reactions to Hiroshima

Enter the galleries next to the Jasper Johns painting and marvel at the summer exhibition of postwar American art from the permanent collection and recent acquisitions to PAFA. Thanks to the curators, Robert Cozzolino and Julien Robson, this is an example of a traditional institution acquiring work by its own contemporaries.

Every work in this gallery feels vital to an art history of that period. Kehinde Wiley's monumental 2009 painting, Three Wise Men Greeting Entry Into Lagos, serves as the welcoming icon.

Spend some time in front of Michalene Thoms's Din Avec la Main Dans le Miroir (2008) in acrylic, rhinestones and enamel on wood panel. Mark Bradford's 2009 work, Untitled (Dementia), could be the humanitarian reaction to Jacob Lawrence's Hiroshima (1985), an eight-panel tempera and gouache series based on John Hersey's 1946 book describing the World War II atomic bombing of that city.

Collectors' passion

"Fifty Works for Fifty States," in the large gallery on the second floor, is a prime example of collectors' passion. Dorothy and Herbert Vogel are, respectively, a librarian and postal worker in New York City, who devoted their time and his income to acquiring contemporary art. In addition to donating more than a thousand works to the National Gallery in Washington, the Vogels gave one art institution in each state 50 works of art as a gift. Their gifts to the Academy range from examples of Richard Tuttle's watercolors and drawings on paper to Christy Rupp's Pigeon Flock with Rats (1980).

Of course, the Vogels' lack of storage and space in their one-room Brooklyn apartment played a role in their generosity. No matter: In a world where artists struggle to pay their bills, think of the number of lives affected by two people who believed in the intrinsic value of art and artists. Now, those artists blessed with the Vogels' patronage will be known and remembered throughout the U.S.

It takes courage to purchase a single long braid of yarn, painted and hanging from a hook: a conceptual piece, Up Yours Jelly Jelly (1970), by Alan Shields that holds its own in the gallery. This work of what's known as "process art" entices us to envision alternative arrangements of the medium.

(Don't miss the documentary about the Vogels in the lobby of the Hamilton Building.)

Warhol's celebrities

In this same gallery hangs a self-portrait photograph by Andy Warhol, an introduction at the entrance to the smaller gallery, filled with Polaroids and black-and-white prints taken by Andy Warhol during the 1970s and '80s, selected from the 100 given to the Academy by the Andy Warhol Foundation. Warhol was able to take these candid photographs of celebrities because he was part of the New York café society scene.

Like Truman Capote, he was accepted by the glitterati on faith. Unlike Capote, he didn't betray his subjects' trust; their feet of clay were never revealed.

Warhol's Polaroids, taken with his Big Shot plastic camera, are staged, formal portraits. The women have become period pieces, with carefully groomed hair, bright red lips and ultra-white foundation that conceals all lines and wrinkles.

Male subjects are treated with more regard for their individuality. In this instance, Warhol got it almost right when he said, "In the future everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes."

Sculpture, too

Try to save some time for the adjacent galleries of sculpture from this same era. One contains work by Academy faculty members, including Charles Grafly's head of Daedalus contemplating his son Icarus's flight to the sun on waxen wings, and Adolph Dioda's lively wood carving of a prancing goat.

The other gallery facing Broad Street contains recent acquisitions. It's a lively collection that seems to review all aspects of three-dimensional art of the past 60 years. Savor the forms and construction. Enjoy the view. You will want to make repeated visits before the exhibitions end on September 12.♦


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