Artist Bios
J-L
KAINEN | KERSLAKE
| KNATHS | LANDAU |
LEVIT, H.
Kainen
The following obituary of the artist is from
http://washingtonpost.com (March 19, 2001):
A Moving Life in Art
The art books of the future will have to be fairly thick before
they get to Jacob Kainen, who may not have been this city's greatest
painter. Still, Washington feels different, cast adrift, now that
he is gone.
Kainen, in the studio, was subtle, serious, diligent and idiosyncratic,
but art history is ruthless, and this may not be enough. Perhaps
he knew too much.
The largeness of his mind may well have worked against him. His
many ways of thinking made his pictures feel ambiguous, insufficiently
clear-cut. His art was often muted by reconsiderations. His aesthetic
innovations came a beat or two too late. Flash was not his thing.
His wife, Ruth, said he died of a heart attack in a matter of seconds
yesterday morning as he was getting dressed to go to his studio.
He was 91. Posterity is stingy. Only a few artists will be remembered
as key figures. Kainen worked with many, but perhaps he wasn't really
one himself.
Except in Washington. Among the elders of our art world his status
was immense.
In the national museums he did so much to build, in the white studio
in Kensington where he painted every day, among connoisseurs of
prints, or, late in his long life, among other art collectors, he
carried the authority of a patriarch, a sage.
You caught something of his specialness when you watched him look
at pictures. He always did so deeply, never merely glanced, for
he could curate art, and make it, and write learnedly about it.
He interrogated objects with these interlocking skills.
This was rare enough. Even rarer was the way he moored us to the
past.
In the bitter 1930s, when Greenwich Village leftists made art go
proletarian, Kainen had been one of them. He'd published small cartoons
in the "Daily Worker." This later got him into trouble.
He'd painted stevedores, gaunt miners, the cloth-capped unemployed.
Much later one might see him, natty in black tie, easy in the company
of the wealthy givers to the National Gallery of Art. But Kainen,
in the '30s, was as broke as his subjects. For $24 a week he'd joined
the WPA.
He was also a participant when a newer kind of painting, freer,
more abstract, began brewing in Manhattan. The abstract expressionist
manner wasn't brewed in bars.
Willem de Kooning, Arshile Gorky and Mark Rothko, the founders
of the style, didn't have the money for bars. They hung out in all-night
cafeterias, and as they argued art for hours over thick white mugs
of coffee, Kainen had been one of them, accepted as a peer.
Gorky did his portrait in 1934.
Washington, in those days, was a city in the sticks. Kainen helped
to make it the art town it is now. He came here, for the money,
during World War II.
By 1942, Kainen, in his scholar mode, already knew so much about
printmaking's technologies -- about aquatint and drypoint, paper
types and etcher's ink -- that he was hired as a specialist by the
Smithsonian Institution.
In the course of his employment there he helped to build two surveys
of the history of printmaking, the first for the U.S. National Museum
(now the National Museum of Natural History), the second for the
National Collection of Fine Arts (now the Smithsonian American Art
Museum). And throughout his curatorial years he had not one career,
but two.
"He worked at the museum until 5:15; grabbed a quick supper,
and by 6 o'clock was at his unheated studio at 3140 M Street,"
wrote historian Avis Berman in a catalogue accompanying the Kainen
retrospective arranged by the Smithsonian in 1993. "He painted
until 10 or 11 o'clock, then returned home to do some writing or
museum research until 2 a.m. because the Smithsonian would not allow
him to do scholarly writing on government time. Kainen adhered to
this routine for decades."
This city's leafy landscape soon crept into his pictures. He was
especially attracted to the curious pointed turrets that the row
houses he found here wore jauntily, like caps.
Most Washingtonians in those days couldn't understand his art.
Its depictions were too simplified, its colors too peculiar, its
spirit too advanced. But there were a few exceptions, and one was
Duncan Phillips, who for his family's museum bought a Kainen streetscape
in 1942.
When Washington began producing art that felt distinctly new, Kainen
helped it happen.
He was present at the birth of the Washington Color School -- though
perhaps as an uncle rather than a father.
The Washington color painters -- Morris Louis, Kenneth Noland,
Gene Davis, Thomas Downing, Alma Thomas and the others -- made big,
amazing objects. Often they adhered to rigorous geometries, hard-edged
stripes, concentric circles. They made wholly abstract art.
Kainen might have joined them, had he been a joiner, but he never
turned to staining or gave up layered colors or abandoned figuration
as the color painters did. Instead he served them in another role
-- as instructor and exemplar.
"Jacob was a pro," Noland remembered. "He wasn't
just a teacher. He was a real artist, a New York artist."
He was also a collector.
He began collecting art at age 7 -- well, not art exactly, but
the little reproductions that were published every Sunday in the
rotogravure section of Jewish Daily Forward.
His parents, Russian immigrants, had given him a childhood in which
culture was appreciated, erudition valued, industry expected. He
printed his first drypoint through the rollers of his mother's washing
machine. He entered high school at 12.
Some people regard art as a form of self-expression. Kainen wasn't
one. Soul was not enough. Art required learning. As a stock boy
at Brentano's he read all the art books in the store (in those days
there weren't many). When he discovered the Metropolitan Museum
of Art he approached it as assiduously. He didn't merely look, he
made copies of the paintings -- by Claude Lorrain, Corot and Rembrandt
-- hanging on the walls.
He knew studio practice, theory, and the byways of art history.
His sharp eye had been sharpened by many years of study in the print
rooms of museums, and you sensed his erudition when you looked at
what he bought.
In 1985, a strong historical exhibit -- "German Expressionist
Prints From the Collection of Ruth and Jacob Kainen" -- opened
to the public at the National Gallery of Art. The 90 pictures on
display were probably were worth millions. One Ernst Kirchner lithograph
had already sold at auction for $135,894, and there were more than
20 Kirchners in the Kainens' focused show.
The German artists Kainen bought did not make pretty pictures.
They sought the troubling, the coarse. When museum folk, investors,
dealers and collectors began to recognize, belatedly, just how much
German expressionism had gone into abstract expressionism, they
found Jacob Kainen had known it all along.
Ruth Cole Kainen had known it, too. They had met in 1968 at a luncheon
at the Woman's National Democratic Club. Somehow Kirchner's name
had come up in conversation, and when he started to explain just
who Kirchner was, she replied, with some annoyance, that she already
owned his art.
They were married a year later. Ruth became his champion, his adviser,
his companion in collecting, the key promoter of his art.
They gave their best works to the National Gallery -- the third
Washington museum enriched by his eye.
The Red Scare almost got Jacob Kainen.
Between 1948 and 1954, he was investigated closely. "Kainen,"
writes Berman, "was uncomfortably familiar with the outcome
of such interrogations because one of his brothers, a meteorologist
at the Department of Commerce who had never been politically active,
was dismissed from his job for having signed a political petition
in the early 1930s. Kainen, who had also signed it, knew that it
was only a matter of time before his own future would be jeopardized."
Soon enough it was. He was called up before the Smithsonian's loyalty
board, and then the civil service's. Had he not presented three
commendation letters from J. Edgar Hoover (during World War II,
he had helped the FBI analyze the inks of Nazi propaganda), Kainen
would probably have lost his curatorial job.
In retrospect, this episode seems utterly preposterous. If anyone
in Washington was less a threat than Kainen, it's not easy to think
who.
Kainen was no dogmatist. After the Depression, preachiness of any
sort vanished from his pictures. "Idealism," he warned
in 1983, "is a snare for the guileless." In all the years
he showed here -- and he showed a lot -- no party line controlled
the content of his art. (Kainen's works on paper are on view at
Hemphill Fine Arts in Georgetown.)
He was always a contrarian. Voguish trends annoyed him. When abstraction
was most fashionable in the 1960s, he stubbornly, characteristically
returned to figuration. When the wheel turned again, and abstraction
lost its chic, Kainen began making big, clean-cut abstractions.
In the long and fervent 20th-century battle between the representational
and the nonobjective, he fought with courage on both sides.
And with tenderness as well. Tender was one of his favorite adjectives.
Blatancy distressed him. He loved painting, he once wrote, for "its
tenderness, its opacities and translucencies, its reserves and contrasts,
its magical charge of color."
"Magical," for Kainen, was another term of praise. When
depicting mundane subjects -- fire escapes or street signs -- he
made them seem enchanted. When presenting abstract forms -- squares
or grids or ovals -- he did something as mysterious. He made those
chill shapes seem humane.
His oils, toward the end, sold for as much as $50,000 each, but
you never got the sense he was in it for the money.
Next time you see a Kainen, try peering past the colors. See if
you can glimpse there the spirit of the man, and how much he revered
art.
source: www.AskArt.com
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Kerslake
Born in Mount Vernon, New York,
he studied at the Pratt Instititue in New York from 1950 to 1953
with Calvin Alberts and Philip Guston. He received an M.F.A. from
the University of Illinois at Urbana. In 1958, he began a longtime
career as Professor of Printmaking at the University of Florida.
He has explored half-tone and photo intaglio techniques combined
with traditional methods. His residence has been Gainsville, Florida.
Knaths, Karl (Otto Karl)
Birth / Death State: Often Known For:
1891 - 1971 MA (Strongest affiliation) cubist still life-figure,
non-ob
From Eau Claire, Wisconsin, he studied at the Milwaukee Art Institute
and for five years at the Art Institute of Chicago. In 1919, he
settled for the rest of his life in Provincetown, Massachusetts.
Building his own house, he lived simply and modestly while earning
a distinctive national reputation. In his unique Cubism he combined
subtle color, varying textures and arbitrary shapes. He was one
of the original exhibitors with American Abstract Artists in 1937.
Duncan Phillips was a principal supporter and collected over forty
of his canvases. He also taught courses at numerous eastern art
schools.
source: www.AskArt.com
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Knaths
KARL KNATHS, WHO LIVED IN PROVINCETOWN,
MASSACHUSETTS, FROM 1919 UNTIL HIS DEATH IN 1971, was one of the
first Americans whose work found its way into Albert Gallatin's
Gallery of Living Art. By virtue of his residence away from New
York, Knaths was never an active member of the American Abstract
Artists. Nevertheless, his affiliation brought distinction to the
group. Knaths was older than many of the group's members, and exhibited
in New York to generally positive reviews from about 1930 on (although
he once remarked that except for Duncan Phillips's annual purchase,
he did not sell a single painting for twenty-three years).[1] Recognized
as an important modernist, he had the valuable support of Duncan
Phillips. Over the years Phillips bought many of Knath's paintings
and frequently invited him to lecture at The Phillips Collection
in Washington. In October 1945, Knaths exhibited in a group show
at the Paul Rosenberg Gallery. The following January, he had the
first of twenty-two solo exhibitions---almost one each year---until
his death twenty-five years later.
Originally from Eau Claire, Wisconsin, in 1912, Knaths entered
the school of the Art Institute of Chicago where he remained for
five years. From there he went to New York, and later settled in
Provincetown. In 1922, three years after his move to Cape Cod, he
married Helen Weinrich, a pianist, whose sister Agnes was a Paris-trained
abstract painter, and built the house that would be his home for
the remainder of his life. During the winters, the Knaths and Weinrich
usually spent a month in New York; but Europe, which attracted so
many of Knaths' colleagues, failed to lure him from his beloved
Provincetown.
Yet, in his lecture notes, and in a manuscript for an unpublished
book entitled Ornament & Glory, Knaths' thorough understanding
of modernist tenets as well as the principles of Renaissance and
subsequent European art is apparent.[2] His papers contain typescripts
of Hans Hofmann's lectures and writings by Mondrian, Malevich, Kandinsky,
and other important theorists of modernism. Yet of all the artists
whose work he knew well, the strongest parallels to Knaths' work
come with Cézanne's late paintings. Both artists blended
an intuitional understanding of structure with motifs drawn from
observed nature. For his subject matter, Knaths drew repeatedly
from his Provincetown surroundings: deer in landscape settings,
clamdiggers returning from work, fishing shacks, boats in the harbor,
still lives of duck decoys and fishing paraphernalia. But Knaths
also found inspiration in American folklore and literature, and
did paintings of Johnny Appleseed, Paul Bunyan, and Herman Melville's
Ahab.
Knaths was one of the most theoretically inclined painters of his
generation. He agreed with Kandinsky that "there are definite,
measurable correspondences between sound in music and color and
space in painting: specifically, between musical intervals and color
intervals and spatial proportions."[3 ] Knaths worked out intricate
charts for color and musical ratios, which he used to determine
directional lines and proportions in his paintings. Like Hofmann,
he believed that "whatever is to be realized by the painting
should arise through the use of pictorial elements in a thematic
way. The surface being the prime element, it is possible to manipulate
full spaciousness within its flat terms. . . ."[4]
At some point, Knaths discovered Wilhelm Ostwald's color system.
Based on color and not on light, the Ostwald system was devised
as a way of ordering color, and was quite popular among American
artists of the time. Knaths not only used this system, he harnessed
it to a complex set of mathematical and geometrical relations-akin
to musical proportions-so that the theoretical foundations of his
art were both complex and highly worked out.
In his paintings, whether sketchy, experimental works like the
Untitled gouache, circa 1939-40, or in more highly ordered canvases,
Knaths remained true to the artistic principles he began to develop
early in his life.
1. Paul Richard, "Conflict of Colors: Karl Knaths at the Phillips
Collection," The Washington Post, 11 September 1982, C-1.
2. An edited transcription of Knaths' Ornament & Glory that
includes facsimile reproductions of about half the manuscript pages
was published in Jean and Jim Young, Ornament & Glory: Theme
and Theory in the Work of Karl Knaths (Annandale-on-Hudson, New
York: Edith C. Blum Art Institute, Milton and Sally Avery Center
for the Arts, The Bard College Center, 1982).
3. Lloyd Goodrich, Karl Knaths (New York: Whitney Museum of American
Art, 1959).
4. Karl Knaths, "The Problem of a Painter," Ornament
& Glory, p. 35.
Source:Virginia M. Mecklenburg. "The Patricia and Phillip
Frost Collection: American Abstraction, 1930-1945" (Washington,
DC: National Museum of American Art and Smithsonian Institution
Press, 1989), pp. 121-123. Copyright 1989 Smithsonian Institution.
All rights reserved.
source: http://nmaa-ryder.si.edu/collections/exhibits/abstraction/frostcat.html#to
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Landau
Article:
PHILADELPHIA (AP) - Jacob Landau, an illustrator, printmaker and
painter, died Nov. 24 of pneumonia. He was 83.
Landau studied at the Philadelphia College of Art, now the University
of the Arts, and later in France at the Academie Julian and the
Academie de la Grande Chaumiere.
In 1957, he became an instructor at New York's Pratt Institute
where he served as chairman of the department of graphic arts from
1964 to 1968. He retired as a full professor about 10 years ago.
Landau's works are in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Museum
of Modern Art and Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and museums
in France and Germany.
Landau, part of the generation of artists whose social consciousness
was shaped by the Depression and World War II, often focused on
heroic themes that involved the nature of man.
One of his lithographs, from his Dante Suite, is of bodies impaled
on giant thorns, and another shows a prisoner tied to a stake being
bayoneted.
Source: www.Legacy.com
Copyright © 2001 The Associated Press
Article:
Artist Jacob Landau gone, but his work survives
85-year-old Roosevelt artist died Nov. 24
By Linda Denicola
Staff Writer
Roosevelt has lost another very special resident, and the art world
has lost a luminary. But more importantly, with the death of artist
Jacob Landau, the world has lost a beacon shining light into the
darkness of the human condition. At a time like this, with a war
going on in Afghanistan and terrorism the "ism" of the
day, his vision is more important than ever before.
"I have a strong sense of how man's inhumanity to man has
worked to create the kind of society we live in," the artist
said in March 1999 at the time of his retrospective exhibit at the
Woodmere Art Museum in Philadelphia.
The exhibit represented the largest group of Landau's work ever
assembled, with more than 150 pieces. Called "Heroic Obsession:
The Graphic Art of Jacob Landau," it traveled to the Tobey
C. Moss Gallery in Los Angeles and to the George Krevsky Fine Art
Gallery in San Francisco.
"I've been called a humanist. I'm involved with the tradition
of protest that comes from the prophets of the Old Testament. They
were concerned with justice and injustice. I am too," he added.
Jacob Landau died on Nov. 24 and is buried in the tiny Roosevelt
Cemetery near his friends and fellow artists Ben Shahn and Gregorio
Prestopino. He would have celebrated his 86th birthday on Dec. 17.
There was a tribute to the artist, who suffered from Parkinson's
disease, at the Princeton Theological Seminary, Erdman Center, on
Friday night. His work, which had been on exhibit all month, was
also on display.
According to his friend and neighbor, David Herstrom, more than
100 people attended the service, many of them from Roosevelt. "Jacob
was a lover of Beethoven's music and played it while he worked.
Alan Mallach, a classical pianist from Roosevelt, played a Beethoven
sonata" at the service, Herstrom said.
Herstrom, who owns six pieces of Landau's work, said, "It
is such a loss in my life. As a person, he had tremendous warmth
and compassion, as well as a steely intellect. He was entranced
with the human form and its beauty. He was sort of a counter to
a lot of trivial forces. Forces that trivialize art and what it
has to do in our world."
He added that "Jacob's work was not created to go with a decor
or sell for millions of dollars. His work had this wonderful quality
of challenging you as well as seducing you. You came to feel that
you needed his work. It has an exhilarating quality."
Landau was a witness to the cruelty of human beings, but he had
a comic intuition, Herstrom said. "He was also concerned with
the apocalyptic dissolution of the earth. He had a sense of struggle
that gives his work a hard edge, like the work of Goya or the poet
(William) Blake, who was also a printmaker. He had Blake's wonderful
vision of what the human possibilities were."
According to Herstrom, among Landau's greatest works is the Dante
Cycle. Created in 1974, it includes seven lithographs illustrating
the inferno. Herstrom also particularly admires 10 stained-glass
windows that the artist created in 1969 or 1970. Each is 5 feet
wide by 20 feet high and dedicated to a different biblical prophet.
They are at the Knesset Israel Congregation in Elkins Park, a suburb
of Philadelphia.
Rosa Giletti, who owns the Rosa T. Giletti Fine Art Gallery in
Pennsylvania, has represented Landau exclusively for the past 11
years, but she had known him for 15 years. Her voice broke as she
spoke about him and their collaboration.
Giletti said as soon as she saw his work, she knew he was a brilliant
man and his work was completely unique. "I found it to be inspiring,
invigorating and thought-provoking. His art reflected his intense
curiosity about the world, and about people."
According to Giletti, he was a Renaissance man. His musical interests
ranged from Bob Dylan to Beethoven. He knew every classical artist,
every visual artist, and read hundreds and hundreds of books on
every subject imaginable
"He was a totally open human being," always humble, kind
and sensitive, she said.
Giletti, who visited Landau every day in the hospital during his
recent convalescence, said he loved Roosevelt for its openness and
space, and that he loved flowers, even the moss on the ground. "Looking
up at the ceiling tiles above his bed in the hospital, he said he
saw landscapes. He loved life," she said.
Giletti said she will never forget him. In fact, she is not about
to let others forget him either. She is compiling an exhibition
of his work for Drew University, Madison, where organizers want
to house archival and biographical data on Landau. "They will
be a source of information for anyone who needs history on him.
We anticipate a large retrospective within the next year or two,"
she said.
She plans to set up a Jacob Landau Trust Memorial Fund in order
to maintain his studio and store his art work. "Any purchases
of his art work will go toward keeping his legend alive," she
said.
Right now the studio is open by appointment only. To contact Giletti,
call (215) 368-2536.
Herstrom and Landau had been neighbors since 1975 when Herstrom
moved to Roosevelt. "I was very interested in his work. Together,
with a couple of other people, we founded the Roosevelt Arts Project.
Landau was the first president," Herstrom said.
Landau moved to Roosevelt in 1954, after having lived in Paris
and then in Flushing, N.Y. He was told that it was an affordable
place to live for someone trying to make it in the art world.
There was a group of artists living in the town, including the
renowned artist Ben Shahn, as well as several writers and folk musicians.
After moving to a house on Pine Drive with his wife, Francis, and
two children, he built a dome house that he used as a studio. In
1990 he began living at the dome house.
His wife, Francis, died in 1993. His son Jonas lives in Hopewell
and Stefan lives in Albuquerque, N.M. He also has a grandson, Orion,
who is an artist in Philadelphia.
In 1999, Landau finished a limited edition book, The Francis Cycle:
Some Motions of the Earth. He used his own art and the poetry of
Herstrom to give voice to the words his wife spoke as she dealt
with the effects of Alzheimer's disease.
"It is mostly for the people who knew and loved her,"
Landau had said of the book. "It's not a commercial venture."
Herstrom said that Landau had used some of his wife's phrases as
titles to his works. Herstrom was copying down her phrases also.
"She was always part of our meetings. She was included in everything
we did, and she always made striking observations."
Although not meant to be a commercial venture, the book has been
for sale at all of Landau's shows and can be purchased through the
Giletti gallery.
Landau served on the faculty of the Philadelphia College of Art,
after which he went on to teach at Pratt Institute, where he became
chair of the Department of Graphic Art and Illustration, remaining
there until 1980.
In 1975, he also became a faculty member at the Artist-Teacher
Institute, an intensive 10-day summer residency program sponsored
by the New Jersey Council on the Arts.
His artistic talent was apparent from an early age. He discovered
art at around the age of 3 and recalled wanting to draw everything
he saw.
As a teen-ager, having found inspiration from artists like Beethoven
and the Mexican muralist, Orozco, Landau won five prizes in a juried
Scholastic magazine competition for his illustrations of Rudyard
Kipling's Jungle Book. He remembered hearing his work described
as reaching the point of genius.
His first professional work was as an illustrator of books and
magazine stories. He won a scholarship to the Philadelphia Museum
School of Industrial Art (now the University of the Arts), but in
1943 his studies were interrupted by a two-year stint in the armed
forces.
When he came home to the states, he illustrated children's books,
comic books and advertisements to support his fine art.
During the 1960s and 1970s, Landau become known for his one-person
shows and a steady stream of awards and grants. While in Los Angeles,
he rediscovered lithographs, creating portfolios like Charades,
the Holocaust Suite, the E. T. A. Hoffman Suite, the King of Dreams
series and the Dante Cycle.
From the late 1970s onward, the emergence of religious themes became
evident. His projects included drawings interpreting and accompanying
poetic and other writings on St. John, Jonah, Lazarus, Jacob and
Christ. In 1983, he was given a major exhibition at the New Jersey
State Museum.
In 1999, he started a group of drawings called Necropolis that
expressed his horror at the carnage of the 20th century. He calculated
that 130 million people were killed in all of the wars.
Well before the events of Sept. 11, an art critic wrote that Landau's
art presents an image of humankind frequently wrestling with events
focused, more often than not, on catastrophe: "The images ask
us to put selfishness, cruelty, injustice and greed aside in favor
of searching for reason, balance, and faith in justice and human
decency."
source: www.Legacy.com
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Levit, H.
Painter and printmaker Herschel
Levit was born in Pennsylvania in 1912. He studied at the Pennsylvania
Academy of the Fine Arts, and was a member of the Philadelphia Art
Alliance, Philadelphia Print Club, and the Modern Etchers Group.
Levit exhibited at the Pennsylvania Academy
of Fine Arts, 1934-36, 1966-69; Art Institute of Chicago, 1934-35,
1938-39; Springfield Art Museum, 1938; Philadelphia Art Alliance,
1938, 1944-46; Oklahoma Art Club, 1940; Allied Artists of America,
1945-46; Philadelphia Print Club, 1946;
Library of Congress, 1946; Brooklyn Museum; Metropolitan Museum
of Art. His work is represented in the collections of the Free Library,
Department of Education, Philadelphia; the University of Pennsylvania
Museum; and the Mexican Navy Department, Mexico City. Employed by
the WPA, his commissions included murals at the Rowan School, Philadelphia;
Recorder of Deeds Building, Washington, DC; USPO Buildings, Leisville,
OH and Jenkintown, PA. He created illustrations for a wide range
of periodicals, books and record covers. He also taught at Pratt
Institute.
source:
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