John Currin (American, b. 1962), The Owens, 1994. Oil on canvas, 34 1/2 x 26 1/4 in.
Denis De Mot.
Torsten Jovinge (Swedish, 1898-1936), Alley - Menton, 1927. Oil on canvas mounted on panel, 36.5 x 45 cm.
Girl in Tree
Peter Doig - Ten Etchings
Pictured above are five works out of Peter Doig’s series “Ten Etchings”, the first series of etchings he ever released, in an edition of 35 on Zerkall 350g paper. The ones shown here are signed “TC” (Tate Copy) and were one of six
additional proof sets. They were printed at the beautifully named Hope Sufferance Press in London and published by The Paragon Press in 1996.
They are, as the TC indicates, in the collection of the Tate Britian and can be seen upon request, which is what I did while in London in the last weeks. The etchings are wonderful in their layering and delicacy - the blue background from the first print in the photoset above (titled "Whiteout") is chine collé, as is the woodgrained beige background of the last print shown here (titled "From ‘Pond Life’").
The third print in this set, showing a figure standing in some kind of pond or puddle is after a painting from 1993 which can be seen in this youtube video.
Looking at these prints online is fun, but if you have the time and an institution with a collection close by, do yourself the favour and inquire how to study prints in their collection - it’s always a treat to see works like this up close, without pesky reflecting glass or troublesome couples right behind your shoulder, the dude explaining his female partner the very things she can see herself “and here is some kind of guy standing in a puddle of water” and you kinda have to turn around because your youtube fail video conditioned brain wants to see the moment when she claws his eyes out and hisses I’m not fucking blind you moron but then that never happens, and the couple moves on, still within earshot (you realize it will take forever until you’ll stop hearing the guy, he’s got that kind of voice that will single out your ears from like 30m away and make you hear it) and by then you’ve stared at the print so hard, trying to block out the world around you that the image doesn’t even make sense anymore, the blue that maybe once was sky has abstracted itself into a shape disconnected from the rest. Anyway, I’m digressing.
Give Ty Segall some love, if you’ve read this far:
from Transition part 3, by Lauren Marsolier