Q&A with Bill Berkson
In the summer of 1989, Martha Diamond received a list of questions from the poet Bill Berkson, who was then writing the article that would appear in the January 1990 issue of Artforum — an extensive profile and appraisal. This is their exchange, from the artist’s archive.
Do you consider your art expressionist?
On the surface, literally, my work resembles expressionist paintings: the emphasis on looking at the paint itself, the undisguised brushwork, the obviousness of apparent distortion, little regard for actual local color except as a moot point (and re: abstract expressionism) suggestion of grandness and monumental scale or conspicuousness.
I'm more concerned with a vision than expressionism and try to paint that vision realistically. I try to paint my perceptions rather than through emotion.
A formalist device I use — a familiar subject in a radically generalized or edited treatment. Recognizability or familiarity leads the viewer to looking for expected detail. For the most part the details are not there so you look harder at the paint and the painting. You begin to distinguish between paint, performance, image, idea, expectation and you.
What is your relationship to the New York School?
When I first came to N.Y. the work I saw most was New York School. I felt sympathetic to Kline, DeKooning and Rothko but I was most influenced and fascinated by Pollock and Warhol. I had books on my shelf on Pollock and Warhol but not on deKooning, for example. I do see all this work as emphasizing gesture — a deliberate attitude toward the norm, sometimes formally (Rothko) or socially (Warhol).
Relation to Realists.
My relation to realists is tangential although I do share with them an interest in light. They are more specific and I am more subjective in response.
I paint light as it is remembered and what the city looks like when you are walking through, not as examining it. I know the city has straight lines or edges but as I walk around the ending or beginning of substance becomes less absolute. At night, where buildings are higher than streetlights, often you can't see the tops or edges above. Dark areas around lights appear blurred. Several buildings may be perceived as one large mass, at night you may see lit windows and not the façade.
When you live in the city, even though you aren't focusing on the exactness of edges or the corner of a building you do see, somewhat peripherally and generalized, enough so you know what building you are near, what style it is, you can negotiate your way while looking, thinking, or talking about other things. Visually you are aware of scale, atmosphere, weather, light, time of day.
Compared with realists who paint specifics of the view, my vision is subjective but not my execution. My paint is very specific to its subject. My marks are clear but my message is ambiguous. I use abbreviation and elision to avoid long-windedness and respect grace.
I concentrate on perception rather than fact, believing that the character of a perception is a fact in itself. Socially I relate more to realists than to conceptualists.
How much (distinct as well as implied) motion are you after?
The motion I am involved with is the change in your focal point as you recognize distances and physical relationships near v. far, objects abutting or set at an angle, from a plane to a space, in and out, high and low, nearness and distance. There is movement in comparing my vision with yours of familiar, known sights (sites) e.g. as in World Trade.
What about earlier 20th century painters?
Marin — yes. Dove — yes. 0'Keeffe — yes. And Hartley. Klee, Munch, Piero della Francesca — order. Van Gogh and Cezanne — marks. Turner — light. Goya — arrogance re: and subversion of good taste and an admiration of Chinese painting and Japanese prints.
Light on buildings — impact and pleasure.
Light and rhythm are such a basic part of order — almost everything can be defined that way, joy as well as monumentality. They can be thrilling even before they become attributes. That's where my spirituality lies.