The Seagull School of Art
San Francisco Bay area figurative painting lacks a certain je ne sais pas quoi. It's all good (don't get me wrong), and I like everything I have seen and, yet, every piece I have looked at is lacking a hard-to-define essence. Until now. I believe I have finally figured out what is wanting. Browsing the bookshelves, today, in the art section of the library, came I across "The Beat Generation Galleries and Beyond" (1996), printed by John Natsoulas Press, Davis, California. I'm unsure to whom authorship should be attributed because the list of contributors is long, too long even to count.
That's not an incidental observation. It supports my assertion that there is more to Bay Area art than art alone. Bay Area art is not a style, regional, or otherwise; it's a life-style, to be precise. Another generalization is California likes to party. If you've heard of the Beats, then you may perceive the connection with the title and subject of the book. The Beat Generation is like a ball of wax with everything rolled-up in one: art, jazz, poetry, political activism, and personal self-expression. I wish I could have been there to enjoy it all. It was pretty much over before I could walk. You just had to be there.
The book cover of this compilation, which was originally a paperback, now hard-bound for circulation by the library, shows a Beat art gallery. Without a clue you would be excused for taking it for an alley. Easel paintings hang on the walls, murals are painted on the walls, sculptural objects rest upon pedestals of various size, a throw rug is on the floor, designs are painted on the floor. It's a fire trap, probably not certified for occupancy. Inside the book cover is a picture of a typical beatnik of the day strumming a guitar in his pad. Abstract prints, drawings and paintings (and things) adorn the walls from floor to ceiling, with a bookshelf and ashtray to complete the ensemble.
The book plate's caption reads, "Wally Hendrick in his studio at the Ghost House at 1350 Franklin," a Victorian gingerbread house of the type once common in San Francisco. Map view of the location gives an indication of how much has changed since then; "It was, like, being in another world, man." The dedication page is a lengthy memoriam which I will not transcribe except to mention the names of galleries with which the individuals so memorialized were affiliated: the Six gallery, the Batman gallery, the King Ubu gallery, the Spatsa gallery, the Dilexi gallery, the East and West gallery, and the New Mission Gallery.
The art gallery was the civic center of Beat society. Another gallery name to add to the preceding list is Metart. I believe what was meant is Meta Art. The examples of work exhibited at a 1949 show, there, are characteristic of mid-century modern style. Not wishing to be unkind, but observe an oil painting (untitled) by Horst Trave is the staple of resale store decorative art for sale at a low, low price, and will make your dive apartment less bleak. It's not really that bad when you get used to it. On page 21, it is revealed that the gallery I called an alley is the King Ubu Gallery, as it appeared in 1952, and on the preceding page (20) is a poem by Robert Duncan, titled "Turning into..."
It is too much fun and the guests haven't yet arrived. It is regrettable most of the artists are forgotten, and I search in vain for the leads as to present location of the paintings created by them. Don't get me wrong. I like this Kitsch. It documents the struggle in post-war American art, the push and pull between absolute abstraction, and casually-painted figurative subject matter. It was a two-party system. No hard feelings, everybody votes, the American way. Eventually the stars of the show arrive at the opening, meaning everybody. Even in these grainy black and white photo documents everybody looks like a celebrity. You wish you could meet them.
I lived in Los Angeles on two, separate occasions, separated by a few years. The first stay was for school, and the second time was after school, to give L.A. a second look. On both occasions I had to leave because it is literally too much fun. I wasn't getting any work done. Don't say L.A. isn't the Bay. California is California. West Coast art--including the Bay Area--is not serious art. It's not "serious" in the same sense that nothing is serious on the West Coast. It's fun art, and that is why I argue Bay Area art is inseparable from its context, its natural habitat. See the photo of Allen Ginsberg on page 66, taken in 1956 (the year I was born, by the way), before he let his hair grow long. Have you seen his ears? And get the look on his face: belligerent. That was before he became a guru. Without a caption you wouldn't recognize the guy.
Like being at an open mic event, I've got one to read, myself. It's an invitation card written by Allen Ginsberg, titled:
6 POETS AT 6 GALLERY
Philip Lamantia reading mss. of late John Hoffman-- Mike McClure, Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, & Phil Whalan--all sharp new straightforward writing-- remarkable collection of angels on one stage reading their poetry. No charge, small collection for wine and postcards. Charming event.
Kenneth Rexroth, M.C.
8 PM Friday night October 7, 1955
6 Gallery 3119 Fillmore St.
San Fran
Famous names, such as David Park, are also represented in "The Beat Generation Galleries and Beyond." What hits the mark in the book is the multitude of forgotten, neglected artists that made the Bay Area scene. Because, that's what it was, a Happening. After the gallery opening and Beat poetry slam, everybody stumbled home as best they could, and came back the following weekend to do it all again. That's also why the crowning achievement of West Coast art remains Bay Area figurative painting. Abstraction--really good abstraction--required too much brain work for Beat slackers. It is a rare abstract painting from the Beat period displayed in an art museum, and never seen today in bachelor pads.
A more interesting concentration for study and research is the announcement literature of the period: the postcards, posters, placards, and assorted graphic design promoting Beat events, including printed Beat poetry--notebook pages--never published and bound in editions, plus the graphic art of the printed editions, the weathered and scuffed from street circulation show announcement litter that makes great collage material--originally a Dada technique--but seemingly un-appealing to the Bay Area sensibility, which could take itself a bit too seriously at times. People--committed collectors--still avidly collect that kind of memorabilia, like stamps and coins.
The artists of the Bay Area are literate. That's perhaps the best thing that can be said about the Bay Area cultural scene, as a whole. That's also its weakness. It's too sensible. That opinion would seem to go against the notorious radicalism of “the left coast,” however, being radical isn't necessarily revolutionary. The Beats were anarchists of art, individualistic, defiant, true “left foots” in the sense of refusing to march in step--unless it was to the beat of a different drummer. It was--and remains--an inward society, self-sufficient, open to outsiders, to ideas, friendly, but don't try to tell one what to do.