Made in U.S.A.: An Americanization in Modern Art, The ’50s and ’60s [Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520324459

Citation preview

M A

D IE

I M

U S A -

Robert Rauschenberg, Retroactive I (page 37).

M A D IE

I N

U S A AN

AMERICANIZATION

IN

MODERN THE

ART,

'5 0 s &

'6 0 s

Sidra Stich

U N I V E R S I T Y

U N I V E R S I T Y

OF

ART

M U S E U M

C A L I F O R N I A

U N I V E R S I T Y

PRESS

OF

B E R K E L E Y

C A L I F O R N I A ,

LOS

A N G E L E S

B E R K E L E Y

L O N D O N

U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a Press B e r k e l e y and L o s A n g e l e s , C a l i f o r n i a U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a Press, Ltd. London, England © 1987 by T h e Regents o f the U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a

Library o f C o n g r e s s C a t a l o g i n g - i n - P u b l i c a t i o n Data Stich, Sidra. M a d e in U . S . A . B i b l i o g r a p h y : p. Includes index. 1. Art, A m e r i c a n — E x h i b i t i o n s . 2. A r t , M o d e r n — 20th c e n t u r y — U n i t e d S t a t e s — E x h i b i t i o n s . 3. United States—Popular culture—Pictorial w o r k s — E x h i b i t i o n s . I. U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a , Berkeley. U n i v e r s i t y Art Museum. II. Title. N6512.S664 1987 709'. 7 3 ' 0 7 4 0 1 9 4 6 7 86-24979 I S B N 0 - 5 2 0 - 0 5 7 5 6 - 2 (alk. paper) I S B N 0 - 5 2 0 - 0 5 7 5 7 - 0 (pbk. : alk. paper) Printed in J a p a n 1

2

3

4

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8

9

A c k n o w l e d g m e n t is m a d e f o r permission to reproduce the f o l l o w i n g poems: " D i g r e s s i o n on ' N u m b e r 1,' [ 9 4 8 , " f r o m The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara, by Frank O ' H a r a , edited by Donald Allen, published by A l f r e d A . K n o p f , Inc. C o p y r i g h t © 1 9 7 1 by Maureen G r a n ville-Smith, A d m i n i s t r a t r i x o f the Estate o f Frank O'Hara. " O n First Seeing L a r r y Rivers' H'ashinflon Crossing the Delaware at T h e M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t , " f r o m Meditations in an Emergency, by Frank O ' H a r a . published by G r o v e Press, Inc. C o p y r i g h t © 1957 by Frank O ' H a r a . Reprinted with permission o f G r o v e Press, Inc.

The book serves as a catalogue for an exhibition organized by the University Art Museum, Berkeley, and shown at University Art Museum University of California Berkeley, California April 4 - J u n e 2 1 , 1987 T h e Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art Kansas City, Missouri J u l y 25-September 6, 1987 Virginia Museum of Fine Arts Richmond, Virginia October 7 - D e c e m b e r 7, 1987

Jasper Johns, Flag on Orange Field, II (page 20).

C

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List o f Illustrations Foreword, by J a m e s Elliott

T

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viii xii

Acknowledgments

xiii

Photograph Credits

xiv

Lenders to M A D E I N U . S . A . Exhibition

xv

PART O N E

AN A M E R I C A N I Z A T I O N IN M O D E R N A R T , T H E ' 5 0 s & ' 6 0 s

I

Sidra Stich

Introduction

2

T h e Cultural Climate in America after World War II

6

PART T W O

J a m e s E . B . Breslin T h o m a s Schaub B e n H . Bagdikian

American Icons

14

Cities, Suburbs, and H i g h w a y s — T h e N e w American Landscape

45

American Food and American Marketing

77

American Mass Media

110

T h e American D r e a m / T h e American Dilemma

162

Epilogue

207

O T H E R P E R S P E C T I V E S : LITERATURE A N D MASS M E D I A

211

Frank O ' H a r a , Popular Culture, and American Poetry in the 1950s

212

Caricature and Fiction in the Affluent Society

220

Endings, Beginnings, and Endings: Media in the 1950s

228

Chronology

235

Bibliography

262

Index

271

S

*i. 2. 3. 4. 5. *6. *7. *8. *9. *io. *ii. *i2. 13. *i4. *I5. *i6.

Illustrations

*\j. *i8. 19.

W o r k s p r e c e d e d b y an asterisk are i n c l u d e d in the MADE

IN

U.S.A.

exhibition.

20. *2i. *22. 23.

Larry Rivers, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1953 15 Emanuel Leutze, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1851 15 Grant Wood, Daughters of Revolution, 1932 16 R o y Lichtcnstein, Washington Crossing the Delaware, ca. 1951 18 Alex Katz, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1961 18 Jasper Johns, Flag on Orange Field, II, 1958 20 Jasper Johns, Flag, 1955 21 Jasper Johns, Sculpmetal Flag, i960 21 Jasper Johns, Flags, 1965 22 Claes Oldenburg, Flag, i960 23 Claes Oldenburg, The Old Dump Flag, i960 24 Claes Oldenburg, Heel Flag, i960 25 Claes Oldenburg, U.S.A. Flag, i960 25 Jake Berthot, Little Flag Painting, 1961 26 George Herms, Flag, 1962 27 Tom Wesselmann, Little Great American Nude #6, 1961 28 Tom Wesselmann, Little Great American Nude #7, 1961 29 Tom Wesselmann, Great American Nude #8, 1961 30 Henri Matisse, Large Reclining Nude, 1935 30 Allan DArcangelo, American Madonna #/, 1962 31 Jasper Johns, Map, 1962 33 Edward Kienholz, George Warshington in Drag, 1957 33 Roy Lichtcnstein, George Washington, 1962 34

*24. *2$. 26. *27.

Tom Wesselmann, Still Robert Rauschcnberg, Robert Rauschcnberg, Robert Rauschcnberg, 37

Life #31, 1963 35 Lincoln, 1958 35 Factum I, 1957 36 Retroactive I, 1964

28. James Rosenquist, President Elect, 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 38 *29. Edward Kienholz, Untitled American President, 1962 39 30. John Haberle, Changes of Time, 1888 40 3 1 . A n d y Warhol, One Dollar Bills, 1962 40 • 3 2 . Phillip HefFcrton, Sweet Funk, 1963 41 * 3 3 . Robert Arneson, In God We Trust, 1965 41 34. Phillip HefFerton, White House, 1963 42 35. A n d y Warhol, Statue of Liberty, 1963 42 • 3 6 . Richard Artschwager, The Washington Monument, 1964 43 37. Claes Oldenburg, The Street, i960 46

39. *40. *4i. *42. *43. *44. 45. *46. *47. *48. 49. *50. 51. *$2. *53*54. *55. *j6. *57. 58.

*59. *6o. 61. 62. *6364. 65. 66.

*67. *68. 69. *70. *7i.

Claes Oldenburg, Upside Down City, 1962 47 Charles Shceler, Skyscrapers (Offices), 1922 48 Richard Artschwagcr, High Rise Apartment, 1964 49 Peter Saul, High Class San Francisco, 1967 50 Romare Bcarden, Childhood Memories, 1965 51 Romare Bearden, Backyard, 1967 51 Romare Bearden, Black Manhattan, 1969 5i Robert Rauschenberg, Estate, 1963 52 Robert Rauschenberg, Choke, 1964 53 Red Grooms, One Way, 1964 54 Richard Estcs, Welcome to 42nd Street ( Victory Theater), 1968 $5 Richard Estes, Gordon's Gin, 1968 56 Edward Ruscha, Hollywood Study, 1966 57 James Rosenquist, Morning Sun, 1963 $7 James Rosenquist, Louis D. Brandeis oti Democracy (Untitled), 1965 58 J o e Goode, November 13, 1963, 1963 59 J o e Goode, The Most of It, 1963 60 Richard Artschwagcr, Untitled (Tract Home), 1964 61 Robert Bechtle, '60 T-Bird, 1967-68 62 Robert Bechtle, Kona Kai, 1967 62 Robert Ameson, IJOJ Alice Street, Viewed (as if it were a Billboard) From the Comer of L and Alice, 1968 63 Allan DArcangelo, .Full Moon, 1962 64 Allan DArcangelo, U.S. Highway 1 |pancl 2], 1963 65 Rene Magritte, The Empire of Light, II, 1950 66 Ralston C r a w f o r d , Overseas Highway, 1939 66 Edward Ruscha, Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas, 1963 67 Stuart Davis, Town Square, 1 9 2 5 - 2 6 68 Edward Hopper, Gas, 1940 68 Edward Ruscha, Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas, from the book Twentysix Gasoline Stations, 1963. 69 John Baldessari, Looking East on 4th and C, Cltula Vista, 1967 70 Vija Celmins, Freeway, 1966 71 George Segal, The Gas Station, 1963 72-73 George Segal, Man Leaving a Bus, 1967 74 Wayne Thiebaud, Trucker's Supper, 1961 76

*72. Wayne Thiebaud, Five Hot Dogs, 1961 78 *73- Claes Oldenburg, Hamburger, 1961 79 74. Claes Oldenburg, Two Cheeseburgers with Everything (Dual Hamburgers), 1962 79 75. Claes Oldenburg, Giant Hamburger, 1962 80 76. Reginald Marsh, White Tower Hamburger, 1945 80 *77- Tony Berlant, Camel Burger, 1963 81 *78. Claes Oldenburg, French Fries and Ketchup, 1963 82 79. Robert Watts, TV Dinner, 1965 83 80. Wayne Thiebaud, Four Ice Cream Cones, 1964 84 * 8 i . Claes Oldenburg, Floor Cone, 1962 85 *82. Claes Oldenburg, Soft Fur Good Humors, 1963 85 *83. Wayne Thiebaud, Bakery Counter, 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 86 84. Claes Oldenburg, Pastry Case, I, 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 86 *85. Wayne Thiebaud, Lunch Table, 1964 87 *86. R o y Lichtenstein, Cherry Pie, 1962 88 87. Stuart Davis, Lucky Strike, 1924 89 88. Andy Warhol, Soup Cans, 1962 90 89. Andy Warhol, Big Torn Campbell's Soup Can, 1962 91 *90. Andy Warhol, 210 Coca-Cola Bottles, 1962 92 9 1 . Andy Warhol, Five Coke Bottles, 1962 93 92. H. C . Westermann, Pillar of Truth, 1962 94 93. H. C . Westermann, White for Purity, 1959-60 94 *94. H. C . Westermann, Trophy for a Gasoline Apollo, 1961 94 95. Robert Rauschenberg, Coca Cola Plan, 1958 95 *()6. Robert Arneson, Case of Bottles, 1963 96 *97. Robert Arneson, Hydrox, 1966 97 *98. Larry Rivers, Webster and Cigars, 1966 98 *99. Larry Rivers, The Friendship of America and France (Kennedy and de Gaulle) 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 99 100. Jasper Johns, Painted Bronze, i960 100 101. Claes Oldenburg, The Store, 1961 101 * i 0 2 . Claes Oldenburg, 7-Up with Cake, 1961 101 103. Claes Oldenburg, The Store, 1962 102 *I04. Andy Warhol, Brillo, Campbell's Tomato Juice, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes Boxes, 1964 103 * i 0 5 . Peter Saul, Icebox, i960 104 * i o 6 . Richard Estes, Food City, 1967 105 107. Richard Estes, The Candy Store, 1969 106 * i o 8 . Tom Wesselmann, Still Life #24, 1962 107

ILLUSTRATIONS

IX

*IO9- T o m Wesselmann, Still Life # j o , 1963 108 n o . Robert Rauschenberg, Gloria, 1956 112 H I . Pablo Picasso, Bottle, Glass and Violin, 1912-13

112.

113

Hannah H o c h , Cut with the Kitchen 1919

Knife,

114

113.

Gerald M u r p h y , backdrop f o r Within the Quota, 1923 115 * 1 1 4 . A n d y Warhol, A Boy for Meg, 1961 116 * i 1 5 . E d w a r d Ruscha, Flash, L.A. Times, 1963

150. M e l R a m o s , The Phantom, CA. 1963—64 152

151. *I52. 153. 154. * 15 5. * 156. * i 57. 158.

117

158

* I I 6 . Vija C e l m i n s , T.V., 1965 118 * 1 1 7 . E d w a r d Kienholz, Instant On, 1964 * i 18. E d w a r d Kienholz, Six o'Clock News,

* i 59. Hairy Who, Hairy Who Catalogue, 119 1964

*i6o.

120

119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. *I25. *I26. *I27.

M a y Stevens, Prime Time, 1967 121 A n d y Warhol, S¡99 Television, I960 121 Robert Rauschenberg, Brace, 1962 122 Ellen L a n y o n , Ya Ya Yogi, 1962 123 A n d y Warhol, Baseball, 1962 124 Robert Rauschenberg, Echo, 1962 125 Wayne Thiebaud, Football Player, 1963 126 Karl Wirsum, Baseball Girl, 1964 127 R a y J o h n s o n , Elvis Presley No. 1, ca. 1955 129

A n d y Warhol, Triple Elvis, 1962 130 R a y J o h n s o n , James Dean, 1 9 5 7 132 Willem de K o o n i n g , Marilyn Monroe, 1954 '33 * 1 3 1 . R a y J o h n s o n , Hand Marilyn Monroe, 1958 134 132. G e o r g e Segal, The Movie Poster, 1967 135 * i 3 3 . A n d y Warhol, Twenty-five Colored Marilyns, 1962

135. 136. 137. 138.

136

A n d y Warhol, Marilyn Monroe's Lips, 1962 137 J a m e s Rosenquist, Woman I, 1962 138 J a m e s Rosenquist, Marilyn Monroe, I, 1962 139 A n d y Warhol, The Men in Her Life (Mike Todd and Eddie Fisher), 1962 140 A n d y Warhol, Blue Liz as Cleopatra, 1962 140

139. J a m e s Rosenquist, Untitled (Joan Crawford Says . . .), 1964 141 * I 4 0 . Marisol, Bob Hope, 1967 142 1 4 1 . Marisol, Hugh Hefner, 1967 143 • 1 4 2 . E d Paschke, Tightroper, 1967 144 145 143. E d Paschke, Dos Criados, 1968 • 1 4 4 . Jess, Tricky Cad—Case I, 1 9 5 4 146 * I 4 5 . J e s s , Tricky Cad—Case V, 1958 147 146. A n d y Warhol, Dick Tracy, I960 148 * I 4 7 - J i m N u t t , Snooper Trooper, 1967 149 • 1 4 8 . J i m N u t t , Y Did He Du It? 1 9 6 6 - 6 7 150 • 1 4 9 . M e l R a m o s , Superman, 1 9 6 1 151

x

ILLUSTRATIONS

161. *I62. *I63. *I64. * 16$. * 166. 167. * 168. *I69. *I70. * 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176.

1966

159 Robert Indiana, The Denutth American # 5 , 1963

*I28. *I29. *I30.

134.

A n d y Warhol, Superman, I960 153 R o y Lichtenstein, Popeye, 1961 153 R o y Lichtenstein, Look Mickey, 1961 154 E d w a r d Ruscha, Annie, 1962 15$ R o y Lichtcnstein, Mr. Bellamy, 1961 156 R o y Lichtenstein, Craig, 1964 156 R o y Lichtenstcin, Eddie Diptych, 1962 157 R o y Lichtcnstein, Torpedo . . . Los! 196^

Dream

163

Charles Henry D e m u t h , I Saw the Figure Five in Gold, 1928 164 Allan D A r c a n g e l o , Can Our National Bird Survive? 1962 165 B r u c e C o n n e r , Untitled, 1 9 5 4 - 6 2 166-67 Wallace B e r m a n , Untitled, 1967 169 Jess, The Face in the Abyss, 1955 170 Llyn Foulkes, Death Valley U.S.A., 1963 171 Larry Rivers, The Accident, 1957 172 A n d y Warhol, Orange Disaster, 1963 173 Billy A1 B e n g s t o n , Skinny's 21, 1961 174 Duane Hanson, Motorcycle Accident, 1969 175 A n d y Warhol, Most Wanted Men, No. i:John M. (Front View and Profile), 1963 176 Rosalyn Drexler, Home Movies, 1963 177 R o y Lichtcnstein, Fastest Gun, 1963 178 R o y Lichtenstein, Pistol, 1964 178 J a m e s M o n t g o m e r y Flagg, I Want You for U.S. Army, 1 9 1 7 179 B r u c e C o n n e r , Homage to Chessman, I960 180

1 7 7 . A n d y Warhol, Orange Disaster, 1963 181 * 178. M a y Stevens, Big Daddy Paper Doll, 1968 182

*I79.

A n d y Warhol, Jackie (The Week That Was), 1963

183

* 180. E d Paschke, Purple Ritual, 1967 184 * 1 8 1 . A n d y Warhol, Race Riot, 1963 186 • 1 8 2 . Faith R i n g g o l d , God Bless America, 1964 187

1 8 3 . Faith R i n g g o l d , The Flag Is Bleeding,

1967

188

184. R a y m o n d Saunders, American Dream,

1968

189

185. J o e Overstreet, New Jemima, 1964 190 * I 8 6 . R o b e r t Indiana, Alabama, 1965 191 * I 8 7 . Allan D A r c a n g e l o , U.S. 80 (In Memory of Mrs. Liuzzo), 1965 192

188. H. C . Westermann, Evil New War God, 1958 193 *i8(?. Edward Kienholz, O'er the Ramparts We Watched Fascinated, 1959 194 190. James Rosenquist, F-111 [detail], 1965 194-95 * I 9 I . Neil Jenney, Them and Us, 1969 196 192. Peter Saul, Saigon, 1967 197 193. Red G r o o m s , The Patriots' Parade, 1967 198

194. Edward Kienholz, The Eleventh Hour Final, 1968

199

19$. Edward Kienholz, The Portable War Memorial, 1968

200-201

196. Claes Oldenburg, Lipstick (Ascending) on Caterpillar Tracks, 1969 202 * I 9 7 . Robert Rauschenberg, Kite, 1963 203 * 198. Robert Rauschenberg, Tracer, 1963 204

ILLUSTRATIONS

XI

T h e fifties and sixties were c o m p l e x and exciting decades in A m e r i c a n history and A m e r i c a n art. An i m p o r t a n t aspect of the period w a s the e m e r g e n c e o f an o u t s t a n d i n g b o d y of p a i n t i n g s and sculptures that unabashedly e m b r a c e d A m e r i c a n mass culture and featured a conspicuously A m e r i c a n imagery. Traditional national s y m b o l s , t h e physical e n v i r o n m e n t , favored p r o d u c t s , mass media, p o p u l a r m y t h s , and c o n t e m p o r a r y political events served as sources of inspiration for subject m a t t e r and n e w m o d e s of c o m p o s i t i o n a l display. In offering a rich contextual explication of the i c o n o g r a p h y of a w i d e range of p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n w o r k s , MADE IN U.S.A. reveals the b r o a d diversity of a p proaches to A m e r i c a n t h e m e s and issues. T h e U n i v e r s i t y Art M u s e u m is pleased to p r o vide the o p p o r t u n i t y for greater appreciation and enhanced u n d e r s t a n d i n g of this art and the period that shaped it. A project of this scope, of course, represents the efforts of m a n y p e o p l e and institutions. O n behalf of the trustees and staff of the m u s e u m , I express deep g r a t i t u d e to the lenders w h o s e generosity has m a d e this exhibition possible and w h o s e e n t h u s i a s m f o r the p r o j e c t has served as a source of e n c o u r a g e m e n t t h r o u g h o u t the years of its d e v e l o p m e n t . Special t h a n k s are also d u e to M a r c F. Wilson, director of T h e N e l s o n - A t k i n s M u s e u m of Art, and Paul N . P e r r o t , director o f the Virginia M u s e u m of Fine Arts, w h o s e c o o p e r ation has greatly facilitated the p l a n n i n g and execution of the exhibition's tour. In p r e p a r i n g this b o o k w e have been exceedingly f o r t u n a t e to have w o r k e d w i t h t h e U n i v e r s i t y of California Press, its director J i m C l a r k , and its able and patient staff. T h e press's m a r k of quality is i m printed on the project and for this w e are e x t r e m e l y appreciative. G e n e r o u s grants f r o m the N a t i o n a l E n d o w m e n t for the H u m a n i t i e s , N a t i o n a l E n d o w m e n t f o r thi Arts, Luce Fund f o r Scholarship in A m e r i c a n Art, a p r o g r a m of T h e H e n r y Luce F o u n d a t i o n , Inc., Best P r o d u c t s F o u n d a t i o n , A.T.&T. F o u n d a t i o n , and California First B a n k p r o v i d e d the necessary financial s u p p o r t , and w e are m o s t grateful to these organizations. This project was conceived o f by Sidra Stich, senior curator at the U n i v e r s i t y A r t M u s e u m . She c o n t r i b u t e d the m a i n essay to this b o o k , selected the exhibition, diligently secured loans, and s u p e r vised all aspects of the project. H e r efforts and d e d ication have m a d e this a notable u n d e r t a k i n g . James Elliott Director University Art Museum,

Berkeley

The organization of the exhibition MADE IN U.S.A. and the publication of this book have involved the assistance, advice, and cooperation of many people. Private collectors were extremely generous in sharing their art and providing enriching information. I am deeply grateful to those who have lent works to the exhibition. Artists were also most helpful in discussing their work or the period, or in assisting with loans. I am especially indebted to Robert Arneson, Rudolf Baranik, Robert Bechtle, Tony Bcrlant, Jake Bcrthot, Bruce Conner, Allan DArcangelo, Wally Hedrick, George Herms, Jess, Jasper Johns, Ray Johnson, Allan Kaprow, Edward Kienholz, Alfred Leslie, Gladys Nilsson, Jim Nutt, Claes Oldenburg, Robert Rauschcnberg, Edward Ruscha, Peter Saul, George Segal, May Stevens, Wayne Thiebaud, Robert Watts, and Tom Wesselmann. My research was enhanced by conversations with individuals who participated in the American art world of the 1950s and iy6os, and with scholars who specialize in the postwar era. For this I extend thanks to Richard Abrams, Dennis Adrian, Don Baum, Richard Bellamy, Irving Blum, Peter Boswell, Ernest A. Busche, Mary Schmidt Campbell, Leo Castelli, John Coplans, Wanda Corn, Robert Dean, Todd Gitlin, Harold Glicksman, Barbara Haskell, Ruth Horwich, Richard Hutson, Thomas A. Leonard, Lawrence Levine, Kathleen Moran, Michael Rogin, Peter Selz, John Weber, and William S. Wilson. For their time and kindness in facilitating loans and providing documentation, I owe a large measure of gratitude to the following: Thomas Ammann Fine Art (Monica Burri), Betty Asher, Leo Castelli Gallery (Lisa Martizia), Sarah H. Cooke, Terry Dintinfass, Virginia Dwan, Allan Frumkin, Joni Gordon, Nora Halpern, Wanda Hansen, J o seph A. Helman, Nick Howey, Sidney Janis Gallery, Phyllis Kind Gallery (William H. Bengtson), Margo Leavin, Louis K. Meisel Gallery, Olivia Motch, Reinhard Onnasch, Richard L. Palmer, Cora Rosevear, William S. Rubin, SalanderO'Reilly Galleries, Sonnabend Gallery (Antonio Homem), Frederick Voss, and David White. During the course of planning this project, I have enjoyed the support and assistance of the entire staff of the University Art Museum. I particularly wish to thank James Elliott, director; Ronald Egherman, deputy director; Mary Ellen Murphy, development director; Edith Kramer, curator of film; Nina Hubbs, head of installation and design; Arnold Sandrock, business manager; Barbara Berman, publicist; and Jane Kamplain, registrar. For their attention to the myriad of details associated

Acknowledgments

with preparing the texts and securing loans and photographs, I am extremely grateful to J o a n Perlman, E v e Vanderstoel, and Marijke van D o o m . I have also had the good fortune of having a superb assistant, Elizabeth Boone, w h o has worked with diligence, efficiency, and good humor on all aspects of this project. Colleagues at the museums on the tour of the exhibition have been most helpful and delightful to w o r k with. M y sincere thanks to Marc F. Wilson and Deborah E m o n t Scott at T h e Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, and Paul N . Perrot, Richard B . Woodward, and Frederick R. Brandt at the V i r ginia Museum o f Fine Arts. For her sustained interest in this project, M a r y Jane Hickey o f the Henry Luce Foundation deserves special mention. T h e publication of this book is the result of the care and expertise o f the University of California Press. I particularly thank A m y Einsohn for her insightful, sensitive editing, Steve Renick for his outstanding design, Marilyn Schwartz for her skillful supervision of the production, and Laird Easton for his general assistance. To J i m Clark, whose unfailing confidence in this project and personal encouragement have been a source of strength throughout, I am profoundly grateful. Lastly, I thank Ben H. Bagdikian, James Breslin, and Thomas Schaub, whose essays add significantly to the content of this book, and Moira Roth for her constructive reading of the text, her continued enthusiasm for the project, and her w a r m friendship.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PHOTOGRAPH

CREDITS

Thomas Ammanii Fine Art, Zurich: 1 5 1 . J ö r g P. Anders, Berlin: 1 1 2 . Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto: 75. William H. Bengston, Chicago: 143, 180. Ben Blackwell, Berkeley: 6, 10, 56, 66, 72, 144, 149. J o n B l u m b , Lawrence, Kansas: 179. R u dolph Burckhardt, N e w York: 103, 124. Rudolph Burckhardt, courtesy Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York: 158, 190. Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York: 36. Geoffrey Clements, N e w York: 76, 107, 145, 192. Charles Cowles Gallery, N e w York: 104, 150. Bevan Davis, courtesy Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York: 152, 153. D . J a m e s Dec, courtesy David M c K e e Gallery, N e w York: 14. T h e Detroit Institute of Arts: 1 8 1 . W. Drayer, Zurich: 89. eeva-inkeri, N e w York: 4 1 . Thomas Feist, N e w York: 33. Chuck Garner, Vermillion Photographic, Phoenix: 80. Hickey and Robertson, Houston: 22. Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York: 132. Jochen Littkemann, Berlin: 35. Alfred Lutjeans, Los Angeles: 154. R o b ert R. M c E l r o y , N e w York: 1 0 1 . Joseph Maloney, N e w York: 9 1 . Robert E. Mates, N e w York: 88, 177. Louis K. Meisel Gallery, N e w York: 49. R o b ert Miller, Portland, Oregon: 170. The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York: 18, 127. Otto E. Nelson, Ithaca, N e w York: 1 7 1 . William Nettles, Los A n geles: 95. Douglas M . Parker, Los Angeles: 32, 55, 67, 169, 173. Eric Pollitzer, N e w York: 8, 16, 17, 43, 8 1 , 98, 129, 1 3 1 , 178, 1 9 1 . Eric Pollitzer, courtesy Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York: 23. Nathan Rabin, N e w York: 13, 1 1 8 . Nathan Rabin, courtesy Allan Frumkin Gallery, N e w York: 92. Rheinisches Bildarchiv, Cologne: 100, 139, 195. Terry Richardson, Charleston, South Carolina: 57. Walter Roscnblum, South Hadley, Massachusetts: 184. Friedrich Rosenstiel, Cologne: 194. Paul Ruscha, Los Angeles: 50. Salandcr-O'Reilly Galleries, Inc., N e w York: 1 1 3 . Sandak, Inc., N e w York: 188. Manu Sassoonian, N e w York: 42. Schenck and Schenck, N e w York: 68. Marc Schuman, Glenw o o d Springs, Colorado: 120. Harry Shunk, courtesy Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York: 7. ShunkKender, N e w York: 196. Squidds & Nunns, Los Angeles: 26, 29, 77, 1 1 6 , 1 1 7 , 166. Statens Kunstmuseer, Stockholm: i l l , 193. J e r r y L. T h o m p s o n , Amenia, N e w York: 78, 146. Roland I. Unruh, Miami: 94. Tom Van Eynde, Chicago: 47, 93, 126, 1 3 5 . Malcolm Varon, N e w York: 182, 183. T o m Vinetz, N e w York: 165. Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut: 102. Robert Watts, Bangor, Pennsylvania: 79. David Webber, Boston: 15, 189. Ellen Page Wilson, Phoenix: 1 2 1 . Dorothy Z e i d man, N e w York: 9, 1 1 , 12.

LENDERS TO M A D E IN U.S.A.

EXHIBITION

Robert E. Abrams Akron Art M u s e u m , Akron, O h i o Allen Memorial Art Museum, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O h i o The Stephen S. Alpert Family Trust Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto Lawrence and Evelyn Aronson T h e Art Institute of Chicago Ruth Askey Rudolf Baranik Robert H. Bergman Jake Berthot John Bransten The Edward R. Broida Trust, Los Angeles Carolina Art Association, Gibbes Art Gallery, Charleston, South Carolina Richard V. Clarke Harold C o o k William N . Copley Charles Cowles Gallery, N e w York Susan Dakin Allan DArcangelo Roger I. Davidson T h e Detroit Institute of Arts N o r m a n Dolph Robert Duncan Mr. and Mrs. Alan Englander Betty and M o n t e Factor Fort Worth Art Museum, Fort Worth, Texas Allan Frumkin Gallery, N e w York Diana Fuller Mr. and Mrs. R a y m o n d Goctz Foster Goldstrom T h e Grinstein Family H o o d M u s e u m of Art, D a r t m o u t h College, Hanover, N e w Hampshire Walter Hopps Mrs. Ruth H o r w i c h Marian B. Javits Jasper Johns Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University, Ithaca, N e w York RayJohnson M a r g o Leavin Gallery, Los Angeles Sydney and Frances Lewis Lewis & Clark College, Portland, O r e g o n David Lichtenstein Mead Corporation Collection, Dayton, O h i o Miami University Art Museum, O x f o r d , O h i o T h e M u s e u m of M o d e r n Art, N e w York Walter and Anne Nathan

National Gallery of Art, Washington, D . C . National M u s e u m of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C . National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C . T h e Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri Neuberger Museum, State University of N e w York at Purchase N e w p o r t Harbor Art Museum, N e w p o r t Beach, California Claude N u t t Jim N u t t Odyssia Gallery, N e w York Clacs O l d e n b u r g Joan and Jack Quinn Scot Ramos Robert Rauschenberg Faith Ringgold Larry Rivers Jane and Ruth Root Mary Lou Rosenquist Edward Ruscha Santa Barbara Museum of Art, Santa Barbara, California T h e Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, N e w York Public Library Robert Shapazian Smith College Museum of Art, N o r t h a m p t o n , Massachusetts Ileana and Michael Sonnabend Sonnabend Gallery, N e w York Stanford University Museum of Art, Stanford, California Allan Stone Gallery, N e w York Marc and Livia Straus Wayne Thiebaud Mr. and Mrs. Burton Tremaine University Art Museum, University of California, Berkeley Virginia M u s e u m of Fine Arts, Richmond Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut Sam WagstafF Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, Minnesota Washington University Gallery of Art, St. Louis, Missouri T h e Frederick R. Weisman Foundation of Art, Los Angeles Marcia S. Weisman Whitney M u s e u m of American Art, N e w York William S. Wilson Laura-Lee W. Woods A n o n y m o u s lenders

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Introduction

Although the focus on American themes and subjects in American art of the 1950s and 1960s has been generally recognized, art historians and critics have not yet set this body of w o r k in a cultural context that elaborates upon the nature and significance of its iconography. When in the mid-fifties, Larry Rivers, Jasper Johns, and Robert Rauschenberg first exhibited paintings featuring G e o r g e Washington, the American flag, and mass media images, critical commentary emphasized the artists' abandonment of the prevailing tendency toward abstraction. Subject matter was treated as a Dadaist j o k e or an arbitrary aspect of the dialogue between art and life. Similarly, appreciations and critiques of the assemblages and collages by Bruce Conner, George Herms, Ray Johnson, E d w a r d Kienholz, and H. C . Westermann focused on their formal strategies or outrageous content with only tacit or generalized regard for the contextual implications of the subject matter. Because art critics defined groupings by stylistic determinants, the shared iconographic tendencies, the artists' telling shift away from images associated with European culture and toward images allied with American culture, passed largely unrecognized. B y the early sixties, the presence of archetypal American images shaped by contemporary A m e r i can mass culture was impossible to ignore. T h e works of Allan D'Arcangelo, Robert Indiana, R o y Lichtenstein, Claes Oldenburg, James Rosenquist, George Segal, Andy Warhol, and Tom Wesselmann provoked critics to define and name the " n e w " trend. Sometimes including and sometimes o v e r looking fifties precedents, critics variously christened the art N e w Realism, Popular Image A r t , C o m m o n Object Art, Factualism, N e o - D a d a i s m , American Dream Painting, Sign Painting, A n t i Sensibility Painting, and C o o l - A r t . T h e y ultimately settled 011 Pop Art, a term coined by L a w rence Alloway to describe British painting of the 1950s that incorporated American mass media imagery. 1 Critical attention to the emerging art w a s extensive, immediate, and impassioned—both for and against. T h e unprecedented fervor and excitement about the new American art spread to gallery dealers, museum curators, collectors, and the popular press. Although the artists themselves formed no organized group or movement, many in the art w o r l d gave considerable attention to defining a group ethos and identifying which artists did or did not belong. O f even greater concern were issues about the quality of the art and intention of the artists. The machined appearance, deadpan expression,

a n d m a s s c u l t u r e i m a g e r y o f p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n art p r o v o k e d e n d l e s s heated c o n t r o v e r s i e s : Is it art? W h a t d o c s it m e a n ? D o e s it s u f f i c i e n t l y t r a n s f o r m its s o u r c e s t o b e c o n s i d e r e d art? Is it o p t i m i s t i c o r p e s s i m i s t i c , satirical o r c e l e b r a t o r y o f A m e r i c a n culture? T h e f o l l o w i n g s a m p l i n g o f c o m m e n t s s u g g e s t s the n a t u r e a n d d i v e r s i t y o f the debate. T h e truth is, the art galleries are b e i n g i n v a d e d b y the p i n h c a d e d and c o n t e m p t i b l e style o f g u m - c h e w e r s , b o b b y s o x e r s , a n d , w o r s e , d e l i n q u e n t s . . . . S a v e us f r o m the " u n c h a r m e r s , " or p e r m u t a t i o n s t h e r e o f , the R o s e n s t c i n s and O l d c n q u i s t s ! (Max KozlofF, " P o p Culture, Metaphysical Disgust, and the N e w Vulgarians." ,-irr International, March 1962.) " E n t e r t a i n i n g " is the r i g h t w o r d , f o r the s h o w [the \'ew Realism g r o u p e x h i b i t i o n at the S i d n e y J a n i s G a l l e r y , 1 9 6 2 ] d o c s not o f t e n transcend visual social c o m m e n t : a sort o f red, b l u e a n d y e l l o w j o u r n a l i s m . . . . | T h c art] is o f c o u r s e f o u n d e d on the p r e m i s e that m a s s culture is bad, an e x p r e s s i o n o f spiritual p o v e r t y . (Brian O'Doherty, "Art: Avant-Garde Revolt," Setr York Times, October 3 1 , 1962.) P o p art d e r i v e s its s m a l l , feeble v i c t o r i e s f r o m the j u x t a position o f t w o cliches: a cliche o f f o r m s u p e r i m p o s e d 011 a cliche o f i m a g e . A n d it is its failure to d o a n y t h i n g m o r e than this that m a k e s it so b e g u i l i n g to talk a b o u t — that m a k e s p o p art the c o n v e r s a t i o n piece par excellence— f o r it requires talk to c o m p l e t e itself. O n l y talk can e f f e c t the act o f i m a g i n a t i v e s y n t h e s i s w h i c h the art itself fails to effect. (Hilton Kramer, statement in "Symposium 011 I'op A r t , " December 13, 1962. The Museum of Modern Art. New York; text printed in Arts Magazine, April 1963). I h a v e heard it said that p o p art is not art, and this by a m u s e u m curator. M y f e e l i n g is that it is the artist w h o d e f i n e s the limits o f art, not the critic or the curator. . . . P o p art is a n e w t w o - d i m e n s i o n a l landscape p a i n t i n g , the artist r e s p o n d i n g s p e c i f i c a l l y to his visual e n v i r o n m e n t . T h e artist is l o o k i n g a r o u n d again and p a i n t i n g w h a t he sees. . . . If w e l o o k f o r attitudes o f a p p r o v a l and d i s a p p r o v a l o f o u r culture in the art, o r satire o r g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f o u r society, w e are o v e r s i m p l i f y i n g . (Henry C.eldzahler, ibid.)

[ P o p art] is essentially a m i l d , u n r c b e l l i o u s c o m m e n t 011 the c o m m o n p l a c e m a d e by p i c t u r i n g it w i t h o u t any p r e tense o f taste o r o r t h o d o x technical skill. . . . Ten, 20 o r 50 years a g o , any artist w o u l d h a v e been s n u b b e d f o r such u n i m a g i n a t i v e , unintcllectual literalism. . . . [ P o p art) esthetics o f t e n turn out to be a b a g o f r a u c o u s g i m m i c k s that m e r e l y assault the n e r v e s . ("Pop Art—Cult of the Commonplace," Time, May 3, 1963.) T h e reason these w o r k s leave us t h o r o u g h l y dissatisfied lies not in their m e a n s but in their end: m o s t o f t h e m h a v e n o t h i n g at all to say. . . . T h e interpretation or t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f reality a c h i e v e d b y the P o p A r t i s t , i n s o f a r as it exists at all, is l i m p and u n c o n v i n c i n g . It is this w a n t o f i m a g i n a t i o n , this p a s s i v e acceptance o f things as they arc that m a k e s these pictures s o u n s a t i s f a c t o r y at second or third l o o k . T h e y arc h a r d l y w o r t h the k i n d o f c o n t e m p l a t i o n a real w o r k o f art d e m a n d s . (Peter Selz. " P o p (iocs the Artist," Partisan Review. Summer 1963.) W h a t is d i s t u r b i n g the spectator is that the m o s t banal sights and objects o f daily life are presented b a r e l y transf o r m e d as w o r k s o f art. B u t it is not o n l y the apparent lack o f t r a n s f o r m a t i o n w h i c h is d i s t u r b i n g . A n o t h e r s o u r c e o f uneasiness lies in the fact that all these objects are o v e r l y f a m i l i a r , w e see t h e m e v e r y w h e r e in m a n y f o r m s all the time, and w e h a v e c o n s i d e r e d t h e m to be a d v e r t i s e m e n t s , useful tools o f m a c h i n e r y , edibles, c o m i c strips, s i g n s , papier maché j o k e s , like the imitation d o g ' s feces y o u r t e n - y e a r - o l d m a y put on the b o t t o m stair o r like the d u m b b e l l m a d e o f b a l l o o n s . A r t w a s traditionally m e a n t to t r a n s p o r t o n e b e y o n d banality, bey o n d o v e r - i n s i s t e n t daily sights. T h e present identification o f the banal w i t h art is p e r h a p s like h e a r i n g that the kid a r o u n d the c o r n e r has been m a d e president o f G e n eral M o t o r s ; o n e s a y s , " W h o , that g u y ? I w e n t to c a m p w i t h h i m , he w a s a d o p e ! It c a n ' t b e t r u e . " (Clove Gray. "Rcmburgers and Hambrants," ,4r/ in America, December 1963.)

D e s p i t e all the q u i p s a n d c r a n k s , the w r a n g l i n g a n d e q u i v o c a t i o n s , a set o f b a s i c c o m m o n p l a c e s a b o u t p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n i s t art e m e r g e d a n d has r e m a i n e d w i t h us. T h e central c a t c h p h r a s e s refer to the art's f u n d a m e n t a l a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h m a s s p r o d u c t i o n and c o m m e r c i a l t e c h n i q u e s , a n d its r e f e r e n c e to e v e r y d a y o b j e c t s a n d c o m m o n i m a g e s .

[ T h e n e w artists] share an intense passion f o r direct e x p e rience, f o r u n q u a l i f i e d participation in the richness o f o u r i m m e d i a t e w o r l d , w h a t e v e r it m a y h a v e b e c o m e , f o r better o r w o r s e . F o r t h e m this m e a n s a k i n d o f total acceptance; they reject n o t h i n g e x c e p t all o f o u r p r e v i o u s aesthetic c a n o n s . . . . T h e y w a n t us to share w i t h t h e m their pleasure and e x c i t e m e n t at f e e l i n g and b e i n g , in an u n q u e s t i o n i n g a n d o p t i m i s t i c w a y . (Alan R. Solomon, The Popular Image, exhibition catalogue, Washington Gallery of Modern Art, 1963.)

W i t h i n critical d i s c o u r s e , h o w e v e r , there h a v e been t w o n o t a b l e e f f o r t s t o m o v e b e y o n d e a r l y f o r m u l a s and b r o m i d e s . T h e first i n v o l v e s an e m p h a sis o n the art's f o r m a l qualities. R o b e r t R o s e n b l u m laid the f o u n d a t i o n f o r this a p p r o a c h in " P o p A r t and N o n P o p A r t " ( 1 9 6 4 ) , and Suzi Gablik e x p l o r e d its p a r a m e t e r s in Pop Art

Redefined

(1969).2

A m o n g the c o m p o s i t i o n a l f e a t u r e s t h e y i d e n t i f y are the use o f s i m p l e r e g u l a r i z e d f o r m s a n d flat u n m o d ulated c o l o r areas, the p r e s e n t a t i o n o f e m b l e m a t i c

INTRODUCTION

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i m a g e r y , and the a d o p t i o n o f i m p e r s o n a l m a c h i n e like s u r f a c e s . S u c h attention to f o r m a l l o w e d critics to postulate a b o n d b e t w e e n p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n art a n d abstraction and m o d e r n i s t t h e o r i e s , t h e r e b y r e b u t t i n g earlier v i e w s o f the return t o f i g u r a t i v e i m a g e r y as a r e t r o g r a d e c o u n t e r m o d e r n i s t t e n d e n c y . C u r i o u s l y , then, the A m e r i c a n artists, t h o u g h q u i t e d i s t i n c t i v e in their c o n c e r n s w i t h r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l i m a g e r y and cultural s p e c i f i c i t y , w e r e e m b r a c e d u n d e r the f o r m a l i s t u m b r e l l a . T h e s e c o n d a p p r o a c h is based o n a n a l y s e s o f p o s t w a r h i s t o r y . Studies b y E v a C o c k c r o f t , S e r g e G u i l b a u t , W i l l i a m H a u p t m a n , J a n e de H a r t M a t h e w s , and D a v i d S h a p i r o and C e c i l e S h a p i r o e x a m i n e the r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n C o l d War politics a n d A b s t r a c t E x p r e s s i o n i s m to s h o w h o w the art b e c a m e a p r o p a g a n d a w e a p o n and t o e x p l o r e the i n f l u e n c e o f the n e w A m e r i c a n l i b e r a l i s m , w i t h its accent o n a n t i - c o m m u n i s m , o n the c h a r a c t e r and reception of vanguard A m e r i c a n abstraction.3 A f e w critics and scholars h a v e u s e d a s i m i l a r a p p r o a c h to discuss the g e n e r a t i o n that s u c c c e d c d A b s t r a c t E x p r e s s i o n i s m . M o s t n o t a b l y , in " A m e r i can P a i n t i n g D u r i n g the C o l d W a r " ( 1 9 7 3 ) M a x K o z l o f f establishes the f r a m e w o r k f o r v i e w i n g C o l o r Field p a i n t i n g and P o p A r t in the c o n t e x t o f A m e r i c a n political i d e o l o g y , and M o i r a R o t h v i e w s the early w o r k o f J a s p e r J o h n s , J o h n C a g e , M e r c e C u n n i n g h a m , and R o b e r t R a u s c h e n b e r g f r o m the p e r s p e c t i v e o f M c C a r t h y i s m in her essay " T h e A e s t h e t i c o f I n d i f f e r e n c e " (1977).4 T h e f o l l o w i n g study focuses on w o r k s o f A m e r ican art f r o m the 1 9 5 0 s and 1 9 6 0 s , t a k i n g an i c o n o g r a p h i c and c o n t e x t u a l a p p r o a c h in o r d e r to e x p l o r e the character and historical d i m e n s i o n s o f preeminently American images. Chapter groupi n g s c o n c e n t r a t e on m a j o r t h e m e s and p e r m i t the delineation o f shared tendencies in the artists' c h o i c e and t r e a t m e n t o f subject matter. T h e i c o n o g r a p h i c a p p r o a c h also a l l o w s the c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f a w i d e r a n g e o f art and c r o s s c u r r e n t s that g o b e y o n d s u c h stylistic c a t e g o r i z a t i o n s as P r o t o - P o p , A s s e m b l a g e , P o p , P h o t o r e a l i s m , and C o n c e p t u a l i s m . T h i s s t u d y s h o w s the b e g i n n i n g s and e x p a n s i o n s o f the attention to A m e r i c a n m a s s c u l t u r e in p o s t w a r art. It m o v e s w e l l b e y o n d the usual P o p A r t f o c u s and c o n c e n t r a t i o n o n the e a r l y sixties and o n N e w Y o r k to i n c l u d e art o f the fifties and late sixties and to r e c o g n i z e the e q u a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t c o n t r i b u t i o n s o f C a l i f o r n i a and C h i c a g o artists w h o w e r e s i m u l t a n e o u s l y c r e a t i n g art d e r i v e d f r o m and related to A m e r i c a n m a s s culture. 5 B e c a u s e the t e r m P o p A r t s o o f t e n r e f e r s to a l i m i t e d b o d y o f art and has acq u i r e d d e r o g a t o r y , p e j o r a t i v e , and f r i v o l o u s c o n n o t a t i o n s , it has been p u r p o s e l y a v o i d e d .

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In s u m , it is t i m e t o r e e x a m i n e clichés that h a v e c o m e to be associated w i t h the p o s t w a r d e v e l o p m e n t o f art that has a c o n s p i c u o u s l y A m e r i c a n identity. With the p e r s p e c t i v e o f t i m e , it is p o s s i b l e to g a i n a d e e p e r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f the cultural c o n text and s o c i o p o l i t i c a l d y n a m i c s that d i r e c t l y i n f l u e n c e d o r i n d i r e c t l y s h a p e d the subject m a t t e r and presentational m o d e o f this art. It is also p o s s i b l e t o realize m o r e f u l l y the art's aesthetic s t r e n g t h and its i m p o r t a n c e w i t h r e f e r e n c e to the m a i n s t r e a m o f m o d e r n i s m , e s p e c i a l l y as this e n c o m p a s s e s a shift f r o m a E u r o p e a n to an A m e r i c a n axis and a d e f i ance o f salient m o d e r n i s t precepts.

NOTES 1. A l l o w a y has stated that the date o f t e n cited as the first use o f the term pop art—1954—is too early and that his original reference w a s to " t h e products o f the mass media, not to the w o r k s o f art that d r a w upon popular c u l t u r e . " Sec " T h e D e v e l o p m e n t o f British P o p , " in Pop Art, ed. L u c y R. Lippard ( N e w Y o r k and Washington, D . C . : Praegcr, 1966), 27. It is w o r t h noting that t h o u g h British P o p artists used i m a g e r y f r o m A m e r i c a n mass culture, they did so f r o m an i m a g i n a t i v e or vicarious basis rather than an actual f a miliarity with A m e r i c a n culture. T h e fascination w i t h A m e r i c a and the desire to rebel against staid academic British art led to the creation o f British P o p Art. For discussions o f this m o v e m e n t , see J o h n Russell and Suzi G a b l i k , Pop Ait Redefined ( N e w Y o r k and Washington, O . C . : Praeger, 1969), and M a r i o A m a y a , Pop Art . . . and After ( N e w Y o r k : V i k i n g , 1965). 2. R o s e n b l u m ' s essay w a s first published in Art and Literature (Lausanne) 5 ( S u m m e r 1964): 8 0 - 9 5 ; it w a s reprinted in Canadian Art 2 ( J a n u a r y 1966): 5 0 - 5 4 . For Gablik's v i e w s , see Russell and G a b l i k , Pop Art Redefined, 9-20. 3. See E v a C o c k c r o f t , " A b s t r a c t E x p r e s s i o n i s m : Weapon o f the C o l d W a r , " Artfornm 1 2 ( J u n e 1974): 3 9 4 1 ; S e r g e Guilbaut, How Xew York Stole the Idea of Modern Art: Abstract Expressionism, Freedom, and the Cold liar, trans. A r t h u r G o l d h a m m e r ( C h i c a g o and L o n d o n : U n i versity o f C h i c a g o Press, 1983); William H a u p t m a n , " T h e Suppression o f A r t in the M c C a r t h y D e c a d e , " Artformn 1 2 (October 1973): 4 8 - 5 2 ; J a n e de Hart M a t h e w s , " A r t and Politics in C o l d War A m e r i c a , " American Historical Review 81 (October 1976): 7 6 2 - 8 7 ; and D a v i d S h a piro and C c c i l e Shapiro, " A b s t r a c t E x p r e s s i o n i s m : T h e Politics o f Apolitical P a i n t i n g , " Prospects 3 ( 1 9 7 7 ) : 175 — 214. 4. See M a x KozlofY, " A m e r i c a n Painting D u r i n g the C o l d W a r , " Artfornm 11 ( M a y 1973): 4 3 - 5 4 ; and M o i r a R o t h , " T h e Aesthetic o f I n d i f f e r e n c e , " Artfornm 16 ( N o v e m b e r 1977): 4 6 - 5 3 . 5. M o s t discussions and exhibitions o f p o s t w a r A m e r ican art focus 011 artists w h o w e r e living in N e w Y o r k and cither neglect or treat separately n o n - N e w Y o r k e r s . F o r e x a m p l e , only one 1 1 0 1 1 - N e w Y o r k artist (Wayne T h i e b a u d ) w a s included in the U n i t e d States section o f the seminal ¡Wir Realists exhibition o f 1962. T h e G u g g e n h e i m exhibition Six Painters and the Object ( 1 9 6 3 ) also had an exclusively N e w Y o r k focus, although it acquired a c o n s p i c u o u s appendage ( S i x More) o f West C o a s t artists w h e n on display at the L o s A n g e l e s C o u n t y M u s e u m o f A r t . T h e N e w Y o r k bias still prevails: o n l y N e w Y o r k e r s w e r e represented in the P o p A r t section o f Blam! The Explosion of Pop, Minimalism, and Performance, 195$64 at the Whitney M u s e u m o f A m e r i c a n A r t in 1984.

INTRODUCTION

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The Cultural Climate in America after World War II

" I did not think of culture as anything national, and in any case American culture had no real status in the eyes of anyone in the 1940s." 1 This comment by N o r m a n Podlioretz, a social and literary critic, exemplifies what once was a widely held attitude about American culture. The country had a reputation of being vulgar, on the one hand, and innocent on the other. Its art was commonly described as derivative and provincial. Measured against the prevailing standard of evaluation—European culture and European art—America and its endeavors were considered inferior. But in the postwar years, such opinions changed dramatically. As America moved into a position of political and economic leadership, newfound pride in the American way of life and American culture flourished. A t the same time, America's most familiar icons and a host of images shaped by the dynamics of contemporary American life became the subject matter of art. A new breed of artists sought to capture the vitality of the world around them, the world of Middle America and common experience. T h e y unabashedly called attention to tastes and images that were decidedly American and conspicuously vernacular: movies, comic strips, convenience foods, advertising, suburbia, traffic congestion, highways, brand-name products, billboards, supermarkets, and television. They also created art that reflected American postwar affluence, consumerism, technological prowess, c o m mercialization, conformism, mass media, civil unrest, urban poverty, and Cold War tensions. The new art countered both European iconographic conventions and the reigning mode of abstraction. Beyond setting forth a distinctly different type of imagery, the new art revolutionized attitudes about image creation and image presentation, often deriving inspiration from the American systems of mass production and mass communications. To be sure, this was not the first time that artists turned to American culture for their imagery, but the approach was distinctive. Unlike Prccisionist paintings of the 1920s and 1930s that idealized machine technology and depicted settings in pure, austere terms, mid-ccntury art did not hesitate to show or exaggerate the actual and often disturbing character of things. A n d unlike Social Realist art, which took a polemic tone, or Rcgionalist art, which was rooted in a fervid nationalism and parochialism, the new art favored equivocal presentations steeped in irony, absurdity, and paradox. This mid-century focus on a visibly American subject matter followed directly on the heels of the emergence of N e w York as a leading international

art centcr, and of Abstract Expressionism as the heir to European modernism. Abstract Expressionism had engendered an outspoken and selfconscious concern about establishing an American identity for art: that is to say, the recognition of a body of art as the product of American artists, living in America, and producing an art of equivalent or superior value to European art. But in its i m agery and subject matter, Abstract Expressionism eschewed discernible reference to America, focusing rather on personal and universalist evocations or imagery from a Jungian mythic store. Abstract Expressionist artists cultivated an alienation f r o m immediate circumstances and avoided national expression, though artists at times pointedly derived inspiration from the American landscape and American Indian art. Franz Kline, for example, saw an expression of life's dynamic energy in the American urban setting; Barnctt N e w m a n extolled the pure, abstract language and mystery of N o r t h west Coast Indian designs; and Jackson Pollock praised the plastic qualities and universal vision of Southwest Indian art. 2 These artists thus embraced the American environment and America's cultural heritage, effectively marking its place within and its contribution to the universal and mythic. But they steered clear of stamping their paintings with images that were manifestly American. Despite an antipathy to explicitly American images, discussions among Abstract Expressionist artists often centered on establishing distinctions between European and American art. At the now famous Studio 35 conference, held in 1950, this issue was a main topic. Artists sought to define the American character of their work, in the process asserting its importance by comparison with European precedents. T h e term School of New York, which served as the title of an exhibition organized by Robert Motherwell in 1 9 5 1 , further encouraged comparison, if not rivalry, with the much admired School of Paris. This spirit tempered other exhibitions that included American and European contemporary art, and became a commonplace in art criticism in the 1950s. 3 Critics w h o supported A b stract Expressionism not only elevated it to national and international prominence by advocating its primacy in comparison with the European modernist tradition, but also figured strongly in promoting a labeling of the art as American, even as they adamantly dissociated the art from contemporary American culture. For Harold Rosenberg, one of the leading postwar critics, the Abstract Expressionist artists responded only to themselves. T h e canvas became their world, and in this world they could enjoy

complete freedom to engage in an individual existential struggle: Painting became an act of personal liberation. 4 T h e use of an abstract vocabulary i m bued the art with an archetypal, timeless quality that further distanced it f r o m the actuality of life. Although the subject matter did not draw on American topics, Rosenberg characterized the spirit in national terms. In the essay "Parable of American Painting" (1954), he named t w o opposing conditions: " R e d c o a t i s m , " the reliance on E u ropean models and blindness to native terrain, and " C o o n s k i n i s m , " the break with foreign tradition and the search for new, often instinctual approaches. O f course, the conventional Redcoats were defeated by the pioneering Coonskins, whose spirit was for Rosenberg epitomized by the A b stract Expressionists. 5 In a later article on Jackson Pollock, Rosenberg went so far as to compare Pollock with Daniel Boone, claiming that his adaptation of a frontiersman posture was a w a y to challenge "European aesthetic superiority and snobbishness."' For Rosenberg, Abstract Expressionism was a vitalizing, independent American art. Unlike Rosenberg, w h o sought to proclaim America's separatencss from Europe, the critic Clement Greenberg was determined to assert a direct line of descent. He promoted the new A m e r i can art as the next stage in a historical progression involved with the purification of the medium to its viable essence. In the seminal article "American Type Painting" (1955), he described correspondences with European precedents, showing how Abstract Expressionism had assimilated and extended the major features of modernism. 7 A m e r i can art was thus saved f r o m a provincial tradition and took its place at the helm of vanguard activity. T h e key to its success was abstraction—pure and simple painting untainted by formulated ideologies and free from imitative or illusionistic tendencies. Attainment of this absolute was the ideal of modernism, and Abstract Expressionism represented an advanced stage in the quest. Both Greenberg and Rosenberg considered the Abstract Expressionist artists to be nobly alienated. Alienation expressed a despair with the state of modern society and ensured that art would not be contaminated either by the vulgarities of industrialism or by c o m m o n taste. 8 Since these were particular dangers in America, it was especially necessary for American artists to remain apart f r o m their immediate environment. In this isolation Greenberg again viewed American artists as continuing and surpassing the example of their European predecessors: "Isolation, alienation, naked and revealed unto itself, is the condition under which the

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true reality o f our age is experienced. . . . T h e alienation o f B o h e m i a w a s o n l y anticipated in nineteenth-century Paris; it is in N e w Y o r k that it has been c o m p l e t e l y fulfilled.'"' A t times, h o w e v e r , G r e e n b e r g used b r o a d l y A m e r i c a n characterizations to distinguish the virtues o f the n e w A m e r i can art. In discussing the paintings o f J a c k s o n P o l lock, f o r e x a m p l e , he i n v o k e d Faulkner and M e l v i l l e " a s witnesses to the nativencss o f such v i olence, exasperation and s t r i d e n c y . " ' " Artists and critics alike w e r e thus intent on establishing an A m e r i c a n identity and an A m e r i c a n context f o r Abstract E x p r e s s i o n i s m , even t h o u g h the art itself w a s expressly premised 011 a universalis! i d e o l o g y and i m a g e r y . C o n c u r r e n t with the e m e r g e n c e o f Abstract E x p r e s s i o n i s m within the realm o f v a n g u a r d art w a s a b u r g e o n i n g interest in the history o f A m e r i can culture. B e f o r e World War II most m a j o r universities o f f e r e d but a f e w courses in A m e r i c a n studies. Suddenly, w i t h the burst o f p o s t w a r c o n f i dence in A m e r i c a , f u l l - f l e d g e d A m e r i c a n studies p r o g r a m s b e c a m e ubiquitous. ( B e f o r e 1945 there w e r e t w e n t y - n i n e such p r o g r a m s ; by 1956 there w e r e e i g h t y - t w o across the country.) Publishers launched b o o k s on A m e r i c a n literature, history, and art, and the p r o m o t i o n o f A m e r i c a n culture in the popular press increased apace. A s noted by J o h n Walker, director o f the National Gallery, in his introduction to one o f the n e w b o o k s — T h r e e Hundred Years of American Art by A l e x a n d e r E l i o t — there w a s also a flurry o f exhibitions o f A m e r i c a n painting, and m u s e u m s m a d e notable expansions in their collections o f A m e r i c a n art. T h e A m e r i c a n preoccupation w a s so p r o n o u n c e d that Walker s u g gested appending to Whistler's w e l l - k n o w n c o m ment " A r t is u p o n the t o w n ! " the phrase " E s p e cially A m e r i c a n a r t . " " T h e signs o f this n e w passion f o r A m e r i c a n art w e r e all about. In [951 the first training center f o r the study o f A m e r i c a n art and culture w a s established at the H e n r y Francis D u p o n t Winterthur M u s e u m ; in 1954 the M e t r o p o l i t a n M u s e u m o f A r t m o u n t e d Two Centuries oj American Painting, a c o m p r e h e n s i v e exhibition that filled t w e n t y - f o u r galleries; in D e c e m b e r 1 9 5 6 a Time cover story, acc o m p a n i e d b y eight pages o f color reproductions, c h a m p i o n e d A m e r i c a n art; in s u m m e r 1 9 5 7 the Metropolitan M u s e u m Bulletin heralded the o p e n ing o f eight permanent, n e w l y renovated galleries f o r A m e r i c a n painting; and d u r i n g the w i n t e r o f 1958 M a d i s o n Square G a r d e n hosted Art:USA:}8, a grandiose display o f twentieth-century A m e r i c a n art ( 1 , 5 4 0 paintings and 300 sculptures).

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C l e a r l y , A m e r i c a w a s experiencing an u n p r e c e dented pride in the d i s c o v e r y o f its heritage as well as an u r g e n c y to assert its cultural leadership. T o e x a m i n e this situation, a b e n c h m a r k s y m p o s i u m , " O u r C o u n t r y and O u r C u l t u r e , " w a s organized in 1 9 5 2 by Partisan Review, the leading v a n g u a r d j o u r n a l o f the period. 1 " T w e n t y - f o u r w e l l - k n o w n intellectuals w e r e invited to discuss the n e w attitude t o w a r d A m e r i c a and the issue o f mass culture. A l t h o u g h the s y m p o s i u m did not address the v i sual arts per se, and although the participants' attitudes differed considerably f r o m those o f the e m e r g i n g generation o f artists w h o turned to A m e r i c a n mass culture, the s y m p o s i u m u n d e r scored telling aspects o f the m i d - c e n t u r y p r e o c c u pation w i t h A m e r i c a . In itself, the use o f the possessive our in the title suggests an identification with and a f f i r m a t i o n o f A m e r i c a . A s the s y m p o s i u m editors note, the end o f hostility and estrangement corresponded w i t h international circumstanccs: " E u r o p e is 110 l o n g e r regarded as a sanctuary: it 110 longer assures that rich experience o f culture w h i c h inspired and j u s t i fied a criticism o f A m e r i c a n life. T h e wheel has c o m e full circle, and n o w A m e r i c a has b e c o m e the protector o f Western civilization, at least in a military and e c o n o m i c s e n s e . " " A m e r i c a had acquired a prestigious n e w i m a g e and n e w p o w e r , and its culture w a s consequently to be valued, recognized f o r its A m e r i c a n n e s s . A m e r i c a n culture w a s also to be " d e f e n d e d against Russian t o t a l i t a r i a n i s m " — a phrase that marks a turning a w a y f r o m the sacrosanct model o f European culture and a turn t o w a r d the C o l d War opposition o f the U . S . and the U S S R . O f concern to the s y m p o s i u m ' s organizers, then, w e r e both A m e r i c a ' s assertion o f leadership in cultural affairs and a consideration o f the nation's culture within the context o f the C o l d War. T h e Partisan Review editors also proclaimed a n e w relationship between the writer/artist and A m e r i c a n culture: F o r better or w o r s e , m o s t w r i t e r s 110 l o n g e r acccpt alienation as the artist's fate in A m e r i c a ; 011 the c o n t r a r y , they w a n t v e r y m u c h to be a part o f A m e r i c a n lite. M o r e and m o r e w r i t e r s h a v e ceased to think o f t h e m s e l v e s as rebels and exiles. T h e y n o w believe that their v a l u e s , if they are to be realized at all, m u s t be realized in A m e r i c a and in relation t o the actuality o f A m e r i c a n life.

All but a f e w o f the s y m p o s i u m ' s participants agreed w i t h this premise. H o w e v e r , this e x t r a o r d i nary rapprochement w i t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e — a " c o r r e c t i v e o f the earlier e x t r e m e n e g a t i o n " — a l s o

posed a danger: the relinquishing o f the revered A m e r i c a n tradition o f critical n o n c o n f o r m i s m . C o u l d an artist " b e a part o f A m e r i c a n life" and yet maintain an independent, oppositional voice? For the editors o f Partisan Review, the principal issue here w a s the potential contaminating effect o f mass culture: " T h e e n o r m o u s and ever-increasing g r o w t h o f mass culture confronts the artist and the intellectual w i t h a n e w p h e n o m e n o n and creates a n e w obstacle: the artist and intellectual w h o wants to be a part o f A m e r i c a n life is faced w i t h a mass culture w h i c h makes him feel that he is still outside looking in." M o s t participants in the s y m p o s i u m shared the elitist assumption that mass culture w a s inferior and a viable threat to high culture. Serious creative pursuits, they cautioned, had to be kept above and b e y o n d mass culture and its t a w d r y products: H o l l y w o o d movies, C o c a - C o l a , television, supermarkets, soda fountain luncheons. Time, Life, c o m i c strips, mass j o u r n a l i s m , and advertising w e r e m e n tioned by name. Respondents echoed the v i e w s C l e m e n t G r e e n b e r g had expressed in his influential article " A v a n t - G a r d e and K i t s c h " (1939): A clear separation had to be maintained b e t w e e n kitsch (the G e r m a n term for inferior, synthetic culture) and the avant-garde. 1 4 N o one seriously suggested that mass culture w a s anything other than c o n temptible and antagonistic to high culture. N e v e r theless, the s y m p o s i u m recognized the g r o w i n g potency and p o w e r o f mass culture in postwar A m e r i c a , and articulated a sense o f urgency about addressing the issue overtly. T h e Partisan Review s y m p o s i u m w a s w i d e l y discussed in artistic circles. A s if in direct response to it, the generation o f artists that f o l l o w e d the A b stract Expressionists began to explore the various issues that the intellectuals had raised. While focusi n g on A m e r i c a n culture and the actualities o f A m e r i c a n life, h o w e v e r , these artists retained the spirit o f rebels, often adopting an outrageous, individualistic posture that upended or questioned c o n ventional mores and traditional images. T h e y effectively affirmed A m e r i c a as a theme but used this affirmation as a provocation. M o r e o v e r , unlike the Partisan Review participants, these artists b o l d l y rejected the old-line division b e t w e e n high and mass culture, recognizing that in p o s t w a r A m e r i c a such demarcations w e r e blurring as mass culture became m o r e widespread. Rather than approach mass culture as an abhorrent obstacle, they reveled in its v i tality, enthusiastically w e l c o m i n g its products as subject matter and adapting mass production techniques to their creative processes and imagery. T h e

art o f the 1950s and 1960s bears witness to both the centrality and the expansiveness o f A m e r i c a n mass culture in the p o s t w a r period. D u r i n g the p o s t w a r years n e w technologies and business practices made A m e r i c a n society m o r e mass-oriented, and a larger proportion o f the p o p ulation identified w i t h the goals, values, and a m e n ities o f the mass " m i d d l e . " A d v a n c e m e n t s in mass distribution and mass c o m m u n i c a t i o n s facilitated the rapid dispersion o f g o o d s and information across state and regional boundaries. Giant nationw i d e organizations flourished; national chains and franchises dotted the landscape; brand-name m e r chandising and u n i f o r m packaging prospered; p r o motional campaigns gained sophistication in targeting broad markets; the n e w interstate h i g h w a y system expedited long-distance hauls; and urbanization spread b e y o n d center city limits. In addition, the mass m e d i a — t h e f o r u m in w h i c h ideas, images, experiences, and values are s h a p e d — e x tended their purview. T h e media's capabilities w e r e enhanced by various technological advances: the perfection o f television electronics, the d e v e l o p ment o f portable broadcasting cameras, the automation o f typesetting, and the inception o f satellite transmissions. A n d the media's p o w e r s w e r e concentrated by entrepreneurial reorganizations, such as corporate consolidations, m o r e v i g o r o u s netw o r k control, and institutionalized w i r e services. A s a result o f these patterns o f g r o w t h , the A m e r i c a n federation o f individual states and diverse regions w a s b e c o m i n g m o r e h o m o g e n e o u s and u n i f i e d — a t least on the surface. A clarified sense e m e r g e d o f an A m e r i c a n w a y o f life, o f an American mass culture. A vast majority o f the p o p ulation felt itself united by a c o m m o n experience and a c o m m o n orientation. M i d d l e A m e r i c a had opened o u t w a r d , broadened its n u m b e r s and scope, extended its boundaries, and imprinted its character u p o n the nation. A l t h o u g h the n e w mass order had taken root in the United States after World War I, it w a s not until after World War II that it entered a phase o f energetic expansionism. A n d although a similar situation existed in Europe, mass culture had advanced far m o r e rapidly in the U n i t e d States. A s a h y b r i d f o r m o f d e m o c r a c y crossed w i t h free-market capitalism, mass culture seemed peculiarly A m e r i c a n , a r e b u f f o f European aristocratic tradition and c o m munist economics. While the n e w order thrived, experts sought to probe and analyze c o n t e m p o r a r y A m e r i c a n mass culture f r o m every perspective. C o m m e n t a r i e s appeared continually in all the m a j o r media, and the

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new paperback format expanded the market for studies of the newly emerging national character, its values and behaviors. A broad readership w r e s tled with the analyses offered in The Lonely Crowd (1950) by David Riesman (with Nathan Glazer and Reuel Denney), The Organization Man (1956) by William H. Whyte, J r . , The Hidden Persuaders (1957) and The Status Seekers (1959) by Vance Packard, and Growing Up Absurd (i960) by Paul G o o d man. A reiterated theme concerned the forfeit of individualism to collectivism. For example, David Riesman contrasted "inner-directed" people, individuals w h o were guided by an internalized set of values and goals, with "other-directed" people, those guided by outside opinions. Americans of the new middle, Riesman contended, exemplified the other-directed character: they strived to belong and to keep up with or surpass their peers. M o r e over, they relied heavily on the mass media as a source of direction: "Increasingly, relations with the outer world and with oneself are mediated by the flow of mass communication.'" 5 T h e mass media were thus implicated in the changes of behavior that resulted f r o m the replacement of direct experience by secondary, filtered experience. In his bestseller, Whyte concurred with Riesman about the new dominance of a group orientation, but he focused on depicting the value conflict between the old Protestant ethic of self-reliance, thrift, and hard w o r k , and the new organizational ethic that fostered belongingness, consumption, and leisure. T h e good "organization m a n " sublimated self to group and subscribed to majority patterns. Whyte, like Packard and others, showed h o w consumer practices and the advertising and public relations efforts developed to encourage consumerism were an integral aspect o f the new collectivism. A s Riesman suggested, a major revolution "associated with a shift f r o m an age o f production to an age of consumption" was in process. 1 6 With the spread of mass culture and the attention paid to it, it is not surprising that artists began to explore this realm. Hardly had Abstract E x p r e s sionism reached its prime, when a new generation o f artists countermined with conspicuously A m e r i can subject matter and an explicit conjuring o f mass culture, including both its most mundane and its most disturbing features. Hamburgers and car crashes, movie stars and atomic bombs, American flags and race riots, suburban homes and ghetto neighborhoods—all became viable subjects. This dramatic change f r o m a European to an American iconography also initiated a j o y o u s exploration of

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the manmade and the machine-made, and o f c o m mercial art. Dismissing traditional prejudices against certain images, styles, or creative processes, these artists turned to the actualities of life, to commonplace tastes and topics. T h e new attitudes marked a break with the abstract language of the preceding generation, with the axiomatic theories of modernism, and with the snobbish denigration of mass culture by liberal intellectuals. In the most general terms, the shift was f r o m a subjective art, separated f r o m life and premised on originality, to an objective art, bound to life and based on borrowed or reproduced imagery, manufactured materials, and mechanical techniques. Emotional expression, especially the angstladen mood that typified Abstract Expressionism, was foresaken in favor of an impersonal mode allied with mass merchandising and mass media. Deadpan delivery, irony, paradox, and humor were used as tools of provocation. B y masking their o w n opinions, the artists made it impossible for viewers to gauge whether endorsement, ridicule, or aversion was intended. T h e art celebrated America and American life despite—or because of—its absurdities; but it also posed a confrontation, at times permeated by uncertainty, doubt, and denial. Artists called attention to the world around them—the world that was known, familiar, and part of the collective, mass middle of contemporary America—without making apologies for it or presuming themselves to be outside or above it. Unlike the Partisan Review participants w h o sought to belong yet feared getting too close to mass culture, these artists embraced mass culture without prejudicial reservations. A n d unlike artists and critics w h o emphasized universality, these artists had no qualms about emphasizing American culture. Their designs were not motivated by nationalism, for their art had no basis in political proselytizing, but by an enthusiastic openness, often tempered by a desire to dramatize given conditions in order to foster a re-viewing of c o m mon images, subvert conventional conceptions, or awaken public concern. In these endeavors, many artists were inspired by independent thinkers like J o h n C a g e and the Beat poets, w h o likewise faced, and faced up to, life in all its complexity, incongruity, and irrationality. For C a g e the preeminent value of art was affirmation: " a n affirmation of life—not an attempt to bring order out of chaos nor to suggest improvements in creation, but simply to wake up to the very life we're living.'" 7 Advocating receptivity and discovery, C a g e exulted in the quotidian, in the continuous indeterminacy within the flux of

actual life as experienced, not life as it should or might be. A l w a y s open to the possibilities of change, C a g e refused to think in terms of absolutes or rigid oppositions. As he stated in an essay on Jasper Johns, " T h e situation must be Yes-and-No not either-or. Avoid a polar situation."" T h e Beat poets expressed a similar affirmation of raw, unstructured vitality, though they concentrated more on the underbelly of the culture, and their receptivity was pierced by a restless longing to find something meaningful within the chaos and conformity of the modern condition. Like Cage, they refused to submit to the constraints of the increasingly hierarchical and technocratic society, and they refused to abide by idealizing suppositions. For the Beats, exposing the trivial, sordid, and futile within the everyday environment served as a weapon in their battle to discredit materialistic values and blind Americanist pretentions. Central to the approach of both the Beats and C a g e was the denial of boundaries and the exaltation of an unfettered involvement with life. This spirit above all was shared by artists of the fifties and sixties, as they transgressed conventional separations between art and life, commercial and fine art, high and mass culture, and called attention to fundamental, familiar aspects of America whether glorious or offensive. Theirs was an art that laid bare evidence about unity and dissension in A m e r ica during a period of growth and change. In this era o f transitions, the place of art and the role of the artist in American society were also redefined. Interest in art, previously the province of the privileged few, moved well outside the confines o f elite coteries. During the 1950s a veritable culture b o o m prevailed in which art flourished, prospered, and gained broad popularity. Art became big news, with coverage of artists and exhibitions, art trends, art sales, and art books evolving into a routine beat in the popular press and a staple special feature on television. Art also became big business. Commercial galleries proliferated, as g r o w ing numbers of Middle Americans became feverish collectors and investors. Speculation in contemporary art was particularly intense, and the publication of art books and reproductions (posters, postcards, and the like) escalated to unprecedented levels and impressive profits. America became a nation of culture consumers for w h o m art was not just an object of beauty that provided sensory pleasure, but a c o m m o d i t y . " T h e nature of museums changed as well. Once sanctified depositories of art, they now ran bookshops and restaurants; o f fered lectures, tours, and film programs; and promoted grand-scale exhibitions and membership af-

filiation through high-powered public relations campaigns. 2 0 T h e generation of artists that emerged after World War II were both conditioned by and responsive to this environment. T h e romantic vision of the artist as an outsider, maligned and d o w n trodden, alienated f r o m a world that did not appreciate his talent, was no longer valid. Artists were now college-educated and engaged in a commercial profession. Allan Kaprow neatly encapsulated the change in his insightful article " S h o u l d the Artist B e c o m e a Man of the World?": " I f the artist was in hell in 1946, now he is in business." 2 1 A n d artists were not only in business but also in the limelight, bedecked by the glitter of H o l l y w o o d and backed by the merchandising of Madison Avenue. As never before, they achieved celebrity status, their names becoming widely recognized outside art circles and topping guest lists of important dinner parties and public events. N o longer did young American artists expect to live without fame or fortune or recognition during their lifetime. A s Larry Rivers observed, " F o r the first time in this country, the artist is 'on stage.' He isn't just fooling around in a cellar with something that maybe no one will ever see. N o w he is there in the full glare of publicity." 2 2 Consumerism, commercialism, and the celebration of celebrity—the prevailing character of the art community reflected the general postwar climate in America. Although the nascent American focus in art can be variously attributed to the n e w found attentiveness to immediate circumstances, to the interest in mass culture, to the loss of a E u r o pean ideal, and to the desire to assert an American preeminence, it must also be viewed within the context of Cold War politics. T h e Truman D o c trine, enunciated in 1947, marked a significant change not only in American foreign policy but in the nation's conception of the world. Universalism, which posited that all peoples were part of one world, gave w a y to a polarized view o f the world as t w o camps, nations for or against c o m munism. Without question, the communist-led coup in Hungary in 1947, the Soviet invasion o f Czechoslovakia in 1948, the establishment of the People's Republic of China in 1949, and the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950 were foreboding. E v e n more threatening was President Truman's announcement on September 23, 1949, that the S o viet Union had exploded an atomic bomb. N o w either side could initiate strikes that could lead to global destruction. A s Harold C . Urey, a N o b e l laureate in physics, stated, " T h e r e is only one thing worse than one nation having the atomic b o m b —

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that's two nations having it." 23 The emergence of nuclear-armed superpowers made the Cold War all the more ominous. And the arms race accelerated; by 1953 both the U . S . and the U S S R had tested the much more deadly hydrogen bomb. (Britain joined the frightful competition for superior strategic capability by exploding its first hydrogen bomb in 1957.) Anti-communism soon became a new political ideology that ruled foreign policy and affected many domestic decisions as well. A broad spectrum of the general public became preoccupied with identifying fellow citizens w h o might be sympathetic to the communist philosophy. Senator McCarthy conducted public witch hunts, contending that a communist conspiracy had infiltrated even the U . S . State Department. A series of wellpublicized espionage trials—Alger Hiss (1949-50), Dr. Klaus Fuchs (1950), and Julius and Ethel Rosenberg (1950-53)—intensified the inquisitorial mood. The frenzy of patriotism also inspired mountains of propaganda that emphasized the superiority of the American democratic system over the Soviet communist system. Even after M c Carthy had been discredited in 1954, Americans' fear of communism remained strong, reaching new crescendos in response to the Soviet suppression o f Polish and Hungarian uprisings in 1956, the launching of Sputnik in 1957, Fidel Castro's victory in Cuba in 1959, the Bay of Pigs fiasco and the erection of the Berlin Wall in 1961, the Cuban missile crisis in 1962, and the ongoing strife in Indochina. A s America increased its involvement in international political and military affairs, it also actively engaged in foreign aid and international trade to promote the superiority of the free enterprise system.2'' The exporting of American taste, American products, and more generally the American way of life advanced America's influence and image, particularly as these exports offered a marked contrast with the Soviet economic system, products, and way of life. The Cold War thus shaped a new national consciousness predicated on an intense concern with communism and a related preoccupation with American supremacy. In this historical context the turn in art to American culture is all the more significant. Artists did not emphasize an American idiom to serve jingoist ends, though they were inspired by cultural currents and at times responsive to political issues. Their art stands not as propaganda but as a telling reflection of America's postwar obsession with expressing, defining, analyzing, promoting, and criticizing its Americanness.

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NOTES 1. N o r m a n P o d h o r e t z , Making It ( N e w Y o r k : R a n d o m H o u s e , 1967), 83. 2. See Barnett N e w m a n , " T h e Ideographic P i c t u r e " ( N e w Y o r k : B e t t y Parsons Gallery, 1947), q u o t e d in M a u r i c e T u c h m a n , The New York School ( G r e e n w i c h , C o n n . : N e w Y o r k G r a p h i c Society, 1977), 105. Jackson P o l l o c k , " S t a t e m e n t , " Arts and Architecture 61 (February 1964): 14, q u o t e d in T u c h m a n , New York School, 116. 3. T h r e e exhibitions o f note are Young Painters in the United States and France at the S i d n e y Janis G a l l e r y ( O c t o ber 1950), and the c o m p l e m e n t a r y exhibitions o f 1 9 5 5 — The New Decade: 22 European Painters and Sculptors at T h e M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t , N e w Y o r k , and The New Decade: 35 American Painters and Sculptors at the W h i t n e y M u s e u m o f A m e r i c a n A r t , N e w Y o r k . For a detailed discussion o f the rivalry b e t w e e n E u r o p e a n and A m e r i can art, see Serge G u i l b a u t , How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art, trans. A r t h u r G o l d h a m m e r ( C h i c a g o and L o n d o n : U n i v e r s i t y o f C h i c a g o Press, 1983). 4. H a r o l d R o s e n b e r g , " T h e A m e r i c a n A c t i o n Painte r s , " Artnews 51 ( D e c e m b e r 1952): 22-23, 4 8 - 5 0 . 5. H a r o l d R o s e n b e r g , " P a r a b l e o f A m e r i c a n Painti n g , " Artnews 52 (January 1954): 6 0 - 6 3 . 6. H a r o l d R o s e n b e r g , " T h e Search f o r Jackson P o l l o c k , " Artnews 59 (February 1961): 35. 7. Clement Greenberg, "American Type Painting," Partisan Review 22 ( S p r i n g 1955): 1 7 9 - 9 6 . 8. C l e m e n t G r e e n b e r g , " T h e Present Prospects o f A m e r i c a n Painting and S c u l p t u r e , " Horizon 16 ( O c t o b e r 1947): 20-30. 9. C l e m e n t G r e e n b e r g , " T h e Situation o f the M o m e n t , " Partisan Review 15 (January 1948): 8 2 - 8 3 . 10. G r e e n b e r g , " P r e s e n t P r o s p e c t s , " 26. 11. J o h n Walker, i n t r o d u c t i o n to A l e x a n d e r Eliot, Three Hundred Years of American Art ( N e w Y o r k : T i m e , Inc., 1957), viii. 12. Partisan Review 19 ( M a y - J u n e , J u l y - A u g u s t , S e p t e m b e r - O c t o b e r 1952): 282-326, 4 2 0 - 5 0 , 5 6 2 - 9 7 ; reprinted as America and the Intellectuals ( N e w Y o r k : Partisan R e v i e w Press, 1953). 13. T h i s and subsequent q u o t a t i o n s arc f r o m the e d i tors' i n t r o d u c t i o n . Partisan Review 19 ( M a y - J u n e 1952): 282-86. 14. C l e m e n t G r e e n b e r g , " A v a n t - G a r d e and K i t s c h , " Partisan Review 6 (Fall 1939): 3 4 - 3 9 . D u r i n g the p o s t w a r era D w i g h t M a c d o n a l d t o o k up G r e e n b e r g ' s p o l e m i c s in " A T h e o r y o f M a s s C u l t u r e , " Diogenes 3 ( S u m m e r 1953): 1 - 1 7 ; and " M a s s C u l t and M i d c u l t , " parts I, 2, Partisan Review 27 (Spring i960): 2 0 3 - 3 3 ; (Fall i960): 589-631. 15. D a v i d Riesman w i t h N a t h a n G l a z e r and Rcuel D e n n e y , The Lonely Crowd (1950; rev. ed. G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : D o u b l e d a y A n c h o r , 1953), 37. 16. Ibid., 2 0 - 2 1 . 17. C a g e c o m m e n t f r o m 1957, q u o t e d in C a l v i n T o m k i n s , The Bride and the Bachelors ( N e w Y o r k : V i k i n g , 1965), 73-

18. J o h n C a g e , "Jasper Johns: Stories and Ideas," A Year from Monday: Lectures and Writings by John Cage (Middletown, C o n n . : Wesleyan University Press, 1969),

7919. For a discussion o f the art b o o m , see A l v i n Toffler, The Culture Consumers: Art and Affluence in America ( N e w York: St. Martin's Press, 1964). 20. See Neil Harris, " M u s e u m s , Merchandising, and Popular Taste: T h e Struggle for Influence," in Material Culture and the Study of American Life, ed. Ian M . G . Q u i m b y ( N e w York: W. W. N o r t o n , 1978), 1 4 0 - 7 4 . 21. Allan K a p r o w , " S h o u l d the Artist B e c o n i c a M a n o f the World?" Artnews 63 (October 1964): 34. 22. Rivers, quoted in D o r o t h y Gees Secklcr, " T h e Artist in America: Victim of the Culture B o o m ? " Art in America 51 (December 1963): 28. 23. Urey, quoted in Eric F. G o l d m a n , The Crucial Decade and After ( N e w York: Vintage, i960), 100. 24. T h e beginnings of an official policy to send economic aid abroad dates to the Truman Doctrine (1947) and Marshall Plan (1948). At the same time, large A m e r ican corporations began increasing their exports, granting foreign franchises, and establishing overseas subsidiaries.

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W h e n L a r r y R i v e r s p a i n t e d Washington Crossing the Delaware [ F i g . i ] in 1953, he h e r a l d e d a n e w d i r e c t i o n in A m e r i c a n art. S u b v e r t i n g abstract, m o d e r n ist c o n v e n t i o n s and u s i n g a national cliche as his s u b j e c t m a t t e r , R i v e r s c h a l l e n g e d the status q u o o f the a v a n t - g a r d e . It w a s a g e s t u r e o n t h e o r d e r o f M a r c e l D u c h a m p ' s painting o f a mustache on a rep r o d u c t i o n o f M o n a Lisa ( 1 9 1 9 ) , b u t o n e that c o n s p i c u o u s l y s h i f t e d the c o n t e x t f r o m E u r o p e a n to A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e . W i t h utter b r a v a d o . R i v e r s m e a n t t o m o n u m e n t a l i z e an e v e n t f r o m A m e r i c a n h i s t o r y as D e l a c r o i x h a d d o n e f o r F r a n c e in Liberty Leading the People and T o l s t o y f o r Russia in War and Peace.1 H i s c h o i c e o f W a s h i n g t o n c r o s s i n g the D e l a w a r e as s u b j e c t m a t t e r w a s inspired b y the g r a n d nineteenth-century painting by Emanuel Leutze [Fig. 2], w h i c h is w e l l k n o w n t o m i l l i o n s o f A m e r icans t h r o u g h its w i d e s p r e a d a p p e a r a n c e in g r a d e school textbooks. F o r R i v e r s t o a d o p t this s t o r y and p i c t o r i a l s o u r c e w a s h e r e s y : a blatant a f f r o n t to the p u r i s t ideals o f A b s t r a c t E x p r e s s i o n i s m , a b o l d a n n o u n c e m e n t o f a n a t i o n a l i s t i c t h e m e , and a return t o h i s tory painting, a long-forsaken mode. Rivers c o m p o u n d e d his h e r e s y b y c o m p o s i n g f r o m s k e t c h e s a n d d o i n g p r o g r a m m a t i c research instead o f a d h e r i n g t o an i n t u i t i v e , s p o n t a n e o u s p r o c e s s ; b y c h o o s i n g a t h e m e that w a s m u n d a n e and trite rather than s u b l i m e ; and b y a d o p t i n g a s c h e m a that w a s f i g u r a l and n a r r a t i v e rather than abstract and p o e t i c . M o r e o v e r , he p r o f e r r e d an i m a g e steeped in p a t r i o t i c v a l o r , a n d d i d so at the h e i g h t o f M c C a r t h y i s m and j u s t after the election o f a n e w w a r h e r o p r e s i d e n t . T h e o u t r a g e o u s n e s s o f it all w a s c a l c u l a t e d and i n t e n t i o n a l . A s R i v e r s e x p l a i n e d : "1 w a s e n e r g e t i c and e g o m a n i a c a l and w h a t is m o r e i m p o r t a n t , c o c k y and a n g r y e n o u g h t o w a n t to d o s o m e t h i n g n o o n e in the N e w Y o r k art w o r l d w o u l d d o u b t w a s disgusting, dead and absurd."2 R i v e r s ' s W a s h i n g t o n is an u n p r e t e n t i o u s , s o m e w h a t p e r p l e x e d f i g u r e , s t a n d i n g a l o n e in an o t h e r w i s e e m p t y b o a t in t h e m i d d l e o f an i c y river. D r e s s e d in e v e r y d a y g a r b , b e a r i n g n o m a r k i n g s o f r a n k , h e a p p e a r s m o r e l i k e an o r d i n a r y p e r s o n than a g e n e r a l . H i s stature is f u r t h e r c o m p r o m i s e d b y t h e p a t c h e s o f paint that b l u r his i m a g e and c o n f o u n d his spatial p o s i t i o n i n g . L i k e the s c a t t e r i n g o f s o l d i e r s , h o r s e s , and b y s t a n d e r s , h e appears t o float in space. N o n e o f the f i g u r e s are p r e c i s e l y d e p i c t e d n o r c o h e s i v e l y a r r a n g e d . T h e o v e r a l l i m p r e s s i o n is a h u m d r u m , confused embarcation quite unlike L e u t z e ' s c a r e f u l and theatrical p r e s e n t a t i o n . A t the c e n t e r o f L e u t z e ' s c a n v a s is the A m e r i c a n flag and

*PIG. I. Larry Rivers, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1953. Oil on canvas, 83'/!" X 1 1 1 '/>". The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York. Given anonymously.

FIG. 2. Emanuel Leutze, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1851. Oil on canvas, 149" x 255". The Metropolitan Museum of Art, N e w York. Gift of John Stewart Kennedy, 1897.

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FIG. 3- Grant Wood, Daughters of Revolution, 1932. Oil on masonite, 20" x 40". Cincinnati Art Museum. T h e E d w i n and Virginia Irwin Memorial. © W o o d / V . A . G . A . , N e w York.

General Washington, future leader of the new democracy, in full uniform and posed in a pompous Napoleonic stance. All around him people struggle against the wind and icy waters, but he seems oblivious, disinterested. Rivers's commonsense reimagining of the event pointedly defies Leutze's mythic aggrandizement: "What I saw in the crossing was quite different. I saw the moment as nervewracking and uncomfortable. I couldn't picture anyone getting into a chilly river around Christmas time with anything resembling hand-on-chest heroics." 3 Debunking the esteemed paradigm, Rivers offers a humanized version of history, something closer to an actual event. T h e choice of any academic painting as a model was sure to scandalize the reigning avant-garde. B u t Leutze's composition was not just any painting. It was a painting about American heroism, a painting that had just the year before (in 1952) been the object of widespread public attention during a celebration that marked the 175th anniversary of the famed river crossing. For this celebration, the canvas had been put on display at the site (Washington Crossing Park, Pennsylvania) in an exhibition that opened on G e o r g e Washington's birthday to a grand fanfare of national media coverage. Time and National Geographic, among other popular periodicals, ran special stories on the event, illustrated

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with large-scale photographs of the painting, and numerous newspaper articles appeared. 4 As stated in a New York Times editorial, a key purpose of the display was to spark a new wave of patriotism. Indeed, the planners of the event hoped for a reprise of the patriotic fervor elicited by the painting in 1932, when it had been called into service as the centerpiece of the bicentennial celebration of George Washington's birth. Interestingly, that earlier commemoration had produced a satiric rejoinder: Grant Wood's Daughters of Revolution (i932)[Fig. 3], which spoofs the zealous adoration of Washington Crossing the Delaware by such super patriots as the Daughters of the American Revolution. 5 Thus, Rivers was in effect repeating history by providing a parodic encore to a special exhibition of Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware. A n d although Rivers's iconoclastic attitude was not shared by the regionalist Wood, both renounced affected expression and sought to show instead the more commonplace, devoid of pretentions. While the anniversary of the crossing provided the reason for the special exhibition of Leutze's tableau, the climate at mid-century was ripe for such a celebration. T h e C o l d War and Senator McCarthy's vituperative anti-communist campaign had placed the issue of patriotic expression uppermost in the

minds of many Americans. Overt evidence of patriotism became a national obsession, if not a personal necessity. Just as display of the " o f f i c i a l " painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware served as a foil for appropriate obeisance, so too did creation of a new Washington Crossing the Delaware carry political implications. Rivers was well aware of this. He recognized, albeit jestingly, that by painting such a subject he was "in the eyes of Senator J o e M c C a r t h y . . . at least a patriot." 6 With due irony, he both acceded to and subverted M c Carthyist demands for decisive patriotic expression, doing so by playing o f f an established, venerated national icon. B u t the idea of patriotism was itself absurd to Rivers. Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware reminded him of all the amateurish plays he had seen in grade school, " d o p e y " productions that nonetheless expressed a love of country. 7 Rather than being totally serious, they were both serious and ridiculous—the tone that Rivers sought to capture in his painting. B y avoiding a straightforward statement and riddling the imagery with ambivalence, Rivers was able to arrive at a simultaneously exultant and mocking attitude, a provocative approach toward a subject charged with intrinsic, patriotic significance. His approach is complicated further by his paradoxically revolutionary and conventional stance. Even as he plays the vanguard artist w h o upsets existing standards, he reaffirms forsaken traditions. Just such an admixture of individualism and conservatism, dubbed the Spirit o f ' 7 6 , was described by Time in its Independence Day issue of 1953 as the prevailing postwar sensibility. In its cover story on George Washington, Time dcpicted the national hero as a man w h o embraced the unlikely combination of rebellious individualism and reverent conservatism, and w h o charted his life in the vitalizing tension between the two. According to Time, America was experiencing a teeming revival of this Spirit under the newly elected President Eisenhower, a devoted patriot w h o reanimated the conservative side of the national character." T h e attitudes Rivers conveys toward the imagery o f Washington crossing the Delaware stand thus as an artistic manifestation of the reborn Spirit o f ' 7 6 , albeit one in which irony displaces pious reverence. In its tensioned dualism and its bold presentation of a distinctly American subject, Rivers's painting is a benchmark in the history of contemporary art. Abandoning an absolutist orientation and abstraction, Rivers concentrates attention on the reviewing of a traditional icon. T h e painting establishes an art related to American culture but liber-

ated f r o m the trappings of idealism and the weight of the polemics of social reform, t w o features c o m m o n to earlier art with an American focus. Although Rivers's painting became a cause célèbre, another young artist was pursuing a similar path in the early fifties. R o y Lichtenstein, too, was painting American history subjects using earlier art and magazine illustrations as source material, and he, too, was challenging the heroics of Abstract Expressionism and traditional American art by recreating familiar cliché images in a light-hearted manner." Typical of his approach is his Leutzeinspired Washington Crossing the Delaware (ca. 1 9 5 1 ) [Fig. 4], with its simplified, naive style and comical representation of a nobelized event. While American history emerged as an iconograpnic interest in the early 1950s, it did not become a central aspect of the postwar Americanization in modern art. There were, however, occasional forays of note, like Alex Katz's assembly of Washington Crossing the Delaware cutouts [Fig. 5], created as the decor for a play by Kenneth Koch. Koch's witty parody on how America w o n the revolution, written in 1956 in response to R i v ers's painting, was first performed publicly in 1962 at the Maidman Theatre in N e w York. Both the play and Katz's enlivened cutouts, designed with a folk art and billboard character, were imbued with the spirit harbingered by Rivers. Indeed, this spirit of provocation, in one form or another, became a mainstay of the many, quite diverse images that emerged during the fifties and sixties. A m o n g the American icons that achieved preeminence in postwar art was the American flag, the quintessential symbol of America's national identity. Taking the flag as a point of departure, artists created a range of compelling flag compositions that underscore and disrupt the flag's given formal and symbolic qualities. T h e prominent appearancc of the U . S . flag in postwar art emphatically indicates a shift within the sphere of vanguard art from European to American culture, and the forthright entry of American imagery into the pantheon of artistic icons. In contrast to the universalist imagery of Abstract Expressionism, representations of the flag proclaim cultural specificity. Such art bears witness to a newfound cultural confidence that, if not laying claims to a cultural supremacy, imprints the glaring stamp of America on A m e r i can art. T h e flag is a very special American image: the symbol of nationhood, of patriotic feelings and national values. Depictions of the flag, especially depictions that disturb or reduce the flag's sacrosanctity, therefore instantaneously incite strong

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FIG. 4. R o y Lichtenstein, Washington Crossing the Delaware, ca. 1 9 5 1 . Oil on canvas, 26"X 32". Private collection.

f i g . 5. Alex Katz, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1961. Cutouts f o r Kenneth Koch's one-act play George Washington Crossing the Delaware, acrylic on w o o d , oil on

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w o o d , china. National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C . Gift o f Mr. and Mrs. David K . Anderson, Martha Jackson Memorial Collection.

responses. During the chilliest periods of the C o l d War, the flag was endowed with added weight, denoting American glory, national, power or hyperbolic patriotic conviction, and civic pride. A t the helm of the postwar exploration of the flag-as-art icon was Jasper Johns. His preoccupation with the flag, which began in 1954, entered the realm of public discourse with his flag exhibition at the Leo Castelli Gallery in 1958. T h e flag appealed to Johns as a given, preformed design and familiar image, a known quantity and yet something "seen and not looked at, not examined." 1 0 To provoke a reexamination of this all-too-familiar image, Johns varied the flag's essential attributes—color, shape, texture, medium, size, and design elements—and developed forceful spatial displays [Figs. 6 - 9 ] . He pushed to the limits the signifying features of the flag's design by creating situations that skew the usual visual character of the flag and render its symbolic meaning ambiguous. For example, when the flag's coloration is reduced to white or transformed to gray, the image must struggle to assert itself lest it disappear into a ghostly, monochromatic field; when the flag is set upon a bright orange plane, its visual strength is challenged; when the icon is depicted over a newspaper foundation or with collage interference, its formal and reverential quality is compromised; when the stripe zone is elongated or the number of stars increased, the established meaning of the symbolic pattern is confounded; when the flag is flattened and contained within a frame or hardened into a metal sculpture, it becomes an imprisoned, rigid object effectively hiding within itself. Such presentations not only compel a re-looking at a known icon but also transform that icon into a paradoxical entity. T h e well-defined symbol becomes an intriguing c o m plex of contradictory impulses. Johns's flags bear the semblance of autonomous art objects, but are also upended national symbols. In addition to the manipulations that negate the flag's conventional appearance and venerated symbolism, Johns's flags are expressionless in manner. Their inexpressiveness itself is a disturbing force. Johns began his flag paintings just as the country was about to emerge from the national hysteria induced by Joseph McCarthy. Patriotic expression was a highly emotional issue. Fears about c o m m u nism had escalated into general paranoia, with demonstrations of unwavering loyalty being demanded and then scrutinized as part of McCarthy's suspicious, tyrannical inquests. For several years the country had read about McCarthy's activities in the press and listened to him on the radio. From April to June, 1954, people were also able to watch

the A r m y - M c C a r t h y hearings on television. For the first time, the proceedings of a U . S . Senate investigation were broadcast live to the entire nation, and millions sat transfixed day after day by M c Carthy's increasingly theatrical tirades." T h o u g h M c C a r t h y was finally discredited, his intense scrutiny of patriotism and obsession with communism provoked an exaggerated attentiveness to A m e r i can values. Congress even passed a law to revise the pledge of allegiance. T h e old pledge had served since 1892, but now, to distinguish the American pledge f r o m any Soviet counterparts, the words "under G o d " were added. With full media fanfare, President Eisenhower signed the legislation authorizing the new pledge on Flag Day 1954. 1 2 Pledging allegiance, saluting the flag, was serious business. Although the flag acquired a defensive significance under the reign of M c C a r t h y i s m , it was also a prime index of the prideful nationalism that held sway under Eisenhower. Eisenhower had campaigned as the archetypal patriot, emphasizing his war record as a leader in the defense of American freedoms and his staunch support of traditional middle-American values. His exemplary affirmative Americanism engendered expressions of down-home patriotism. These prevailed throughout his administration, becoming especially pronounced around 1955, once the full flush of the economic boom was felt and a pervasive feeling of well-being took root in Middle America. Outright declarations of an upbeat American spirit included the painting of mailboxes in "American blue" and perennial small-town festivities in which everything in sight was decorated with flags and festooned in red, white, and blue. T h e nation was in the throes of self-indulgent display, and flagwaving was a ubiquitous ritual. Considering the sociopolitical climate, the irony of Johns's flag paintings is extraordinary. These paintings affirm and deny an Amcricanness. T h e y address the issue of patriotic display—indeed, they denote a total devotion to and obsession with the flag image—but they refuse to make an unequivocal statement about it. T h e y reiterate the stability of the banner's design even while laying siege to its signifying features. But they also treat the flag as the site qf subterfuge, concealment, and obfuscation, raising doubts about its integrity as a sanctified symbol. Notably, the flags convey a sense of conformity, as if creativity and individual will have been sublimated or forced to comply with a prescribed norm. T h o u g h such compliance insinuates the ideological coercion of M c C a r t h y i s m , equally relevant is the type of conformity discussed by

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* * * *

* * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * • • *

^ — 1

BU* g M M t

-H- l Ì"*

w

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: H

* FIG. 6. J a s p e r J o h n s , Flag on Orange Field, II, 1958. Encaustic on canvas, Private collection.

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*FIG. 7. Jasper Johns, Flag, 1955. Pencil on paper, 6V«" X 8'/»". Collection o f the artist.

mm

H ^ P S ^ B

* F I G . 8. Jasper Johns, Sculpmetal Flag, i960. Sculpmetal on canvas and wood, 13 '/," X ¡gVt'X V/". Collection of Robert Rauschenberg.

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* FIG. 9. Jasper Johns, Flags, 1965 O i l on canvas with raised canvas, 72" x 48". Collection o f the artist.

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* FIG . io. Claes Oldenburg, Flag, i960. Construction with cardboard, 22" X 38" X 1 •/". Collection of J o h n Bransten.

William Whyte, J r . , in The Organization Man. In Whyte's view the new social ethic that prevailed in postwar America held the group to be the source of creativity, "belongingness" to be the ultimate need of the individual, and "individualism within organizational life" as the highest g o o d . " Weighing the dangers of redundancy, inertia, self-destruction, and monotony against the beneficence of the security and brotherhood of the organizational system, Whyte concludes his book with the warning that contemporary man " m u s t fight The Organization. . . . T h e demands for his surrender are constant and powerful, and the more he has come to like the life of the organization the more difficult does he find it to resist these demands, or even to recognize them.'" 4 Johns's paintings set forth this conflict between submission to and resistance against a given. What is more, he does so using the prime symbol of the preeminent organizational system. His are not conformist flags but flags that take conformity as a point of departure for r e p r e sentation and re-viewing—for an expression of nonconformity. At the same time that Johns was making his flag paintings in N e w York, Wally Hedrick was creat-

ing a series of flags in San Francisco. His compositions also display the icon flattened and exaggerated in a flag-as-painting format, but a second element, a w o r d or image, is overlaid on the flag. For example, P E A C E appears across the surface of the flag in a painting f r o m 1 9 5 3 - 5 4 . T h e reference is to the armistice signed by North Korea in J u l y 1953. Hedrick's intention, however, was not to celebrate the truce, but to condemn the war and American military involvements, for which the flag served as a call to arms. T h e w o r k was also a refusal to pledge allegiance to the reigning Abstract Expressionist credo that pictorial images should be abstract and mystical, that art and politics should not be mixed. 1 5 Whereas Hedrick focused on the symbolism of the flag and Johns on its formal design, for Claes Oldenburg the flag was part of a search for A m e r i can archetypes, images that were or might be infused with the vitality of the immediate environment in all its disorder, disjunctiveness, and contrariety. 16 He treated the flag as an everyday object rooted in ordinary experience. In Flag (i960) [Fig. 10], the gritty, decaying atmosphere of urban

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* f i g . i i . Claes Oldenburg. The Old Dump Flag, 19A0. Scrap w o o d , 8'/ 4 "X I O ' / 4 " X 2'/«". Collection o f the artist.

slums is captured in the j a g g e d fragments of torn cardboard with their blackened edges and irregular shapes. This is a flag neither silken nor richly colored but fabricated out of debris and the scraps of American affluence. Bearing the somber tones of a bleak existence, rendered as a common object, endowed with the makeshift ambiance of a transient situation, it is a flag of life on the fringes of urban America, a flag to be raised not as an empty or idealized symbol but as a direct image of American culture. This same orientation prevails in Oldenburg's driftwood flags of i960 [Figs. 1 1 and 12], created during a summer on Cape C o d , capital of N e w England Americana and beachcombing frivolity. In Provincetown flags are e v e r y w h e r e — o n homes, ships, shops, clothing, and souvenir items—tes-

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taments to both traditional patriotic faith and vacuous contemporary clichés. Oldenburg's flags capture both aspects and affirm an acute responsiveness to the seaside environment as well. C o m posed of weatherbeaten materials inventively assembled to suggest stars and stripes, these flags hail the life-and-death character of nature, the a w e someness of survival under harsh conditions. T h e y also manifest a delight in discovery and a witty engagement with simple, found treasures. These flotsam banners are not abstract or austere emblems but images "literally made of the ordinary w o r l d , " imbued with a humanistic spirit and goodhumored affirmation of life. 17 Their rawness riles against the idea of art being separate f r o m life, or pictorial icons as being sacred or staid museum pieces.

In 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 Oldenburg also produced a set of plaster flags, misshapen, crude images [Fig. 1 3 ] designed to defy both the lyrical, decorative tendencies of modern art and the precisioned finish of machine-made merchandise. These very individualized tasteless objects assert an unfettered instinctive expression and relate to the cheaply made products sold in street carts or inner-city five-anddime stores. Indeed, Oldenburg created these flags and other similarly " v u l g a r " objects to sell in his art environment—business establishment, The Store, an enterprise that functioned both as a museum of popular culture and as a merchandizing outlet for commodity art objects. In this environment, art objects lost their precious, esoteric trappings, and common objects gained artistic value. As part of The Store production, the plaster flags appeared as mundane objects that were inextricably and overly bound to American commerce. T h e y also attested to art as having an American identity and broad public appeal. In creating these American flags, Oldenburg was neither defamatory nor chauvinistic in attitude. He sought instead to denote a "double view both for and against" American culture. 18 Like so many artists of the period, his intent was to reveal the actualities of life and to assert an exuberance for living, to encourage a more open and open-minded way of seeing. His approach befit the celebratory mood that prevailed in the early sixties when, after eight years of Eisenhower's statesmanlike complacency, John F. Kennedy reenergized the nation, sparking new confidence in the American w a y of life. Proclaiming a N e w Frontier and premising his inaugural address on the theme " L e t us begin anew," Kennedy set forth an outright challenge to the nation. The young president's adventurous message, wit, and glamorous appearance inspired new hope and new ideals for change and progress. U r g i n g Americans to respond to poverty, injustice, and urban decay, Kennedy sought to ignite a new altruism and a new patriotic fervor. He offered the seduction of alternative possibilities, and, in the face of escalated Cold War tensions, he presented an image of renewed strength, courage and new leadership. Kennedy and his vision of Camelot inspired a burst of exuberance. America was again reaffirming its Americanness, pressing ahead and asserting its prowess. The political and social atmosphere was supportive of innovation and receptive to a j o y o u s abandonment of staid or stifled expression. Oldenburg's flags are a vivid index of this climate and pose an interesting counterpoint to Johns's American flags of the Eisenhower fifties.

* f i g . 12. Claes Oldenburg, Heel Flag, i960. Heel nailed to scrap wood, string, 5Vi" x 9'/2" x 1 V " . Collection of the artist.

FIG. 13. Claes Oldenburg, U.S.A. Flag, i960. Plaster, 2 4 " x 3 0 " x yA". Collection o f the artist.

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* F I C . 14. J a k e Berthot, Little Flag Painting, 1961. Oil on canvas, 20" x 20". Collection of the artist.

A m i d the outburst of revivified patriotism in the sixties, artists expanded the flag iconography and produced a diverse range of eccentric images. Again, flag-waving patriotism was not the motive. Rather the appearance of the flag was consonant with an intensified focus on America, a focus that embraced concern as much as jubilance, ambivalence not blind allegiance. In Little Flag Painting (1961) [Fig. 14] by Jake Berthot, for example, a totally unconventional image appears. A n intermingling of the stars and stripes displaces the proper arrangement of the constituent elements, and a muddy tonality overwhelms the classic red, white, and blue. This is a flag that shatters the structure that had come to define it, a flag that undermines its essential symbolic nature, a flag that is sullied and chaotic. At the time, Berthot was an emerging artist seeking to come to terms with Johns and abstraction, on the one hand, and with the dissonance between social reality and its representation in textbook ideals, po-

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litical rhetoric, and television sitcoms, on the o t h e r . " In the early sixties many Americans began to look beyond civics-class homilies and idealized fantasies of domestic bliss. Berthot created his flag to reflect the upheaval and confusion that such awakenings aroused. In the assemblage art of George Herms—which included numerous U . S . flags—the image of the stars and stripes expresses an indefatigable identity with America despite an unshakable despair and restlessness. Herms's flag imagery testifies to an active commitment to America—a refusal to escape or remain silent—as well as a longing for something meaningful. Like the Beat poets, artists, and musicians with w h o m he was associated, Herms rebelled against conformity and urged an open, questioning attitude. Disillusioned with reasoned thinking, he took a confrontational stance toward American culture, an anarchistic attitude to materials, and a freewheeling, poetic approach to iconography. In Flag (1962) [Fig. 15], Herms's use of

* f i g . i s . George Herms, Flag, 1962. Assemblage, 40" x 49" x 9". The Stephen S. Alpert Family Trust.

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* FIG. 16. Tom Wesselmann, Little Great American NWe # 6 , i y 6 i . Acrylic and collage on board, 10" X 1 1 vi". Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Alan Englander.

waste materials and his disordering of the flag's strict patterning denote a freedom within and release from the constraints of the given system. The full-length vertical red field, clotted with white spots and banded by blue and white stripes is constructed from the back seat of a car, an old ice tray separator, and a broken head lamp. 20 This conglomerate of disparate objects, charged with disruptions and mired in confusion, is an outrageous

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facsimile of a flag that expresses both an alienation f r o m symbolic American ideals and a nonjudgmental receptivity to the gut-level reality of life in a disorienting, often incomprehensible, society. Herms's merger of j u n k materials and Old G l o r y connotes a situation of futility and faith, collapse and sustenance, with hope residing in the power o f individualized expression, in a personal vitality that defies indifference.

* F I C . 17. Torn Wesselmann, Little Great American Nude # 7 , i y 6 i . A c r y l i c and collage on board, 8>/" x 7'/»". Collection of Mr. and M r s . Alan Englander.

Pursuing yet another course of exploration, Tom Wesselmann used the flag as the thematic, visual, and symbolic feature of a series of compositions titled the Great American Nude [Figs. 16 and 17]. H u m o r abounds as star-patterned wallpaper, striped draperies, red upholstery with blue pillows, and interspersed photographic reproductions o f George Washington, the Statue of Liberty, the federal seal, or the flag itself establish an excessive, unequivo-

cally American identity for the nude. Wesselmann forthrightly usurps the European iconography of the nude and re-presents her as an American icon, quite at home in her bourgeois American setting and bearing the mark of American greatness. In Wesselmann's paintings, the nude and her setting are depicted in the depersonalized, promotional style of contemporary advertising. Her curvaceous body is flatly painted, and she is usually

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* f i g . 18. Tom Wesselmann, Great American Nude #S, 1961. Enamel, pastel, and collage on board, 47'/i" diameter. Collection o f Mr. and Mrs. Burton Tremaine.

f a c e l e s s o r f u r t h e r o b j e c t i f i e d as a s e x u a l t o r s o b y c r o p p i n g s that cut o f f her l i m b s and head. H e r p o s e o f t e n recalls I n g r e s s tantalizing o d a l i s q u e s , the exotic goddesses surrounded by accoutcrments o f pleasure, o r Matisse's sensuous, dccorativc nudes. B u t t h e f e m a l e f i g u r e s in W e s s e l m a n n ' s p a i n t i n g s are s i g n i f i c a n t l y different. F o r e x a m p l e , the subject i n Great American Nttde # 8 ( 1 9 6 1 ) [ F i g . 18] u n abashedly c o n f r o n t s the v i e w e r , blatantly e x p o s e s h e r s e l f as a c o m m o d i t y , w h e r e a s t h e s e d u c t i v e t e m p t r e s s i n M a t i s s e ' s Large Reclining Nude ( 1 9 3 5 ) [ F i g . 19] a l l u r i n g l y m a n i f e s t s h e r s e x u a l i t y . L o u n g i n g o n living r o o m couches and usually splayed out in erotic postures, W e s s e l m a n n ' s n u d e s carry i n n u e n d o s o f the slick, c o o l , stilted s o f t - p o r n o p h o t o g r a p h y that H u g h H e f n e r m a d e f a m o u s — a n d s o f i g . 19. Henri Matisse, Large Reclining Nude, 1935. O i l on canvas, 26" x 3671". T h e Baltimore Museum o f Art. T h e C o n e Collection, formed by Dr. Claribel C o n e and Miss Etta C o n e o f Baltimore, Maryland.

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c i a l l y r e s p e c t a b l e — i n his Playboy

centerfolds.

H e f n e r b e g a n p u b l i s h i n g Playboy i n 1 9 5 3 , c a p i talizing o n the d o m e s t i c p o r n o g r a p h y i n d u s t r y that

f i g . 20. Allan D'Arcangelo, American Madonna # j , 1962. A c r y l i c on canvas, 6 o " X 4 5 " . Collection o f the artist.

had flourished during World War II and on a loosening of America's attitudes toward nudity and sexuality. This change in mores was confirmed by the Kinsey report (Sexual Beliauior in the Human Female, 1953), which revealed a surprising discrepancy between middle-Americans' sexual practices and their professed puritanical morality. Playboy promoted the idea that sex was not merely an aspect of life but o f lifestyle, a badge of upward m o bility and material success. 21 T h e centerfold playmate was presented as a commodity object, a showpiece of perfected glamour and fantasy, and yet as the "girl next door," a w o m a n one could meet in a typical American town. T h e magazine also included pages of quality fiction, sociological studies, and respectable advertisements—a far cry f r o m underground pornography magazines. Its editorial content and its availability at corner newsstands and in neighborhood drugstores made it at-

tractive to a wide readership. With Playboy sexuality became a major American business and an acknowledged part of American culture and the American dream—at least the male version of the dream. In the wake of this phenomenon, Wesselmann's Great American Nude series claims the nude as an appropriate subject for American art and sets forth her image in clearly Americanized terms. A s in Playboy, the nude appears as a status symbol, associated with the good life in America. This message is even more pointedly pronounced in Allan D'Arcangelo's American Madonna # 1 (1962) [Fig. 20], where a Playboy-type nude, set against an American flag and sanctified by a golden halo, is rendered as the reigning American icon. She has superseded both the Virgin M a r y — a venerated image of European art—and the pious couple in Grant Wood's American Gothic, a favored national image that had come to epitomize provincial

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America. Despite the humor, the composition testifies to significant cultural changes: the shift f r o m humility and piety to glamour and commercialism; f r o m folksiness and small-town insularity to artificiality and big-city bravado; f r o m sexual austerity to permissiveness and exploitation. T h e new American icon conveys an assertive, even haughty, aura conditioned by the mass media and intended for product promotion. A s evinced by the mode of display and the stenciled labels M A D E I N U S A and E X P O R T , the image is a packaged c o m m o d ity, an enticing sales pitch in the peddling of A m e r ican culture on the international market. America was no longer a land of innocence, and its culture no longer stood in the shadow of European tradition. To the nation's catalogue of American icons, the postwar artists had added a new entry: the American nude. Other favored new icons in postwar art were similarly intended to disrupt conventional thinking, both about art and America. J o h n s , for example, complemented his revisualization of the flag with a series of map paintings ( 1 9 6 0 - 6 3 ) . Again, it was not just any map or flag that Johns painted, but only and repeatedly the U . S . map and U . S . flag. As with the flag, he chose a familiar image, though one not c o m m o n within the realm of art, and then confounded its usual appearance and subverted cartographic logic and geographic verisimilitude. These maps undermine the very purpose o f maps and compel viewers to reconsider the image and its commonplace meaning. T h e first Map (i960) was a small (8" x 1 1 " ) composition created by Johns's overpainting on a school notebook map that his friend Rauschenberg had given him. With expressive paint markings he obliterated most of the Eastern states and destroyed all the meticulous codes mapmakers use to convey information. In the large-scale maps that followed, Johns's slashing brushstrokes and paint drips efface state and national boundaries and eradicate all or parts of the identification labels that he had carefully, though irregularly, stenciled in place [Fig. 21]. T h e coloration also defies any precisioned ordering system or definitional rigor, though the limited choice o f hues (red, yellow, and blue, or shades of gray) implies a code, perhaps an ironic substitute of an aesthetic code for a carto-

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graphic one. Repeatedly, the image of the U . S . map is simultaneously affirmed and denied, present and absent. There is the sense that a system and rigor once existed but have fallen into a state of chaotic disarray. Although Johns expressly rules against a reading of the map in terms of conventional schemata, especially as these define and isolate individual entities, the resulting image faithfully represents the blurring of local boundaries in the postwar period. With the advent of national television networks and press syndicates, transcontinental highways and jet air travel, and coast-to-coast advertising and distribution of mass-produced goods, state and regional distinctions were disappearing. T h e artificial divisions and perimeters that had been established long ago remained but were largely nonfunctional and somewhat nonsensical. Territorial integrity had given way to interconnections; parts had largely yielded to the whole: and even the whole had opened outward through America's escalating involvement in international affairs. M o r e over, the admission to statehood of Alaska and Hawaii in 1959 rendered obsolete the old maps that showed only the continguous forty-eight states. Thus Johns's design, which reflects the nation's unbounded, destructured, interactional condition in the early sixties is conceptually more accurate than a traditional map. In tandem with the revisualizations of such traditional images as the U . S . map and U . S . flag, a variety of artists continued the direction initiated by Rivers with his Washington Crossing the Delaware. Their provocative depictions of U . S . presidents also spurred a rethinking about the relation between America's past and present. For E d w a r d Kienholz, it was the absurd dress of the first president that inspired his parody portrait, George Warshington in Drag (1957) [Fig. 22]. His image emphasizes the standards for stylish men's clothing in the Revolutionary period, clothing that some t w o centuries later resembles nothing so much as outfits for transsexual costume balls. Kienholz not only pokes fun at the Founding Fathers' preposterous dress standards, but uses the change in dress codes as a premise in an indictment of narrow-minded moral judgments, hypocritical moral standards, and suppressed sexuality in American society. T h e painting is by no means a revisionist biography (indeed, the first president was said to be quite a lady's man), but rather a portrait of contemporary social issues and a counterbalance to traditional paintings that lionize national heroes.

Laijiuu in i l l i l

goxou*.

* f i c . 2 1 . Jasper Johns, Map, 1962. Encaustic and collage on canvas, 6 o " X 9 3 " . Collection of Marcia S. Weisman.

* f i g . 22. E d w a r d Kienholz, George Washington in Drag, 1957. Painted w o o d on p l y w o o d , 32'//' X 36" X 3". Collection o f Walter Hopps.

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FIG. 23. Roy Lichtenstein, George Washington, 1962. Oil on canvas, 5 i " x 38". Collection of Jean Christophe Castelli.

In a quite different way, R o y Lichtenstein subverts, or at least recontextualizes, the ideal and heroic in his portrait of George Washington (1962) [Fig. 23] by presenting a comic-strip version of the well-known Gilbert Stuart image. B o l d outlines, stark simplification, flat shadows, and benday-dot tonality assert the imprint of the mechanical style of commercial art and the mundane character of a widely published reproduction. T h e depiction undermines an effete academic orientation toward portraiture and an elitist attitude toward art, showing, paradoxically, that comic-strip stylization is comparably formal and austere. Indeed the depiction seems quite at home in the traditional wooden frame that served as the source of inspiration for the portrait, 22 and there is a certain appropriateness in the use of a comic-strip style, a mode closely identified with American culture, for a painting of the nation's first president. T h e mass production

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character of Lichtenstein's depiction, moreover, is not so foreign to Stuart's portrayal, for the latter was actually made in multiples for widespread circulation. Records indicate that Stuart re-created over sixty studio copies of the famous painting he initially made f r o m life, and that the copies became so popular that they were referred to as Stuart's "hundred dollar bills." 2 3 In that Lichtenstein used a mutant engraving of Stuart's w o r k that he had found in a Hungarian newspaper, the stages of replication and appropriation are further layered. 24 Stuart's image of Washington, represented by a photographic reproduction, also dominates Wesselmann's Still Life #31 (1963) [Fig. 24], where again it highlights a curious bonding between traditional and contemporary American culture. As in his Great American Nude series, Wesselmann trumpets America, this time Americanizing the European still-life theme by conjoining a Cezannesque fruit arrangement with a portrait of Washington, a radiator—an indication of central heating, thus an index of American affluence—and a television set, the altarpiece of the postwar American home. T h e American items convey an immediate and decisive national identity that rivals, if not overwhelms, the residual marker of European culture. H u m o r notwithstanding, the boast of American cultural superiority bespeaks the assertive and at times aggressive spirit of supremacy that America indulged in during the early sixties. In a related composition, Still Life #28 (1963), Wesselmann features a portrait of Lincoln to promote an emphatic American impression. Lincoln's visage, like Washington's, was well known outside the United States and thus had prime value as an American icon of international legibility. Rauschenberg, too, featured Lincoln's image, using a photograph of the familiar Lincoln Memorial statue, in a 1958 painting Lincoln [Fig. 25]. In contrast to Wesselmann's witty invocation of the president's portrait, Rauschenberg's somber composition shrouds Lincoln's image behind a blackened veil, a reminder of his assassination and the country's dark history during the Civil War. This reminder is all the more significant in light of the civil strife over school integration in Little Rock, Arkansas, during September 1957, when armed troops intervened in a Southern racial crisis for the first time since the days of Reconstruction. Televised broadcasts brought the state troopers' brutality directly into people's homes and shocked the nation. Rauschenberg's funereal portrayal of Lincoln conjures the bitter memories and fearful premonitions evoked by the violence in Little Rock.

* FI G. 24. Tom Wesselmann, Still Life # 3 1 , 1963. Collage, oil, T V on canvas, 48"X60"X io>/4". The Frederick R. Weisman Foundation of Art, Los Angeles.

* F I G . 25. Robert Rauschenberg, Lincoln, 1958. Oil and collage on canvas, 17" X 2 0 ' / » " . The Art Institute of Chicago. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Edwin E. Hokin.

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Kennedy was the premier media president, a leader w h o engaged both print journalism and television to communicate ideas and shape his image. Politicians' flirtation with television had begun during Eisenhower's first campaign, in 1952. Eisenhower was the first presidential candidate to announce his decision to run for office on television, the first candidate to develop a television strategy for the nominating convention (which was the first to be telecast live), and the first candidate to campaign on television with spot commercials designed by a major advertising .agency (Batten B a r ton Durstine and Osborn). Running-mate Richard Nixon's " C h e c k e r s " speech (broadcast live, coast to coast) further revealed how effective television could be in reversing public opinion. Throughout the Eisenhower years, the mass media, particularly television, increasingly became a part of the A m e r ican political process.

FIG. 26. Robert Rauschenberg, Factum 1, 1957. Combine painting, 6 i - / / x 353/,". The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. Acquired from the collection of Count Giuseppe Panza di Biumo.

Rauschenberg also set forth images of presentday leaders: Eisenhower in Factum I and II (1957) [Fig. 26]; the presidential candidates Kennedy, Stevenson, and N i x o n in the Dante's Inferno series (1959-60); and Kennedy again in a group of paintings f r o m 1964 [Fig. 27]. T h e latter works are particularly compelling in that they capture Kennedy's charismatic image and reflect the potency of the mass media in making that image indelible in the public consciousness, an icon in its own time.

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With the campaign and presidency of J o h n Kennedy, the vast national and international power of television clearly emerged. Kennedy, a consummate showman, became television's "first great political superstar." 25 He used the media and the media used him. From his four televised debates with N i x o n during the presidential campaign, to his televised news conferences and photographic sessions at the White House and Hyannis Port, Kennedy's presidency was a media phenomenon. The country was inundated with visual images of its president, some reproduced so often that they became national emblems—the contemporary equivalent of Gilbert Stuart's portraits of George Washington. Rauschenberg used one of these very familiar images of the handsome, young president, the determined, vigorous orator. B y enlarging a media photograph and transferring it onto canvas by a silkscreen process, Rauschenberg intensified the original's graininess and blurriness, producing an image that resembles a newspaper illustration or a television transmission. Rauschenberg's placement of Kennedy's portrait in the midst of a barrage of unrelated images also suggests a newspaper or news magazine layout, or the programming of the evening television news, which juxtaposes disparate topics with no continuity or coherence. Painted after the assassination, these compositions exemplify Kennedy's vitality and America's dynamism, but the image of the slain president is also a reminder of both American glory and national tragedy. The compositions epitomize the frenzied, disjunctive nature of American society and convey the tensions, uncertainty, and irrationality of modern life.

* FIG. 27. Robert Rauschenberg, Retroactive /, 1964. Oil and silkscreen on canvas, 84" X 60". Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut. Gift of Susan Morse Hilles.

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F i e . 28. J a m e s Rosenquist, Président Elecl, 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 . O i l o n masonite, 84" X 144". M u s é e National d'Art Moderne, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris.

Rauschenberg's depictions of Kennedy give vivid evidence of the potential of both mass media exposure and American-style advertising to reduce an image to a commonplace cliché or instantly elevate it to the status of legend. Although Eisenhower moved the presidency into the realm of professional advertising, during Kennedy's administration, when the president s image acquired the immediate recognizability and finely tuned p r o m o tional character of a highly successful Madison A v enue advertisement, the merger of advertising and politics was solidified. James Rosenquist calls explicit attention to this relationship in his painting President Elect ( 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 ) [Fig. 28]. Within a billboard-like display, Kennedy's smiling face is set alongside advertisement images for a packaged cake mix and a shiny Chevrolet. His visage, treated as a product advertisement becomes a symbol of the mythicized contemporary American lifestyle. Here, as in Rauschenberg's compositions, the pres-

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ident's image acquires an iconic presence and serves as a multivalent signifier of the postwar era. With all the media hype, the presidency came to seem like a public relations spectacle, with the chief executive being marketed as a packaged product rather than an individual elected because of his character and political platform. Kienholz provokes awareness of this issue in his assemblage Untitled American President (1962) [Fig. 29], which shows the nation's leader as a headless generic figure wearing an American flag and sporting a bicycleseat hat atop its milk-can torso. It is a homespun image comprised of a f e w striking traits, but also a hollow-shell personage devoid of physical substance and human features. B y representing the president as a titular display object, perfectly suited for broad public appeal and promotional photographs, Kienholz cleverly satirizes the thrust of contemporary American politics while providing a fitting presidential icon for an image-conscious age.

* F I C . 29. E d w a r d Kienholz, Untitled American President, 1962. Paint, fiberglass, milk can, and bicycle seat, 2 5" X 9" X 9". Collection of Ruth Askey.

Closely entwined with the postwar expansion of the mass media and advertising was the nation's extraordinary economic growth. Complementing America's long-standing image as a land of plenty was its new image as "the affluent society." M i l lions of Middle Americans delighted in their new affluence and became preoccupied with the conspicuous display of wealth. Having money and freely spending it became primary aspects of the American identity. During the Eisenhower admin-

istration, the government even promoted spending through a massive advertising campaign aimed at staving o f f a recession. Slogans like " B u y , B u y , B u y , It's Your Patriotic D u t y , " and " T h i n k Prosperity—Have Prosperity," were broadcast in the media and plastered on billboards throughout the country. 26 M o n e y was no longer simply a desirable or necessary medium of exchange, but an end in itself and a cornerstone of American life.

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FIG. 30. J o h n Haberle, Changes of Time, 1888. Oil on canvas, x i $>/,". Private collection.

FIG. 3 1 . A n d y Warhol, One Dollar Bills, 1962. Silkscreen on canvas, 24" x 30". Hessisches Landesmuseum, Darmstadt.

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M o n e y had been adopted as an art image by such late-nineteenth-century American artists as William Harnett, John Peto, and J o h n Haberle, w h o used trompe I'oeil illusionism to w r y l y depict real and counterfeit dollars [Fig. 30]. 27 E v e n then, fascination with wealth was a notable national attribute. T h e reappearance of cash and coin in postwar American art reflects, and often critiques, both the national focus on wealth and the new financial market for art, especially American art. In Andy Warhol's dollar-bill paintings of 1962 [Fig. 31], row after row of silkscreened bills or displays of dollars casually strewn about suggest plentitude and excess. T h e depictions also equate creating or buying art with making money, thus calling attention to the commercialization of art and the role played in this by American dollars. Whereas Warhol replicated the dollar's actual appearance, other artists used American currency as a point of departure for comic imitations. Phillip HefFerton, for example, variously remodeled the presidential portrait on the face of the dollar bill. Sweet Funk (1963) [Fig. 32] shows Washington's face being transformed into a brick wall, literally monumentalized; Sinking George (1962) features the president vanishing from view, submerged by the ocean; and Poo Poo (1963) represents the founding father in a vanity portrait, his hair hanging down over one eye. Hefferton's paintings lampoon the reverence accorded American money and the iconographic fixity of a mass production society. Using coins as his imagery, Robert Arneson similarly o f fers witty revisions, audaciously replacing the solemn presidential heads with informal depictions of his own visage. In In God We Trust (1965) [Fig. 331, for example, Arneson's own mustached profile, adorned with sunglasses and a sailor's cap, is substituted for Washington's on the face of an oversized quarter fabricated in ceramic. T h e frivolity in these images echoes the general celebration of the American spirit during the increasingly affluent postwar era. Moreover, it establishes humor as an ingredient in American art. T h e imagery of money and its unconventional presentation injected levity into America's identity as a rich capitalist society and undercut traditions of iconographic seriousness. National monuments comprise another set of classic American images developed by postwar artists. For HefFerton, money again provided a source. From the backs of dollar bills he usurped

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32. Phillip HefFerton. Sweet Funk, 1963. Oil on canvas, 57" x 88". Collection of Susan Dakin, courtesy of Newspace, Los Angeles. * F I G .

* f i g . 33. Robert Arneson, In God We Trust, 1965. Ceramic, 16V»" diameter. Collection of Allan Stone Gallery, N e w York.

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FIG. 34. Phillip Hefferton, White House, 1963. Oil on canvas, 84" x 108". Collection of Robert A. Rowan.

FIG. 35. Andy Warhol, Statue of Liberty, 1963. Acrylic and silkscreen on linen, 78" x 80". Marx Collection, Berlin.

42

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images of the White House [Fig. 34], U . S . Treasury, and Capitol, and portrayed them as lifelike rather than austere. Whereas a whimsical tone prevails in these depictions, a note of grandeur issues f r o m the appearance of the Statue of Liberty in Rauschenberg's art. The Liberty monument was a premier element in Rauschenberg's pictorial vocabulary, making early appearances by means of photographs in his combine paintings Charlette (1954), Canyon (1959), and Forecast (1959). In his silkscreen conglomerate-image compositions of 1 9 6 3 - 6 4 , the Statue is confirmed as a favored subject, prevailing as a vital signifier of American culture. (See Estate [Fig. 45] and Choke [Fig. 46] in the next chapter.) Throughout Lady Liberty conveys a note of stability within the paintings' world of flux and disruption, upholding traditional American values in the face of images that defy or skew them. In his Statue of Liberty painting of 1963 [Fig. 35], Warhol, in contrast, isolates the image, amplifying and simultaneously deflating its visual and s y m bolic impact through repetition. As his depiction suggests, within the realm of mass culture famous monuments arc widely reproduced and often known only through poor-quality illustrations. T h e y then become familiar images that everyone can identify by name, but they also become neutralized entities devoid of affective value. Even as marketing and promotion strategies use redundancy and saturation to publicize the f o r m of a national icon, its symbolic content fades into the background. Image neutralization is even more emphatically pronounced in Richard Artschwager's The Washington Monument (1964) [Fig. 36]. Artschwager exaggerates the benign, mute quality and graininess of newspaper photographs by painting his image in grisaille 011 cheap textured celotex board. Austere and awesome, the monument seems an eerie, ghostly presence, as though a memorial t o — o r o f — a lost, dead civilization. Here, too, a traditional American icon is rendered so as to provoke contemplation about American culture, its past with reference to its present, its glories within the scope of its prevailing difficulties.

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* f i g . 36. Richard A r t s c h w a g e r , The Washington Monument, 1964. C h a r c o a l and liquitex 011 celotex, 47" x 26". Collection o f N o r m a n D o l p h .

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NOTES 1. R i v e r s later d e s c r i b e d his p a i n t i n g w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o D u c h a m p ' s Fountain, a r e a d y m a d e urinal: " I n r e l a t i o n t o the i m m e d i a t e s i t u a t i o n in N e w Y o r k , the George Washington Crossing the Delaware w a s a n o t h e r toilet s c a t — n o t f o r the g e n e r a l p u b l i c as it w a s in the D a d a s h o w , b u t f o r the p a i n t e r s . " L a r r y R i v e r s , " D i s c u s s i o n o f t h e W o r k o f L a r r y R i v e r s , " Artnews 60 ( M a r c h 1961): 54. In an i n t e r v i e w w i t h J a m e s T h r a l l S o b y (Saturday Review 38 [ S e p t e m b e r 3, 1955]: 24), R i v e r s also stated that r e a d i n g T o l s t o y ' s War and Peace d i r e c t l y s t i m u l a t e d his desire t o create an A m e r i c a n h i s t o r y p a i n t i n g . A r c h i v a l r e c o r d s at the M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t , N e w Y o r k , i n d i c a t e his c o m p a r i s o n w i t h D e l a c r o i x ' s p a i n t i n g as w e l l . 2. I n t e r v i e w w i t h R i v e r s in F r a n k O ' H a r a , Art cles ¡954-1966 ( N e w Y o r k : B r a z i l l e r , 1975), 1 1 2 .

Chroni-

3. Ibid. 4. Time 60 ( D e c e m b e r 22, 1952): 45; A l b e r t W . A t w o o d , " T o d a y on the Delaware, Pennsylvania's G l o r i o u s R e v o l u t i o n , " National Geographic 102 ( J u l y 1952): 15. F o r a c o m p l e t e h i s t o r y o f the a n n i v e r s a r y c e l e b r a t i o n s a n d m e d i a c o v e r a g e , see A n n H a w k e s H u t t o n , Portrait of Patriotism: "Washington Crossing the Delaware" (Philadelphia: C h i l t o n , 1959), 1 6 1 - 7 7 . 5. F o r a f a s c i n a t i n g d i s c u s s i o n o f W o o d ' s Daughters of Revolution, see W a n d a M . C o r n , Grant Wood: The Regionalist Vision ( N e w H a v e n and L o n d o n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1983), 9 8 - 1 0 1 . 6. R i v e r s , " D i s c u s s i o n , " 54. 7. L a r r y R i v e r s w i t h C a r o l B r i g h t m a n , Larry Rivers: Drawings and Digressions ( N e w Y o r k : C r o w n , 1979), 59. 8. Time 62 ( J u l y 6, 1953): 1 1 - 1 7 . 9. Rivers's p a i n t i n g w a s e x h i b i t e d at the T i b o r d e N a g y G a l l e r y , N e w Y o r k , D e c e m b e r 8, 1 9 5 3 - J a n u a r y 9, 1954, a n d a c q u i r e d b y the M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t in 1955. L i c h t e n s t e i n ' s " h i s t o r y " p a i n t i n g s w e r e e x h i b i t e d at t h e J o h n H e l l e r G a l l e r y in N e w Y o r k in 1 9 5 1 , 1 9 5 3 , 1954, a n d r e v i e w e d in Artnews 51 ( J a n u a r y 1952): 67; 52 ( F e b r u a r y 1953): 74; 53 ( M a r c h 1954): 18, 63; a n d Art Digest 29 ( F e b r u a r y 15, 1954): 22. In the M a r c h 1954 Artnews r e v i e w , L i c h t e n s t e i n ' s c o m p o s i t i o n s w e r e d e s c r i b e d in t e r m s a p p l i c a b l e t o Rivers's p a i n t i n g : " a v e r s i o n o f an A m e r i c a n h i s t o r i c a l p a i n t i n g as r e p r o d u c e d in a g r a m m a r school t e x t b o o k " and " t h e sophisticated manner . . . applied t o the c o r n y . " 10. J o h n s , q u o t e d in W a l t e r H o p p s , " A n I n t e r v i e w w i t h Jasper J o h n s , " Artforum 3 ( M a r c h 1965): 33. 11. F o r a p r o b i n g a n a l y s i s o f the M c C a r t h y era w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o J o h n s a n d o t h e r artists sec M o i r a R o t h , " T h e A e s t h e t i c o f I n d i f f e r e n c e , " Artforum 16 ( N o v e m b e r 1977): 4 6 - 5 3 12. See P a u l A . C a r t e r , Another Part of the Fifties ( N e w Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1983), 1 1 4 - 1 6 . 13. W i l l i a m H . W h y t e , J r . , The Organization Man ( N e w Y o r k : S i m o n & S c h u s t e r , 1956), 7, 1 1 . 14. Ibid., 404.

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15. H e d r i c k d i s c u s s e d this i m a g e w i t h the a u t h o r in an i n t e r v i e w , J u l y 6, 1984. T h e Peace flag w a s i n c l u d e d in an e x h i b i t i o n at the N e w M i s s i o n G a l l e r y in San F r a n c i s c o , 1962, and then p u b l i s h e d b y J o h n C o p l a n s in " W a l l y H e d r i c k : O f f e n s e I n t e n d e d , " Art forum 1 ( M a y 1963): 29; a n d a g a i n b y L u c y R . L i p p a r d in Pop Art ( N e w Y o r k : P r a e g e r , 1966), 2 1 . T h e p r e s e n t w h e r e a b o u t s o f this and o t h e r H e d r i c k flag p a i n t i n g s is u n k n o w n . 16. Sec B a r b a r a R o s e , Claes Oldenburg ( N e w Y o r k : M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t , and G r e e n w i c h , C o n n . : N e w Y o r k G r a p h i c S o c i e t y , 1970), 62. O l d e n b u r g also u s e d the flag as a t h e m a t i c i m a g e in several h a p p e n i n g s s u c h as Stars ( p e r f o r m e d at the W a s h i n g t o n G a l l e r y o f M o d e r n A r t , W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . , A p r i l 2 4 - 2 5 , 1963) and IMis/ik ( p e r f o r m e d at A l R o o n ' s H e a l t h C l u b , N e w Y o r k , M a y 2 2 - 2 3 , 1965; f i l m e d u n d e r the title Birth of the Flag, J u n e 4 - 7 , 1965). 17. 18.

O l d e n b u r g , q u o t e d in R o s e , Oldenburg, I b i d . , 62.

53.

19. C o n v e r s a t i o n w i t h the a u t h o r , F e b r u a r y 1986. 20. Flag is o n e o f a g r o u p o f a s s e m b l a g e s that H e r m s m a d e o u t o f a P a c k a r d that he o w n e d . W h e n the car d i e d , h e u s e d i t — a n d a n y t h i n g in i t — t o create a scries, w h i c h w a s the s u b j e c t o f an e x h i b i t i o n . 21. Sec Time c o v e r s t o r y , " P l a y b o y ' s H u g h H e f n e r , " 89 ( M a r c h 3, 1967): 7 6 - 7 8 . 22. A c c o r d i n g t o the artist's dealer, L e o C a s t e l l i , L i c h t e n s t c i n r e t r i e v e d this f r a m e , w h i c h had b e e n left in the g a l l e r y a f t e r its r e m o v a l f r o m a D u b u f f c t p a i n t i n g , and created the G e o r g e W a s h i n g t o n p o r t r a i t e s p e c i a l l y f o r it. 23. J o h n W i l m e r d i n g , American Art ( N e w Y o r k : P e n g u i n B o o k s , 1976), 50. 24. Letter to the a u t h o r f r o m L e o C a s t e l l i , N o v e m b e r 28, 1984. 25. T h i s d e s c r i p t i o n is o f f e r e d b y D a v i d H a l b e r s t a m in his e x c e l l e n t analysis o f the m e d i a ' s r o l e in the 1950s a n d 1960s, The Powers That Be ( N e w Y o r k : D e l l , 1980), 494. 26. See C a r t e r , Another Part of the Fifties, 3 6 - 3 7 . 27. F o r a g o o d d i s c u s s i o n o f these n i n c t e e n t h - c c n t u r y p a i n t i n g s , see R o b e r t F. C h i r i c o , " L a n g u a g e and I m a g e r y in L a t e N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y Trompe I'oeil," Arts 59 ( M a r c h 1985): 1 1 0 - 1 4 .

M In the nineteenth century, artists set forth a romantic, transcendentalist view of the American landscape. T h e country was depicted as a natural paradise with a rich virginal terrain, suggestively full of promise and untouched by human hands. Paintings propagated the myth of America as an idyllic w o n derland. B y the end of the century, artists like the Ashcan group had turned to the urban milieu, conveying impressions of its vitality as well as its ugliness. While capturing the vigorous life of the American city, they also revealed the drab, grim character of the changing American environment. In Social Realist art of the 1930s, the bleakness of life in the increasingly industrial, increasingly urban society was even more pronounced. Big-city crime, corruption, and squalor became central themes of compositions meant as critical commentaries. A counterposition was taken by the Precisionists, w h o saw classic beauty in the new A m e r i can landscape. The majesty that was once to be seen only in nature was now visible in manmadc structures: skyscrapers, bridges, train engines, water tanks, silos, and grain elevators. From a very different perspective, a positive impression of the American landscape was also advanced by the Regionalist painters. T h e y repudiated modernity, especially its effects within the cities, and instead concentrated on the pure, simple virtues of rural life. Their farmland scenes were intended to exemplify the true, untainted American spirit and veritable American landscape. In contrast to these predecessors, the Abstract Expressionist painters did not care to depict either rural or urban landscapes. To be sure, artists such as Jackson Pollock, Barnett N e w m a n , Mark Rothko, and Franz Kline derived inspiration from the vast expanses of space in the American west, the awesomeness of the sublime in the American wilderness, and the turbulence of the American city. But this cohort of artists retreated from the particularities of the American landscape and the banalities of the everyday. Espousing an abstract, metaphoric, universal language, they dismissed matters of temporal and spatial specificity. Rejecting this approach, the next generation returned to the subject of an expressly American environment. Their art calls attention to characteristic aspects of the mid-century American prospect: the congestion and exhilaration of the urban milieu, the comfort and conformity of suburbia, and the fascination and monotony of the highway. E m p h a sizing the manmade and machine-made, these artists openly exposed the most banal and alienating aspects of the contemporary setting, its many complexities and contradictions.

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Cities, Suburbs, and Highways—The New American Landscape

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During the late fifties and early sixties, urban renewal efforts were focused on the rehabilitation of downtown city centers. T h e goal was to make American cities more attractive and more exciting, in hopes of stemming the massive exodus of the middle class to the suburbs. Virtually every major American city experienced a spate of new construction: office buildings and apartment buildings, hotels and plazas, culture centers and shopping centers. As Time magazine noted in 1962 in one of t w o cover stories on the "renaissance" of the American city, the nation was in the midst of "the biggest building boom in metropolitan history.'" Without question, the boom revivified many cities but also exacerbated urban congestion, pollution, traffic, and crime. T h e creation in 1965 of a cabinet-level department to deal with housing and urban development was perhaps a step in the right direction, but only a step.

FIG. 37. Claes Oldenburg, The Street, i960. Installation, Judson Gallery, Judson Memorial Church, N e w York.

While urban growth had been steady throughout the twentieth century, during the postwar period grandiose metropolises emerged. Municipalities spread outward, and outlying areas were brought closer to the cities by ambitious road networks. O v e r two-thirds of the population lived in urbanized hubs that came to surpass in size, grandeur, and power all previous notions of mass c o m m u n i ties. N o longer was the untamed wilderness or the small village the source of American pride. N o w the city-suburb-highway complex epitomized the glory and greatness of the nation's landscape and lifestyle. T h e manufactured landscape, seat of progress and commerce, had attained supremacy. 1 B y 1949 the federal government realized that the explosive and largely unplanned growth of metropolitan centers had created a host of land-use problems and a national housing shortage. To fund the redevelopment of badly deteriorated inner cities, Congress passed the first urban renewal act. D u r ing the early 1950s " r e n e w a l " began with the outright demolition of old, decaying neighborhoods. When this bulldozer approach proved untenable, new legislation, enacted in 1954, promoted the rehabilitation of inner cities. B u t the glut of urban slums and the shortage o f affordable housing were never adequately redressed.

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In many of the Happenings performed by Allan Kaprow, Claes Oldenburg, Lucas Samaras, and Robert Whitman during the late fifties, the urban environment's everyday chaos was a prime subject. These performances often focused 011 the marginality o f life in the slums and the malaise of tenementdwellers w h o were not reaping the benefits of American prosperity. In The Street (i960) [Fig. 37], Oldenburg developed the subject of the decaying slum into an environmental installation.* C o m posed of crude, charred, and ragged elements— some taking shape as buildings, objects, and people, others appearing more like miscellaneous debris, and all strewn about in an utterly unstructured, unkempt j u m b l e — t h e work captures the brutal harshness of urban squalor. Oldenburg commented, " I f you're a sensitive person, and you live in the city, and you want to face the city and not escape f r o m it, you just have to come to grips with the landscape of the city, with the dirt of the city, and the accidental possibilities of the city." 4 Refuting the practice of the Abstract Expressionist generation, Oldenburg did not translate his experience of N e w York's L o w e r East Side into universal terms or a formalist vocabulary. Rather, he directly conveyed the actualities o f his experience. In Upside Down City (1962) [Fig. 38], Oldenburg moves away f r o m the raw, death-ridden ambience of The Street and the environment of the slums, but he retains the image of the city as a landscape of physical and psychological disorder. Here, he chooses to focus on the skyscraper, an architectural f o r m born and nurtured in America. From the latenineteenth-century engineering of tall, sleek buildings in Chicago, to the 1930s construction of skyscraper conglomerates like Rockefeller Center, to

* F I G . 38. Claes Oldenburg, Upside Down Cily, 1962. D y e d muslin, spray paint, and newspaper stuffing, 1 1 8 " x 60" x 60". Walker Art Center, Minneapolis. Art Center Acquisition Fund. CITIES, SUBURBS, AND

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f i g . 39. Charles Sheeler, Skyscrapers (Offices), 1922. Oil on canvas, 20" x 13". The Phillips Collection, Washington, D . C .

the postwar fascination with monolithic glass towers, the skyscraper had established itself as a defining feature of the urban American landscape. These tallest of d o w n t o w n monuments signified American technological and economic prowess, cosmopolitan splendor and prosperity. Literally and figuratively, they were the pinnacle of the manufactured landscape. In paintings f r o m the twenties and thirties by artists like Charles Sheeler [Fig. 39] and Georgia O ' K e e f f e , the image of the skyscraper appeared as an emblem of harmony and order, the pride of American modernism, and the hope of a new age. In contrast, Oldenburg's Upside Down City, while still showing the skyscraper's dominance over the

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urban environment, denotes the skyscraper c o m munity as a topsy-turvy world where nothing is as it should be. Irrationality, not harmony and order, prevail. T h e limp buildings have soft, organic forms and hang downward, suspended f r o m clothespins and hangers like wash on a line. Yet their anthropomorphic (phallomorphic) shapes would seem to possess the potential for reanimation. Suggesting both chaos and vitality, collapse and expectation, these buildings exemplify the city's dormant life force and procreative energy. Indeed, this sculpture was made for a performance piece whose general theme was the American consciousness, its specific theme rebirth and renewal. 5 A far more sober mood prevails in Richard Artschwager's High Rise Apartment (1964) [Fig. 40]. His is an imposing structure typical of the newly erected grand-scale apartments advertised in the Sunday newspapers; in fact, a real estate ad was the actual source of his image. Described in grandiloquent terms, such buildings were the pride of urban American life. They were also the residential archetype of modernist design, the regularizing patterns and unadorned structures conveying the impression of order, clarity, and efficiency. A l though the soaring verticality of the modernist skyscraper was replaced by a broadened bulk and stolid massiveness, these edifices possess the proud mark of a bare-bones, functionalist aesthetic premised on a no-nonsense geometric rigor. Artschwager's cool, precise rendering of the isolated image befits both modernist concepts of design and realtors' publicity strategies, but the mode of display endows the image with a disturbing austerity. T h e building appears an island unto itself, bereft of any association with surrounding buildings, neighborhood people, or the natural environment. Its large, inhuman scale overwhelms all individual concerns, and the repetition of standardized design elements connotes homogeneity and uniformity. Based on the harmonious conformity of interchangeable and indistinguishable units, the building's plan is an architectural analogue of the social system of the "lonely c r o w d . " T h e grayness of Artschwager's composition further dehumanizes these living quarters, imbuing the building with an oppressive, ghostly aura. T h e gray newsprint tonality may be read as referring to both the mechanistic, mass production character of everyday visual material in postwar American culture and the dirty, bleak, s m o g g y atmosphere of the urban environment. Artschwager's painting thus offers a range of conflicting impressions, intentionally irritating and fundamentally bound to an expression of uncertainty and uneasiness.

* F I G . 40. Richard Artschwager, High Rise Apartment, 1964. Liquitex on celotex with formica, 6 3 " X 4 8 " X 4'/i". Smith College M u s e u m of Art, Northampton, Massachusetts. Gift o f Philip Johnson.

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* f i g . 4 1 . Peter Saul, High Class San Francisco. 1967. Oil on canvas. 64" X 72". C o u r t e s y of Allan Frumkin Gallery, N e w York.

Quite at the other end of the spectrum in terms of urban architecture and spirit are the affluent enclaves of mythic California: sprawling mansions of personalized design with s w i m m i n g pools, gazebos, and exotic foliage. In High Class San Francisco (1967) [Fig. 41], Peter Saul satirizes this aspect of the American dream. His oversized houses are garishly colored, and many have outlandishly anthropomorphic and eroticized features. B u t the eroticization, rather than suggesting renewal as in Oldenburg's city, implies the absurdity o f West Coast excess. T h e substitution of dollar-and-cent signs for the city's bridge towers and highway

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trusses humorously confirms the stereotype of San Francisco as a commonwealth of prosperous extravagance. In marked contrast, the compositions of Romare Bearden show the urban ghetto, where neither prosperity, frivolity, nor architectural order exist. Creating collages f r o m magazine cutouts, Bearden emphasizes the disarray, overcrowding, and blight within the black ghettos. Yet, the scale discrepancies, spatial dislocations, image intersections, and j a g g e d rhythms suggest that these neighborhoods pulse with a powerful energy. Sometimes this takes the f o r m of frenzied activity, as in Childhood

* f i g . 42. Romare Bearden, Childhood Memories, 1965. Collage 011 board, 15'/," X 1 1 ' / " . Collection o f Richard V. Clarke.

* f i g . 43 (below, left). Romare Bearden, Backyard, 1967. Collage of paper and synthetic polymer paint on composition board, 40" x 30". Collection o f Marian B . Javits.

* FIG. 44 (below). Romare Bearden, Black Manhattan, 1969. Collage of paper and synthetic polymer paint on composition board, 25Vs"x 2 1 " . T h e Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, N e w York Public Library.

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FIG. 45. Robert Rauschenberg, Estate, 1963. Oil and silkscreen on canvas, 9S'/*" x 69V«". Philadelphia Museum of Art. Gift of the Friends of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Memories (1965) [Fig. 42]; other times it translates into unremitting, invincible strength—sustenance in the face o f adversity, as in Backyard (1967) [Fig. 43] and Black Manhattan (1969) [Fig. 44]. Residents survive, and even thrive, within the ghetto, despite their need and anguish, by indulging in the dynamics of the bustling street, by banding together, or by seeking shelter in the prisonlike tenements. Bearden's collages underscore the distance between America's black ghettos and mainstream America, the America of advantage and affluence. This "other A m e r i c a , " the America of poverty and discrimination, thrust its w a y into the national consciousness in the 1960s.' T h e civil rights m o v e ment and inner-city rioting in Los Angeles, N e w ark, Detroit, Cleveland, Boston, N e w Y o r k , and some fifty other cities called attention to social inequities and broad patterns of racism. For black artists, it was a time of soul-searching and reflec-

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tion. Groups like Spiral, which Bearden helped found in 1963, provided a forum for discussions on the role and nature of black art. 7 A black consciousness emerged that encouraged the creation of art expressly referring to black experience and black concerns. Bearden's pioneering collages exemplify the initial phase of this consciousness in their celebration of black life and exposure of slum realities. Whether focusing on the ghetto or the urban downtown, many artists sought to convey the frenzied, tensioned urban atmosphere. O f particular note is the series of silkscreen paintings Robert Rauschenberg made in 1 9 6 3 - 6 4 [Fig. 45]. These compositions reflect the hyperdynamic rush of disorienting sensations that overload the atomized American city. There is a surfeit of visual and emotional stimuli, an overabundance of activity and information—a myriad of confusion. T h e forceful energy and excitement of Rauschenberg's urban America also houses disturbing indications o f social unrest. In Choke (1964) [Fig. 46], for example, images of city buildings collide with a j u m b l e of other, largely indecipherable, images and exuberant but effacing brushstrokes. T h e disorder recalls the bulldozing of dilapidated areas and the subsequent boom in new construction, which gave many American cities carrying out urban renewal projects the "bombed-out l o o k " that Time termed a status symbol." But the degree o f chaos and the presence of a U . S . A r m y helicopter call to mind the role of armed troops in dispersing civil rights demonstrations and quelling ghetto riots. Urban disorder, thus, may be a sign of civic refurbishment or social upheaval; typically, Rauschenberg makes no attempt to cohere such opposing interpretations. His art alludes to a multiplicity of discordant perceptions, ideas, images, sensations, events, and experiences. It captures the ongoing social change and turmoil but defeats rational dialectics and polemics. T h e chaos is compounded by a cacophony o f w a y w a r d street signs. O n e - w a y arrows are positioned upsidedown or sideways, pointing in opposite directions, offering contradictory messages about paths of movement. T h e commotion o f arrows announces that there is no regulating system in this urban anarchy, no prescribed path, no one way. And although the Public Shelter sign offers hope of asylum, its upside-down position and reminder of nuclear disaster only reinforce the pervasive disorder. Choke conveys the congestion that was threatening to suffocate cities, and as the barrage of signs suggests, traffic control was a major problem.

* FIG. 46. Robert Rauschenberg, Choke, 1964. Oil and silkscrecn on canvas, 60" X 48". Washington

University Gallery of Art, St. Louis. G i f t o f Mr. and Mrs. Richard K . Weil.

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* FIG. 47- Red G r o o m s , One Way, 1964. O i l on canvas, 96" X 96". Collection o f Walter and A n n e Nathan.

Faced w i t h t o o m a n y v e h i c l e s and o u t m o d e d road n e t w o r k s , cities t u r n e d t o a n e w b r e e d o f u r b a n t e c h n o c r a t s , the traffic e n g i n e e r s . T h e s e t r a n s p o r t a tion w i z a r d s t r a n s f o r m e d the cities, t y p i c a l l y b y changing main avenues o f c o m m e r c e into o n e - w a y t h o r o u g h f a r e s and b y c l o t t i n g r o a d w a y s w i t h a s u r feit o f d i r e c t i o n a l m a r k e r s . 9 A s R a u s c h e n b e r g ' s i m a g e r y s u g g e s t s , the r e r o u t i n g s and n e w s i g n s , like u r b a n r e n e w a l , p r o m i s e d i m p r o v e m e n t b u t also i n creased u r b a n c h a o s . T h e title Choke also reads as a p u n n i n g r e f e r e n c e t o t h e m e c h a n i s m that r e d u c e s a c a r b u r e t o r ' s air i n t a k e t o p r o v i d e a rush o f p u r e f u e l f o r e x t r a p o w e r . B y a n a l o g y , the e n g i n e that d r i v e s the c i t y m a y s e c u r e n e w e n e r g y — o r m a y e x p l o d e i n t o flames—as its air s u p p l y is c o n s t r i c t e d . In One Way (1964) [Fig. 47], R e d G r o o m s also directs a t t e n t i o n t o t h e t e e m i n g v i t a l i t y o f c i t y e x p e r i e n c e . Inspired b y t h e c o n g e s t i o n o f S e v e n t h A v e n u e in N e w Y o r k C i t y , G r o o m s s h o w s t h e c h a o s and c r o w d e d n e s s o f a b u s y street in w h i c h cars, t r u c k s , b u s e s , taxis, p e d e s t r i a n s , and g a r m e n t w o r k e r s w h e e l i n g r a c k s o f m e r c h a n d i s e are j a m m e d t o g e t h e r , b a r e l y able t o m o v e . T h e p o r trayal e x e m p l i f i e s t h e n i g h t m a r e o f d o w n t o w n traffic. A n d y e t , t h e b r i g h t , f e s t i v e c o l o r a t i o n and j a u n t y m o d e o f d e p i c t i o n delineate a l i v e l y w o r l d

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w h e r e t h i n g s are h a p p e n i n g a n d p e o p l e b u s i l y p a r ticipate in a t h r i v i n g e c o n o m y . T h o u g h the w o m a n p i c k i n g t h r o u g h a trash b a s k e t d e n o t e s the h a v e n o t side o f the A m e r i c a n d r e a m , the o v e r a l l i m p r e s s i o n is c e l e b r a t o r y . B y m a k i n g the h u m d r u m s e e m theatrical, G r o o m s takes an a f f i r m a t i v e a p p r o a c h , r e v e a l i n g b o t h p o s i t i v e and n e g a t i v e aspects o f e v e r y d a y u r b a n A m e r i c a n life. L i k e R a u s c h e n b e r g , G r o o m s s h o w s an u r b a n e n v i r o n m e n t — i t s b u i l d i n g s , r o a d w a y s , and v e h i c l e s — n o t a b l y marked by signs. W h e t h e r i n f o r m a tional o r p r o m o t i o n a l , s i g n s are characteristic, conspicuous—and conspicuously A m e r i c a n — a s pect o f t h e n a t i o n a l l a n d s c a p e . N e w Y o r k ' s T i m e s S q u a r e is the u l t i m a t e s i g n e x t r a v a g a n z a , w o r l d ren o w n e d f o r its b e d a z z l i n g m a r q u e e s , s p e c t a c u l a r n e o n , and a n i m a t e d b i l l b o a r d s . A s R i c h a r d Estes indicates, in p a i n t i n g s l i k e Welcome to 42nd Street (Victory Theater) (1968) [Fig. 48] and Gordon's Gin (1968) [Fig. 49], s i g n s d o m i n a t e t h e s e t t i n g , v i r tually r e s h a p i n g t h e b u i l d i n g s a n d d e c l a r i n g t h e p r o m i n e n c e o f c o m m e r c i a l i s m . M o v i e theaters h a v e g a r i s h facades a d o r n e d w i t h p e n n a n t s , p l a c ards, and flashing lights; the s t o r e f r o n t a d v e r t i s e m e n t s a n d b i l l b o a r d s are o v e r s i z e d , e x c e s s i v e displays.

* F 1 C . 48. Richard Estes, Welcome to 42nd Street (Victory Theater), 1968. Oil on masonite, 3 2 " X 2 4 " . T h e Detroit Institute of Arts. Gift of the Friends o f M o d e r n Art in honor o f the Detroit Institute of Arts Centennial.

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FIG. 49. Richard Estes, Gordon's Gin, 1968. Oil on masonite, 25" x 32'//'. Private collection.

Estes's Times Square paintings also show the degraded state of one of America's proud landmarks, the tainted actuality of the American dreamscape. After World War II, in N e w York and many other cities, once-glorious theaters and first-rate movie houses became sex palaces, and the fantastic w o n derlands deteriorated into strips of flophouses, cheap bars, and geegaw marts. B y the late sixties, many of Times Square's most famous signs—the Pepsi-Cola waterfall, Wrigley's fish, Camel's s m o k ing cigarette, and M a x w e l l House's dripping coffee cup—had been replaced by equally bombastic but far less inventive advertisements for gin and whiskey. The displays were still spectacular, but the wholesome American character was gone. Using a depersonalized photographic style, Estes describes the changed landmark in vivid detail but forestalls a judgmental attitude. His pristine, glistening surfaces and omission of the dense crowds and traffic, which are as much a part of Times Square as the signs, produce a dispassionate impression even as they endow the imagery with a visual beauty and uncustomary stillness. T h e paintings have the semblance of reportorial truth but are unsettlingly removed f r o m reality. Comparable to N e w York's Times Square in epitomizing American signs is the towering H o l l y w o o d landmark in Los Angeles. High on a hilltop overlooking the movie capital, the block letters stretch across the landscape with all the flamboyance of an Oscar-winning production and all the advertising power of a premier Madison Avenue venture. In Hollywood Study (1966) [Fig. 50], E d -

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ward Ruscha shows the sign as an image that has totally displaced the city, a majestic monument fading into a movie-perfect sunset. 10 The depiction affirms the visual and ideational power of signs and their prominent place within the American landscape. As more Americans took to the road, and there were more roads to take to, outdoor advertising proliferated. Most notable was the increasing n u m ber of gargantuan billboards. T h e word billboard was coined in America in the 1850s, and billboards became a big business operation in the 1920s and 1 9 3 0 s . " Designed to be perceived in a flash, their simple messages and eye-catching imagery are a form of advertising expressly related to the fast pace of American highways and urban life. For the artist James Rosenquist, the billboard served as a prime source of inspiration. His paintings embrace the overblown, artificial style of billboard advertisements and the fragmentary, disjunctive dynamics of rapid-glance perception. His images are big, bold, extravagant; colors are acidic and synthetic or photographically grayed; j u x t a p o sitions are abrupt and absurd to an extreme; the scale is monumental; and there is no context or e x planatory matter to facilitate analysis or synthesis. Using the all-American clichés f r o m advertising as his image vocabulary, Rosenquist stamps his paintings with the mark of America's consumer culture. The H o l l y w o o d smile, lipstick imprint, juicy orange, and shiny chrome headlight in Morning Sun (1963) [Fig. 51] or the car door, globe, and Franco-American spaghetti in Louis D. Brandéis on

* FIG. 50. Hollywood collage on Collection

Edward Ruscha, Study, 1966. Tempera and paper, 67/s" X 21 vi". of the artist.

f i g . 51. James Rosenquist, Morning Sun, 1963. Oil on canvas with vinyl appendage, 78" x 66". Collection of Mary Lou Rosenquist.

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*FIG. 52. James Rosenquist, Louis D. Brandeis on Democracy (Untitled), 1965. Oil on canvas, 48'/s" x 44vi". National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C . Gift of Container Corporation of America.

Democracy (Untitled) (1965) [Fig. 52] all have the polished veneer and intensity of promotional aesthetics. Each assemblage of images conveys an impression of abundance and prosperity. And yet, discord prevails in the irrational mixture of food, car, and human imagery, natural and mechanical figurations, cool and sensuous depictions. M o r e important than the individual images (or their interpretation) is the overall effect o f pictorial inundation and the punch of simultaneous exhilaration and disorientation. Rosenquist's compositions— not unlike those of Oldenburg, Rauschenberg, Bearden, and others—point up the disjunctive d y namics that, as much as changes in the appearance of particular buildings or signs, were a characteristic feature of the contemporary urban environment in America. While cities became sprawling hubs of frenzied activity, America's spick-and-span suburbs offered an alternative. B y i960 one-third of the nation, roughly 60 million people, lived in suburban c o m munities. T h e exodus to suburbia had begun after

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World War II, when returning veterans, faced with the urban housing shortage and encouraged by government-backed mortgages and new commuter highways, fled the dirty, vice-ridden cities or the rural backwaters. Suburbs were the latest A m e r i can frontier, the promised land where the middle class could realize the American dream—buying a new single-family house and a capacious new car and leading a well-rounded family life in a relaxed, wholesome nonurban environment. T h e evolution of the suburbs rapidly re-formed the visual and physical character of the American landscape and radically revised Middle America's lifestyle. The changes were well documented and scrutinized, virtually at the same time as they were taking place. Commentaries in the popular press, including cover stories in Newsweek (April 1, 1957) and Time (June 20, i960), tended to celebrate the suburbs as a great American achievement. C o n versely, studies like J o h n Keats's The Crack in the Picture Window (1956) denounced everything suburban as uniformly dreary, and William Whyte's The Organization Man (1956) named suburban life

*FIG. 53. J o e Goode, November 13, 1963, 1963. Oil and pencil on masonite, 24" X 24". Newport Harbor Art Museum. Gift of the Betty and Monte Factor Family Collection.

as one of the systems that was fostering social conformity and a loss of individuality. A wealth of fictional accounts took up suburban life—some critical and some flattering, some satirical and many comic. A m o n g the novels were The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (195$) by Sloan Wilson, Rally Round the Flag, Boys (1957) by M a x Shulman, and The Wapshot Chronicle (1957) by John Cheever. T h e numerous films about suburban life included Rebel Without a Cause (1955), The Tunnel of Love (1958), and Please Don't Eat the Daisies (i960), while television offered a rash of family sit-coms, such as " F a ther K n o w s B e s t , " " O z z i e and Harriet," " L e a v e It to Beaver," and " T h e Donna Reed S h o w . " T h e archetype of suburbia is a complement of mass production houses of standardized style—the " r a n c h " or variant Cape C o d , stucco bungalow, or split-level—tidily arranged on uniformly sized lots within a regularized street grid. This classic model was formulated by William J . Levitt in his " d e v e l opment cities" in Long Island, N e w York (1947), Bucks County, Pennsylvania (1951), and Trenton, N e w Jersey (1965). In the early fifties, the Levitt

C o m p a n y built a new home every fifteen minutes and sold each for $7,090.00—a price well within the reach of the average American. 1 2 Barely had the first Levittown been completed when Levitt-type communities sprang up in Lexington, Massachusetts, and Richmond, California, in Portland, Oregon, and in Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Detroit, San Francisco, Dallas, Denver, Chicago, and Seattle. A s never before, a new kind of national unity and uniformity was evolving, with houses and communities in all regions of the United States having essentially the same character and appearance. T h e suburban phenomenon is well represented in paintings of the postwar period that depict the stereotypic Levitt-type house. In a series created by J o e G o o d e in 1 9 6 3 - 6 4 , penciled images of c o m mon suburban houses appear as barely visible tracings on small pieces of paper set upon disproportionately large painted fields of monochrome color [Fig. 53 and 54]. T h e renderings, derived f r o m real estate listings, show vague impressions of singlefamily dwellings that are physically and emotion-

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* F 1 C . 54. J o e Goodc, The Most of It,

1963. Oil 011 masonite. 2}>A" X 2)>A".

Private collection, courtesy o f Charles C o w l e s Gallery, N e w York.

ally detached f r o m their neighborhoods. Placed on empty canvases, these residential islands of isolation epitomize the paradox of suburban life: each household boasts the privacy of its o w n yard and lot, but these sequestered protectorates are circumscribed by vacuity and loneliness. B y depicting each house as a small, insignificant, and ephemeral entity, G o o d e also raises questions about the strong value Middle America places on the house as a status symbol. In Richard Artschwager's Tract Home paintings [Fig. 55], a series begun in 1964, the cliché subdivi-

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sion house typifies mass production uniformity and anonymity. These gray "little boxes" are the domestic analogues of organizational belongingness and self-effacing conformity, showing none of the American spirit of individualism that is so pronounced in paintings of houses by earlier artists like E d w a r d Hopper or A n d r e w Wyeth. E v e n as the bold framing sets o f f these houses as esteemed, desired objects, it emphasizes their packaged, mass-manufactured character. Like Goode, Artschwager based his images on real estate advertisements. In mimicking a l o w -

mwsm

* r i o . 55. Richard Artschwager. Untitled (Tract Home), 1964. Acrylic on cclotcx in metal frame, 24'/»" X 3X". Collection of Laura-Lee W. Woods.

quality newspaper illustration, copying a poor copy, he recapitulates the prominence of imitations, duplicates, and facsimiles in contemporary American life, with its dependence on assemblyline and printing press productions. Ironically, however, his is a precisely crafted handmade creation with the look of a machine-perfect reproduction. The real estate reference also alludes to the unprecedented activity in the housing market. Realty sections of newspapers became routine reading for many Americans. In the late 1950s one of every

five Americans moved in a given year, making the nation a society of transients. 13 Although a portion o f these relocations were job-related, for many families the move to a bigger house in a better neighborhood was an important symbol of status. Millions w h o purchased Levitt-type houses j u m p e d at the chance to move whenever their income leapfrogged. A framed ashen picture of a tract home thus becomes an ironic memento of the typical first house purchased, the first rung on the socioeconomic ladder of success.

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* f i g . 56. Robert Bechtle, '60 TBird, 1967-68. O i l on canvas, 72" x 98VÌ". University Art Museum, University o f California, Berkeley.

* f i g . 57. Robert Bechtle, Kona Kai, 1967. O i l on canvas, 45" x 52". Carolina A r t Association, Gibbes Art Gallery, Charleston, South Carolina.

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w3m

FIG. 58. Robert Arneson, tjoj Alice Street, Viewed (as if it were a Billboard) From the Corner of L and Alice, 1968. Magna on canvas, IO8"-48"X 216". Collection of the artist.

In Robert Bechtle's '60 T-Bird ( 1 9 6 7 - 6 8 ) [Fig. 56] a stucco bungalow, a mass production type c o m m o n in suburban California, is mated with the suburbanites' second-most-prized possession: a classic American car, long and sleek, sporting polished chrome and prominent tail fins. T h e photographic mode of presentation suggests a snapshot taken for the family album to commemorate the accomplishments embodied in the ownership and display of these t w o prerequisites to a comfortable lifestyle far removed from the hyperencrgized, tumultuous city. But the detailed precision, flatness, and neutralizing half-toned shadows confer a bland regularity and airless sterility on the suburban order. T h e compounding of homogeneity and uniformity is even more conspicuous in Bechtle's Kona Kai (1967) [Fig. 57], a depiction of the box-style, mass production design of the generic low-rise apartment building. Each housing unit exactly duplicates every other unit, and not a single personalizing feature challenges the imposed architectural and residential standard of conformity. Everything is picture-perfect, as if this were not housing meant to be lived in but an image meant to be looked at, a

display object whose value lay in its outward appearance. Americans had grown accustomed to seeing such carefully arranged, surface-oriented depictions in mass media photography and had also adopted these standards for their own environments. Bechtle's photographic style exaggerates the pictorial, extroverted character of suburban living and emphasizes the suburbanites' pride in projecting this impression. In a good-humored way, Robert Arneson parodies the notion of house as image in IJOJ Alice Street Viewed (as if it were a Billboard) From the Corner of L and Alice (1968) [Fig. 58]. Representing a classic subdivision ranch model as an endless expanse—a landscape unto itself—with rainbow roof and blazing sun/basketball hoop, Arneson perfects the house into the natural paradise of the pristine American wilderness. Here is the ultimate aggrandizement and glorification of the suburban dream house, complete with a station w a g o n in the driveway. Here, too, is clear evidence of the postwar artists' focus on American culture, American values, American subject matter, and an American approach to pictorial representation.

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1 i

1

B

1

1 m

i

01% 1

i i

1 m

/

/

1

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* F I G . 59. Allan D'Arcangelo, Full Moon, 1962. Acrylic on canvas, four canvases, 24" x 24" each. The Sidney and Frances Lewis Collection, courtesy of Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.

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In the postwar period, the highway joined metropolitan centers and suburban enclaves as a prime element of the new manmade American landscape. In 1956 Congress authorized the most ambitious road construction project ever: a nationwide interstate highway system. O v e r 40,000 miles of highspeed, limited-access roadways were scheduled for priority construction. T h e project appealed to the nation's pride in its up-to-the-minute technological skills and its centuries-old pioneering instincts. T h e new road network also bore the stamp of the C o l d War, for it was financed by the defense bud-

/ /

*FIG. 60. Allan D'Arcangelo, U.S. Highway l [panel 2], 1963. Acrylic on canvas, 70" x 81". Collection of the artist.

N get and designed to provide efficient transportation routes in the event of attack. In a cover story on the proposed interstate system, Time boasted that road building was "really the American art," and that the highway was a "true index of our culture." 1 4 T h e new highway system signaled an America on the move and in the lead. Whereas the old highways were tree-lined w i n d ing paths that curved by houses as they entered towns and cities, the new highways were straight stretches of white-lined asphalt that cut across barren landscape. T h e freeways all looked the same, and the roadside scenery was uniform from coast to coast: standardized road signs, national-brand gasoline stations, commercial billboards, chain restaurants and motels. These pathways of regularity would bring about new linkages between urban, suburban, and farm regions, new connections that contributed to the effacement of regional differences in postwar America. In his highway paintings, Allan D A r c a n g e l o v i v idly represents the American landscape as a noplace / every-place environment dominated by an invading roadway. These anonymous settings have no geographical referents, no marks of season or climate. A perfect geometric path of asphalt punc-

tuated by road markings and gasoline signs defines a landscape in which nature has given way to human intervention. Flat unmodulated color planes with sharp contours and little detail—a style inspired by the industrial techniques of commercial art—pronounce this to be a world shaped and transformed by man. In Full Moon (1963) [Fig. 59], the conflation of a G u l f sign and the moon sums up the triumph of the synthetic over the natural. Here nature is overwhelmed by an immense advertising logo, which has become a source of light and a point of orientation. In navigating unfamiliar terrain, the m o d ern motorist turns to commercial guideposts rather than the sun or moon; advertising is the lodestar for the new American explorer. And, as D A r c a n gelo's waxing G u l f moon suggests, gasoline signs begin to function as destinations, not just markers along a road. A haunting disequilibrium pervades these artificial and lifeless scenes. Signs, not people, populate the landscape, and the vegetation appears as a blackened, vapid mass. Unnatural and eerie, too, is the light, as in the combined night scene and daytime blue sky in U.S. Highway 1 (1963) [Fig. 60]. But the disturbing imagery represents not so much

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F i c . 61. René Magritte, The Empire of Light, II, 1950. Oil on canvas, 3 1 " x 39". The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York. Gift of D. a n d j . de Menil.

f i

„

FIG. 62. Ralston Crawford, Overseas Highway, 1939. Oil on canvas, i 8 " X 3 o " . Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection, Lugano, Switzerland.

the fantastical—a world beyond the realm of reality—as the surreality within the reality of the everyday American environment. Particularly with the expansion of the highway system, the A m e r i can landscape became increasingly dehumanized and denaturalized. Millions of commuters drove alone in their private cubicles, isolated f r o m outside conditions and f r o m other motorists. T h e commute procession was another example of the

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"lonely c r o w d , " people surrounded by people with w h o m they had no meaningful contact. The surrealistic mood and lighting in D A r c a n gelo's paintings suggest a comparison with René Magritte's The Empire of Light series [Fig. 61]. Yet unlike European Surrealist works, the highway paintings are not concerned with the enigma of the imaginary in dreamscapes, but with the familiar, experienced actuality of the American landscape.

* f i g . 63. E d w a r d Ruscha, Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas, 1963. Oil on canvas, 65" x m y » " . H o o d M u s e u m o f Art, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N e w Hampshire. Gift o f James J . Meeker in memory of Lee English, Class o f 1958.

D'Arcangelo's preoccupation with the actuality of modern America invites an alternative comparison with Precisionist paintings, for example, Ralston Crawford's Overseas Highway (1939) [Fig. 62]. For Crawford the highway signified the beneficence of industry and the beauty of mechanized culture, the promise of a Utopian future. In his turn D'Arcangelo adopts this aggrandized image, but his depictions express anxiety not adulation. His disquieting impressions of this prime emblem of America's achievement are intended to arouse concern about the quality of life in contemporary American culture. 15 D'Arcangelo shared neither the idealism of the Precisionist painters nor the proselytizing tone of Social Realist commentators nor the existential angst of the Abstract Expressionists. Merging the commercial arts' matter-of-fact mode and Surrealism's expressive disorientation, he hoped to provoke a reappraisal of the nation's trajectory. As D'Arcangelo's paintings of the Gulf and Sunoco signs document, gasoline stations were integral parts of the highway ecosystem, oases that wel-

comed the wayfaring road vehicles with fuel, maps, snacks, and bathrooms. In Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas (1963) [Fig. 63], Edward Ruscha depicts the gas station as a monumentalized edifice, an apotheosized shrine. The motorists' castle appears as a beacon in the landscape, its form soaring forth in space; a majestic canopy suggests a royal progress; and the antiseptic whiteness emits a sanctified aura, a divine glow. In front, rows of gas pumps stand like palace sentinels or honorific totems. There are no traces of human presence, only these robotic mannequins. Hollywood-style spotlights augment the building's ceremonial importance, and the grandiose brand-name marquee announces the corporate avatar w h o rules this haven. The building's design sustains a new standard for highway architecture, quite in keeping with the criteria of uniformity, conformity, and promotionalism that are pridefully proclaimed by the Standard appelation. The gas station first appeared as an icon representing American culture in the 1920s. In paintings

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FIG. 64. Stuart Davis, Town Square, 1925-26. Watercolor on paper, ii>/,"x 14vi", The Newark Museum, Newark, N e w Jersey.

FIG. 65. Edward Hopper, Gas, 1940. Oil on canvas, 26'/," x 40'/,". The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York. Mrs. Simon Guggenheim Fund.

like Town Square ( 1 9 2 5 - 2 6 ) [Fig. 64] and Garage Lights ( 1 9 3 1 - 3 2 ) , Stuart Davis repeatedly used the image of streetside gas pumps and village gas stations to express the vitality of American life. For E d w a r d Hopper, in contrast, the gas station signified modernity's intrusion into the bucolic landscape [Fig. 65]. Ruscha's image shares something of Davis's celebratory tone (albeit twisted by irony) and Hopper's disquiet at the denaturalized environment (albeit without his romantic longing for a paradise lost). But Ruscha's portrait is distinctive in its presentation of a packaged image that bears the imprint of organizational America's franchising of

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the roadside. Franchising is a classic American institution geared to facilitate the controlled regional or national marketing of a product. 1 6 In the 1950s and 1960s the number of franchised outlets and companies multiplied—fast-food chains, motels, gas stations—and regularization efforts intensified. Franchised businesses across the United States displayed cookie-cutter uniformity as parent companies rigorously standardized virtually all aspects of their operations: the architectural design of buildings, signs and logos, services and product lines, promotion campaigns and advertising jingles. The franchise outlets were not only to sell the line of

FIG. 66. Edward Ruscha, Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas, from the book Twentysix Gasoline Stations, first edition, 1963.

products but also to reinforce the fixed identity of the brand name. As national franchise outlets replaced local mom-and-pop businesses, the oldstyle farrago of local color gave way to a patchw o r k of familiar clones. North and south, east and west, the roadscape became a homogenized c o m mercial zone. If Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas ironically glorifies a standard gas station, Ruscha's Twentysix Gasoline Stations (1963), a travelogue of photographs, focuses full attention on the mundane actuality of gas stations. 17 T h e book, which includes the photographic source for the Standard Station painting [Fig. 66], shows a series of equally c o m mon and humdrum gas stations along U . S . Route 66 between Los Angeles and Oklahoma C i t y (Ruscha's adopted and native hometowns). These vistas neatly counter the idealized vision of the American landscape portrayed in travel brochures and civicbooster campaigns. Like Jack Kerouac's cult novel On the Road (1957) or songs like " R o u t e 6 6 " (1946) or " K i n g of the R o a d " (1964), Ruscha's photographs attest to the dominance of the road as an

American image and mobility as a characteristic aspect o f American life. But in Ruscha's pictures the road is not a metaphor for freedom or an escape route away f r o m the doldrums of the workaday world; the road is little more than a conveyor belt that runs through a repetitive, vacuous, monotonous environment. A n d travel is no longer an adventure yielding novel perceptions as much as it is an excursion to replicas of the already k n o w n and familiar. E v e n the variations in Ruscha's collection of images tend only to confirm the experience of organized familiarity in the American landscape and the identity of America as a land of manmade banalities. Ruscha explored these themes further in subsequent photo books, among them Some Los Angeles Apartments (1965), Every Building on Sunset Strip (1966), and Thirtyfour Parking Lots in Los Angeles (1967). In Looking East on 4th and C, Chula Vista (1967) [Fig. 67], J o h n Baldessari likewise records the nondescript character of American street settings. U s ing a photograph taken f r o m inside a car, Baldessari displays the ugliness and ordinariness o f the

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* f i g . 67. J o h n Baldessari, Looking East on 4th and C, Chula Vista, 1967. Phototransfer, acrylic on canvas.

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60" X 45". C o u r t e s y o f Sonnabend G a l l e r y , N e w Y o r k , and M a r g o Leavin Gallery, Los Angeles.

* F I G . 68. V i j a C e l m i n s , Freeway, 1966. O i l o n c a n v a s , I7'/J"X 26'A". Collection o f Harold C o o k .

typical vista, replete w i t h telephone poles, electric wires, and s m o g g y skies. His silkscreen transfer enlargement, reproduced in black and w h i t e w i t h out c r o p p i n g or editing, intensifies the bleakness o f the view. T h e bold-letter caption w h i c h simply identifies the precise site affirms that this is a d o c u mentary portrayal meant to emphasize c o m m o n place facts and raw particularities, not idealized generalizations or Utopian m y t h s about the A m e r i can landscape. Baldessari's vérité approach parallels the m i d sixties reaction against the major media's adoption o f slick M a d i s o n A v e n u e aesthetics and artful styles o f presentation. T h e s e w e r e the years w h e n the alternative press e m e r g e d . F r o m the g r o u n d b r e a k i n g Los Angeles Free Press, w h i c h began publishing in 1964, to the n u m e r o u s n e i g h b o r h o o d papers and u n d e r g r o u n d publications that appeared s o o n thereafter, the alternative press w a s dedicated to the investigation o f A m e r i c a n life, including its under-

side and unappealing aspects. It presented the unadorned truth about topics that w e r e generally censored, ignored, or abbreviated on n e t w o r k television or in mainstream newspapers and m a g a zines. A l t h o u g h Baldessari did not assume the inflammatory tone or overtly politicized stance that tended to prevail in the alternative press, his c o m position evinces a similar effort to d o c u m e n t and d e m y s t i f y , to get beneath the constructed and c o n trived facades that typified mass media representations. C o n c e r n w i t h the particularity o f an ordinary, familiar place in all its mediocrity also shapes V i j a Celmins's painting Freeway (1966) [Fig. 68]. U s i n g a p h o t o g r a p h o f a h i g h w a y scene as a base, C e l mins exactingly paints the dreary e v e r y d a y vista o f asphalt, roadside buildings, and signs. Here again, the perspective is that f r o m inside a car, w i t h the dashboard and windshield emphasizing the m e diated, detached quality o f a motorist's experience

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of the landscape. Like most highway paintings of this period, the composition depicts the denaturalized quality of the American landscape as well as the dissociative relationship between people and the environment. Hermetic insularity similarly characterizes those of George Segal's assemblage sculptures that depict figures in settings related to road travel: Bus Riders (1962), The Bus Driver (1962), The Gas Station (1963) [Fig. 69], The Bus Station (1965), Man Leaving a Bus (1967) [Fig. 70], and Parking Garage (1968). These tableaux show typical aspects of America's automotive culture, with real props capturing the flavor of actual environments. T h e f i g ures are lifelike, having been cast f r o m human models, and yet their stark whiteness and frozen postures endow them with a ghostliness. T h e y are phantom people, simultaneously present and ab-

sent, on the scene but disconnected f r o m their habitats. And although the casts were formed f r o m specific individuals, the figures appear as generic, anonymous personages. In these settings life is comfortable but deadened: individuals have no meaningful interpersonal contact and go about the business of life by enacting repetitive routines. These are settings and people untouched by either the jubilance of J o h n Kennedy's Camelot fantasy or the turmoil of civil rights, assassinations, and Vietnam protests. They exemplify a business-as-usual mentality; conditioned by time and habit, they are unmoved and unaffected by changing circumstances. Paradoxically, they also represent the static stalwartness of American culture: not the survival of the fittest, but the survival of the most steadfast. Segal's classical views of American culture and the American environment are not motivated by nostalgic longing for a foresaken, appealing past

but by a recognition of subjects, sites, images, and qualities that are distinctly American despite the progress of time. In Man Leaving a Bus, for e x a m ple, it is not just any bus but a yellow school bus, a c o m m o n fixture in communities throughout the country. And in The Gas Station, the inclusion of a C o k e machine, Bulova clock, and Gulf oil cans endows the setting with a time-honored, unequivocally American character. T h u s these sculptures, like so much of the art of the fifties and sixties, represent not only a shift f r o m abstraction to an art rooted in everyday life but also a turning away f r o m European iconography to themes, images, and experiences typical of contemporary American life. T h e postwar artists, in exploring the landscape of America's cities, suburbs, and highways, recognized the rich resources for creative expression in American culture.

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NOTES 1. See Alan Trachtenberg, Peter Neill, and Peter C . Bunnel, The City: American Experience ( N e w York: O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1971), i x - x . 2. Time 79 (March 23, 1962): 17. O v e r the next f e w years, Time ran five l o n g articles on the city; see Time 80 (September 28, 1962): 5 6 - 6 9 ; 81 ( M a r c h 15, 1963): 2 4 35; 84 (July 3 1 , 1964): 11—18; 84 ( N o v e m b e r 6, 1964): 6 0 - 7 3 ; 8 7 (March 4, 1966): 2 9 - 3 3 . 3. The Street was s h o w n in N e w York first at t h e j u d son Gallery, J u d s o n M e m o r i a l C h u r c h , J a n u a r y 3 0 M a r c h 17, i960, and then in a second version at the R e u ben Gallery, M a y i960. 4. O l d e n b u r g , in an interview w i t h R o b e r t P i n c u s Witten (April 1963), q u o t e d in Barbara Rose, Claes Oldenburg ( N e w York: M u s e u m o f M o d e r n Art, and G r e e n wich, C o n n . : N e w York G r a p h i c Society, 1970), 32. 5. T h e p e r f o r m a n c e World Fair II w a s enacted M a y 25 and 26, 1962, as one o f the theatrical events presented in the back r o o m of The Store. 6. In his influential b o o k The Other America ( N e w York: Penguin, 1963), Michael H a r r i n g t o n describes and analyzes the p o v e r t y culture of p o s t w a r Amcrica. 7. For a detailed discussion o f Spiral and early activities within the black art c o m m u n i t y , see M a r y S c h m i d t C a m p b e l l , Tradition and Conflict: Images of a Turbulent Decade, igöj-ig/j ( N e w York: T h e Studio M u s e u m in H a r l e m , 1985), 4 5 - 4 8 . 8. Time 84 ( N o v e m b e r 6, 1964): 70. 9. W h e n H e n r y A. Barnes, one o f the m o s t aggressive traffic engineers, b e c a m e the traffic c o m m i s s i o n e r o f N e w York City in 1962, he w a r n e d that h e intended to m a k e radical changes. (See Time 79 [ J a n u a r y 12, 1962]: 43.) H o l d i n g to his p r o m i s e , he m a d e m o s t of t h e city's m a j o r avenues o n e - w a y , t r a n s f o r m e d and increased the signs, and p r o p o s e d an elaborate electronic c o n t r o l system. 10. T h e original H o l l y w o o d sign, c o n s t r u c t e d in 1923, was a real estate d e v e l o p m e n t a d v e r t i s e m e n t for w h a t was then a rather sparsely settled c o m m u n i t y . T h e o r i g i nal sign read " H o l l y w o o d L a n d , " b u t the " L a n d " segm e n t slid d o w n the hillside in 1945. At that p o i n t , t h e C h a m b e r of C o m m e r c e a d o p t e d the r e m a i n d e r as a local m o n u m e n t . Images of the H o l l y w o o d sign appear v a r iously in Ruscha's w o r k . In addition t o the scries o f collages, of which Holiyivood Study is one, the sign appears in a screenprint version, published in 1968, that has attained widespread popularity. 11. As noted by Daniel J. B o o r s t i n in The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America ( N e w York: A t h e n e u m , 1978), 199. 12. J e f f r e y H a r t , When the Going Was Good! American Life in the Fifties ( N e w York: C r o w n , 1982), 3 1 . 13. " T h e N e w America: S u b u r b i a - E x u r b i a - U r b i a , T h e N e w B r e e d , " Newsweek 49 (April 1, 1957): 34. 14. " T h e N e w H i g h w a y N e t w o r k , " Time 69 ( J u n e 24. 1957): 92-

15. See t h e artist's statement in D'Arcangelo: Paintings of the Early Sixties, exhibition catalogue (Purchase: N e u berger M u s e u m , State U n i v e r s i t y of N e w York, College at Purchase, 1978), n . p . 16. For a discussion o f franchising as an A m e r i c a n i n stitution, see Daniel J. B o o r s t i n , The Americans: The Democratic Experience ( N e w York: V i n t a g e B o o k s , 1974), 428-34. 17. Twentysix Gasoline Stations was first published b y the artist in 1963, w i t h subsequent editions in 1967 and 1969. T h e first edition c o m p r i s e d f o u r h u n d r e d n u m bered copies; the second edition, five h u n d r e d u n n u m bered copies; and the third, three t h o u s a n d copies.

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* F I G . 7 1 . Wayne Thicbaud, Trucker's Supper, 1 9 6 1 . Oil 011 canvas, 2 0 ' / i " x 30'/»". Collection o f the artist.

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M Hamburgers, hot dogs, french fries, corn on the cob, ice cream cones, popsicles, C o c a - C o l a , Campbell's Soup, and corn flakes are decidedly American foods enjoyed by a great majority of the population regardless of age, class, sex, or geographical location. Such foods are signatures of American culture, evidence of popular taste as well as of culinary customs, eating habits, and skill in advertising and marketing. With the postwar proliferation of brand-name promotions, convenience foods, fast-food chains, national distribution networks, and giant supermarkets, food became a paramount part of America's image. Typical American foods abound in the art of the 1950s and 1960s, and depictions offer rich evidence of American marketing strategies and American consumer preferences. T h e art is distinctive in its mechanized commercial appearance, its manifestation of the character of postwar affluence, and its presentation of provocative new images. At the same time, using food as subject matter follows a long tradition in art. Throughout history, artists have featured food items, both delicacies and staples, in feast scenes, mythological narratives, e m blematic designs, portraits, and still lifes. Within the modernist period, Cubist painters provided an iconographic update with wine and drink images in compositions expressly associated with bohemian cafes and French culture. T h e food imagery developed in postwar A m e r i can art continues in the path of such precedents, but its source is specifically American, not E u r o pean, and it is pointedly derived f r o m mass culture, not bohemian milieus. For example, in Trucker's Supper (1961) [Fig. 7 1 ) by Wayne Thiebaud, the represented meal exemplifies the standard fare served in any diner anywhere in the United States: steak and french fries garnished by a leaf of iceberg lettuce and slivers of hothouse tomato topped by mayonnaise, t w o slices of processed white bread and a packaged pat of butter, accompanied by a glass of milk. While the menu is heartland A m e r i can, the food and the plates, glass, flatware, and folded paper napkin epitomize an institutional standardization and anonymity that is equally characteristic of American dining. As Thiebaud has observed, " I think the big difference in America as compared to Europe is that the food here is the same wherever you go, even down to the napkins and salt and pepper shakers on the restaurant tables."' His diner spread exaggerates that sameness, and the isolation of a single meal on a countertop articulates the loneliness of a trucker whose w o r k days are a series of routine meals eaten alone in some all-too-familiar roadside restaurant. Yet the

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72. W a y n e T h i e b a u d , Five Hoi Dogs, 1961. O i l on canvas, I 8 " X 2 4 " . C o l l e c t i o n o f John Bransten. *FIG.

routine dullness and institutionalized c o n f o r m i t y are contradicted b y the lush exuberance o f T h i e baud's b r u s h w o r k , w h i c h suggests an u n e m b a r rassed love o f familiar A m e r i c a n f o o d and e v e r y day A m e r i c a n culture. Like most A m e r i c a n painters in the 1950s and 1960s, T h i e b a u d rejected elitist attitudes that v i e w e d A m e r i c a n mass culture as inferior or unappealing. In several o f his paintings o f hot dogs, T h i e b a u d reaches the core o f popular A m e r i c a n f o o d taste and deflates received notions about appropriate art imagery, especially those conventions based on E u ropean standards and culture. T h e hot d o g is the paragon o f the easy-to-prepare, easy-to-eat-onthe-run f o o d s for w h i c h A m e r i c a is famous. In contrast to the E u r o p e a n tradition o f leisurely, f o r mal eating, A m e r i c a n s have developed e a s y g o i n g eating habits, f a v o r i n g snacks and hand-held meals that can be q u i c k l y c o n s u m e d . While Europeans sit at dining tables eating their sausages o f f china plates, A m e r i c a n s m u n c h their hot d o g s w h i l e standing, participating in s o m e other activity, or w a t c h i n g a baseball or football g a m e . H o t d o g s are also a staple o f the picnics that mark the three na-

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tional s u m m e r holidays and the w e e k e n d barbccue. A n d the typical A m e r i c a n hot d o g is produced in a typically A m e r i c a n w a y : processed in mechanized f o o d plants, assembled into quantity packages, c o o k e d in large numbers, and marketed at franchised f o o d outlets or snack f o o d concessions that place a p r e m i u m on rapid, quantity service. To paint a hot d o g in 1961, d u r i n g the K e n n e d y era o f h i g h - f l y i n g pride in A m e r i c a n culture, w a s to capture the prevalent national spirit. In Five Hot Dogs (1961) [Fig. 72], T h i e b a u d exemplifies this ebullient spirit by treating the hot d o g as an e n n o bled object, w o r t h y o f full, unadulterated attention and center-stage presentation on a pure w h i t e g r o u n d . T h e densely pigmented surface and succulent b r u s h w o r k m a k e tangible the food's richness. T h e presence o f five hot d o g s denotes plentitude, w h i l e the careful differentiation o f each o f the five preserves their individuality. T h e i m a g e is implicitly a glorious statement about A m e r i c a . A n d yet, the starkness o f the rendering and the a s s e m b l y line-perfect alignment seem an unsettling reminder o f the rigors o f c o n f o r m i t y . T h u s a strain o f a m bivalence riddles the imagery, t e m p e r i n g its celebratory tone.

* fig. 73. Claes Oldenburg, Hamburger, 1 9 6 1 . Gouache and crayon on paper, 1 1 " x 14". Private collection.

fig. 74. Claes Oldenburg, Two Cheeseburgers with Everything (Dual Hamburgers), 1962. Burlap soaked in plaster, painted with enamel, 7" x I4 J /V'X 8 s/» ". The M u s e u m o f Modern Art, N e w York. Philip Johnson Fund.

Quite equivalent to the hot dog as an archetypal symbol of American food is the hamburger. Claes Oldenburg develops the iconography in various drawings [Fig. 73]; in a series of painted plaster sculptures: Two Cheeseburgers, with Everything (Dual Hamburgers) (1962) [Fig. 74], Hamburger with Pickle and Olive (1962), and Hamburger (1963); and in a mammoth fabric exemplar, Giant Hamburger (1962) [Fig. 75]. T h o u g h rich and sensual in appeal, Oldenburg's hamburger imagery shows none of the classical restraint of Thiebaud's hot dogs. His utterly fanciful, lumpy, garishly colored plasters and gargantuan cloth model subvert sculpture con-

ventions of purity, control, or beauty. His imagery goes beyond the sensually appetizing to the sexually provocative. N o holds barred, Oldenburg celebrates life—human life, American life, everyday life—by serving up hamburgers that are larger than life. T h e size and rich excess of Oldenburg's f o o d stuffs recall the burger franchises' competitive boasts about the softest bun or the biggest patty. With creative panache Oldenburg effectively trumps even the most extraordinary advertising claims by creating the biggest, most towering, best-stuffed hamburgers of the era. Hyperbole and

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FIG. 75- Claes Oldenburg, Giant Hamburger, 1962. Painted sail cloth stuffed with foam, 52" x 84". Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto. Purchase, 1967.

FIG. 76. Reginald Marsh, White Tower Hamburger, 1945. Ink on paper, 26'/," x 39Vi". Whitney Museum of American Art, N e w York. Anonymous gift.

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extravagant overstatement, the keynotes of A m e r i can advertising, bear particular relcvance to the hamburger's special place in postwar society. T h o u g h long popular in the American diet, hamburgers became a highly profitable growth sector in the American cconomy as a result of the marketing efforts of some of the nation's most successful, high-production chain restaurants. A m o n g the first and biggest of the burger-war belligerents was White Tower, which spread its outlets throughout urban centers and promoted quantity consumption with the slogan " B u y a B a g ful, Towers All O v e r . " T h e chain developed a limited menu—starring the hamburger—and offered quick service and inexpensive products, the perfect combination for working Americans. Reginald Marsh's White Tower Hamburger (1945) [Fig. 76] records the notable presence of the chain in the urban landscape, though he uses the company slogan as an ironic point of departure for a commentary on American poverty.

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* FIG. 77. Tony Berlant, Camel Burger, 1963. Metal collage, 2$'/" X 40'/,". Collection of Joan and Jack Quinn.

As highway traffic increased, a new kind of culinary establishment emerged: the fast-food drive-in. The leader here, born in 1954, was McDonald's. This champion chain soon became a multi-milliondollar operation, and by 1972 its more than 1,000 franchises showed gross annual sales that exceeded $300 million. Even more adroitly than White Tower, McDonald's exploited the appeal of quantity consumption. 2 Advertisements and signs at every outlet publicized a running tally of the n u m ber of hamburgers sold, and the figure rapidly reached mind-boggling heights. While McDonald's was indisputably the largest hamburger chain, a chorus of serious competitors—Burger King, R o y Rogers, Wendy's, and the like—matched M c Donald's toteboard promotion with their o w n fanfare about their burgers' unequaled size or the tantalizing extras and variants that they offered. Hamburger restaurants, hamburger advertising,

and hamburgers themselves were thus a dominant aspect of postwar American life. T h e resonance of this is found in Oldenburg's hamburger imagery. In a comic parody of both the American hamburger obsession and American merchandising creativity, Tony Berlant's composition Camel Burger (1963) [Fig. 77] promotes a distinctive permutation. Using advertising signs, Berlant concocts a burger variant composed of the wellknown package imagery from Barbara Anne white bread and Camel cigarettes. T h e Camel imagery provides a witty substitute for ham, which of course is not an ingredient in hamburgers, and, more generally, the substitution of advertisements for food pronounces Madison Avenue's vital influence on the contemporary American palate. Berlant even alludes to the fierce competition between brand names by juxtaposing Camel and Chesterfield advertisements on one side of his sandwich.

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* F I C . 78. C l a e s O l d e n b u r g , French Fries and Ketchup, 1963. V i n y l a n d k a p o k , I 0 ' / " X 42" X 44", W h i t n e y M u s e u m of American Art, N e w Y o r k . Fiftieth A n n i v e r s a r y gift o f M r . and Mrs. Robert M. Meitzer.

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F i c . 79. Robert Watts, TV Dinner, 1965. Photo lamination, latex, paint, 7" X 9" x 1 ' / " . Collection of the artist.

C o f c a t u r e d with h a m b u r g e r s at the f a s t - f o o d chains arc french fries, w h i c h also entered the realm o f art through several o f O l d e n b u r g ' s sculptures. A l t h o u g h potatoes are not a uniquely A m e r i can f o o d , distinctly A m e r i c a n is the p h e n o m e n o n o f potatoes cut into sticks, embellished with ketchup (a red-blooded A m e r i c a n product), and designed to be eaten w i t h one's fingers. F a s t - f o o d french fries represent a t r i u m p h o f m o d e r n f o o d technology, f o r they arc standardized, g e o m e t r i c morsels, perfected w i t h artificial preservatives and f o o d c o l o r i n g . O l d e n b u r g monumentalizes this variant o f potatoes in French Fries and Ketchup (1963) [Fig. 78], a sculpture w h o s e precisioned v i nyl f o r m s p a r o d y the synthetic, preprocessed character o f c o n t e m p o r a r y A m e r i c a n f o o d . N o t j u s t potatoes, but a w i d e variety o f f o o d s w e r e affected by applied technology. D u r i n g the p o s t w a r period, packaged, instant, frozen, and processed f o o d s w e r e increasingly available f o r h o m e c o n s u m p t i o n and increasingly preferred. O n - t h e - g o A m e r i c a n s w e l c o m e d f o o d s that could be purchased in advance and meals that required little preparation. H o m e freezers, w h i c h facilitated f o o d storage, contributed to the creation o f a new, v e r y A m e r i c a n type o f packaged, convenience f o o d : the T V dinner. N a m e d f o r M i d d l e A m e r i c a ' s f a v o r i t e a t - h o m e pastime, these p o p - i n - t h e - o v e n ,

all-in-one meals attained i m m e d i a t e success. 3 T h e assemblages o f R o b e r t Watts [Fig. 79] introduced the n e w f o r m o f h o m e c o o k i n g to art. U s i n g partitioned plates and p h o t o g r a p h i c i m a g e s o f f o o d and plastic materials, he c o n v e y s the a s s e m b l y - l i n e flav o r o f the meal, its denaturalized ingredients and m a c h i n e - m e a s u r e d n o u r i s h m e n t . Watts's designs a f f i r m the inventiveness and absurdity o f A m e r i c a ' s application o f t e c h n o l o g y to f o o d , the nation's ir satiable appetite f o r mechanization and o r g a n i z a tional efficiency. Paralleling the d e v e l o p m e n t o f convenience f o o d s and the explosion o f f a s t - f o o d restaurants w a s the proliferation o f ice cream stores. T h e ice cream c o n e — a n edible, prefabricated A m e r i c a n inv e n t i o n — m a d e ice cream a portable c o m m o d i t y . T h e cone had first appeared at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. In the fifties the suburban glut o f nationally franchised outlets f e a t u r i n g soft custards ( D a i r y Q u e e n and C a r v e l ) o r hard ice cream in an unprecedented variety o f flavors ( H o w a r d J o h n son's and B a s k i n - R o b b i n s ) b r o u g h t n e w stature to the veteran f o o d favorite, and ice cream entered the realm o f A m e r i c a n big business. 4 T h e n e w ice cream stores w e r e the latest cousin o f the popular o l d - f a s h i o n e d ice cream parlors, w h i c h sold e x t r a v agant concoctions m a d e to order, and the f r a n chised street v e n d o r s , w h o sold a multitude o f

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r-1 c:. So. Wayne T h i e b a u d , I'our l u Cream C o n n , 1964. Oil on canvas, 14" x 18". Phoenix A r t M u s e u m . M u s e u m purchasc, C O M P A S Funds.

popsicles—another American innovation (first produced in 1 9 2 1 ) that facilitated the mass merchandising of ice cream. Both Thiebaud and Oldenburg pay homage to the ice cream industry and its emphasis on grand size, richness, and variety. Thiebaud's Four Ice Cream Cones (1964) [Fig. 80], for example, shows a diversity of flavors in double-scoop cones rendered with lush, impastoed surfaces that simulate the excessive butteriness of American ice cream. Translating the imagery into sculpture, Oldenburg further exaggerates the cones' traits. In his Floor Cone (1962) [Fig. 81], a mammoth, corpulent object of exotic pistachio color lies on the floor like a car in a s h o w r o o m (the inspiration for the design), and in Giant Ice.Cream Cone (1962) a seductively textured

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object of a mint-lemon swirl flavor hangs in the air like a tantalizing fantasy. Oldenburg carries the rage for new synthetic flavors to a burlesque extreme in the animal-skin patterns and fake-fur materials of Soft Fur Good Humors (1963) [Fig. 82]. N o t unlike Meret Oppenheim's surrealist Fur-Lined Tea Cup (1936), Oldenburg's use of fur perturbs taste and touch sensations, though it also reflects the tendency of American businesses to relentlessly persevere in expanding a successful product line. Oldenburg's mélange of fake ingredients celebrates American ingenuity but also gives pause, p r o v o k ing an awareness of how America's economic, technological, scientific, and corporate prowess continually threatens to transgress the rational and the natural.

* r n ; . S I . Claes O l d e n b u r g , Floor Cotic, iyfi2. Synthetic p o l y m e r paint on canvas filled with foam rubber and cardboard boxes, 53 ' / i " x 136" X 56". T h e Museum Modern Art, N e w Y o r k . G i f t o f Philip Johnson.

* f i g . 82. Claes O l d e n b u r g , Soft Fur Good Humors, 1963. Fake fur filled w i t h kapok, painted w o o d , four units, i y " x y ' / j " x 2" each. C o l l e c t i o n o f Roger I. D a v i d s o n .

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*FIC. 83. Wayne Thiebaud, Bakery Counter, 1961-62. Oil on canvas, 55"X72". Collection of Foster Goldstrom.

f i g . 84. Claes O l d e n b u r g , Pastry Case, I, 1961-62. Enamel paint on nine plaster sculptures in glass showcase, 20VÌ" x 30'/»" x 14VÌ". T h e M u s e u m of M o d e r n Art, N e w York. T h e Sidney and Harriet Janis Collection.

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* F I G . 85. Wayne Thiebaud, Lunch Table, 1964. Oil on canvas, 3 6 " x 6 o " . Stanford University M u s e u m of Art. Gift o f the Committee for Art at Stanford.

America's craving for other cloyingly rich desserts is made palpable in numerous compositions, among them Thiebaud's Bakery Counter ( 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 ) [Fig. 83], a painting of donuts, éclairs, tarts, cupcakes, layer cakes, and pies—all laden with mounds of sugary toppings—and Oldenburg's Pastry Case, I (1962) [Fig. 84], a sculpture presenting ice cream sundaes, pies, cookies, a candy apple, and cake—all oozing with sauces and frostings. The surfeit of sucrose splendor, the sheer quantity and variety of candy-coated confections denote abundance. These are the in-between-meal and after-dinner bonuses of a prosperous society that enjoys the luxury of eating well, often, plentifully, and extravagantly. T h e seductive displays also ar-

ticulate the bonds between prosperity, mass marketing, and consumerism. In paintings that depict a variety of food items arranged in cafeteria-style alignments, Thiebaud reiterates the notion that America is a land of milk and honey, a country of endless resources. In Lunch Table (1964) [Fig. 85], for example, the self-service display of such Middle American food favorites as layer cake, soup, lemon meringue pie, watermelon, sandwiches, and cottage cheese salad exudes an impression of plentitude. T h e lush appearance of the food, the oversized portions, the overall indication of quantity—all evidence farm productivity and supermarket supply, social well-being and mass affluence, in decidedly American terms.

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* f i g . 80. R o y Lichtenstein,

Cherry

Pie, 1962. Oil on canvas, 20'/t" X

24'/,". T h e S y d n e y and Frances L e w i s Collection, courtesy o f Virginia M u s e u m o f Fine Arts.

A s opposed to the seduction of excess, R o y Lichtenstein seeks the impact of a spare, stark image in Cherry Pie (1962) [Fig. 86]. A classic American pastry, part of the George Washington legend, is shown in America's signature colors (red, white, and blue) in comic-strip style. Adapting techniques f r o m commercial illustration and simulating a bendaydot pattern, Lichtenstein establishes the image as a product of a mass communications culture premised on mechanized standardization and simple, clear messages. Like illustrations in chain restau-

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rants' menus, on supermarket packages, or in magazine advertisements, Lichtenstein's slice of cherry pie has the rich visual appeal of contemporary aesthetics geared toward commodity promotion. Stylized and compelling in its isolation and boldness, Cherry Pie bears the mark of Madison A v e nue's preeminence in postwar American society. In addition to depicting generic comestibles, many artists featured brand-name products in their c o m positions. During the fifties and sixties household

f i g . 87. Stuart Davis, Lucky Strike, 1924. Oil on paperboard, i 8 " x 24". Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C .

brand names and promotion of product images based on package design and advertising strategies came to the forefront. The proliferation of selfservice stores and boxed, wrapped, canned, and bagged products left the public to rely on the familiarity of brand names that promised consistent quality. Packages were designed not simply as functional coverings but as persuasive inducements to consumers. Inventive shapes and brightly colored containers were critical.to individuating a product and allowing instant recognizability. In competitive lines, where diversity and the lure of new products were constant, a strong fixed image was seen as the key to success. Brand names had first emerged in the midnineteenth century. 5 In the 1950s the extraordinary expansion of advertising stimulated by television fed the brand-name phenomenon. Americans were inundated with ads for particular products—on television, in newspapers and magazines, on billboards and trains, on bus and taxi placards, and in

store windows. In 1962 Time reported that the typical American was exposed to an average of 1,600 ads a day and that the dollar volume of advertising in the United States had doubled in the preceding twelve years.' B y mid-century advertising had become one of America's leading industries, creating products' reputations, enforcing brand-name loyalty, and establishing consumerism as the American way of life. Precedents for the depiction of brand-name products in American painting were set in the 1920s by artists like Stuart Davis and Gerald M u r phy, w h o used such imagery to assert the American character of their work. In various compositions they infused an iconography inspired by the French Cubists with American-brand tobacco, cigarette papers, and safety matches [Fig. 87]. In one case, Davis made a radical departure from Cubist themes by adopting the American disinfectant Odol as his subject matter. In this painting and others, the full product label, the signature package

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FIG. 88. A n d y Warhol, Soup Cans, 1962. Acrylic on canvas, thirty-two panels, 20" x 16" each. Collection o f Irving Blum.

design, and even the advertising slogan are pointedly defined. The French Cubist painters, in contrast, occasionally included the brand name of an aperitif or brandy, but more frequently showed a nameless bottle o f wine or a generic bottle labeled vitt. Within the American compositions, the product image is fully displayed in all its promotional splendor, envisioned as a commodity shaped and supported by advertising. T h e paintings display the salient American tendency to view the everyday world in terms o f commercial brand-name products. 7 Mid-century art made the brand-name phenomenon a priority issue, raising awareness about a diverse range o f related considerations. In 1961 and 1962 A n d y Warhol developed the Campbell's Soup Can imagery in a series o f thirty-two paintings [Fig. 88], Campbell's was a telling choice. A pioneer in the convenience food industry, Campbell's condensed soup ("just add water") exemplified the

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theory of product expansion. Within the company's first seven years, the original tomato soup of 1897 was augmented by nineteen other varieties. Even with the postwar competition o f freeze-dried and frozen soups, Campbell's held its command of the market, developing new products and, in 1958, extending its operations overseas. Indeed, the late fifties witnessed a surge of international activity for veteran American food processors like Campbell's w h o took advantage of the growing "taste for Yankee f o o d " abroad and "the status appeal o f a 'Made in U . S . A . ' l a b e l . " 8 In addition to its entrepreneurial record, C a m p bell's understood the marketing value of using a simple eye-catching label for all its varieties o f soup. Aggressive advertising kept the label indelibly fixed in the public's mind over generations. Repetition and uniformity were the basic ingredients of Campbell's continuous ad campaign. Posters and placards were placed where they would be

seen often. T h o u g h these signs w e r e changed frequently, their basic l o o k remained constant, so m u c h so that the c o m p a n y came to be called "America's most consistent advertiser.'" T h e familiar red-and-white can w a s invariably accompanied by c o p y that encouraged quantity c o n s u m p t i o n ( " W h y not order a f e w cans right n o w ? " in 1910) and habitual usage ( " H a v e y o u had y o u r soup t o day? O n c e a day . . . every day . . . S o u p — C a m p bell's, o f course!" in 1958). 10 C a m p b e l l ' s S o u p is thus a classic e x a m p l e o f superior skill in brandname packaging, marketing, and advertising. Warhol's paintings exaggerate the k e y features o f Campbell's success: package standardization and visual imprinting t h r o u g h repetition. His Soup Cans amplifies the p o w e r o f a strong fixed package design and brand-name image, even as such u n i f o r mity reduces to virtual insignificance the individual character o f any particular variety o f soup, o f any one item in the series. Sameness rules and p a c k a g ing reigns supreme. Indeed, the container's c o n tents are irrelevant to the package's design, w h i c h conceals the now-invisible product. Warhol e x a g gerates these packaging features by treating the soup cans as flattened facades, surface-oriented i m ages that g i v e no hint o f w h a t is inside or even that there is an inside. In several paintings that depict torn Campbell's Soup labels [Fig. 89], he presses the irony, s h o w i n g only a tin can beneath the celebrated l a b e l — n o t soup, j u s t another package. Warhol's duplication aesthetic—the creation o f paintings that are purposely devised as reproductions o f mass production i m a g e s — p l a c e s no value on originality or uniqueness in an image's facturc or design. Rather, u n i f o r m i t y and quantity, standardization and replication, are the paramount v i r tues. A l t h o u g h the first series o f Soup Cans w a s hand painted, subsequent versions w e r e made by a silkscreen stencil process that allowed Warhol to duplicate an image one hundred or t w o hundred times on a single canvas. D e r i v e d directly f r o m the e c o n o m i c s o f mass production, Warhol's aesthetic also captures the spirit o f the nascent age o f automation. In the early sixties computers first b e c a m e a significant factor in A m e r i c a n life, and a u t o m a tion first became a topic o f public c o n v e r s a t i o n . " Simultaneously, the introduction o f a p r o d u c t i o n line photocopier in i960 made possible the creation o f h i g h - v o l u m e , rapid, inexpensive duplicates o f printed material. T h e n e w c o m p u t e r and p h o t o copier technologies p r o v o k e d a radical rethinking about the nature o f h u m a n and machine activity, and the relative status o f original and copied m a t e rial. Warhol's paintings bear a close affinity w i t h the n e w automated techniques in espousing a t y p e

f i g . 89. A n d y Warhol, Big Torn Campbell's Soup Can, 1962. A c r y l i c on canvas, 72" x 54". Kunsthaus Zurich.

o f creativity in w h i c h the f o r m , content, and p r o duction o f imagery acquire a robotic character. His assertive use o f d u p l i c a t i o n — e s p e c i a l l y multiples that have the uneven, quick-printing quality o f p h o t o c o p i e s — f u r t h e r assaults traditional notions o f the " o r i g i n a l " art object. W i t h their focus on quantity production and brand-name p r o m o t i o n , Warhol's C a m p b e l l ' s S o u p C a n paintings refer to the achievements o f A m e r i can capitalism. A n d yet, in an i n t e r v i e w conducted in 1963, Warhol ironically observed that A m e r i c a ' s democratic free-enterprise ethic w a s creating an o d d similarity between the ostensibly opposite capitalist and c o m m u n i s t systems: Someone said that Brecht wanted everybody to think alike. I want everybody to think alike. But Brecht wanted to do it through Communism, in a way. Russia is doing it under government. It's happening here all by itself without being under a strict government: so if it's

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* F I G . 90. A n d y Warhol, 210 CocaCola Bottles, 1962. Silkscreen 011 canvas, 82'//'X 105". Collection o f R o b e r t F.. A b r a m s .

working without trying, why can't it work without being Communist? Everybody looks alike and acts alike, and we're getting more and more that way. I think everybody should be a machine. 12

Despite the C o l d War rhetoric and America's proclamations about individual expression as a distinguishing attribute o f democracy, Warhol proposes c o n f o r m i t y as the m o d e r n A m e r i c a n theme. His paintings s h o w h o w c o n f o r m i t y is abetted by mass production technology and advertising strategies, the f o r m e r resulting in the standardization o f p r o d -

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ucts, the latter contributing to the standardization o f habits. Warhol soon expanded the principle o f assembly-line likeness b e y o n d soup cans to a w i d e range o f other subjects, including products, people, and events. T h e painting 210 Coca-Cola Bottles ( 1 9 6 1 ) [Fig. 90], with its bottle-after-bottle, r o w - a f t e r - r o w imagery is exemplary. It captures the essence o f mechanical replication and m o n o t ony, the endless, multitudinous yield o f A m e r i c a n manufacturing. It also captures the reality o f C o c a Cola's production record. In 1961 C o k e w a s sold in 1 1 5 countries, bottled in 1 , 7 0 0 plants throughout

FIG. 91. Andy Warhol, Fire Coke Bottles, 1962. Silkscreen on canvas, 16" X 20". Private collection.

the world, and purchased at a rate of over 65 million servings each day. 1 3 There is thus nothing h y perbolic in Warhol's portrayal. Coca-Cola commanded a sizable percentage of the soft-drink market by creating and maintaining a loyal following of customers, both individuals and businesses. Like Campbell's, Coca-Cola's production and marketing efforts were targeted at instilling strict consumer loyalty, precisely the kind of allegiance that Warhol described as mechanistic conformity. Within the product design itself, there was also a long history of rigorous compliance with a set standard. T h e Coca-Cola company developed a distinctive image for its product—a barreled bottle and scripted l o g o — a n d then regulated and promoted these trademarks as much as the product itself. In Five Coke Bottles (1962) [Fig. 91], Warhol emphasizes these familiar registered trademark features while exaggerating their formulaic character. During the C o l d War, C o c a - C o l a was also an emblem of the American w a y of life. It affirmed the glories of capitalism in the face of the c o m m u -

nist challenge. As Time observed in a 1950 cover story on Coca-Cola (the first cover to display a consumer product rather than a portrait of a person), C o k e was "simpler, sharper evidence than the Marshall Plan or a Voice of America broadcast that the U . S . [had] gone out into the world to stay." 1 ' 1 T h e Coca-Cola company did not simply export its product, it opened franchised bottling plants all over the world, carrying abroad both the American production system and the prestige of a brandname American label. T h e success of C o c a - C o l a established a worldwide taste for an American product while affecting global sameness on A m e r i can brand-name terms. Warhol's one-image, one-commodity, onebrand-name paintings suggest Coca-Cola's hegemony and its implication o f American supremacy. T h o u g h the appearance of a successful brand-name product seemingly proclaims the superiority of America's commercial free-enterprise system, Warhol's paradoxical depictions show that this system also produces monopolistic uniformity and regimentation rather than competitive diversity and freedom.

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f i g . 92. H. C . Westermann, Pillar of Truth, 1962. Painted w o o d and cast aluminum, 24yV' x 10". Private collection.

f i g . 93. H. C . Westermann, While for Purity, 1959-60. Fortified plaster, glass, w o o d , metal, and various materials, 44'/" x 29". Collection o f Gilda and H e n r y Buchbinder.

T h e supremacy o f C o c a - C o l a is also the subject o f H . C . Westermann's sculpture Pillar of Truth (1962) [Fig. 92]. Setting a C o k e bottle atop a m a r ble pedestal w h o s e fluted, w a s p - w a i s t e d f o r m s paro d y both classical design and the trademark shape o f the C o k e bottle, Westermann pays h o m a g e to the deified status o f C o c a - C o l a . W i t h special regard for the product's celebrated package, the sculpture ironically establishes C o k e ' s parity w i t h the g o d s o f classical Western civilization. T h e m o c k - h o n o r i f i c title also makes w i t t y reference to the company's advertising slogan, "It's the real t h i n g . " Westermann's h y p e r b o l i c elevation o f the carbonated beverage captures the tone o f p r o m o -

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*F1G. 94. H. C . Westermann, Trophy for a Gasoline Apollo, 1961. Painted w o o d and glass, 33" X 6" X 6". Collection o f Jane and Ruth Root.

tions used to bolster the sale o f C o k e as w e l l as the sanctity o f America's adoration o f this c o n s u m e r c o m m o d i t y . In Westermann's White for Purity (1959-60) [Fig. 93], C o c a - C o l a attains f u l l - b l o w n spiritual immortality t h r o u g h an alliance w i t h a crucifix and a c o v e r i n g o f w h i t e paint that enhances the aura o f the product's hallowed u n t o u c h ability. T h e potency o f the C o k e bottle's i m a g e is further strengthened b y its familiar f o r m being played o f f against such other established signs as the ampersand, dollar sign, cent m a r k , question mark, exclamation p o i n t — a n d a red light that deflates the reverential m y t h o l o g i z i n g o f this icon o f A m e r i c a n culture. 1 5

FIG. 95. Robert Rauschenberg, Coca Cola Plan, 1958. Oil, pencil, paper, wood, metal, three Coca-Cola

bottles, 26'/," X 2 5 x 41/,". The

Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. Acquired from the collection of Count Giuseppe Panza di Biumo.

When in a third Coca-Cola sculpture, Westermann pairs America's premier bottles with a deified car—a classic Detroit model with a long, sleek body and expansive fins—he manifests an equivalence between t w o of America's greatest passions. The nation's number-one soft drink, a signature on-the-road refreshment, takes its place within the ludicrous but provocative Trophy for a Gasoline Apollo (1961) [Fig. 94]. T h e trophy forms a c o m pressed emblem of the stereotype of America as a materialistic, hedonistic nation. Like Pillar of Truth, it also unapologetically places American mass culture on a par with, or at least as a direct descendant of, the revered traditions of ancient civilizations.

In contrast to Westermann's presentation of C o k e as a glorified object, Robert Rauschenberg shows Coca-Cola bottles and advertising signs as discards, part of the debris in America's urban landscape. In such combine paintings as Curfew (1958), Coca Cola Plan (1958) [Fig. 95], and Dylaby (1962), the disposable C o k e products suggest the abundance and wastefulness of runaway consumerism, and also call to mind the socioeconomic imbalance that J o h n Kenneth Galbraith analyzed in The Affluent Society (1958). Galbraith argued that the surface impression of affluence in America belied the gap between private opulence and public squalor. While big business became rich f r o m the

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* F I G . 96. Robert Arneson, Case of Bottles, 1963. Ceramic, ¡o'A"X

23 Vt" x ij'/S". T h e Santa Barbara M u s e u m o f Art. G i f t o f M r . and Mrs. Stanley Sheinbaum.

p r o d u c t i o n o f c o n s u m e r g o o d s , it glutted the m a r ket w i t h t h r o w a w a y materials and did n o t h i n g to allay the problems associated w i t h exccss p r o d u c tion and c o n s u m p t i o n . Rauschenberg's C o k e i m a g e r y exemplifies the dualities within affluence and yet it is also a rem i n d e r o f a simple pleasure shared b y diverse sectors o f the p o p u l a t i o n — o l d and y o u n g , rich and poor, black and w h i t e . M o r e o v e r , the bottles' placement as focal images, o f t e n w i t h i n altarlike niches, e n d o w s t h e m w i t h a majestic aura. In Coca Cola Plan the bottles are apotheosized b y their encasement b e t w e e n a pair o f angelic (or imperialistic) bird w i n g s a b o v e a global sphere. In this universe o f j u n k materials, C o k e is an ironically h o n o r i f i c object. Significantly, this c o m b i n e also marks a distinctly A m e r i c a n appropriation o f the European-based tradition o f the f o u n d object. A l t h o u g h C o c a - C o l a w a s the b r a n d - n a m e soft drink most often represented in the art o f the fifties and sixties, O l d e n b u r g in s o m e plaster objects o f

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* F I C . 97. Robert Arneson, Hydrox, 1966. Glazed ceramic, 6" x 20'/" diameter. Collection of Diana Fuller.

1961 and Robert Arneson in Case of Bottles (1963) [Fig. 96] alternately used Pepsi-Cola and 7 - U p as their subject matter. Both artists present the familiar brand-name insignia or bottle as expressly misshapen, crudc, and notably handmade, in defiance of the precisioned, standardized aesthetic of mass production and its ideal of conformity. Each of Arneson's many ceramic bottles has its own distinctive character, in contrast to the one storebought glass 7 - U p bottle placed in their midst. Thwarting brand-name exclusivity and rejecting regimented assembly-line standards, Arneson's sculpture becomes a humorous counterpoint to Warhol's Coca-Cola paintings. His use of Pepsi, rather than C o k e , and his intrusive display of a 7U p bottle within a Pepsi case mockingly allude to the intense rivalry within the soft-drink industry. Similarly, Arneson's series of H y d r o x sculptures (1966) [Fig. 97] recalls the rivalry between Hydrox and Oreo, while also focusing on another veteran product of American processed-food ingenuity.

H y d r o x had developed its cream-filled sandwich cookie in the early twentieth century. T h e all-inone icing-and-cake product was perfect for mass production and packaged marketing. With its name emblazoned directly on it, each cookie became its o w n advertisement. Arneson's sculptures duplicate the exact likeness of the commercial product, but in oversized or double-decker versions. Like O l d enburg's food sculptures, these mammoth edibles affirm the stereotype of everything being bigger and better in America. Their size also advises that a big business outlook had come to prevail in the food industry. During the 1950s, for example, the Sunshine C o m p a n y , Hydrox's manufacturer, had greatly expanded its baking operations, instituted an aggressive million-dollar advertising campaign, and entered the Fortune 500. In yet another approach to the brand-name phenomenon, Larry Rivers parodies the contrivances and pretentiousness of the product identities developed by manufacturers and their advertising

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*FIG. 98. Larry Rivers, Webster and Cigars, 1966. Mixed media and collage on wood, 13 Vi" x i 6 " x i}'/,". Collection of the artist.

agents. In order to distinguish a product or establish an image for it, manufacturers often selected a name whose frame of reference could be exploited—and ultimately displaced—by the product. With due regard for the absurdity of such trademark appropriations as Camels, Dutch M a s ters, and Webster's, Rivers gives evidence of the transformation of an exotic animal, a Rembrandt painting, and a portrait o f an American statesman into icons of commerce [Fig. 98]. Rivers also parodies the self-aggrandizement of commodity advertising: the use of classifications like superior or deluxe to describe inexpensive merchandise and the use of national or foreign prestigious figures to identify basically commonplace products. Rivers's choice of imagery also reveals the odd cultural associations that some brand names embody, as in the adoption of a N o r t h African dromedary or group of Dutch syndics f o r American products.

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Despite these oddities, brand names often become such strong signifiers of their manufacturer's homeland that they effectively serve as cultural emissaries. This is the theme of Rivers's The Friendship of America and France (Kennedy and de Gaulle) ( 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 ) [Fig. 99]. Here Rivers also implies that international goodwill is promoted as much by the exchange of mundane products as by high-level presidential politics. Even though the Kennedy style gave America a certain cultural cachet in the minds of Europeans, Rivers ironically suggests that things like American cigarettes (much coveted by European smokers) and brand-name commerce lay at the root of American-European relationships. Without question, the proliferation of American brand names contributed to international perceptions of America's economic, political, and social strength during the postwar era.

irmmsn

* F I G . 99. Larry Rivers, The Friendship of America and France (Kennedy and de Gaulle), 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 . Oil o n c a n v a s , 5 1 '/"

X 76V2" X 4'/»".

Collection o f M a r c and Livia Straus.

Camels, H y d r o x , Pepsi, 7 - U p , C o k e , and Campbell's—as images in postwar art, all call attention to American tastes, values, and achievements, while presenting a viable alternative to the European standards that had long dominated art. In addition, these images signify the American brand-name phenomenon, an institution central to capitalism (in marked contrast to communism) and inextricably allied with the flourishing consumerism of postwar America. A consumer ideology had first been enunciated in the United States in the 1920s. B u t not until the 1950s did consumerism become a pronounced part of American life. 1 6 T h e new ideology marked a dramatic shift from the entrenched Protestant ethic, which was premised on thrift and moderation. Encouragement to consume was facilitated by the growth of mass media, especially television,

where a surfeit of ads promoted all sorts of products, and a stream of quiz programs (like " T h e Price is R i g h t " or " T h e B i g P a y o f f " ) sanctioned excessive spending and material acquisitiveness. In addition, the federal government itself advocated spending, at first to complement the high volume of production that was a part of the postwar boom, and then to stave off a recession. Unleashing a national offensive, spearheaded by the slogan " Y o u Auto B u y , " President Eisenhower in 1958 transformed consumer buying into an American duty. 1 7 Big-ticket items like cars, houses, and appliances and weekly supermarket purchases were both targets of the general directive to buy rather than save. Instead of denying or postponing the pleasures of ownership, Americans were urged to go out and experience the national prosperity firsthand.

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FIG. ioo. Jasper Johns, Painted Bronze, i960. Painted bronze, S'A" X 8" X 4>/ ". Museum Ludwig, Cologne. t

T h e consumer spirit coupled with the postwar cultural consciousness produced a change in the art world as well. Where there was previously little interest in vanguard art, now there was enthusiasm and a thirst for buying. M a j o r collectors numbered around t w o dozen in 1945, about t w o hundred in i960, and over t w o thousand in 1970. The gallery system kept pace: in N e w York alone the coterie expanded f r o m around twenty in i960 to more than t w o hundred in I970. 1 8 E v e n more significant was the emergence of an active American "art market" that involved a broadening spectrum of buyers whose considerations were monetary as well as aesthetic. Contemporary art entered the world of big business, acquiring notable value as an article o f commerce. Consumerism within American culture, if not explicitly within the art world, inspired Jasper Johns's Painted Bronze (i960) [Fig. 100], a pair of handpainted bronze Ballantine ale cans made in response to a remark by Willem de Kooning about gallery owner Leo Castelli's ability to sell anything—even beer cans. T h e bonds between art and commerce, and the issue of art as commerce, were also addressed head-on by Claes Oldenburg's Store project [Fig. 1 0 1 ] . The Store was both a studioworkshop and a commercial business set up in a working-class neighborhood and open to the general public on a regular basis for t w o months (December 1961 through January 1962). Within The Store, Oldenburg functioned as artist, manufacturer, salesman, promoter, and manager—a veritable one-man show in which he played all the roles involved in the making and selling of art. In many

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ways, The Store actualized Oldenburg's sensitivity to commercialization in American culture and in the contemporary art world. As he once w r y l y commented: " I am for Kool art, 7 - U p art, Pepsi art, Sunkist art, 39 cents art, 15 cents a r t . " " T h e art objects in The Store included c o m m o n place merchandise—food, clothing, and souvenir items—as well as advertising signs and sales tags. A preparatory sketch, 7-Up with Cake (1961) [Fig. 102] encapsulates the mixture, with an American flag affirming the umbrella Americanness of the enterprise. All of Oldenburg's merchandise, h o w ever, was crude, deliberately fragmented and sloppy, and one-of-a-kind. His goods, on the one hand, boldly parodied machine technology, reveling instead in the sensuous and expressive richness of handmade creativity. But as products, on the other hand, they subverted highfalutin conceptions of art as pure, beautiful imagery of esoteric or metaphysical import. The Store, moreover, poked fun at the art gallery convention of placing works in frames or on pedestals in an austere environment. Oldenburg suspended his pieces f r o m the ceiling, nailed them to the walls, or haphazardly placed them on the floor, on tables, and in the w i n dows. The effect was that of a chaotic, crowded neighborhood variety shop where buying and selling were part of the social hustle-bustle of everyday life. The Store faithfully captured the flavor and ambiance of East Second Street, N e w York City, in all its vulgarity and vitality, its poverty and barter-business intensity. In a curious way, The Store referred to both the sustained blight of poverty and Middle America's obsessive consumerism.

f i g . i o i . Claes Oldenburg, The Store, 1961. Installation, 107 East Second Street, N e w York.

* f i g . 102. Claes Oldenburg, 7-Up with Cake, 1961. Mixed media, collage on paper, 15" x 20". Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Burton Tremaine.

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FIC. 103. Claes Oldenburg, The Store, 1962. Installation, Green Gallery, N e w York.

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Oldenburg's second version o f The Store w a s installed at the hub o f the u p t o w n gallery ghetto on Fifty-Seventh Street in September 1962 [Fig. 103]. T h e display was much sparser and more orderly, and the exuberant objects seemed almost refined. T h e painted plasters w e r e j o i n e d by gargantuan f o o d items that lent an aura o f fantasy and prosperity to the exhibition. This Store also caught the atmosphere o f its neighborhood, resembling a speciality boutique or s h o w r o o m w h e r e the w e l l heeled could shop for a sought-after treasure. T h i s w a s the realm o f consumerism as the satisfaction o f desire, where b u y i n g and selling w e r e leisurely activities nurtured by values other than necessity. T h i s time, then, Oldenburg's p a r o d y targeted upper-middle-class A m e r i c a n materialism and the sales orientation in the art w o r l d .

Minn* To capture both the spirit o f c o n t e m p o r a r y art and o f consumerist culture, a g r o u p exhibition o r ganized by the Bianchini Gallery in 1964 focused specifically on The American Supermarket. A s Life magazine noted in its color spread on the exhibition, it w a s " a triumphant collision o f art and life." 2 0 It was also a popular success, receiving three thousand visitors in the first t w o weeks. T h e e x h i bition featured brand-name processed products, fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, sandwiches, breads, bakery sweets, soft drinks, beer cans, and the like made out o f chrome, w a x , w o o d , plaster, bronze, and plastic. Included w e r e the simulated cartons f o r Brillo, Campbell's T o m a t o J u i c e , and Kellogg's C o r n Flakes [Fig. 104] by A n d y Warhol ($350 each), cases o f c h r o m e cantaloupes by R o b e r t Watts ( S i 2 5 by the piece), and slices o f painted bronze watermelon b y Billy A p p l e (S500 each). 2 1 Items w e r e available in multiples, all methodically stacked, shelved, or cased with appropriate p r o m o tional signs and prominently displayed price tags. A n impression o f plenty and variety abounded. T h e supermarket is another typically A m e r i c a n creation, distinctive f r o m the open-air markets and speciality shops o f other cultures. 2 2 With its selfservice organization and its inventory o f prepackaged, fixed-price items, it is an enterprise c o n s o nant with the convenience-oriented lifestyle and commercially bound e c o n o m y o f m o d e r n A m e r ica. T h o u g h supermarkets w e r e already prosperous by 1950, g r o w t h in the suburban population, national f o o d output, and f o o d merchandising and advertising all promoted the dizzying expansion o f supermarkets' number, size, and scale o f operation. 2 3 A single store, like the Super Giant in R o c k ville, M a r y l a n d , that served 25,000 customers a w e e k in 1964, stacked its shelves with 7 , 5 0 0 d i f f e r ent f o o d items, including 22 kinds o f baked beans. 24 In the absence o f salespersons, these selfservice c o m m o d i t y palaces rely on b r a n d - n a m e f a miliarity and the appeal o f package persuasion to m o v e inventory. T h e s e superstores also p r o m o t e pure consumerism, with displays to encourage shoppers to purchase m o r e than necessary and to select giant-sized or multipack products. While the Bianchini exhibition w a s telling in its celebration of the A m e r i c a n supermarket, a broader reflection o f the values associated with the supermarket is depicted in much o f the art o f the period. In a synoptic way, f o r instance, Warhol's Boxes e x e m p l i f y the notions o f h i g h - v o l u m e sales, c o m m o d i t y abundance, and package primacy. O n c e again, Warhol conveys that mass c o n s u m p tion is as much a matter o f package appeal as p r o d uct appeal.

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*FIG. 104. Andy Warhol, Brtilo, Campbell's Tomato Juice, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes Boxes, 1964. Silkscreen on wood, i o " x 19"X9'A"; 2 0 " x 2 0 " x 17"; 25" x 2 1 " x 17". Private collection, courtesy of Charles Cowles Gallery, N e w York.

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103

105. Peter Saul, Icebox, i960. Oil on canvas, 69"X 58'/!". Courtesy o f Allan Frumkin Gallery, N e w York *FIG.

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man

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* F I C . 106. Richard Estes, Food City, 1967. Oil on masonite, 4 8 " X 6 8 " . A k r o n Art M u s e u m , A k r o n , Ohio. Museum Acquisition Fund.

The essence of the supermarket also underlies Peter Saul's painting Icebox (i960) [Fig. 105]. B y filling his Freezo-rama to the gills with an assortment of commodities that include a hide-a-bed, a table lamp, and anatomical parts, Saul parodies the indiscriminate panoply of products stocked by supermarkets and the dense clutter of their spatial layouts. The excessive amassments of a single item mimic the overindulgent quantity buying provoked by bargain sales, and his comic speech balloons suggest some absurd self-advertising scheme. Rather than specify known products, Saul spoofs the brand-name concept by his blurred labels and cleverly nonsensical designations, such as " B r a n d 4 " and " P r y . " Saul's painting vivifies sociology's clichés about American consumerism as having become out of control during the 1950s and 1960s. Vance Packard and other social commentators tended to blame the increasingly sophisticated manipulative techniques employed by advertisers. But Arthur Miller, in

The Price, placed America's spending mania in a disquieting, psychoreligious context. His protagonist Solomon muses: " Y o u see the main thing today is—shopping. Years ago a person, he was unhappy, didn't know what to do with himself—he'd g o to church, start a revolution—something. Today you're unhappy? Can't figure it out? What is the salvation? G o shopping!" 2 5 For whatever reasons, many Middle Americans considered shopping second only to watching television as the leisure activity of choice. Richard Estes's paintings of storefronts show h o w the shopping habit is encouraged by w i n d o w displays and promotional signs. T h e glass frontages, which dissolve the boundary between exteriors and interiors, make the products more i m m e diate, more accessible, almost tangible. Estes exaggerates the disorienting-reorienting power of the w i n d o w s and their display appeal. In Food City (1967) [Fig. 106], w i n d o w s give visual access to the entire store and its profusion of commodities, and

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FIG. 107. Richard Estcs, The Cüiidy Store, 1969. Oil and synthetic p o l y m e r , 47'/!" X 68Vi". Whitney M u s e u m o f A m e r i c a n Art, N e w

in The Candy Store (1969) [Fig. 107], the glass showcases an abundant sampling of the available merchandise. T h e prominent price tags, which boldly advertise bargains and specials, testify to the centrality of prices in the American consumer economy. In no other culture are prices blazoned with such forthrightness and verve. Another aspect of American consumerism is the curious mix of conspicuous consumption—purchases motivated by quantity, size, or extravagance—and conformist buying, the desire for commodities that adhere to mainstream tastes. In The Organization Man, William Whyte called the latter "inconspicuous" or "other-directed" consumption and cited as evidence a newspaper ad for Gimbel's department store:

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Y o r k . Purchased with funds f r o m the Friends o f the Whitney M u s e u m of A m e r i c a n Art.

T h e ' B o o m i n g Middle Class' is taking over—and no longer are w e living up to the Joneses (Chaunccy M o n t a gue J o n e s et familia)—we're living d o w n to the Joneses (Charlie J o n e s and the w i f e and kids). It's bye-bye, upstairs chambermaid—ta, ta, liveried c h a u f f e u r — g o o d riddance to the lorgnette, limousine, and solid-gold lavatory. T h e new G o o d Life is casual, de-frilled, comfortable, f u n — a n d isn't it marvelous. Gimbel's is all for the bright, y o u n g , can't-be-fooled Charlie Jones. 2 6

For Whyte, the urge to buy like everyone else was inextricably bound to the urge to be like everyone else. Consumer me-too-ism, nurtured by advertising, was another example of the organizational mentality of postwar American society. Even as Americans moved up the economic ladder, they re-

* F I C . 108. Life #24,

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tained the habits of conformist buying and the consumer preferences of the mass middle. It is precisely this sensibility that Tom Wesselmann portrays in his Still Life paintings. From the array of food 011 the tables (Americanized versions of European fruit and flower arrangements) to the room furnishings and w i n d o w views, the imagery exemplifies the Middle American G o o d Life. These are the homes of middle-class Americans whose purchases have been well conditioned by mainstream and mass media values. In Still Life #24 (1962) [Fig. 108], the Del Monte canned asparagus, Wishbone salad dressing, and corn on the cob would meet a Charlie Jones's conception of eating pleasure, based on convenience foods and established brand names, and the design of the curtain

would satisfy Mrs. Jones's ideal of interior decor, based on advice from a popular magazine like Ladies' Home Journal. Even greater conventionality rules the kitchen in Still Life #30 (1963) [Fig. 109], though the pink G . E . refrigerator denotes a token assertion of individuality or an attempt to upgrade according to the latest fashion, and the framed reproduction of Picasso's Seated Woman signifies the middle class's burgeoning interest in modern art. Like so many of the paintings of the period, Wesselmann's still lifes affirm the high American standard of living. T h e variety, size, and quantity of the fresh, canned, and packaged foods give evidence of agricultural abundance, factory productivity, and a thriving consumer economy.

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* f i c . 109. Tom Wesselmann, Sil// Life # j o , 196 V Oil, enamel, and synthetic polymer paint 011 composition board with collage o f printed advertisements, plastic artificial flowers, refrigerator door.

Although Wesselmann undermines the seriousness of a celebratory tone by his excessive use of clichés, absurd pastiches, and ironic advertising cutouts (images f r o m subway posters and other promotional materials), an upbeat Americanism prevails. Indeed, these compositions mirror the national mood, an exuberant patriotism enspirited by the new young president. In the Kennedy years, America s international prestige was a national preoccupation, especially the superiority of A m e r i can life and the American economic system compared to Soviet life and the communist system. Without taking a political stance, American artists pay tribute to this superiority by focusing attention on precisely that realm in which America was un-

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plastic replicas o f 7 - U p bottles, and framed color reproduction, stamped metal, 4H'/" X 66" x 4". Museum of M o d e r n Art, N e w G i f t of Philip Johnson.

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equivocally the world leader. While the U S S R suffered scarcity and stagnation, the U . S . excelled in the production of food and consumer goods. While the U S S R struggled to feed its o w n people, the U . S . exported its surplus manufactures abroad. A n d while Soviet workers scrimped to buy generic products from state-controlled stores, Americans freely chose f r o m a variety of prestigious, brightly labeled brand-name goods. Artists' representations of food and Americanstyle marketing thus highlight a realm of unequalled American success and prowess. T h e imagery exudes a material well-being, a semblance of comfort, the glorious side of American affluence. A n d yet, the exaggerations and parodies provoke

awareness o f a disquieting u n d e r s i d e — t h e excesses and c o n f o r m i t y , the denaturalization and c o m m e r cial d o m i n a n c e . A b o v e all, it is this d u a l i s m that m a k e s the i m a g e s so v i s u a l l y i n t r i g u i n g and historically i m p o r t a n t .

N O T E S 1. T h i c b a u d , quoted in J o h n C o p l a n s , Wayne Thiebaud, exhibition catalogue (Pasadena, C a l i f . : Pasadena A r t M u s e u m , 1968), 26. 2. Daniel J . B o o r s t i n , The Americans: The Democratic Experience ( N e w Y o r k : V i n t a g e , 1974), 4 3 2 ; and " T h e B u r g e r T h a t C o n q u e r e d the C o u n t r y , " Time 102 (September 1 7 , 1973): 84. 3. T h e first T V d i n n e r — t u r k e y , s w e e t potatoes, and peas—appeared in A m e r i c a n markets in 1 9 5 4 . 4. B a s k i n - R o b b i n s , f o r e x a m p l e , began in 1 9 4 5 in C a l ifornia. In 1948 it franchised its operations and adopted the t h i r t y - o n e - f l a v o r concept (one f o r each day o f the month). B y the mid-sixties there w e r e m o r e than 400 B a s k i n - R o b b i n s stores t h r o u g h o u t the country. 5. T h e subsequent d e v e l o p m e n t o f advertising a g e n cies advanced the b r a n d - n a m e p h e n o m e n o n and r e d o u bled attention to product design. A s B o o r s t i n notes, " t h e first campaign to feature a staple f o o d that w a s nationally branded, b o x e d in individual packages, and ready f o r c o n s u m p t i o n " w a s organized f o r the N a t i o n a l Biscuit C o m p a n y ' s " U n e e d a B i s c u i t " in 1899. B o o r s t i n , The Americans, 147. 6. Time 80 ( O c t o b e r 1 2 , 1962): 85. 7. In Babbit ( 1 9 2 2 ) Sinclair L e w i s denotes this tendency in his main character, an u p w a r d l y m o b i l e M i d d l e A m e r i c a n w h o processes his experience and aspirations through b r a n d - n a m e products. 8. Time 84 ( N o v e m b e r 20, 1964): 6 6 - 6 7 ; and Time 84 ( J u l y 3 1 , 1964): 5 8 - 5 9 . B y 1964 C a m p b e l l ' s had plants in Britain, Italy, B e l g i u m , France, M e x i c o , and Australia. 9. Initially, C a m p b e l l ' s ads appeared on trolley car posters, first in one out o f e v e r y three trolleys in N e w Y o r k C i t y , and w i t h i n three years in 378 cities t h r o u g h out the country. F o r a discussion o f the c o m p a n y ' s history, see D a v i d P o w e r s C l e a r y , Great American Brands ( N e w Y o r k : Fairchild, 1 9 8 1 ) , 5 3 - 5 9 . 10. Warhol seems to have abided b y the C a m p b e l l ' s S o u p advertising message. In a 1963 i n t e r v i e w , he recalled, " I used to d r i n k it. I used to h a v e the s a m e lunch e v e r y day, f o r t w e n t y years. I guess, the s a m e thing over and over a g a i n . " G e n e R . S w e n s o n , " W h a t Is P o p A r t ? " Artnews 62 ( N o v e m b e r 1963): 26.

11. In an article discussing the " c o m i n g o f age o f aut o m a t i o n , " Time declared that " 1 9 6 1 w a s , a b o v e all, the year that automation took hold o f the e c o n o m y and s h o o k it f r o m top to b o t t o m , " Time 78 ( D e c e m b e r 29, 1 9 6 1 ) : 50. T h e term automation w a s coined in 1946, and c o m p u t e r s w e r e first marketed in 1950. T h e r e w e r e 20 c o m p u t e r s in service b y 1954; 1 , 2 5 0 b y 1 9 5 7 ; and 3 5 , 0 0 0 by 1967. William E . Leuchtenberg, A Troubled Feast: American Society Since ¡g0 ( N e w Y o r k : Little, B r o w n , 1 9 7 3 ) , 4412. Warhol, in S w e n s o n , " W h a t Is P o p A r t ? " 26. 13. Statistics p r o v i d e d b y C o c a - C o l a , Atlanta, G e o r gia. F o r a history o f C o c a - C o l a ' s d e v e l o p m e n t , see Time 55 ( M a y 1 5 , 1950): 2 8 - 3 2 ; C l e a r y , Great American Brands, 6 1 - 7 4 ; and C r a i g G i l b o r n , " P o p I c o n o l o g y : L o o k i n g at the C o k e B o t t l e , " Icons of Popular Culture ( B o w l i n g G r e e n , O h i o : B o w l i n g G r e e n U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1970), 13-28. 14. Time 55 ( M a y 1 5 , 1950): 28. 15. A c c o r d i n g to a s u r v e y conducted in 1949, o n l y one in f o u r hundred persons w a s unable to identify a picture o f a C o k e bottle. E . J . K a h n , The Big Drink ( N e w Y o r k : R a n d o m H o u s e , i960), 1 5 5 - 5 6 . 16. F o r a discussion o f the history o f c o n s u m e r i s m , see Stuart E w e n , Captains of Consciousness: Advertising and the Social Roots of the Consumer Culture ( N e w Y o r k : M c G r a w Hill, 1976). 17. Paul A . Carter, Another Part of the Fifties ( N e w Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1983), 3 5 - 3 8 . 18. Figures on collectors and galleries f r o m Steven W. N a i f e h , Culture Making: Money, Success, and the New York Art World, Princeton U n i v e r s i t y U n d e r g r a d u a t e Studies in H i s t o r y 2 (Princeton: Princeton U n i v e r s i t y , 1976), 1 0 7 and 8 1 . 19. C l a e s O l d e n b u r g , Store Days ( N e w Y o r k : S o m e thing Else Press, 1967), 4 1 . 20. Life 57 ( N o v e m b e r 20, 1964): 1 3 8 - 4 4 . 21. T h e exhibition also included " n o n - a r t " display replicas o f f o o d s t u f f s m a d e b y c o m m e r c i a l artists. T h e " a r t " and " n o n - a r t " items w e r e set side b y side w i t h o u t distinction. 22. Like m a n y other A m e r i c a n business practices, s u p e r m a r k e t s spread to E u r o p e in the 1 9 5 0 s and 1960s, part o f w h a t Time called " a second r e n a i s s a n c e " — t h i s one under the A m e r i c a n influence. Time 80 ( J u l y 1 3 , 1962): 16. 23. In its cover story on A & P, the leader in the industry, Time noted that " n e x t to G e n e r a l M o t o r s , the A & P sells m o r e g o o d s than a n y other c o m p a n y in the w o r l d , " Time 56 ( N o v e m b e r 1 3 , 1950): 89. For a detailed report on s u p e r m a r k e t s , see R o m J . M a r k i n , The Supermarket: An Analysis of Growth, Development and Change ( P u l l m a n : Washington State U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963). 24. " P r o s p e r i t y — 1 9 6 4 . It's U n p r e c e d e n t e d , " Life 57 ( O c t o b e r 1 6 , 1964): 36. 25. A r t h u r Miller, The Price ( N e w Y o r k : V i k i n g , 1968), 4 1 . 26. A d in the New York T i m « , J a n u a r y 10, 1 9 5 4 ; q u o t e d in William H . W h y t e , J r . , The Organization Man ( N e w Y o r k : S i m o n & Schuster, 1956), 3 1 3 .

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American Mass Media

T h e extraordinary impact of the mass media on American culture in the period after World War II cannot be overestimated. O n l y hyperboles like "media explosion" or "media revolution" are adequate to describe the dynamic technological developments in the print and electronic media, and the effects o f these new modes and patterns of communication on human perception and experience. A s never before, newspapers, magazines, comics, movies, radio, and television inundated the environment with messages and images. The mass media became not only a major presence in the everyday life of everyday Americans but also a major power in American society. Far more than just providing entertainment and news, the media influenced events and ideas, determined tastes and choices, and established models and myths. Television, which burst on the scene like a meteor, was the central force of change. Within a few short years, television became a dominant part of American culture. In 1947 only 75,000 homes had television sets; by 1967 over 95 percent of A m e r i can homes had at least o n e — 5 5 million sets in all. Americans also spent more of their leisure time, of which they had more to spend, watching television. B y 1956 an estimated 75 million adults watched television for an average of over eighteen hours a week. Although television initially had an adverse effect on the public's interest in radio, movies, and newspapers, it ultimately served as a catalyst, reinvigorating the other media and amplif y i n g the mass media explosion. In Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964) and other books, Marshall McLuhan, the leading exegctc of the media age, hailed the advent of the "global village." The modern media would create a new state of connectedness, he explained, by enabling millions of people to simultaneously see a given image and to witness events as or just after they occurred. Remote environments, historical circumstances, and public personages would acquire new immediacy and unprecedented familiarity. As the bounds of experience were extended, individuals would become less isolated. The mass media did open up the larger world to the American audience, but electronic experiences were secondhand and flat compared to in-thc-flesh experiences. T h e mechanically reproduced images enabled audiences to see people and events, but at a distance and from a prescribed point of view. Direct engagement yielded to vicarious involvement, and interpersonal, active communication was replaced by an impersonal, passive receptivity. On the one side of the screen was a programmed voice

and panoply o f packaged images, on the other an a n o n y m o u s audience. A s p r o g r a m m e r s began to exploit the visual richness o f the n e w electronic m e d i u m , they shied away f r o m extended narrative or analytical interpretations in favor o f glance-oriented presentations that had immediate eye appeal. Information w a s arranged in brief, simple units: a single image, a thirty-second spot, a highly edited segment, a flash message. T h e brevity and simplicity o f the images in turn allowed rapid cutting f r o m topic to topic. This quick-cut style soon b e c a m e the n o r m for news, entertainment, and advertising, and effectively blurred distinctions b e t w e e n them. T h e intermingling o f live and taped materials, scripted and extemporaneous performance, on-site and studio settings, casual and formal appearances c o m pounded the indeterminacy. E v e r y t h i n g seemed equally real and equally present, t h o u g h the meaning o f such terms as real or present had b e c o m e ambiguous. A s commercial enterprises largely dependent on advertising, the mass media w e r e a vehicle for the marketing o f products, people, and ideas. T h e contemporaneous rise o f public relations activities in the public and private sectors amplified this p r o motional aura. T h e r e w e r e great profits to be made through the media as well as great advantages to be gained f r o m media exposure.' T h e expanded range and influence o f the mass media, particularly television, also opened up n e w opportunities for achieving celebrity status. A m e r i c a n audiences became fascinated by celebrities, and w o u l d - b e celebrities became obsessed w i t h obtaining media coverage. While c o m m e r c i a l and publicity activities i m bued the media w i t h a promotionalist character, n e w s activities imparted an objective tone. In reaction against the m u c k r a k i n g style o f j o u r n a l i s m that held sway prior to World War II, in the 1950s the media expressly sought to c o n v e y a cool, factual stance. T h e n e w s presentations featured dramatic visual material, but the reporting, especially on television, w a s purposely neutral, adhering to a consensus attitude. A s broadcast journalist H o w a r d K . Smith observed in 1966, "I find an almost e x cessive lack o f bias o n television. We are afraid o f a point o f view. We stick to the A m e r i c a n belief that there is an objectivity." 2 In the mainstream press and on television, correspondents avoided stating any opinions or j u d g m e n t s , at least until 1968, w h e n Walter C r o n k i t e stunned the nation b y e x pressing his doubts about the w i s d o m o f g o v e r n ment policy in the V i e t n a m War. 3 T h r o u g h o u t the

fifties and sixties, the public thus became accust o m e d to seeing the w o r l d t h r o u g h the dispassionately impartial m o d e o f n e w s on the one hand, and the seductive, c o m m e r c i a l m o d e o f advertising on the other. O f t e n , h o w e v e r , and particularly as p r o duction techniques became m o r e sophisticated, the t w o m o d e s b o r r o w e d f r o m one another and f r o m the f o r m u l a genres o f mass media entertainment: c o m e d y , action-adventure, and fantasy. T h e pronounced focus o f A m e r i c a n mass media coverage w a s American: A m e r i c a n lifestyle, A m e r ican products, A m e r i c a n celebrities, A m e r i c a n sports, A m e r i c a n music, A m e r i c a n cinema, and A m e r i c a n politics. International n e w s and i n f o r m a tion about foreign cultures w e r e g i v e n short shrift. H e n r y R. Luce had in the 1920s and 1930s developed a m o d e l for the Americanist mass-market magazine. Time (founded in 1923) and Life (founded in 1936) sought both to ennoble A m e r i c a and to develop a unified national voice. 4 E s c h e w i n g regional concerns, Luce's publications spoke to and about the country as a w h o l e , reflecting and shaping a mainstream A m e r i c a n ethos. T h e s e w i d e l y read publications w e r e influential in p r o m o t i n g a national identity and thereby accelerating the Americanization o f A m e r i c a . D u r i n g the p o s t w a r years, television even m o r e effectively defined the national character and enunciated mainstream values and standards. T h e expansion o f the media also enabled a greater spectrum and proportion o f the population to share a c o m m o n pool o f information and i m ages. B u t this pool became progressively m o r e unif o r m as the m a j o r media's dependence on advertisers and ratings demanded that p r o g r a m m i n g appeal to the mass middle. D i v e r s i t y further diminished due to consolidations in the media industry. M a n y independent local and regional n e w s p a pers and radio and television stations w e r e acquired by larger organizations. O t h e r s , unable to remain competitive in the n e w marketplace, w e n t out o f business. N o w a f e w large publishing chains, national broadcasting n e t w o r k s , w i r e services, and syndicated features dominated. 5 Frequently, the same n e w s story or p h o t o g r a p h appeared in v i r tually identical f o r m in various periodicals and o n all three n e t w o r k s . O n e upshot o f the media r e v o lution w a s the notable degree o f repetition, replication, saturation, and u n i f o r m i t y . T h e mass media dramatically changed the w a y people saw, thought about, and experienced the w o r l d . T h e generation o f artists w h o e m e r g e d during the p o s t w a r media explosion responded in turn by creating art that p r o p o s e d radically n e w ideas

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F i G . n o . Robert Rauschenberg, Gloria, 1956. Oil and paper collage on canvas, 66'/," x 63'/,". The Cleveland Museum o f Art. Gift of The Cleveland Society for Contemporary Art.

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f i g . i i i . Pablo Picasso, Bottle, Glass and Violin, 1 9 1 2 - 1 3 . Charcoal with pasted papers, lS'A" x 24'/«". M o d e r n a Museet, S t o c k h o l m .

about pictorial representation and visual perception. For example, in Gloria(\g$6) [Fig. n o ] , Robert Rauschenberg follows in the line of collage experimentation inaugurated by the Cubists and Dadaists. But Rauschenberg's choice of a newspaper photograph of Gloria Vanderbilt and his fourfold repetition of the illustration herald new intentions and techniques. In a Cubist composition such as Picasso's Bottle, Glass and Violin ( 1 9 1 2 - 1 3 ) [Fig. i n ] , newspaper cuttings provide texture, reference to the café milieu that Parisian artists inhabited, verbal content (the masthead Journal names a particular publication and is the generic word for newspaper), and imagery that is not mimetic or invented but a fragment of reality itself. The use of everyday materials also asserts a new attitude toward artistic creativity and a new dialectic between art and life.

Dadaist collages, such as Hannah Hoch's Cut with the Kitchen Knife (1919) [Fig. 1 1 2 ] , similarly borrow pictorial and typographic elements from newspapers and magazines but to create trenchant anarchistic statements. Using such techniques as fragmentation, recombination, and juxtaposition, Dada artists gave intensified expression to the disorder and irrationality they perceived in modern society. Although Rauschenberg's collage builds upon these premises, his imagery refers to America's fascination with social celebrities. T h e headline " G l o ria Weds Third T i m e " brings into focus an ironic interplay between various kinds of repetitions: remarriage, mass production, and media replication. Unlike a portrait, a newspaper photograph appears in multiples and functions as expendable, throwaway matter. T h e news photo thus subverts both

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FIG. i [2. Hannah H o c h , Cm with the Kilclien Knifv, 1 9 1 9 . C o l l a g e o f pasted papers, 447»" x ) $ ' / " . Nationalgalerie, Staatliche M u s e e n , Berlin.

the idea o f a unique visual representation or an e x clusive experience and the notion o f permanence. Rauschenberg's repetition also alludes to the surfeit o f mass media i n f o r m a t i o n and the redundancies therein. A n d unlike the Cubists' use o f newspaper fragments o r the Dadaists' media amalgamations, Rauschenberg's appropriation o f the complete n e w s photograph retains and emphasizes the o r i g i nal iconographic content. T h e C u b i s t and Dadaist typographic focus and proclivity to fracture images here gives w a y to an interest in the iconic integrity o f the b o r r o w e d image.

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While European art provided one source f o r the development o f mass media i m a g e r y in p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n art, notable precedents in A m e r i c a n art f r o m the 1920s and 1930s provide m o r e relevant parallels in terms o f image presentation and content. O f particular significance are compositions by Gerald M u r p h y and Stuart D a v i s . In Within the Quota (1923) [Fig. 1 1 3 ] — a w o r k designed as the backdrop f o r a ballet p r o d u c t i o n — M u r p h y parodies the charged telegraphic style o f tabloid j o u r nalism as well as the tabloids' penchant f o r sensationalist coverage o f romance, crime, disaster, and

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scandal. 6 His pastiche incorporates exaggerated headlines in a grand-scale format that packs an i m mediate emotional and visual punch. T h e pointedly A m e r i c a n content and extravagantly A m e r i c a n presentation prefigure the p o s t w a r generation's interest in the condensed, c o m p e l l i n g i m a g e r y o f A m e r i c a n comic strips, advertisements, and m o v ies. M u r p h y ' s c o m p o s i t i o n is also p r o t o t y p i c in its upbeat attitude t o w a r d A m e r i c a n mass culture and in its treatment o f the newspaper i m a g e not as a m o t i f but as the art object itself. 7

A c o m p a r a b l y simplified, direct pictorial style w a s adopted by Davis in Lucky Strike (1924) [Fig. 87]. U s i n g an unfragmented newspaper page as subject matter, he highlights such favored A m e r i can mass media features as c o m i c s and sports and displays the assertive layout c o m m o n to A m e r i c a n dailies. Like M u r p h y , D a v i s thus brings a n e w perspective to A m e r i c a n art b y introducing the mass media as a subject and mass c o m m u n i c a t i o n s techniques as a presentational m o d e .

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Andy Warhol's A Boy for Meg (1961) [Fig. 1 1 4 ] , exemplifies the thrust of the postwar mass media orientation in art. Taking the front page of a tabloid as his image, Warhol makes no attempt to change the contents or to obscure the fact that he is offering an exact copy of a mass media product as a work of art. The painting duplicates its newspaper source, nullifying conventions of image originality and allowing the tabloid image to " s p e a k " for itself. The tabloid's format—the mechanical repro-

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* f i g . 1 1 5 (opposite). E d w a r d Ruscha, Flash, L.A. Times, 1963. Oil on canvas, 72" x 67". The Mead Corporation Collection, Dayton, Ohio.

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duction of bold headlines and photos—aims at instant mass communication. In classic tabloid style, this page-one story concerns a personal event in the life of a celebrity, here a member o f the British royal family, w h o is referred to by a chummy nickname. A single photograph is paired with a threeword exclamatory message set in a typeface that heightens the momentous, hot-off-the-press tone. A Boy for Meg transparently conveys both the character and content of this species of mass media communication.

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In his painting Flash, L.A. Times (1963) [Fig. 1 1 5 ] , E d w a r d Ruscha offers an ironic comment on the absurdity of the media's tendency to exaggerate and confound news with entertainment or p r o m o tional conceits. Ruscha's point of departure, h o w ever, is not a tabloid but the very respectable, conservative Los Angeles Times. T h e speeding, bright yellow F L A S H isolated upon a dark field indicates something important and unexpected, something urgent and consequential. But all that appears is a

trifling bit o f data, a fragment of a newspaper's comics page, an upside-down cutting whose content is incomprehensible and whose figures are indiscernible. T h e fragment of newsprint ridicules the notion that newspapers are a site for serious discourse, suggesting instead that theatrical display and hyperbole are the essence of mass media communication.

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Despite the inherent visual and emotional p o w e r o f the mass media, their potency is often undermined b y the sheer quantity o f information, the repetition, and the p o o r quality o f replication. Television in particular effects a desensitization, as its electronic blur reduces the steady stream o f i m ages to the same size and texture. Vija Celmins's painting T. V. (1965) [Fig. 116] counterposes this prosaic dullness against the medium's theatricality. T h e c o m p o s i t i o n depicts a television set in the midst o f an e m p t y space. A l l is colored in bland gray tones, the familiar tonality o f a black-andw h i t e television transmission. O n the screen is the i m a g e o f violent airplane warfare or an airplane e x plosion, the t y p e o f i m a g e frequently s h o w n in

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television movies or adventure p r o g r a m s , and o c casionally on n e w s broadcasts. B u t the dullness o f the grays, the matter-of-fact presentation, the detachment o f the event f r o m its context, and the containment o f the scene in a framed b o x distance and deaden the subject. T h e v i e w e r is exposed to the event, but this experience is indirect and w i t h out consequence, for the screen confers a neutral aura upon both the images it represents and the viewers' actual environment. Distinctions between the represented settings and the real w o r l d , bet w e e n fiction and n e w s , b e t w e e n past and present dissolve into a pervasive gray haze. Demarcations o f time and place are subsumed w i t h i n a continuous flow o f familiar, nonparticularized sensations.*

Without question, television also greatly affected viewers' sense of history, society, and self. Perhaps the most pointed example of this influence was the role television played after the assassination o f President Kennedy. For four days millions of Americans lived next to their television sets. All regular programming and commercials were suspended, and the major networks provided twentyfour-hour coverage of the events. Together but separately Americans watched real events unfold: interviews were held, evidence was discovered, unedited statements were made, and the principal suspect was murdered on camera. T h e mass public was witness to a historic crime, the ultimate instance of detached experience that had the impact of absolute presence and primacy. Moreover, the events were so vividly presented and yet so unbelievably shocking that one questioned if they were real or just staged for television. T h e repeated showings of the relevant videotapes, the repetition of the facts and suppositions induced an obsessive anxiety and a mesmerizing calm. During those long N o v e m b e r days, television functioned as a supreme national communications medium, as an opiate, and as a domestic command post. Inspired by television coverage of the assassination, Edward Kienholz sought to convey a sense of television's potency in his assemblage Instant On (1964) [Fig. 1 1 7 ] . T h e simulated television set is made of junk materials, an old gasoline can and antenna. This use of junk both undercuts art's pretense to beauty and monetary worth and devalues the role that television had come to assume in American life. T h e discarded materials also denote material impermanence and human mortality, which g o against the grain of America's emphasis 011 the new, the youthful, and the immortal. A l though a confrontation with death is a persistent theme throughout Kienholz's w o r k , the combination of junk materials and the Kennedy experience is especially trenchant.' Direct reference to the assassination occurs on the facade of the gasoline can, where a mock television screen shows pictures of the event: a view of the president's car and the book depository building. Though these images barely reveal signifying details, they were shown so often on television that they serve as instant reminders of the assassination. Television's limitless capacity to develop such cliché images is reaffirmed by the title Instant On, which also refers to the assemblage's light bulb. When the bulb is on, the face of Lee Harvey O s w a l d appears in the window of the Dallas warehouse.

* F I G . 1 1 7 . E d w a r d Kienholz, Instant Ott, 1964. Fiberglass and flock, electric blanket control, photographs, and antenna, 1 1 " x 6 " x 6". Collection o f Betty and Monte Factor.

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In a related assemblage, Six o'Clock News (1964) [Fig. 1 1 8 ] , also made just after the assassination, Kienholz focuses more explicitly on the character of television news. Here, a rusted metal container equipped with oversized knobs and a two-ear antenna assumes the identity o f a television set, and a toy M i c k e y M o u s e head fills the news anchor's spot. T h e presence o f Walt Disney's animated hero alludes to the popularity o f cartoons and comics in American culture and the great success o f the television p r o g r a m " T h e M i c k e y M o u s e C l u b . " B u t casting the m e r r y m a k i n g rodent as a n e w s c o m mentator brands the network evening news as a simplistic, frivolous, " M i c k e y M o u s e " operation conducted by a corporate puppet w h o s e role is to entertain the viewers. Indeed, until 1963 the nightly network news was only a fifteen-minute interlude, with reporters w h o did little m o r e than identify the stream of visually impressive images. For Kienholz, American television was basically a giant m o n e y - m a k i n g operation that aimed only to please. T h o u g h there was a diversity o f channels, all stations covered the same stories and offered the same shallow scripts, which were recited by the parrot-announcers. T h e implications o f this situation frightened Kienholz, reminding him of how the Nazis had used radio to establish and reinforce c o n f o r m i t y to the fascist party line. 10

* f i g . 1 1 8 . E d w a r d Kienholz, Six o'Clock News, 1964. M i x e d media including light, glass, and fiberglass, lO'A"X i o " x 19'//. Collection o f William N . Copley.

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In her painting Prime Time (1967) [Fig. 1 1 9 ] , M a y Stevens also suggests the potential tyranny of television. She couples a brightly lit but blank television screen with a complacent f i g u r e — a n O r w e l lian B i g Brother or B i g D a d d y — t w i n s y m b o l s of the authoritarianism and control that can be e x erted over a passive population that unquestioningly submits to a "closed attitude towards the w o r l d . " " E v e n when there is no picture on the screen, the television set diffuses an imposing presence, almost a godlike power. Like the archetypal domineering father, the television is accorded a full measure o f dutiful reverence. A s Stevens suggests, its oppressive capacity is all the more potent because the medium precludes any dialogue or discussion. Children-viewers simply sit and passively acquiesce to the received b o d y o f ideas and values. Another aspect of television's power in contemporary American life is suggested by Warhol in his painting £199 Television (i960) [Fig. 120]. Here the focus is on the omnipotence o f consumerism, and the television is shown to be a prime c o m m o d i t y item. In accordance with American custom, the c o m m o d i t y is designated by its brand-name insignia and the sales price hints at a bargain. T h e image thus highlights television's fundamental character

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FIG. 1 1 9 . M a y Stevens, P r » « « ' T i W , 1967. Oil on canvas, 52'/^" X 42 1 //'. E d w i n A. Ulrich M u s e u m o f Art, Wichita, Kansas. T h e Wichita State University E n d o w m e n t Association Art Collection.

as a commercial medium and the symbiotic relationship between television and advertising. Television's inordinate power to create new tastes in entertainment is most vividly evident in the case of sports. With baseball, for example, the televising of games, beginning in the late forties, greatly enlarged the audience for the sport and shifted its base from a local to a national level. Baseball, long nicknamed the national pastime, became an athome spectator sport for many Americans. Television broadcasts also enhanced the profitability o f team franchises, as the beloved summer game was transformed into a multi-million-dollar enterprise entwined with major commercial sponsorship and full-scale publicity activities.

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FIG. 120. A n d y Warhol, Stgg Television, i960. Oil on canvas, 62'// x 49 Vi". Collection o f K i m i k o and J o h n Powers.

B y increasing the popularity of professional sports, television created a demand for extended and more visual sports coverage in the print media. A s David Halberstam notes in The Powers That Be, the sports b o o m caused by television propelled the faltering magazine Sports Illustrated f r o m a debtridden loser to a perennial sales champion. 1 2 T h e magazine, like many newspapers, provided the new audience of sports fans with large-scale photographs of the amazing feats of their favorite players and with pictorial coverage of the latest sports events.

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FIG. 1 2 1 . Robert Rauschenberg, Brace, 1962. Oil and silkscrcen on canvas, 6 o " x 6 i " . Collection of Robert and Jane MeyerhofF.

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f i g . 122. Ellen Lanyon, Ya Ya Yogi, 1962. Oil on canvas, 6o"X48". Private collection.

Beginning with combines like Odalisk ( 1 9 5 5 - 5 8 ) and hallmarked in photo silkscreen paintings like Brace (1962) [Fig. 1 2 1 ] , Rauschenberg incorporates baseball, notably mass media renderings of the sport, into his panoply of American images. Brace focuses on R o g e r Maris (identifiable by his # 9 Yankee jersey), w h o achieved national celebrity in October 1961 by breaking Babe Ruth's home run record, set in 1927. Interest in this record, amplified by the possibility that Maris's teammate Mickey Mantle might also break it, spurred widespread attention to baseball and extensive media coverage. Rauschenberg's image aptly reflects baseball's special prominence in American culture during the suspenseful 1961 season. Ellen Lanyon's paintings of baseball players also direct attention to the nature of athletic activities. Her large-scale painted replications of newspaper

photographs capture the essence of sports journalism with its high-intensity stop-action mode of display. While such news photographs accentuate a heroic moment of extraordinary skill, their blurriness and the flattening of the pictorial elements into surface patterns often diminish the significance of the nominal imagery. Lanyon's Ya Ya Yogi (1962) [Fig. 122], for example, shows the catching dexterity that made Y o g i Berra a sports superstar as well as the visual potency of a sports photograph as an abstract composition. T h e red-white-and-blue banner in the otherwise black-and-white image exaggerates the design character of the painting and, moreover, sets the composition squarely in an American context. While Lanyon formalizes still photography's split-second freezing of moving action, in Baseball (1962) [Fig. 123], Warhol merges the static quality

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FIG. 123. Andy Warhol, Baseball, 1962. Oil, ink, and silkscrcen on canvas, 91 • / " x 82". The NelsonAtkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri. Gift of the Guild of the Friends of Art and a group of Friends of the Gallery.

of a newspaper photograph and the movement of film or television kinetics. Experiments with timelapse photography that would translate movement into a series of still images began in the nineteenth century, Eadweard M u y b r i d g e and Etienne Jules Marey becoming well-known practitioners. While chronophotography inspired artists like Marcel Duchamp and the Futurists to create paintings that showed the passage of a figure over time through space, Warhol explores something different. He effects the sensation of a filmstrip sequence of individual frames without, however, denoting progressive action. Here, just the repetition of the exact same single frame unfolds. Warhol has thus delineated a new mass media-inspired f o r m of depicting action, in the process adding an American note to an aesthetic rooted in European modern art. C h a r acteristically, his images offer the irony of action that goes nowhere, action that is purely for show

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and bound to a process of mechanical repetition. Perhaps to even a greater extent than baseball, football was transformed by television. Football's more continuous, more aggressive action better matched the pace and spirit of programs that television audiences were accustomed to watching, and the game rapidly emerged as a favored netw o r k offering, a rival to baseball as America's leading sport. T h e 1966 contract between C B S and the National Football League to televise football games as prime-time weeknight fare was a clear indication o f football's popularity. In Echo (1962) [Fig. 124], Rauschenberg uses the action of a football game to manifest vividly the mass media's transformation o f the w a y w e see and experience life. With dynamic brushstrokes he combines a newsphoto of a dramatic scrimmage with an image of urban construction and a car key. T h e sports image conveys the essence of media

F I G . 124. R o b e r t R a u s c h e n b e r g , Echo, 1962. O i l and silkscreen o n c a n v a s , 60" X 36". P r i v a t e c o l l e c t i o n .

p h o t o g r a p h y : its immediacy, graininess, the z o o m lens distortions. T h e frozen frame also discloses details that are otherwise indiscernible, like the position o f a football amid a scramble o f bodies. B u t as Rauschenberg suggests by his interruption-riven c o m p o s i t i o n , the visual b o m b a r d m e n t o f disparate elements and perceptual disorder characterize m e dia c o v e r a g e — e s p e c i a l l y television c o v e r a g e — o f

sports events. T h e game's linear progress is c o n stantly and abruptly conjoined w i t h commercials, newsbriefs, and extraneous announcements. R e plays and human interest spots further distort the continuity o f time, place, and subject. T h u s the simple unity o f a constricted real-life event gives w a y to a h o d g e p o d g e o f broken segments and inc o n g r u o u s juxtapositions.

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* f i g . 125. Wayne Thiebaud, Football Player, 1963. Oil on canvas, 7o"X24". Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. Gift of the Sydney and Frances Lewis Foundation.

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* F I G . 126. Karl W i r s u m , Baseball Girl, 1964. O i l on canvas, 39"> I'VE// HOOKED, A BIG A ONE//'

FIG. 153. R o y L i c h t e n s t e i n , Look Mickey, 1 9 6 1 . O i l o n c a n v a s , 48" X 69". P r i v a t e c o l l e c t i o n .

P o s t w a r artists also paid attention to A m e r i c a n c o m i c strips that feature children and animals in the lead roles. T h e classic type o f j u v e n i l e c o m i c strip presents an utterly uncomplicated h u m o r o u s narrative. 34 Walt D i s n e y w a s the master o f this genre, and Lichtenstein's paintings o f M i c k e y M o u s e , D o n a l d D u c k , and B u g s B u n n y celebrate his skill. For Lichtenstein these characters f o r m e d a continuation o f his earlier concentration on c o w b o y s , Indians, and A m e r i c a n history themes, a f f i r m i n g his interest in " a purely A m e r i c a n m y t h o l o g i c a l s u b ject matter." 3 5 T h e cartoon motifs also establish a significant b o n d w i t h A m e r i c a n industrial p r o cesses and mass merchandising. In Look Mickey (1961) [Fig. 153], for example, the boldly defined figures and simple messages indicate both the p o w e r o f Disney's aesthetic and the preeminent qualities o f c o m m e r c i a l design. T h e i m a g e r y t y p i fies the lighthearted tone o f j u v e n i l e comics,

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t h o u g h it also evinces the boaster and b u m b l e r qualities o f Disney's characters, their determination to be successful and the m o c k e r y o f their failures. Fittingly, the actual source o f inspiration for the c o m p o s i t i o n w a s a b u b b l e - g u m wrapper, another e x a m p l e o f A m e r i c a n businesses' creativity in uniting t w o popular products to expand the markets o f each. Like M i c k e y M o u s e , " N a n c y " became a w o r l d favorite c o m i c strip, t y p i f y i n g the j u v e n i l e genre. Warhol's Nancy (1961) denotes the essential attributes o f the strip, especially N a n c y ' s innocent behavior. B u t the full meaning o f the narrative is a m b i g u o u s since Warhol displays o n l y one full frame and a small segment o f s o m e additional dialogue. A s in Dick Tracy, Popeye, and his other comic-strip paintings, Warhol's c o m p o s i t i o n simultaneously amplifies the s i g n i f y i n g qualities o f the given f i g u ration and deflects concentration on the subject

matter. Warhol violates the integrity of a perfect self-contained composition by leaving areas sketchy and blurred, by decentering the main image through the inclusion of surrounding space, and by showing extraneous markings (paint drips and smudges) and fragments of a second frame or newspaper headings. T h e target image is shown to be part of a larger context, not an entity in its own right but a reminder, a reference, an inexact duplicate. In the spirit of commercial advertising and mass media presentation, Warhol shows that an image functions more as a sign—a flashing, abbreviated force—than as a complete statement. T h e conception of a painting as a sign is the es-

sence of Ruscha's Annie (1962) [Fig. 154], for here the name alone, displayed in its familiar red color and balloon lettering style, signifies the comic strip and identifies Little Orphan Annie. Through repetition, such a sign comes to displace the image it connotes, just as a familiar package displaces the product it contains. Pictorial communication is thus reduced to the presentation and recognition of an easily identified cliché, logo, or token. This mode of instantaneous transmission and apprehension of visual information (which presumes a widespread familiarity with American mass culture) obviates the need for prolonged contemplation, symbolic analysis, or stylistic originality.

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CR Ai 6.

* F I G . 1 5 5 . R o y Liechtenstein,

Mr.

Bellamy, 1961. Oil on canvas,

¡6'A"X42'A".

Fort Worth Art

Museum. The Benjamin J . Tillar Memorial Trust. Acquired from the Collection of Vernon Nikkei, Clovis, N e w Mexico.

Although detective and juvenile comics remained popular during the postwar period, romance and war comics emerged as new favorites. 36 Lichtenstein makes explicit reference to these excessively melodramatic comics in numerous paintings. Not only does he replicate specific frames from comic books, but he also exaggerates their stylistic and expressive features. The isolation and enlargement of a frame accentuate a situation that

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* F I C . 156. Roy Lichtenstcin, Craig, 1964. Oil and magna on canvas, 30" x 12". Allen Memorial Art Museum, Oberlin College. Gift of Ellen H. Johnson in memory of Ruth C. Roush.

is already suspenseful, such as in Mr. Bellamy (1961) [Fig. 155], or imagery that is already theatrical, as in Craig (1964) [Fig. 156], or a dialogue that is already overwrought, as in Eddie Diptych (1962) [Fig. 157]. In addition, the single-frame representation intensifies the comic strips' visual and narrative dynamics, amplifying their intrinsic artificiality. Although a scene of adult anxiety or teenage passion and perturbation might be believable

I TPIEP TO REASON IT OUT / I TPIEP TO S E E THINGS FROM MOM ANP PAP'S VIEWPOINT/ I TPIEP NOT TO THINK OF EPPIE, S O MY MINP WOULP BE CLEAP ANP COMMON SENSE COULP TAKE OVER / BUT EPPIE KEPT COM I NO BACK. x v

I HAVE SOMETHING FOP YOU TO EATJN THE KITCHEN, PEAR,,, I 'M NOT HUNGRY MOTHER

PLEAS

*FIC,. 157. R o y Lichtenstein, liddie Diptych, 1962. Oil on canvas, 44'/" x 53". Collection o f Ileana and Michael Sonnabend.

within the context of a full comic-strip episode, when taken out of contcxt such scenes seem stilted and ludicrous. Moreover, Lichtenstein's images d e f y the pervasive idealism of traditional American comics, the mythic sense of the American dream in which things g o well or at least end well. In his compositions, malaise and an unresolved uncertainty prevail. This tone, heightened by expressions of fear

and danger, also characterizes the paintings based on war comic strips. For example, in Torpedo . . . Los! (1963) [Fig. 158], Lichtenstein selects a m o ment of crisis and tension, turmoil and destruction, a flash of thundering expletives and explosions. There is no indication that good will triumph over evil, or that peace will be attained. B y not presenting the happy ending or even offering a small sign of hope, the imagery invokes a vi-

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FIG. 158. Roy Lichtenstein, Torpedo . . . Los! 1963. Oil on canvas, 68" x 80". Collection of Mrs. Robert B. Mayer, her son, Robert N. Mayer, and her daughter, Ruth M. Durchslag.

sion quite distinct f r o m that c o m m o n to pre-World War II w a r paintings. Kandinsky's apocalyptic i m agery, for example, includes rainbows and rising suns or trumpeting angels, and even in Picasso's Guernica a flower and candle are set in the midst of the chaos. With Lichtenstein's paintings, in contrast, focus lies squarely on the moment of conflict with no reference to any future. T h e imagery also identifies America as an active battle participant, an exemplar of combat strength. Although there is an edge of nostalgia in Lichtenstein's use of comic-strip sources f r o m the fifties, his romance and war imagery reflect the situation of the early sixties: the fantasy and collapse of Camelot, and the resurgence of the C o l d War. T h e saga of the glamorous Kennedy family, its triumphs and tragedies, seemed almost the stuff of

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fiction, and the president's style showed a real penchant for theater. At the same time, assertions of American and Soviet military might aroused the specter of global conflict. A series of confrontations between the t w o superpowers made war seem imminent, and the on-again off-again disarmament talks provided little hope. In addition to evoking the discrepancies between the American dream and political reality, Lichtenstein's paintings allude to a more elemental discrepancy between style and content. His diametric opposition of a dispassionate mechanical style and emotionally charged content indicates how style can effectively undermine or overwhelm content. O v e r generations commercial cartoonists had modified and perfected a vocabulary compatible with the industrial process and popular tastes.

* f i g . 159. Hairy Who, Hairy IVI10 Catalogue, 1966. Collage, 2o"X3o". Collection of Mrs. Ruth Horwich.

T h e y had created a pictorial shorthand that yielded vivid representation. Lichtenstein recognized the visual power of the cartoonists' stenography and sought to adapt it to painting." His aggrandizements of abstract patterns of benday dots, flat color planes, and bold contours articulate the design character of comic-strip imagery. Lichtenstein also adopted the comic-strip idiom in order to reinvolve art with the everyday world and to instill an acceptance of mechanization as a given aspect of modern life. He did not wish to continue the Utopian, inward direction that had come to dominate in art since Cézanne, but rather to manifest forthrightly that industrialism provided the aesthetic for contemporary art, and that this aesthetic, which already governed American culture, was fast becoming a universal aesthetic. 38

Comic-strip f o r m s and styles were also the heart of publications like Mad magazine and underground comics like Zap. In the mid-sixties a group of young artists in Chicago paired the raucous style of counterculture comic strips with their o w n nonconformist views and absurdist humor to create ironic put-downs o f rationality and mainstream values. T h e group, initially composed of six m e m bers—-James Falconer, Art Green, Gladys Nilsson, J i m Nutt, Suellen Rocca, and Karl Wirsum—called itself the Hairy Who. For the first t w o of their three group shows (1966-68) at the H y d e Park Art Center, they created a communal comic book as an exhibition catalogue [Fig. 159]. Their comics were not duplicates o f existing depictions but transmogrified revisions filled with bizarre images and nonsensical content. In their complicated figurations,

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convoluted or incomprehensible messages and anonymous nonentities replace the conventional comic-book simplicities and superhero prototypes. Visual disjunctiveness and narrative discontinuity are at an extreme, surpassing the ambiguities of isolated frames or partial dialogues. The whole is made up of disparate entries, each entry in turn a conglomerate of fragmented segments bereft of cohesiveness or progressive logic. The outrageous disorder and subject matter suggest a whimsical attitude, but this mood is punctured by the scattered faceless and deformed figures. The humor verges on a hysteria of despair and frenzy, while communication collapses into gamesmanship or deliberate evasion. The compositions reveal a world beset by confusion despite attempts at escape through fantasy. And the tone of uncertainty that prevails in so much art of the fifties and sixties is here pitched in an urgent key. All questions of comprehension and interpretation dissolve into unintelligibility and madness, as the power and perplexity of mass media dynamics, the richness and vacuity of mass media communication, collapse into their own paradoxical antilogic.

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NOTES 1. Early evidence of television's advertising potential was provided by the H o p a l o n g Cassidy toy craze that grossed Sioo million in 1950. While manufacturers of consumer g o o d s earned fortunes f r o m television tie-ins and advertising, n e t w o r k s profited greatly f r o m c o m mercials. C B S , for example, recorded gains of S8.9 million f r o m advertising in 1953 and $22.2 million four years later. Douglas T. Miller and Marion N o w a k , The Fifties: The Way We Were (Garden City, N.Y.: D o u b l e day, 1977)- 347-482. H o w a r d K. Smith, quoted in Time 86 (October 14, 1966): 58. 3. For a detailed discussion of changes in the media b r o u g h t about by the Vietnam War, see David Halberstam, The Powers That Be ( N e w York: Dell, 1980), 7 0 8 18. 4. O n the influence of the Luce publications, see Halberstam, Powers That Be, 7 1 - 8 9 . 5. In addition to the progressive loss of small television stations, which were unable to survive the competition of the three major networks, the n u m b e r of daily newspapers p l u m m e t e d . There were 552 American cities with competing dailies in 1920, but by 1962 there were only 55. And by 1962 twelve managements controlled one-third of the nation's newspapers. G o d f r e y H o d g s o n , America in Our Time ( N e w York: Vintage, 1978), 1 3 8 41. 6. T h e ballet Within the Quota was produced by Les Ballets Suédois and performed in Paris on O c t o b e r 25, 1923, at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. Cole Porter's score, like M u r p h y ' s backdrop, parodied American mass culture and included such vernacular elements as a Salvation A r m y chorale, a jazz band, and allusions to N e w York taxi horns. 7. M u r p h y also created a flag painting. Villa America (1924-25). in this same manner, thus anticipating Jasper Johns's m o d e of design by s o m e thirty years. T h e painting served as the signpost for M u r p h y ' s house in A n tibes, France. J o h n s and others w o u l d not have k n o w n of M u r p h y ' s flag, for it was lost f r o m 1951 until 1984 and first published by William M . Donnelly in " O n Finding a Gerald M u r p h y , " Arts 59 (May 1985): 78. 8. For Celmins, images of air disasters recalled her childhood in Russia and G e r m a n y during World War II. As an adult she collected old war books, and clippings f r o m these served as the source of her imagery. Susan C . Larsen, Vija Celmins: A Survey Exhibition, exhibition catalogue ( N e w p o r t Beach, Calif.: N e w p o r t H a r b o r Art M u s e u m , 1980), 22-23. 9. In a conversation with the author (July 12, 1984), Kienholz pointed to Americans' unwillingness to understand or face death as a motive for his use of art to provoke the issue. 10. Ibid. 11. Unpublished interview with the artist by Cindy N e m s e r (1971), quoted by Lawrence Alloway in his introductory essay to the catalogue May Stevens (Ithaca, N . Y . : Herbert F.Johnson M u s e u m of Art, Cornell U n i versity, 1973), n.p.

12. Halberstam, Powers That Be, 83. 13. See C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956), 7 1 - 9 3 , for an excellent discussion of the concept of celebrity in American society. 14. See Time 83 (February 2 1 , 1964): 46-47. 15. Daniel J. Boorstin explores the concept of the image in The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America (New York: Atheneum, 1978). 16. Johnson, quoted in Ray Johnson Ray Johnson, ed. William S. Wilson (New York: Between Books Press, 1977). n.p. 17. Lyndon B. Johnson called Presley a "symbol of the vitality, rebelliousness and good humor of the country," and both Eldridge Cleaver (Soul on Ice [New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968], 194-95) and Jerry Rubin (Do It [New York: Simon & Schuster, 1970], 1 7 - 1 9 ) acknowledge Presley's importance within the youth rebellion. 18. For a discussion of Presley's image, see Mark Crispin Miller, " T h e K i n g , " New York Review of Books 24 (December 8, 1977): 38-42. 19. Triple Elvis is one of a series of compositions based on the same publicity still. All were shown for the first time at the Ferus Gallery in Los Angeles, September-October 1963, and installed according to Warhol's instructions as a "continuous surround." See John C o p lans, "Andy Warhol and Elvis Presley," Studio 81 (February 1971): 49-5320. Time 73 (March 30, 1959): 52. 21. Ezra Goodman, "Delirium Over Dead Star," Life 41 (September 24, 1956): 75-88. 22. A Marilyn Monroe exhibition at the Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York, December 6-30, 1967, comprised fifty works by thirty-six artists. 23. De Kooning kept a Monroe pinup calendar in his studio and named her as a source of inspiration. H o w ever, the title of the 1954 painting was probably not conferred by the artist. (See Harry F. Gaugh, Willem de Kooning [New York: Abbeville Press, 1982], 49 and n. 64.) Another Hollywood bombshell, Mae West, was the subject of a subsequent " w o m a n " portrait in 1964. 24. B y accompanying the photograph with a " s y m pathetic account" of Monroe's circumstances—her need as a struggling, starving model to pose for money—Life set the photograph in a human interest context. See Life Goes to the Movies (New York: Time-Life Books, 1975). 67. 25. De Kooning used a Camel ad from the back cover of Time (January 17, 1949) which outlined a " T - z o n e " — the area of smoking pleasure—on the smiling model's face. See Thomas B . Hess, Willem de Kooning (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1968), 78. 26. Time (March 3, 1967): 76. 27. David Manning White and Robert H. Abel, " C o m i c Strips and American Culture," in The Funnies: An American Idiom (New York: Free Press of Glencoe, 1963), 3 and 7. 28. Joan C . Siegfried, "Art From the C o m i c s , " in The Spirit of the Comics, exhibition catalogue (Philadelphia: Institute of Contemporary Art, University of Pennsylvania, 1969), n.p.; and Eric F. Goldman, The Crucial De-

cade—and After: America, ¡943-1960 (New York: Vintage, i960), 291. 29. In a cover story on Charles M. Schulz, creator of Peanuts, Time noted that Europeans prided themselves on having "discovered" such American art forms as comics and jazz, and such American authors as Faulkner long before Americans. Time 85 (April 9, 1965): 83. 30. Jess, quoted in Michael Auping,Jess: Paste-Ups (and Assemblies) 1931-198}, exhibition catalogue (Sarasota, Fla.: The John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, 1983), 10. 31. The reclusive Jess did not participate in the San Francisco Beat scene, but through his friendship with the poet Robert Duncan he was well aware of Beat views and activities. 32. See statement by Chester Gould in Martin Sheridan, Comicsand Their Creators (Westport, Conn.: Hyperion Press, 1971), 1 2 1 - 2 4 . 33. Stephen Becker, Comic Art in America (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1959), 240. 34. Ibid., 221. 35. Lichtenstein, in John Coplans, "An Interview with Roy Lichtenstein," Artforum 2 (October 1963): 3 1 . 36. Siegfried, "Art from the Comics," n.p. 37. Lichtcnstein, quoted in John Rublowsky, Pop Art: Images of the American Dream (London: Nelson, 1965), 4338. Lichtenstein, in an interview with Gene R. Swenson, "What Is Pop Art?" Artnews 62 (November 1963): 25, 62.

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The American Dream / The American Dilemma

During the 1950s Americans for the most part enj o y e d prosperity at home and prestige abroad. America became known as a magical place where things were happening and where future prospects were bright. The American dream of plenty, of hope and opportunity, of freedom and possibility became a reality for millions of people. To be sure, the conceptual idealism of American democracy was diluted as many redefined the dream in terms of material values. A house and a car, bigger and better possessions were tangible evidence of success and a rising standard of living. America had confidently emerged f r o m World War II with high expectations for the future. A l though the Korean War and the spread of atomic weapons loomed large, the watchwords of Eisenhower's inaugural address were peace and promise. America asserted its strength by holding a firm line against communism and by proudly displaying the merits of free enterprise. T h e fifties began by i m parting an aura of stability upon life in America and ended with bold demands for national excellence and dominance. During the Kennedy administration a strident superpower rhetoric revivified and aggrandized the promise of America. Kennedy trumpeted a N e w Frontier premised on America's historical greatness and future hegemony. With new determination, America went out into the world offering educational, economic, and military assistance. Science and technology provided the potential for boundless resources and limitless expansion, and space exploration also became a national priority. In 1964 President Johnson reaffirmed the dream, calling his vision the Great Society. He extolled the glories and uniqueness of America but admonished the country to recognize injustices and inequities. To realize the social compact, he proposed a broad package of domestic legislation: the Civil Rights Bill, the Voting Rights Act, Medicare, j o b training programs and educational aid, and federal pollution standards. Johnson cautioned that resources were not inexhaustible; unrestrained progress was not necessarily productive; money was not a panacea for all ills; and assertions of power in the name of democracy were not always in the nation's best interest. In the postwar decades the American dream was thus in turn mythicized, critiqued, reassessed, reinvigorated. The touted image o f America as a rich and glorious society was countered by an image of America as a violent society rife with prejudice and seething with contradictions. M a n y postwar artists depicted these tensions between the American dream and the American dilemma. In some of their

* FIG. 160. Robert Indiana, The Deimitli American Dream # 5 , 1963. Oil on canvas, 1 4 4 ' X 144". Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto. Gift from the Women's Committee Fund.

works a haunting undercurrent disturbs seemingly objective images, or gnawing expressions of doubt emanate from traditional American icons. At times a more unsettling ambivalence is denoted by the juxtaposition of incongruous images, scale disparity, or relentless repetition. T h o u g h most artists avoided the polemical tone of Social Realist art, their w o r k provokes a reappraisal of contemporary American culture. Indeed, many compositions overtly address controversial social issues and politically charged subjects. For the first time in American art, moreover, death is treated forthrightly as a fearful, alienating counterpoint to idealistic conceptions o f the A m e r ican dream. In marked contrast to the abiding ro-

mantic view, stemming f r o m transcendentalism through Abstract Expressionism, in postwar art death is not related to either spiritual or heroic themes nor to future beginnings or godly forces beyond the realm of experience. Rather, death is shown to be a brutal end, a purposeless finality, a haphazard disaster caused not by divine or natural means but by human madness or political strife. Taking the theme of the American dream as his benchmark, Robert Indiana created a series of paintings that display the conversion of the dream's "optimistic, generous and naive" vision into the forms and formulas of mass culture. 1 In The Demuth American Dream # 5 (1963) [Fig. 160] the dream is represented by a vocabulary of four verbs:

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D I E , E A T , H U G , E R R . Each commands a starspangled circle in the design, and each rules an axis of a cross. T h e terms denote fundamental aspects of life, all shown to coexist in absurd combinations as if on a wheel o f fortune in which fate determines the outcome. While the wheel suggests flux and uncertainty, the cross creates intersections and polarities. A n d while verbs refer to personal actions, the presentational format—the stenciled lettering, geometric patterning, blazing coloration, repetitive components, and bold emblematic structure—intones anonymity. B o r r o w i n g these stylistic traits from road signs, pinball machines, advertising, and j u k e boxes, Indiana sets the American dream in the context of the highway and roadside cafe. This context is even more apparent in other paintings in the series, which feature the words J I L T / T I L T and J U K E / J A C K and rotate the cross to f o r m the X of a railroad danger sign. T h e series reverberates with references to both the freedom, monotony, and peril of the open road and the banality of life in an environment of flashing signs. A s in advertisements, the subject is reduced to commonplace fundamentals conveyed in a visually arresting manner. T h e American dream is rendered in a packaged promotional format, its philosophical essence condensed into a game of three-letter words. T h e notion of plentitude, for example, is pared down to E A T , a cue that imitates the neon signs that flash over hundreds of cheap restaurants. Part o f America's glory is the bounty of the fruited plains, yet Indiana observes: "It is pretty hard to swallow the whole thing about the American dream. It started f r o m the day the Pilgrims landed, the dream, the idea that Americans have more to eat than anyone else. But I remember going to bed without enough to eat." 2 D I E and E R R register the underside and uncertainty of the dream, the daily realities that accompany the promises of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Indiana's painting also pays homage to Charles Demuth's Precisionist masterpiece I Saw the Figure Five in Gold (1928) [Fig. 1 6 1 ] . Demuth created the painting both as a poster portrait of his friend William Carlos Williams and as an interpretation of Williams's poem " T h e Great Figure." 3 Indiana's composition reprises the power of Demuth's depiction, exaggerating those features that distinguish Demuth's decidedly American orientation to C u b ist aesthetics: conspicuous signs, bright lights, and theatrical display. For Indiana, these prominently American stylistic features, removed from any supporting landscape imagery, become an index of the American environment. American ideals have been displaced by images, and images by signs.

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FIG. 1 6 1 . Charles Henry Demuth, I Saw the Figure Five in Cold, 1928. Oil on composition board, 36" X 2g>/4". The Metropolitan Museum of Art, N e w York. The Alfred Stieglitz Collection.

During the postwar period, artists were concerned not only with restructurings of the American dream but also with the possibility of the dream's—and the nation's—ultimate destruction. In his painting Can Our National Bird Survive? (1962) [Fig. 162], Allan D'Arcangelo pointedly raises the question of American mortality and sets it within the context of U . S . militarism. The composition shows t w o American eagles: one proud, calm imprisoned bird, and one vulturous, aggressive creature w h o flies freely, though along a path counter to directional arrows. Bars and a star offer the semblance of a landscape as well as of an American flag whose stripes are ominously transformed f r o m white to black and whose stellar field is reduced to a solitary darkened sign. In April 1962, the month of the painting's creation, the U . S . announced the resumption of atmospheric testing, despite widespread Ban the B o m b demonstrations. This announcement followed the January collapse o f test ban talks between the superpowers and the reopening of discussions under

* FIG . 162. Allan D'Arcangelo, Can Our National Bird Survive? 1962. Acrylic on canvas, 45" x 38". Collection of the artist.

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163. B r u c e C o n n e r , Untitled (front and back sides), 1954—62. C o l l a g e and oil on canvas, 60" x 46'/". Collection o f Robert Shapazian. * F I G .

the aegis of the United Nations in March. T h e decision to resume testing intensified the mood of international crisis evoked by recent East-West confrontations over Cuba and Berlin and by the U S S R ' s reinstatement of nuclear testing in 1 9 6 1 . President Kennedy took a hard-line approach to negotiations and proposed an expanded national civil defense program, which included plans for the mass construction of fallout shelters. B u t for many Americans, fallout shelters and nuclear testing only exacerbated fears, and anxieties about the arms race

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escalated. Peace activists, like D'Arcangelo, protested against the administration's strategies, urging that national policy emphasize disarmament. 4 In his painting, D'Arcangelo's focus on the eagle, the archetypal symbol of military strength, both implicates America as a pivotal force in determining the world's future and conjures the possibility o f doomsday. The possibility of nuclear holocaust also haunted Bruce Conner, w h o fled the country in 1 9 6 1 - 6 2 fearing that "the bomb was going to drop and

w e ' d be annihilated." 5 C o n n e r felt s t r o n g l y that art s h o u l d not serve as an escape f r o m o r denial o f the w r e t c h e d n e s s o f life and the i m m i n e n c e o f death. H i s c o l l a g e Untitled ( 1 9 5 4 - 6 2 ) [Fig. 163] treats in detail the seamy, s o r d i d aspects o f c o n t e m p o r a r y culture. T h e d o u b l e - s i d e d c o m p o s i t i o n c o m p r i s e s an abstract side, m a d e u p o f discarded scraps o f c a r d b o a r d , tin, w o o d , and s c r e e n i n g , and a f i g u r a t i v e side, cluttered w i t h c u t o u t s , m a i n l y f r o m pulp and p o r n o g r a p h y m a g a z i n e s . T h e industrial j u n k a n d c o m m e r c i a l trash attest to the m e a n i n g l e s s n e s s

o f c o n v e n t i o n a l standards o f o r d e r and taste in the face o f i m p e n d i n g w o r l d w i d e destruction. T h e materials o n the f r o n t side are w o r n , dirty, and c r u d e l y j o i n e d b y staples and nails. T h o u g h the surface e c h o e s the r e s o u r c e f u l creativity o f w a l l c o v e r i n g s in l o w e r - c l a s s n e i g h b o r h o o d s , the s o m ber t o n e s and dilapidated state o f the materials establish an aura o f death. In sensibility and a p p r o a c h , C o n n e r ' s w o r k is c o m p a r a b l e t o that o f the Beat poets, w h o similarly r e f u s e d t o i g n o r e the dark side o f A m e r i c a n life. C o n t e m p t u o u s o f the

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conformist, technological, and capitalistic excess of postwar culture, the Beats posited a new American spirit of freedom, fraternity, and rebelliousness. Conner's jarring combination of themes and i m ages upwell f r o m the same reservoir of outrage, despair, and mordant humor as Allen Ginsberg's Howl (1956): M o l o c h w h o s e eyes are a thousand blind w i n d o w s ! M o l o c h w h o s e skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless J e h o v a h s ! M o l o c h w h o s e factories d r e a m and croak in the f o g ! M o l o c h w h o s e s m o k e s t a c k s and antennae c r o w n the cities! M o l o c h w h o s e l o v e is endless oil and stone! M o l o c h w h o s e soul is electricity and banks! M o l o c h w h o s e p o v e r t y is the specter o f genius! M o l o c h w h o s e fate is a cloud o f sexless h y d r o g e n ! M o l o c h w h o s e n a m e is the M i n d ! M o l o c h ! M o l o c h ! R o b o t apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasures! blind capitals! d e m o n i c industries! spectral nations! i n v i n c i b l e madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous b o m b s ! T h e y b r o k e their backs lifting M o l o c h to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to H e a v e n w h i c h exists and is e v e r y w h e r e about us!

While the front side of Conner's collage e x presses a How/-like indictment of the American values of newness, cleanliness, affluence, and materialism, the back—or underbelly, as Conner called it—confronts the issues of sexual exploitation, censorship, and moral hypocrisy. A profusion of suggestively posed female nudes fills the entire surface. Although each image occupies its own place, the whole appears as a random, disorderly conglomerate, albeit composed of scrupulously chosen elements. Conner encourages an analogy with stamp collecting by adjoining a small grouping of postage stamps. T h e analogy turns into a parody of official systems of sanction and judgment with the inclusion of stamps of certification and approval: " G o o d Housekeeping Seal," " E x a m i n e d by N o . 1 , " "Certified Washable," "Accepted Committee on Cosmetics," and " T h e Seal of Quality Sexing Service." In addition, C . O . D . and C O L L E C T labels allude to the commercial exploitation of sex within the pornography industry and within the sex parlors and prostitution rings, which continued to thrive despite laws and moral judgments against them. Conner reflects this hypocrisy by exposing an array of pulp photographs prominently marked with bright red signs: W A R N I N G — Y O U A r e in Great D a n g e r ; F R A G I L E . T h e signs bespeak the

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innocent, virginal image that America still pretended to sustain. A stream of obscenity trials attempted to uphold puritanical ethics and enforce sexual taboos through censorship. But the censors' zeal was somewhat restrained in i960, when a federal court, in ruling that D. H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterly's Lover was not obscene, redefined obscenity to exclude works that did not violate prevailing c o m munity standards and had redeeming social or aesthetic value. Conner mocks the notion of courtimposed obscenity standards by juxtaposing pulp pinups with suggestively sexual, if not erotic, nude images by Rembrandt, Renoir, Boucher, R o u s seau, and Brancusi. In this collage, as in many of his assemblages and films of the fifties and early sixties, Conner entangles themes of sex, death, and violence, suggesting their conjunction in American culture. His influential film A Movie (1958), for example, arranges stock footage from H o l l y w o o d productions into a startling bombardment of images, a discordant but penetrating mix of pictures of destruction and seduction. Similar turbulent effects are produced in the collage Untitled by the front-back opposition of old deadened materials and youthful animated bodies, and by the violent scale extremes and subject reversals, the sudden directional shifts and sharp contour cuts of the underbelly. Conner also particularizes the theme of death by interspersing with the nudes images of corpses, victimized creatures, and explosions, as well as his own notice to report for an armed forces physical. B y j u x t a posing such images of death and life within a single pandemoniacal whole, Conner presents an unsettling evocation of contradictions, incongruities, and odd concordances in contemporary American life.' Within the Beat generation and then again in the counterculture movement of the sixties, a focus on the dark side of life was complemented by a search for alternative belief systems. Fear of destruction coupled with an antipathy toward modern technolo g y led many to explore spiritual orientations, such as Zen Buddhism and occult mysticism. These paths offered countercurrents to American materialism, the logic of objectivity and causation, and Western mind-body polarities. Through spiritual practice, the universe could be experienced as a flux of interconnectedness nurtured by the inexplicable. This spiritual sensibility, fused with an attentiveness to the present, is manifested in a series of verifax collages by Wallace Berman [Fig. 164]. T h e collages, begun in 1964, are composed of photocopy

* F i g . 164. Wallace B e r m a n , UiititleH, 1967. V e r i f a x c o l l a g e , 4 8 " X 4 5 ' / i " . C o l l e c t i o n o f the G r i n s t e i n F a m i l y .

repetitions of one basic unit, a handheld transistor radio. In the photocopying process and broadcasting of radio signals, Berman saw new possibilities for the transmutation and transmission of information. His compositions emphasize the mystical aspects of receptivity and multiplicity, the potential of the mass media to foster deeper understanding and inspired revelation.

In each collage, Berman places diverse images on the radios' faces. These include American icons, mystic and religious symbols, spiritual leaders, plants, animals, sports figures, body parts, mechanical devices, astronomical structures, and weapons. Within a single composition, the ordering has an arbitrary character: depictions are sometimes repeated, some blank spaces appear, and both

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* f i g . 165. Jess, The Face in the

Abyss, 1955. Collage, zs'A" x }o>/,". Courtesy of Odyssia Gallery, N e w York.

positive and negative printings are used. Similarities between subjects or their shapes establish correspondences, but dramatic contrasts assert dissonances. T h e whole seems a deck of playing cards or Tarot cards that allows for endless reshufflings and dealings of different hands or readings according to chance. T h e mixture of images combines mundane and sacred, horrific and glorious, presence and absence, past and future. T h e American dream/dilemma is specifically intoned by such images as the U . S . Capitol, the Statue of Liberty, a revolutionary soldier, a football hero, and a military bomber plane. These American images are viewed in a macrocosmic context, not just with reference to European or Soviet standards. B e r man's vision is neither escapist nor Utopian; his concern is to recognize diversity and complexity, to present a broad perspective without losing sight of the particularities and realities of the everyday world. While mankind has always lived with the fears of natural disasters and wars, nuclear weapons intro-

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duced the horrifying possibility of global disaster. Modern technology allowed mankind greater control over the environment but also unlimited capacity for destruction and death. T h e foreboding potential of the b o m b and the dark side of industrial expansion and scientific development were sources of recurrent anxieties. Jess's collage The Face in the Abyss (1955) [Fig. 165] offers one nightmarish vision of the future. Elaborate mechanical apparatuses, one set within the Statue of Liberty's crown, and a desolate landscape suggest an apocalyptic moment in which the monuments of human progress outlive their creators. Lady Liberty, the beacon of friendship and enlightenment that once welcomed visitors to a land of plenty, is here an ominous contraption, an agent of surveillance and demolition, ruling over a black chasm of nothingness. Although the c o m p o sition can be viewed as a parody of technological experimentation or a science fiction hallucination, it is also a serious reflection of C o l d War tensions. Like Jess, Llyn Foulkes represents a desolate landscape that provokes reexamination of the

* r i c . 166. Llyn Foulkes, Death Valley U.S.A., 1963. Oil on canvas.

6s"x6$iA".

Collection of Hetty and and Monte Factor.

mythic vision of America the beautiful and bountiful. Death Valley U.S.A. (1963) [Fig. 166] is one of a scries presenting postcardlike depictions of i m poverished, disquieting images bearing the inscription " T h i s painting is dedicated to the A m e r i c a n . " Here Foulkes pays ironic homage to the nation's most arid, lifeless, and deadly environment. Yet he also marks Death Valley as a metaphor for impend-

ing disaster by outlining his image with a yellowand-black-striped border—a design borrowed from railroad danger signs. Although the warning might refer to the destruction of America's natural splendor because of despoliation, pollution, and waste, a band of spread-winged eagles implicates military action in the death. T h r o u g h an abstruse allusion to the frontispiece of Ulysses S. Grant's

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FIG. 167 (above). Larry Rivers, The Accident, 1957. Oil on canvas, 84" x 90". Collection of Joseph E. Seagram & Sons, Inc.

memoirs, Foulkes reinforces this implication while setting it within the context of civil war or, by extension, contemporary civil rights strife. Grant's inscription, written in a calligraphy quite similar to Foulkes's, states: " T h e s e volumes are dedicated to the American soldier and sailor." 7 Death also entered the American consciousness in a more quotidian w a y as the number of highway fatalities mounted. In 1969 close to 56,000 A m e r i cans died in highway accidents (up from 34,000 in 1950), and it was estimated that half of all A m e r i cans would be injured on the roads during their lifetime. Although the fatality statistics were well publicized, the national love affair with fast driving continued. H o l l y w o o d , moreover, fueled this pas-

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* f i g . 168 (opposite). Andy Warhol, Orange Disaster, 1963. Acrylic and silkscreen on canvas, 30'A" X 30". Collection of Francesco Pellizzi.

sion by glamorizing heroes w h o drove wildly and experienced libidinous thrills and manly power at deadly speeds. Pictures of disasters also appeared regularly in the daily papers and on the television news, where they were treated as routine occurrences, an acceptable consequence of fast-lane living. In The Accident (1957) [Fig. 167], Larry Rivers depicts the automobile casualty as a commonplace of city life. T h e accident quite literally dissolves into a haze, becoming a miscellaneous cinematic trifle within the urban flux. A n overturned car, flashing lights, blood stains, injured victim, stretcher, ambulance, police car, red cross, b y standers, moving traffic—all the signifying features

arc present, but they seem dispersed notations within an almost dreamlike environment. Frenzy is manifested by the fragmentary, indistinct rendering, but there is no sense o f trauma or tragedy. T h e blurriness that absorbs e v e r y t h i n g tends to suggest that accidents d o not so m u c h disrupt daily life as c o n f o r m to its usual agitation. A n d y Warhol's car-crash paintings denote a similar routineness in the treatment o f the subject but also dramatize the horror. Orange Disaster (1963) [Fig. 168], for example, sets a newspaper p h o t o graph o f an overturned car, the four y o u n g victims still pinned underneath, against a g r o u n d o f fiery orange color. T h e b l o w n - u p isolated i m a g e is quite disturbing, yet the poor-quality newspaper illustra-

tion identifies this as but another accident like so m a n y others reported in the n e w s . Warhol w a s well aware o f the anesthetizing effect o f media overexposure o f such images: " W h e n y o u see a g r u e s o m e picture over and over again, it doesn't really have any effect."" U n d e r the cover o f reporting the news, the A m e r i c a n media often exploited the public's fascination w i t h images o f disaster. V i e w e r - v o y e u r s could observe a disturbing reality f r o m a safe, dispassionate, and detached distance. For the v i e w e r v o y e u r , the victims are u n k n o w n , the circumstances inessential, and the consequences nonexistent. T h o u g h A m e r i c a n s prided themselves as a c o m p a s sionate people concerned about the senseless loss o f

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* FIG . 169. Billy A 1 B e n g s t o n , Skinny's 21, 1 9 6 1 . O i l on canvas, 42" X 40". Private collection.

life, media coverage of car accidents typified a cool, indifferent, curious response to highway carnage. Warhol's paintings refer both to this desensitization and the dark side of the popular myth of on-the-road freedom. Motorcycles also played an important part in exemplifying the promise and the failings of the American dream. Motorcycle gangs proliferated after World War II and gained cult status through movies like The Wild One (1954) with Marlon Brando. In the mid-sixties extensive media attention to the Hell's Angels (including a cover story in the Saturday Evening Post), increased the public's

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awareness of a rough-riding motorcycle subculture in America. Gangs like the Hell's Angels were portrayed as violent reactionary radicals w h o sought to uphold law and order by brute power. 9 Another publicized image was the fearless, restless youth for w h o m the motorcycle symbolized defiance of parental and societal constraints. Alone or as part of a free-spirited group, this freedom-loving individualist saw the highway as his escape route f r o m the narrowness of middle-class values. T h e movie Easy Rider (1969) popularized this image of the motorcycle quester-rebel in love with the open road. Billy A1 Bengston heralded the motorcycle as a

*FIG. 170. Duane Hanson, Motorcycle Accident, 1969. Fiberglass, polychromed in oil, life-size figure

with motorcycle. Collection of Lewis & C l a r k College, Portland, Oregon,

sign of the American dream in Shinny's 21 (1961) [Fig. 169]. The full profile of a sleek machine, depicted in shiny enamel and industrial paints, is proudly displayed. In the background, a sweeping curve suggesting speed highlights the club's name. The motorcycle is shown as a prized possession—a beautiful machine with pristine surface and precisioned parts—cherished more for its status value than as a mode of transportation. Here and in paintings that focus attention on isolated details, Bengston presents the motorcycle as an object to be admired as the latest in modern technology, an emblem of hedonism, affluence, and carefree m o bility. However, as indicated by the prominently defined crossbones on the sales agency insignia in Back Fender (1961), the motorcycle also signifies danger and death.

Duane Hanson's sculpture Motorcycle Accident (1969) [Fig. 170] graphically depicts one such death. A mangled teenager in a bloody " S and B R o c k e t " t-shirt lies sprawled out beside his wrecked motorcycle. The figure, a painted fiberglass cast molded f r o m a human body, is jarringly realistic and familiar; he could be the boy next door. Hanson thus reflects a brutal paradox about American culture: A n age of prosperity and promise has spawned a thrill-seeking, teenage restlessness that often ends in tragic death. To Americans' zeal for high-speed living, Hanson countered: " T h e r e are warning signs in our civilization that should cause us to slow down and take heed." 1 0 With documentary specificity and metaphoric amplitude, Motorcycle Accident enlarges on one of these signs.

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*FIG. 1 7 1 . A n d y Warhol, Most Wanted Men, No. i :John M. (Front View and Profile), 1963. Synthetic p o l y m e r paint on canvas, 49" x 38".

Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University, Ithaca, N e w York.

A m e r i c a had long exalted the fictional heroism o f the gun-toting c o w b o y , the golden-hearted outlaw, and the avenging superman, but during the postw a r period crime and violence became a pervasive component o f e v e r y d a y urban life. In 1955 one crime w a s committed every fifteen seconds; by 1966 the crime rate w a s rising f i v e times faster than the population r a t e . " Street crime, cold-blooded felonies, social conflict, political assassinations, ghetto riots, revolutionary terrorism, military aggression, police brutality—America w a s the most violent o f the world's industrial nations. 1 2 T h e r e w a s a ring o f truth to H . R a p B r o w n ' s contention that " v i o l e n c e is as A m e r i c a n as cherry pie." R o b e r t Rauschenberg's inclusion o f a wanted poster in his c o m b i n e painting Hymnal (1955) is an unsettling reminder that crime is part and parcel o f the A m e r i c a n experience. 1 3 T h e poster appears a m i d other f o u n d objects f r o m the urban environment, ironically asserting itself as both a hallowed element and a c o m m o n p l a c e piece o f scrap matter. Like the paisley shawl, the section o f a Manhattan

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telephone b o o k , and the fragments of w o o d and paper, the notice about a dangerous criminal acquires an aura of solemnity and rcvcrence. T h e composition collapses distinctions between the sacred and profane, and yet it also raises questions about America's attitude toward criminals and outlaws. Warhol thrust these questions directly into the public arena with his Thirteen Most Wanted Men series (1963) [Fig. 1 7 1 ] . Warhol and other vanguard artists had been commissioned to create w o r k s f o r the N e w York State Pavilion at the N e w Y o r k World's Fair in 1964. T h e display was intended to a f f i r m that A m e r i c a w a s an art-loving nation and to assert N e w York's position as capital o f the international art w o r l d . B u t Warhol chose instead to enunciate America's position as an international seat o f crime and violence. His act both undermined the fair's public relations efforts to p r o m o t e an upbeat, glorious impression o f A m e r i c a n life and confounded the fair's theme "Peace through understanding." Warhol's massive mugshots, b o r r o w e d directly f r o m F B I wanted posters, lasted

KIG. 172. Rosalyn Drcxlcr, Home Movies, 1963. Oil and synthetic polymer, 48" X 96". Hirshhorn M u s e u m and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC.

only a f e w days. On the order of Governor Nelson Rockefeller, w h o cited fear of Mafia reprisals or lawsuits, the mural was covered over, literally whitewashed. 1 4 For Warhol, criminals represented another facet o f America's obsession with celebrities: " N o w a days if you're a crook you're still considered upthere. You can write books, go on T V , give interv i e w s — y o u ' r e a big celebrity and nobody even looks down on you because you're a crook. You're still really up-there. This is because more than anything people just want stars." 1 5 Criminals on the most-wanted list represent a perverse fulfillment of the American dream. Successful at their chosen " p r o f e s s i o n , " often rich and sometimes famous, they are individuals w h o have taken full advantage of America's opportunities and resources. T h o u g h society loudly condemns crime, it stands in awe of first-class criminals, admiring their creative boldness in bucking the system and escaping capture. T h e media, moreover, effectively reward criminal masterminds by paying so much attention to them. N e w s coverage turns the spotlight on spectacularly

plotted grand thefts and fearfully brutal killings, and crime novels and films immortalize the most egregious perpetrators. B y using mugshots that resemble the close-up, deadpan presentational mode he developed for his celebrity portraits, Warhol establishes another link in the criminal-celebrity bond. While Warhol focuses attention on the most notorious criminals, Rosalyn Drexler's collage-paintings show criminality and violence to be an everyman phenomenon. The figures in her works have the look of ordinary Middle Americans, the types w h o live next door and w o r k in d o w n t o w n offices. Yet, the excessively theatrical poses, familiar stereotypes directly appropriated f r o m movie posters and magazine illustrations, confound fictive and real-life associations. In Home Movies (1963) [Fig. 172], Drexler's theme is that "everything that happens is somebody's home movie (whether filmed or not)." 1 6 Real life has become captive to mass media experience, and violence is a pervasive aspect of both realms.

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FIG. 173. Roy Lichtenstein, Fastest Gun, 1963. Magna on canvas, 36" x 68". Collection of Douglas S. Cramer.

F i c . 174. Roy Lichtenstein, Pistol, 1964. Red, black and white feit, 82"X49". The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York. Gift of Philip Johnson.

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FIG. 175. James Montgomery Flagg, I Want You for U.S. Army, 1917. Lithograph, 40'/," x 29'//'. The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York. Acquired by exchange.

NEAREST RECRUITING STATION

America home of the brave was also home of the world's largest civilian cache of guns, about 100 million handguns, shotguns, and rifles in 1966. 1 7 Guns were symbols of national sustenance, force, power, protection, and defense; American history and folklore are filled with guns, and television programs and films kept these legends alive. A 1968 Time cover story, " G u n in A m e r i c a , " noted: "Daniel Boone and B u f f a l o Bill, Jesse James and Billy the Kid, hero and villain alike, all were men o f the gun and all were idolized. 'Have gun, will travel' was more than a catch phrase. It was a way of life." 1 8 As advocates of gun control repeatedly discovered, many Americans considered owning a gun to be an inalienable American right. Guns appear repeatedly in the art of R o y Lichtenstein in the 1960s. B y depicting them in comicbook style, he establishes a fictional context for them, but their compelling presence as enlarged, isolated, confrontational images vivifies them and thrusts them into the realm of reality. Several paintings from 1963 zero in on the image of a gun about to be fired. In Fastest Gun [Fig. 173], for ex-

ample, a dramatically clinical close-up defines a gun handle protruding f r o m a holster, a full supply of bullets lining the belt, and a poised hand ready to clutch the weapon and shoot. T h e change f r o m a profile view to a frontal perspective in Pistol (1964) [Fig. 174] forces the viewer into the position of a victim staring down a loaded barrel. T h e triggerready grasp intensifies the aggressive effect, and the placement of the stark black-and-white oversized image in the center of a blood-red field further dramatizes the visual impact. Lichtenstein's pointed gun also recalls the pointing finger of Uncle Sam in the famous World War I recruitment poster [Fig. 175]. In conflating the victimizing gun with one of the most stirring of patriotic images, Pistol captures the prevailing tension that was tearing at the heart o f America as the country reckoned with assassinations and fought over the defense of democratic ideals at home and abroad. Lichtenstein appropriately chose this compelling image, adding gunsmoke flames, when commissioned to design the cover for Time magazine's story " G u n in America."

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While themes of crime and violence were a mainstay of Bruce Conner's early assemblages, the grotesque, offensive images in Child ( 1 9 5 9 - 6 0 ) and Homage to Chessman (i960) [Fig. 176] were particularly meant to express outrage against the death penalty. Child shows a shrunken man-child, his brown w a x body rotted, burned, and severely mutilated. T h e body is brutally tied to a high chair, a last cry of anguish caught forever on the open mouth of his thrown-back head. In Homage to Chessman the molten, debris-ridden assemblage reeks o f death. T h o u g h the composition is nonfigurative, Conner's inclusion of a telephone earpiece specifically refers to "the stay of execution which was phoned through to the jail seven minutes before but failed to reach the executioners." This explanation and the statement that " t h e piece was begun on the day the execution occurred as a protest against the event," are provided at the back of the assemblage on a card written by the artist. C a r y l Chessman's case had stirred w o r l d w i d e public interest during his twelve years of appeals and eight stays of execution. M a n y of Chessman's supporters did not question his conviction for robbery and rape, but objected to the application of a kidnapping statute that carried the death penalty. Others were unequivocally opposed to capital punishment under any circumstances. National and international press coverage of the case mounted during the fifties, spurred by Chessman's own statements in numerous articles, a moving autobiography, and three other b o o k s . " O n the eve of the execution, protestors rallied outside San Quentin and in several foreign capitals. 20 T w o other works of vastly different character that make reference to capital punishment are Wayne Thiebaud's painting Electric Chair (1957) and Warhol's Electric Chair series ( 1 9 6 3 - 6 8 ) [Fig. 177]. Thiebaud's composition features a flamingred background and a stark profile of a heavy black chair overladen with entangled energized wires, while Warhol shows an austere room, motionless and lifeless, with an ironic S I L E N C E sign hanging on the wall. In both compositions the chair is an awesome, ominous presence, a reminder of A m e r ican crime and a decidedly American means of retribution. N o other country electrocuted offenders, and many industrial nations had abolished capital punishment. Although the death penalty was imposed less frequently after World War II, in the fifties 7 1 7 Americans were executed, and 181 executions took place between i960 and 1964. For M a y Stevens, the American justice system was a convolution o f democratic values, an authoritarian

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f i c . 176. Bruce Conner, Homage to Chessman, i960. Wax relief, 4 i " x 1 8 " x 1'/". San Francisco M u s e u m o f Modern Art. G i f t o f Irving B l u m .

FIG. 177. Andy Warhol, Orange Disaster, 1963. Acrylic and silkscreen on canvas, 106" x 81 'A". Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, N e w York.

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* f i g . 178 (above). M a y Stevens, Big Daddy Paper Doll, 1968. O i l on canvas, 60" X 120". Collection o f R u d o l f Baranik.

patriarchy controlled by closed-minded, white males. In her painting Big Daddy Paper Doll (1968) [Fig. 178], the omnipotent father figure is a complacent, imperialist personage whose bulletshaped phallo-projectile head signifies military and sexual dominance. T h o u g h the figure is seated, his massive body and odious bulldog face convey strength informed by rigidity and baseness. His clothing, displayed in a row of rank-and-file yeomen, identifies him as a Klansman-executioner, a soldier, a policeman, and a butcher and declares his business to be murder, warfare, law enforcement, and slaughter. T h e composition, moreover, suggests a reciprocity among these activities and discloses that a single mold shapes them all. B i g Daddy's distorted patriotism upholds the establishment's interlocked series of laws and orders. He symbolizes Tightness devoid of human compassion, the brute force of oppression that demands compliance. Stevens developed this B i g Daddy imagery in response to racial strife and American aggressions in Vietnam. 2 1 T h e skeptical questioning of authority figures and social conformity that became quite

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* F I G . 179 (opposite). A n d y Warhol, Jackie (The (Feci; Thai Was). 1963. A c r y l i c and silkscrecn on canvas, 8 o " X 6 4 " . Collection of Mr. and M r s . R a y m o n d Goetz.

pronounced in the mid-sixties also informs the imagery. Stevens renders this new cynicism using a mode of persuasive presentation borrowed from Madison Avenue. Like a well-designed commercial product, Big Daddy's appearance reflects a concern with packaging, and his regalia of impressive status symbols—an American flag, badges, medals, and insignia—reiterate that surface display often supersedes substantive expression. The assassinations of John F. Kennedy and M a r tin Luther King, J r . , brought the issues of crime, violence, and justice to the forefront of national and international attention. T h e American dream was tarnished if not irreparably shattered by the slayings of these vigorous leaders. In Jackie (The Week That Was) (1963) [Fig. 179], Warhol explores the media's role in manipulating the national mood and memory after Kennedy was shot: " I ' d been thrilled having Kennedy as president; he was handsome, young, smart—but it didn't bother me that much that he was dead. What bothered me was the way the television and radio were programming everybody to feel so sad." 2 2 Warhol's juxtapositions of familiar newspaper

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* F I C . 180. Ed Paschke, Purple Ritual, 1967. Oil on canvas, 48" X 32". Collection of Robert H. Bergman.

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photographs of the first lady before and after the assassination and the rapid-flash shift from one image to another, each a memory bank of associations, effects an agitated response. The power of pictorial display is rendered by the converging and diverging pairings, the shock of one blue- and two white-ground depictions within a field of neutraltoned images, and the theatrics of interruption, difference, and opposition." The media's focus on Jackie Kennedy exacerbated the reality of the president's death, the end of the Camelot myth. At the same time, the myth was reinforced by the broadcasting of the awesomely self-possessed widow performing all the rituals of a highly ceremonial state funeral. Moreover, focus on Jackie Kennedy diverted attention from the crime itself and the frenzy surrounding the murder investigation. But images of Lee Harvey Oswald were as much a part of the media coverage as images of the Kennedy family and funeral. Kienholz's Instant On assemblage [see Fig. 1 1 7 ] invokes the site of the assassination, and Ed Paschke's painting Purple Ritual (1967) [Fig. 180] shockingly affirms the Americanness of the armed assassin: I intended it to be a s y m b o l o f the A m e r i c a n w a y o f life. T h a t is w h y I set O s w a l d d o w n against the flag and seals. T h e o n l y literal thing I did in the painting w a s to c o l o r him p u r p l e — t h e c o l o r associated w i t h death and official mourning. B u t w h o s e death? O s w a l d ' s or K e n n e d y ' s ? B o t h in a sense. M y main concern w a s not the death o f either man but rather the relationship b e t w e e n both incidents and their place in the fabric o f o u r heritage. 2 4

Rifle in hand, revolver in pocket, Oswald is the newest member of the American pantheon of gunslingers, the latest image in a national gallery that bestows undifferentiated attention on its heroes and its criminals. Paschke's memorial combines a traditional mode of homage—pictorial enshrinement in an ornamented vintage frame—with its mass media equivalent, the replication of a photograph that has become an icon through its repeated publication. In the years that had intervened between the assassination and Paschke's creation of Purple Ritual, the mass media and the public probed, analyzed, and debated endless details about Oswald as evidence for one or another theory regarding his motives. Had Oswald acted as a lone crank or as part of a domestic or global conspiracy? A photograph showing Oswald bearing the weapons used in the murders of Kennedy and the Dallas policeman and

holding a Trotskyite newspaper—a pose that Oswald had staged half a year before the assassination—appeared on the cover of Life (February 2 1 , 1964) and became a prime catalyst for conspiracy theories. The Warren Commission intended to reassure the nation that Oswald acted alone, but its report, issued September 27, 1964, did just the opposite. Considered a whitewash, the report unleashed new floods of speculation. Intense preoccupation with the assassination reached a new peak in 1967 as the release date neared of a book authorized by the Kennedy family. William Manchester's The Death of a President received prepublication contracts for serialization in Look, a Book-of-the-Month Club offering, and a paperback edition.25 Despite the big promotion and a publicized dispute between the author and the Kennedys over editorial control of the text, the book was generally criticized as a biased and m y thologized rendering. 26 In February 1967, Jim Garrison, a New Orleans district attorney, announced that he had evidence to substantiate charges of a conspiracy. His case drew extensive news coverage and increased public anxiety about government cover-ups. But Garrison finally proved only that the murder, the official investigation, and tbe spin-off studies, ranging from the preposterous to the believable, remained a major topic of public interest. Paschke's portrayal of Oswald as a symbol of American life comprehends both the events of November 22, 1963, and the ensuing years of doubt, confusion, and anxiety. Like the Kennedy assassination, civil rights violence turned cracks in the American dream into sundering ruptures. Black Americans had been given the right to vote in 1870, but the issue of racial equity and injustice remained largely unexamined, and segregation remained a way of life. After World War II, though, a series of events heralded the beginning of a national reassessment of racism: the appearance of Jackie Robinson in a majorleague uniform (1947), an executive order to bar segregation in the armed services (1948), a Supreme Court decision mandating school desegregation (1954), the bus boycott organized by Martin Luther King, Jr., in Montgomery, Alabama (1955— 56), the use of federal troops in Little Rock, Arkansas (1957), and the lunch-counter sit-ins in Greensboro, North Carolina (i960). In May 1963 a small civil war broke out in Birmingham, Alabama. The staunchly segregationist police commissioner, Bull Conner, brandished attack dogs and fire hoses to break up nonviolent demonstrations by schoolchildren and freedom

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* F I G . 1 8 1 . A n d y W a r h o l , Race Riot, 1963. A c r y l i c a n d s i l k s c r e e n o n

c a n v a s , f o u r panels, 3 o " x 33" each. C o l l e c t i o n o f S a m WagstafF.

marchers led by K i n g . A s the nation and the w o r l d watched through the reportorial eye o f television and press cameras, the B i r m i n g h a m police clubbed their w a y through the crowds. Demonstrators were crushed by blasts o f water, bitten by vicious dogs, and brutally beaten. For his Race Riot series (1963-64) [Fig. 181] Warhol appropriated the news photos o f the attack dogs in action, photos that had appeared in Life, Time, Newsweek, and daily papers across the country. 27 Here, again, his use o f documentary artifacts exemplifies the mass media's direct p o w e r to control public sentiment and opinion. But Warhol dif-

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fuses the impact o f the imagery by printing poorquality reproductions, emphasizing the ground color, arbitrarily cropping the content, and creating irregular, repetitive arrangements. T h e subject matter and presentation provoke a sense o f presence and absence, o f an image seen and yet unseen, o f emotions piqued and numbed. In many ways B i r m i n g h a m was a pivotal point in the civil rights movement. T h e public conscience—black and w h i t e — w a s stirred to action. Several months later, on A u g u s t 28, over 250,000 people gathered for the March on Washington, the largest civil rights demonstration in history. T h e

•FIG. 182. Faith Ringgold, God Bless America, 1964. Oil on canvas, 3i"X 19". Collection o f the artist.

marchcrs j o i n e d in heartfelt choruses o f " W e Shall O v e r c o m e , " and K i n g ' s p o w e r f u l "I have a d r e a m " speech inspired n e w hope. M e r g i n g the age-old theme o f the A m e r i c a n dream w i t h clear statements o f the black dilemma, K i n g intoned a n e w vision for the nation: I h a v e a d r e a m that o n e d a y o n the red hills o f G e o r g i a the s o n s o f f o r m e r s l a v e s a n d the s o n s o f f o r m e r s l a v e o w n e r s w i l l b e a b l e t o sit d o w n t o g e t h e r at the t a b l e o f b r o t h e r h o o d . . . . I h a v e a d r e a m that m y f o u r little c h i l d r e n w i l l o n e d a y l i v e in a n a t i o n w h e r e t h e y w i l l n o t b e j u d g e d b y the c o l o r o f their s k i n , b u t b y t h e c o n t e n t o f their character.

T h e g r o u n d s w e l l o f civil rights activism included black artists, w h o began to question the premises o f the A m e r i c a n dream in light o f the so-

ciopolitical reality o f the black situation in America. Faith R i n g g o l d ' s American People Series (1963 — 67), for example, underscores the depths o f racial tensions embedded within A m e r i c a n values and c o m m o n practices. In the painting The American Dream (1964), R i n g g o l d addresses racial e c o n o m i c inequality and Americans' emphasis on wealth as an index o f personal value by portraying a halfwhite, half-black w o m a n p r o u d l y displaying a diam o n d ring. In The Cocktail Party (1964), she denotes tokenism and the uneasiness o f changing s o cial relationships by s h o w i n g a single black man attending a formal, otherwise all-white gathering. A n d in God Bless America (1964) [Fig. 182], she forcefully represents patriotism under siege: A white w o m a n is s h o w n imprisoned within the stripes o f a flag she dutifully salutes, as those stripes turn f r o m red and w h i t e to black and w h i t e .

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FIG. 183. Faith Ringgold, The Flag Is Bleeding, 1967. Oil on canvas, 72" x 96". Collection of the artist.

The injustices of discrimination and the difficulties o f integration are more pointedly expressed in The Flag Is Bleeding (1967) [Fig. 183], where three solemn figures—a black man, a white woman, and a white man—are joined together behind the stars and stripes. Though they stand arm in arm, resolutely upholding the ideals of freedom and justice, the wounded black man bears a knife, and the flag drips blood. Significantly, too, the woman serves as the binding intermediary between the black and the white man. Though her nurturing attitude establishes her importance, her diminutive stature reflects the subordinate place generally accorded women in American society. Throughout the series, Ringgold articulates the failures of American democratic ideals and the hopes for a reconstituted American dream that will

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include minorities. Her imagery also captures the ominous mood and racial tensions of the midsixties. Raymond Saunders's composition American Dream (1968) [Fig. 184] also contrasts white A m e r ica's American dream and the actuality o f black Americans' experience. Using newspaper cutouts, Saunders represents the mythic dream as a vision of wealth, leisure, family prestige, and opportunity. A fashionable, Charleston-era couple stands beside an expensive automobile, a sign promotes Nelson Rockefeller for president, and an American flag flies freely. But these cutouts are tellingly outdated or marred, torn, and deteriorating. A red band separates these images, set on a blue-black zone, from a chalky, graffiti-defaced white zone that resembles the whitewashed window of a vacant storefront in

[bow could I a mill

FIG. 184. R a y m o n d Saunders, American Dream, 1968. Oil and collage on canvas, &)>/," X 41 >/,". Mount H o l y o k e College Art M u s e u m , South Hadley, Massachusetts. Gift of the Childe Hassam Fund of the American A c a d e m y of Arts and Letters.

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FIG. 185. J o e Overstreet, New Jemima, 1964. Construction, 102V2" x 6 1 " x 17". Menil Foundation, Houston, Texas.

an urban ghetto. Saunders's composition reverberates with doubts about the dream, its viability, and its availability and relevance to blacks. Black artists also sought to refute the racist stereotypes that were perpetuated in mainstream literature, films, television, and advertising. New Jemima (1964) [Fig. 185] by J o e Overstreet proposes a dramatic reversal of the traditional Aunt Jemima, the concessive, beneficent servant w h o cooks, cleans, and cares for the children. T h e new J e m i m a is a figure conceived in black anger and black pride: a feisty, assertive w o m a n brandishing a machine gun. Both the old image and the new are explicitly American creations, as the M A D E I N U S A label proclaims.

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In the mid 1960s racial confrontations became in creasingly violent. The American dream of equality, freedom, and justice became an American nightmare for blacks and whites alike. In August 1964 the bodies of three young white civil rights workers were found near Philadelphia, Mississippi twenty-one whites were charged with conspiring in the murders. In February 1965 Malcolm X was assassinated; three blacks were later arrested and convicted. In March all eyes turned to Selma, Alabama. O v e r t w o thousand civil rights demonstrators had been arrested there in the preceding months. Then, during preparations for a march to M o n t g o m e r y to protest voting rights discrimination, a young black man was killed by a policeman

*FIG. 186. Robert Indiana, Alabama, 1965. Oil on canvas, 72" x 60". Miami University Art Museum, Oxford, Ohio. Gift of Walter and Dawn Clark Netsch.

In the ensuing encounter on U . S . H i g h w a y 80, a phalanx of t w o hundred state troopers, armed with clubs, whips, tear gas, and electric prods, charged the demonstrators. The attack sparked nationwide outrage. Sympathies for the protesters mounted as a second person—a white minister—was murdered and local authorities continued to obstruct the marchers. Finally the march began, under the protection of hundreds of federalized Alabama N a tional Guardsmen and t w o thousand federal troops. But the marchers' victory was quickly shattered by the murder of Viola Liuzzo, a civil rights worker. Robert Indiana's painting Alabama (1965) [Fig. 186] commemorates the nightmarish events by

ringing a map of Alabama with the epitaph J U S T AS IN T H E A N A T O M Y OF M A N E V E R Y N A T I O N M U S T H A V E ITS H I N D PART. Placing Alabama at the center of a target, with Selma marked as the bull's eye, Indiana makes a simple and direct statement of contempt and shame using a reductive, emphatic sign idiom. His design has the visual potency of an advertisement, poster, product insignia, institutional logo, group e m blem, or patriotic banner. Indiana's adaptation of a promotional format typifies a new approach to history painting, one quite distinctive f r o m the E u r o pean tradition of representational documentation or the style of American social commentary art in the 1930s and 1940s.

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*fig. 187. Allan DArcangelo, li.S. So (In Memory of Mrs. Liuzzo), 1965. Acrylic on canvas, 24" x 24". Collection of the artist.

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Allan D'Arcangelo takes a similar approach in U.S. 80 (In Memory of Mrs. Liuzzo) (1965) [Fig. 187]. T h e bold forms, flat color planes, and clear outlines are starkly depersonalized and objective in their intensity. A n d yet the painting focuses on the wrenching image of a blood-spattered, bulletridden Route 80 highway marker. Looming large against a clear blue sky, above silhouetted treetops, the road sign stands as a tombstone, a marker of forcible impact in a culture overflowing with signs. Five months after Selma, a week of rioting in Watts, a black Los Angeles neighborhood, left thirty-four dead. Bad turned to worse in the summer of 1967, when riots erupted in 31 cities in every corner of the United States; 86 people were killed, 2,056 injured, over 1 1 , 0 0 0 were arrested. 28 This new f o r m of civil warfare sorely tested the American dream of one nation, indivisible, " w i t h liberty and justice for all."

Another crack in the American dream was effected in 1957 when the Soviets launched Sputnik. This was the first challenge to America's technological leadership. T h o u g h America's political will had been tested by the Korean War and by Soviet military activities in Eastern Europe, the U S S R had never before overtaken the U . S . in a scientific military project.The success of Sputnik aroused doubts about America's scientific capability, national security, and dominance in the arms race. T h e country subsequently began a blitzkrieg effort in all realms of scientific and military endeavors. H. C . Westermann's Evil New War God (1958) [Fig. 188], depicts the apotheosis of the new breed of army commander: a sinister robot of standardized metallic parts, all shiny and precisioned, the phrase I N G O D W E T R U S T etched upon its chest. Although the humanoid figure has a face and stands upright, its demonic powers are rooted in military hegemony, the defense budget, and technocratic industrial expertise.

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* F I G . 189. Edward Kienholz, O'er the Ramparts We Watched Fascinated, 1959. Painted doll parts and electronic parts on wood, 25'/" x 45 1 // x 5". The Stephen S. Alpert Family Trust.

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In O'er the Ramparts We Watched Fascinated (1959) [Fig. 189], E d w a r d Kienholz articulates the chilling consequences of allegiance to such a god. At this twilight's last gleaming, the Great Seal of the United States presides over an array of jumbled electronic parts and dismembered dolls strewn across a ravaged environment. The modern bombs bursting in air leave a mushroom cloud to rise over a nation that once called itself the land of the free. There is no glory in a nuclear battle, and there can be no national pride in watching and being awed by the impressively obscene sight of technological annihilation. B y 196$, when Rosenquist painted the monumental composition F-111 [Fig. 190], renewed Cold War tensions and America's escalating c o m mitment to the w a r in Vietnam had accelerated the arms race. Congress repeatedly approved the Pentagon's requests for new weapons and increased military spending. T h e F - i 11 was to be an allpurpose, supersonic fighter-bomber that would incorporate the nation's most advanced technology and would spearhead a military victory in Vietnam. But the F - i 1 1 proved a major disaster. Waste and corruption caused scandalous cost overruns,

and the aircraft had serious structural defects. Moreover, the F - i 1 1 was useless against the more advanced Soviet missile systems and unsuitable for the guerrilla warfare of Vietnam. Nonetheless, the Johnson administration had faith in American air power and on February 7, 1965, began a new o f fensive initiative with bombing raids in North Vietnam. T h e raids, which represented a dramatic escalation of America's involvement in the war, triggered widespread protest at home. Rosenquist' saw the F - i 1 1 as more than the n e w est, latest weapon in America's arsenal. T h e " w a r machine" was also "an economic tool" that kept people employed and prosperous; it was the apex of America's indulgent obsession with leviathan extravagance, shattering speed, and instant obsolescence. 29 Rosenquist depicts the fighter-bomber soaring across a surface that is thirteen feet longer than an actual F - i 1 1 . The plane dominates a random panorama of the products of American affluence, leisure, and technology: a piece of angel cake, a Firestone tire, canned spaghetti, light bulbs, a smiling child under a hairdryer, an atomic blast covered by an umbrella, and a helmeted deep-sea diver emit-

F i c . ijjo. James Rosenquist, F-111 [detail], 1965. Oil on canvas with aluminum, i 2 o " x 1032". Collection of Ethel R. Scull.

g g | p r

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* f i g . 1 9 1 . Neil Jenney, Them and Us, 1969. Synthetic polymer paint on canvas with pencil, 61" x 13 5" x 3 vi". The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Louis G. and Susan B. Reese.

ting a gush of air bubbles. All these images, like the F - i 1 1 , are depicted in grand scale, in acid colors and the artificially slick photographic style c o m m o n in the mass media. For Rosenquist the imagery and mode of presentation was a visual equivalent of the " e c o n o m y of surplus," a " c o n v e y o r belt" presentation of the rampant waste within the military-industrial c o m plex and of the American romance with new ideas and new inventions—the ideology of newness. T h e images pass by quickly, in spasmodic arrangements that allow little opportunity for reflection or integration. Yet the visually disorienting juxtapositions—a girl in the midst of a fighter-bomber— establish a not so unlikely relationship between innocent life and death by air bombing. T h e displacements are both absurd and horrific. T h e atomic blast sheltered by an umbrella, for example, suggests the ironic possibility of protection f r o m fallout and the notion of the blast as a beautiful sight one might see while strolling under a parasol. A b o v e all, Rosenquist considered the painting as " a n antidote to the new devices that affect the eth-

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ics of the human b e i n g " and as "an extravagance that would relate to the extreme p o w e r " of A m e r i can society. 3 " He did not view the painting as a remedy for social ills, but he hoped that its forcefulness and excess would encourage people to begin thinking "in terms of humanity again." In Them and Us (1969) [Fig. 1 9 1 ] , N e i l j e n n e y extends the fighter plane iconography by pitting an exemplar of American technology against a Soviet bomber. While the composition suggests comparative, competitive display, the title intones a perpetual state of conflict, reminding us that oppositional relationships are basic to human interaction. N e i ther harmony nor apocalyptic eruption prevails but rather a sustained polarization intensified by the awesome escalation of weaponry and violent confrontation. Adopting a very different approach to warfare, Peter Saul began a series of Vietnam paintings in 1965 [Fig. 192]. T h e compositions focus on violence and torture, sex and death. Saul's aim was to offend middle-class taste and propriety, to express unqualified repugnance for establishment politics,

FIG. 192. PeterSaul, Saigon, 1967. Oil on canvas, 92V!" X 142". Whitney M u s e u m of American Art, N e w York. Purchased with funds f r o m the Friends o f the Whitney M u s e u m o f American Art.

and to repudiate American involvement in Vietnam. In dayglo colors, his canvases disgorge distorted anatomies and obscure displays of perverse sexuality, grotesque brutality, and manic hysteria. A s much as the imagery has an air of surreality— reality pushed to the edge of unbelievability—it is imprinted with themes derived f r o m press reports about Vietnam that excoriated idealized impressions of the w a r and American actions. A similar approach underlies Red Grooms's black comedy construction The Patriots' Parade (1967) [Fig. 193]. American goodwill and national pride abound in the bright waving flags, and a confident President Johnson is flanked by a saluting military officer, a war veteran, and a beauty queen in the guise of the Statue of Liberty. B u t the beauty is

Miss Napalm, a skull peers forth f r o m within the cowboy hat that Johnson exuberantly waves, and a heap of dead babies lies at his feet. T h e celebratory outlook befits the administration's repeated insistence in the mid 1960s that America was winning the war, even as both the press and Congress had begun questioning the official rosy assessments. T h e credibility gap, the grave discrepancies between the administration's optimistic statements and independent reports f r o m Vietnam, had w o r s ened in 1965. T h e televising of Morley Safer's film footage of U . S . Marines leveling a village and the broadcast hearings of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, headed by William Fulbright, gave the lie to the administration's version of the war. Safer's tapes provided the American people and the

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FIG. 193. Red Grooms, The Patriots' Parade, 1967. Construction o f painted w o o d , I J2"X 100" X 40". Moderna Museet, Stockholm.

A m e r i c a n m e d i a w i t h i m a g e s o f v i o l e n t acts o f d e struction perpetrated b y A m e r i c a n t r o o p s against V i e t n a m e s e civilians. A l t h o u g h it w o u l d be several years b e f o r e the m e d i a c o m m o n l y c h a l l e n g e d the administration's reports, Safer's f o o t a g e w a s s e m inal in m a r k i n g a n e w direction, as D a v i d H a l b e r s t a m explains: Some print reporters might and did write about atrocities, and there would be a mild reaction from the elite, a senator or t w o offended, a brief flurry of deadlines, but this was something different, this was like watching a live grenade going off in millions o f people's homes. Watching American boys, young and clean, Our boys, carrying on like the other side's soldiers always did, and doing it so casually. It was the end o f the myth that we were different, that w e were better. In the American

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FIG. 194. (opposite). Edward Kienholz, The Eleventh Hour Final, 1968. Furniture, picture, concrete rombstone/TV set with engraved screen and remote control, 144" X 168". Reinhard Onnasch Collection.

myth, born of a thousand Westerns, it was the cowboys w h o saved women and children, it was the Indians w h o were savages and committed terrible indeccncies on the helpless; and now here was just the opposite. 31

T h i s refutation o f the m y t h i c i m a g e o f the A m e r i can military as a r i g h t e o u s and v i r t u o u s agent o f peace and d e m o c r a c y thus laid o p e n to question the nature o f A m e r i c a ' s ethical c o m m i t m e n t s . T h e w o r k s o f G r o o m s and Saul l o o k b e y o n d the particularities o f the w a r to ask w h a t A m e r i c a ' s i n v o l v e m e n t in V i e t n a m said a b o u t the nation's heart and mind. V i e t n a m w a s also television's first w a r ; indeed, it w a s o f t e n called the " l i v i n g r o o m w a r . " B y the end o f 1967 the three m a j o r n e t w o r k s each had w e l l -

staffed bureaus in Saigon that provided nightly onthe-spot coverage. Though occasional reports offered in-depth analyses, more typically the videotapes featured bloody combat stories and an audio track of statistics. Few efforts were made to explain anything about Vietnam's history, culture, or ideological disputes. N o one on network television openly challenged the administration's Cold War logic. And until 1968 the networks dutifully reported the official position that America was winning the war. Kienholz's The Eleventh Hour Final (1968) [Fig. 194] underscores the extraordinary role of television in bringing the Vietnam War home, while it also suggests the distance between a televised war and a real war. He presents a classic middle-class

living room, a television set its centerpiece. But the console is concrete, like a tombstone, and the never-changing screen shows a dead headless child and the week's body count: A M E R I C A N DEAD—217, A M E R I C A N WOUNDED—563, E N E M Y DEAD—635, E N E M Y W O U N D E D — 1 2 9 1 . In this living room, it is always the eleventh hour, the time of the late-night news and the metaphoric hour before doom. Television magnified the brutality of war, yet it also mediated the effect of death, translating slaughter into a viewing experience and a scorecard of contrived numbers. It was a remote, distorted impression of the war that reached the American public, an impression more in line with a Hollywood spectacle or a public relations campaign than with documentary news coverage.

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FIG. 195. E d w a r d Kienholz, The Portable War Memorial, 1968. M i x e d media installation, 1 1 4 " x 384" x 96". Museum Ludwig, Cologne.

The Eleventh Hour Final effectively establishes the television set as a fitting tombstone for the Vietnam War. In another w o r k of 1968, The Portable War Memorial [Fig. 195], Kienholz explores the idea of a more generalized monument, a c o m m e m oration of past and future wars and American ideas about war. The tableau is divided into t w o halves, the left termed by the artist "propaganda devices" and the right "business as u s u a l . " " Highlighting the left half is a replication of the famous image of U . S . Marines raising the A m e r i can flag at I w o J i m a . M Kienholz depicts the icon quite exactingly—except that his soldiers are faceless and are raising the flag atop a patio table. B e hind them hangs another eminent war image, James M o n t g o m e r y Flagg's recruitment poster of the pointing Uncle Sam [see Fig. 175]. T h e arousing patriotic fervor is complemented by an assemblage sculpture portraying Kate Smith, best known

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for turning Irving Berlin's " G o d Bless A m e r i c a " into an unofficial national anthem. Within the tableau, the song plays continuously, emanating f r o m a tape hidden within the garbage can that represents Smith's rotund body. In front of the marines, standing center stage, is a large blackboard covered with the chalked names of 475 once-independent nations that no longer exist. A n attached eraser and piece of chalk facilitate additions or corrections to this giant international tombstone. A t the top of the board, on an inverted cross emblazoned with an American eagle, is the inscription A P O R T A B L E W A R M E M O R I A L C O M M E M O R A T I N G V — D A Y 19 . Like the blackboard and e m p t y faces of the soldiers, blank spaces invite future generations to c o m plete the details as warranted. Separately and together, the "propaganda devices" articulate a world history of ongoing w a r fare that is glorified in perpetuity by national w a r

memorials. Erected to c o m m e m o r a t e fallen heroes and their patriotic cause, w a r memorials are also potent political tools for national aggrandizement. Kienholz undercuts the notion o f glorification by p r o p o s i n g one all-purpose tableau that makes the particulars o f name, place, cause, and time insignificant. B y situating the memorials in e v e r y d a y cont e x t s — a backyard table, a s c h o o l r o o m chalkb o a r d — K i e n h o l z suggests that despite all the speechifying and memorializing, m o d e r n societies have a blasé attitude toward war. War is, in the terms K i e n h o l z uses to describe the second half o f his construction, "business as usual." T h e "business as usual" portion o f the w o r k is a typical A m e r i c a n snack bar, replete w i t h a fastf o o d counter advertising hot d o g s and chili, a C o k e machine, and m o r e patio furniture. T h e setting, c o m p o s e d o f actual functional objects, is a cliché o f o n - t h e - g o , mass produced, populist A m e r i c a n c o m f o r t . B u t within the otherwise placid e n v i r o n -

ment, at the back o f the snack bar, K i e n h o l z has placed a tombstone. U n l i k e the m o r e ostentatious " p r o p a g a n d a " memorials, this t o m b s t o n e is utterly simple, devoid o f any inscription and bearing o n l y one tiny figure: a crucified man w i t h burned hands. K i e n h o l z has referred to it as " t h e last t o m b s t o n e , " identifying the burns as " m a n k i n d ' s nuclear predictability and responsibility." 3 4 Its presence amid the daily clutter o f "business as usual" portends that this all-American scene m a y b e c o m e the next and final link in the chain o f portable w a r memorials. Like Kienholz, Claes O l d e n b u r g became preoccupied w i t h the concept o f public m o n u m e n t s . B u t O l d e n b u r g seized u p o n the notion o f erecting massive statues o f utilitarian objects as w i t t y ironic tributes to e v e r y d a y A m e r i c a n life. T h o u g h his proposals w e r e not conceived as political c o m ments, Lipstick (Ascending) on Caterpillar Tracks (1969) [Fig. 196] became a s y m b o l o f defiant anti-

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war sentiments. T h e monument was commissioned by dissident students at Yale University in response to an exhortatory remark by Herbert Marcuse about the subversive potential of satirical a r t . " T h e colossal column is at once a woman's cosmetic and a towering phallus, emerging from an object used both for f a r m production and military aggression. T h e sexual innuendos suggest a theme of love, but the machine treads, exemplary of roughshod treatment, transfigure the lipstick into a bullet or missile. T h e oppositional structuring and emphatic materiality of the oversized objects provoke thoughts about power, violence, oppression, and exploitation—the exploitation of w o m e n by the cosmetic industry, the exploitation of w o m e n by men, and the exploitation of Vietnam by American combat forces. In its way, Lipstick captures the polarities of a period in which " M a k e love not w a r " became a rallying cry that divided the nation. In the late sixties people took to the streets both to proclaim a peace-loving rebellion in favor of sexual freedom and to stage an angry revolt against establishment politics and A m e r ican imperialism in Vietnam. T h e unrest signaled both deepening fissures in the American dream and the possibility of a new American vision that would disavow militarism, materialism, and puritanism. Oldenburg's Lipstick, Rosenquist's F-m, Kienholz's The Portable War Memorial, and other politically sensitive works of art stirred public controversy about the place and purpose of art in American society. Artists argued among themselves about the role of political conscience and responsibility in creative life. Various individual artists designed posters and donated their works for benefit auctions, and groups of artists organized to participate in demonstrations, to stage protest exhibitions and special projects, and to run newspaper ads. 5 ' A m o n g the most notable collective activities were the " E n d Your Silence" ad in the New York Times (June 27, 1965) signed by five hundred artists, the creation of the California Peace Tower of 1966 in Los Angeles, and the Collage of Indignation in N e w York (January 29-February 5, 1967). Controversy over activist art moved into the realm of courtroom debate when the Stephen R a d ich Gallery on Madison Avenue exhibited a series of sculpture constructions by Marc Morrel (December 1966-January 1967). Morrel, a Vietnam veteran, had shaped American flags into cadavers, bound flags in chains, and slung flags f r o m nooses in order to arouse concern about American atrocities in Vietnam and to protest the country's involvement in an undeclared, immoral war. Despite his intentions, the sculptures were attacked as dese-

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FIG. 19(1. Clacs Oldenburg, Lipstick (Ascending) on Caterpillar Tracks, iy6y. Corten steel, plastic, and w o o d , painted with enamel, 288" x 252" X 204". Yale University Art Gallery, N e w Haven, Connecticut.

crations of the flag, and gallery-owner Radich was arrested, tried, and convicted for showing them. The case sparked a fury of reaction in the national press and in the art world. 3 7 A t issue was the censorship of artistic expression and artistic display, an artist's right to use the flag and a gallery's right to exhibit the flag in or as art. After years of appeals, Radich was acquitted in the fall of 1974, but not before a wave of further appropriations of the flag by antiwar protestors and the passage of a flagdesecration bill by the U . S . Congress (June 20, 1967) tested the limits of freedom in the use of the flag. T h o u g h few artists had an overt political program, many created works imbued with a political

* f i g . 197. Robert Rauschenberg, Kite, 1963. Oil and silkscreen on canvas, 84"X6O". Collection o f Ileana and Michael Sonnabend.

sensibility or works that responded to the tensions in American culture. B y repeatedly choosing charged or potentially charged images and presenting them in w a y s that encouraged thinking about American life, they captured the dynamics of a nation in flux, a nation whose revered dream was being impugned by domestic protests and international geopolitics. Rather than express longing for a paradise lost or hope for a new Utopia, artists of

the 1960s delineated the stalemating of the A m e r i can dream. In Rauschenberg's Kite (1963) [Fig. 197], for example, an American flag parade and bald eagle intone patriotism, but these assertions of national glory are eclipsed by evidence of dissension created by flag and troop collisions within the parade and the appearance of a hovering army helicopter poised to bring assistance or to quash an opposing

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* F I C . 198. Robert Rauschenberg, Tracer, 1963. O i l and silkscreen on canvas, 84" x 60". T h e Nelson-Atkins Museum o f Art, Kansas City, Missouri. Nelson Gallery Foundation Purchase.

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power. T h e i m a g e recalls the use o f military squadrons in Little R o c k , B i r m i n g h a m , and Selma, as well as in Korea and C u b a . T h e blood-red eagle, perched atop a stream o f vertical thrusts that resemble rocket blasts, also has an inauspicious cast as it suggests global autocracy and a will to d o m i nate outer space. A n d although the pale s k y and zone o f p u r i f y i n g whiteness e v o k e a quietude, they are smattered w i t h black markings and dramatically j u x t a p o s e d by opaque o m i n o u s planes o f darkness. Rauschenberg's depiction thus presents an i m a g e o f discord and tension, an A m e r i c a seething with aggressions, torn by strife at h o m e , and driven by an imperialist quest abroad and to spheres beyond. Similarly, Rauschenberg's Tracer (1963) [Fig. 198] is a composition strained and dichotomized. Areas o f black, s o m e underlined by a bloody-red coloration, contrast with airy white and blue realms. T h e black adds a f o r e b o d i n g note to the images o f a r m y helicopters, an A m e r i c a n eagle", and a typical A m e r i c a n street. Rauschenberg's disj u n c t i v e juxtapositions and overlappings c o n v e y a sense o f societal turmoil, which is c o m p o u n d e d by t w o inexplicable h o l l o w cubes that float in the surrounding space. In the midst o f this disorienting environment is a Rubens nude—Venus, the g o d dess o f beauty, posed before a mirror in serene, vain self-contcmplation. Her mythohistoric anccstry and subsequent refined, European lineage w o u l d seem the antithesis o f the m o d e r n A m e r i c a n vernacular. Yet, with due irony, Rauschenberg establishes a visual dialogue between her regal posture and that o f the proud A m e r i c a n eagle, between the grandeur o f European art and the chaos o f contemporary A m e r i c a . Venus, s y m b o l o f beauty and love, stares into her mirror even as the A m e r i c a n public goes about its e v e r y d a y business and the a r m y helicopters prepare f o r another round o f w a r f a r e . What docs she see in her mirror? Perhaps America's sense o f itself as a glorious, even vainglorious, nation. In m a n y w a y s , Tracer epitomizes the quandaries o f p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n art. T h o u g h artists asserted the A m e r i c a n identity o f their w o r k , they raised questions and aroused doubts about the nature o f that American identity. T h e i r w o r k manifests cultural pride, yet subjects A m e r i c a n icons and the A m e r i c a n dream to a r e - v i e w i n g . M u c h o f their w o r k celebrates its Americanness even as it exposes the underside, the polarities, the inconsistencies, and the failures o f the nation's promise. P o s t w a r art w a s , in sum, an art quite in tune with its t i m e — an era o f American exuberance and anxiety, confrontation and u n m a s k i n g , change and ambivalence.

N O T E S 1. See statements by Indiana in an interview with Gene R. Swenson, " W h a t Is Pop A r t ? " Artnews 62 ( N o vember 1963): 2 7 , 63. 2. Indiana, quoted in " C o m m a n d i n g Painter," Time 83 (May 22, 1964): 72. 3. For a probing discussion of Demuth's painting and Williams's poem, see Dickran Tashjian, William Carlos Williams and the American Scene, 1920—1940, catalogue for an exhibition at the Whitney Museum o f American Art, N e w York (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1978), 7 1 - 7 2 . 4. D'Arcangelo discussed his involvement in the test ban protests in an interview with the author, October 2 5 , 1984. For a discussion of Kennedy's civil defense program, see William L. O'Neill, Coming Apart: An Informal History of America in the 1960s (Chicago: Quadrangle,

197O. 44-46. 5. Rebecca Solnit, " B r u c e Conner: T h e Assemblage Years," Expo-see 14 (January-February 1985), n.p. 6. For a good discussion of Conner's art, see Philip Leider, " B r u c e Conner: A N e w Sensibility," Artforum 1 (November 1962): 3 0 - 3 1 . 7. Grant, Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant, vol. 1 ( N e w York: Webster and C o . , 1885). I am grateful to Betty Factor for informing me of this source. 8. Warhol, quoted by Swenson, " W h a t Is Pop A r t ? " 60. In this interview Warhol also stated that the car-crash paintings were a response to headlines like " T h e Wreck That Made C o p s C r y " and news broadcasts that casually reported extraordinary statistics, especially on holidays, where "every time you turned on the radio they said something like, '4 million are going to die.' " 9. T h e landmark account of the Hell's Angels is Hunter S. Thompson's Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga ( N e w York: Random House, 1966). For a summary of Hell's Angels activities, see O ' N e i l l , Coming Apart, 2 7 2 - 7 4 . 10. Quoted by Martin H. Bush in Duane Hanson, exhibition catalogue (Wichita, Kans.: Ulrich Museum of Art, Wichita State University, 1976), 6. See also Bush's essay, "Hyper-Realist Sculptures of Duane Hanson," in Duane Hanson, exhibition catalogue (Tokyo: Asahi Shimbun, 1984), 7 3 - 7 9 11. Time 87 (April 29, 1966): 52. 12.

"Violence and History," Time 91 (April 19, 1968):

4413. Rauschenberg's inclusion of this image may have been inspired by Marcel Duchamp's Wanted, Ready Made (1923), in which a wanted poster shows Duchamp as the sought-after criminal. 14. See statements by Philip Johnson, the pavilion's architect, in Rainer Crone, Andy Warhol, trans. John William Gabriel ( N e w York: Praeger, 1970), 30. Although the original series w a s whitewashed, Warhol made a second set of paintings from the screens, which he had kept. 15. A n d y Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again) ( N e w York and London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975), 85.

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16. Statement by Drexler, in the archival records of the Hirshhorn M u s e u m and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D . C . 17. "A Gun-Toting Nation," Time 88 (August 12, 1966): 15. 18. Time 91 (June 2 1 , 1968): 13. 19. Chessman published an autobiography, Cell 2455, Death Row (1954); t w o works of nonfiction, Duel by Ordeal (1955) and The Face of Justice (19S7); and a novel, The Kid Was a Killer (i960). 20. As noted by O'Neill, Coming Apart, 277, Osservatore Romano, the Vatican's offical newspaper, called the execution barbaric. 21. For comments by the artist, see Lucy R. Lippard, " M a y Stevens' Big Daddies" in May Stevens Big Daddy, ¡967-75, exhibition catalogue ( N e w York: Lerner-Heller Gallery, 1975); and Lawrence Alloway, May Stevens, exhibition catalogue (Ithaca, N . Y.: Herbert F. Johnson M u seum of Art, Cornell University, 1973). 22. Andy Warhol and Pat Hackett, POPism: The Warhol '60s (New York and London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980), 60. 23. According to the present owner, this 1963 version was the first composition devised for the Jackie images and the only one assembled by Warhol. T h e artist's arrangement was documented in a diagram by Eleanor Ward, owner of the Stable Gallery and Warhol's dealer at the time. Unlike most other Jackie paintings, this version includes all eight variants of the portrait and their reversals. The title, which appears in Crone's Andy Warhol, was probably given to the composition by Leo Castelli. Paschke, quoted by Robert Glauber in Violence in 24. Recent American Art, exhibition catalogue (Chicago: M u seum of Contemporary Art, 1968), n.p. 25. O'Neill, Coming Apart, 98. 26. Edward J. Epstein used the term "mythopoeic melodrama" in his review "Manchester Unexpurgated," Commentary 44 (July 1967): 2 5 - 3 1 . 27. Life 54 (May 17, 1963): 3 0 - 3 1 ; Time 81 (May 10, 1963): 19; Newsweek 61 (May 13, 1963): 27. 28. Time 90 (August 11, 1967): 11. 29. All quotations and paraphrases of Rosenquist's views are from Gene R. Swenson, "An Interview with James Rosenquist," Partisan Review 32 (Autumn 1965): 589-601; and Henry Geldzahler, "James Rosenquist's Flu," The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 26 (March 1968): 2 7 7 - 8 1 . 30. Rosenquist, quoted in Richard F. Shepard, "To What Lengths Can Art Go?" New York Times, May 13, 1965, p- 3931. David Halberstam, The Powers That Be (New York: Dell, 1980), 684. 32. Edward Kienholz, "Letter to the Editor," Artforum 7 (Summer 1969): 4 - 6 . For a detailed identification of the imagery in the tableau, see Dieter Ronte, "Le m o n u ment aux morts transportable d'Edward Kienholz," L'Oeil 216 (December 1972): 22-29. 33. In 1945 Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal recorded the flag raising. His photograph appeared in countless newspapers and magazines of the day and

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subsequently in posters, stamps, and films. Felix dc Weldon's translation of the image into a bronze m o n u m e n t stands in Arlington National Cemetery. 34. Kienholz, "Letter," 4. 35. For a complete discussion and history of this work, see The "Lipstick" Comes Back, exhibition catalogue (New Haven, C o n n . : Yale University Art Gallery, 1974), essay by Susan P. Casteras. 36. For a discussion of political activism, see Theresc Schwartz, " T h e Politicization of the Avant-Garde," parts 1 and 2, Art in America 59 (November-December 1971): 97-105; 60 (March-April 1972): 70-79. 37. See Carl R. Baldwin, "Art and the Law: The Flag in Court Again," Art in America 62 (May-June 1974): 50-54; "A Test Case for Old Glory," Life 62 (March 3 1 , 1967): 18-25, 65-66; and Hilton Kramer, "A Case for Artistic Freedom," New York Times, March 1, 1970, section 2, p. 25. In 1962 when George Herms included a flag assemblage, Macks, in an exhibition at the Pasadena Art M u seum, it met with outspoken protest from the American Legion. The museum closed in reponse, but reopened after its board agreed to stand behind the artist. But someone had ripped the flag from the assemblage in protest. Herms decided to leave the "desecrated" work on display with the following note in place of the flag: " T h e piece has been raped by a madman. Despite this degradation the forces of creation will go on. Love, G. H . "

M T h e 1950s and 1960s were decades o f extraordinary economic, social, and political change in the United States, and the nation's artists captured both the celebratory aura and the sociopolitical tensions that marked the era. Artists w e r e inspired or affected by n e w f o r m s o f housing and transportation, the enhanced p o w e r o f mass c o m m u n i c a t i o n s and promotional strategies, the pervasiveness o f standardization and c o n f o r m i t y , the omnipresence o f commercialism and c o n s u m e r i s m , the expansion o f mechanization and mass production, and the emergence o f a shared national identity. A s never before, art explored and exposed the lineaments o f A m e r i c a n culture. In setting forth an original A m e r i c a n i c o n o g r a p h y and asserting innovative attitudes t o w a r d i m age presentation, p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n artists challenged prevailing canons o f subject matter and taste and renounced the universalist, purist conceptions embraced by modernist theory. T h e y abandoned the modernist search for a sublime s y m b o l , the quest for a glorious redemptive m y t h , and disa v o w e d the modernist faith in Utopian idealism. T h e artists w h o succeeded the A b s t r a c t E x p r e s sionists in establishing an internationally r e n o w n e d A m e r i c a n vanguard focused on the actuality o f the present, including its most banal and irrational elements. T h e y l o o k e d at the w o r l d as it w a s , w i t h no expectation that it w o u l d be s o m e t h i n g other. A n d unlike their predecessors, they did not by reflex disdain c o m m e r c i a l i s m or spurn mass culture. Whereas earlier generations o f m o d e r n artists had hinted at esoteric messages encoded in private m e t aphors and obscure allusions, this generation o f postwar A m e r i c a n artists offered accessible images d r a w n f r o m the reservoir o f mass culture. T h e practices o f these p o s t w a r A m e r i c a n artists challenged not only the modernist sense o f i n d i v i d ual expression but also its definition o f artistic o r i g inality and creativity. T h e advent o f the electronic and print technologies and advancements in c o m puters and photocopiers t h o r o u g h l y subverted traditional distinctions between p r i m a r y and secondary experience, b e t w e e n o n e - o f - a - k i n d originals and machine-produced replications. T h e instantaneity o f the n e w systems o f c o m m u n i c a t i o n p r o vided a semblance o f freshness and uniqueness but also facilitated rapid obsolescence and the prospect o f endless duplications and repetitions o f the w e l l k n o w n and already seen. In p o s t w a r art the l o n g hallowed reverence for originality and the m o d e r n ist exaltation o f innovation and singularity g a v e w a y to an aesthetic predicated on replications o f b o r r o w e d mass-produced images.

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T h e means and methods of mass media c o m m u nication, moreover, dispelled the modernist idea of an absolute and the conception of images as bearers of essential, momentous, certain, sacrosanct, or symbolic meaning. Media-conscious artists did not engage in a search for the perfect f o r m of conveying the quintessential truths o f life, but rather revealed the dualities and paradoxes in contemporary society and concerned themselves with the vicissitudes o f image appearance and perception. T h e y discerned the potency of the presentational mode as a signifier of meaning, and they observed the influence of advertising and public relations activity in shaping the meaning, perception, and interpretation of images. Their art attests to the varied effects of image repetition and saturation, while also g i v ing vivid evidence of h o w scale, color, and compositional design reinforce, alter, or altogether obscure meaning. These postwar American artists also defied the central premise of art for art's sake. Rather than asserting the autonomy of art, they set forth compelling dialogues that relocated art within life—everyday life—and they used materials and images from life for or as part of their art. In doing so, they overturned hierarchical assumptions about high and mass culture and repudiated elitist views about the privileged status of art. A s Claes Oldenburg declared: I a m f o r an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does s o m e t h i n g other than sit on its ass in a m u s e u m . I a m f o r an art that g r o w s u p not k n o w i n g it is art at all, an art g i v e n the chance o f h a v i n g a starting point o f zero. I a m f o r an art that e m b r o i l s itself w i t h the e v e r y d a y crap & still c o m e s out o n top. I a m f o r an art that imitates the h u m a n , that is c o m i c , if necessary, or violent, o r w h a t e v e r is necessary. I a m f o r an art that takes its f o r m f r o m the lines o f life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is h e a v y and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself. 1

T h e art of Warhol, Ruscha, Kienholz, Johns, Lichtenstein, Bechtle, and others thus marks the collapse of modernism and announces the initial phase of a counterpulse that has come to be called postmodernism. With the perspective of time, it is increasingly apparent that this art is neither an aberrant phase of modernism nor an isolated novel phenomenon, but the forefront of a new orientation. This is an art that does not pay heed to the conceptual, iconographic, and aesthetic paradigms

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of modernism, but offers an alternative more suited to a mass culture, nuclear-age society. It is an art full of the richness and anxieties of the postw a r era, an art whose historical significance is only n o w attaining its due as critics and historians accommodate the postmodernist sensibility. 2 During the 1970s attitudes now identified with postmodernism evolved, and an American iconography was sustained, especially in the flourishing of photorealist paintings of suburban and urban environments, and of verist sculpture of Middle A m e r icans and commonplace manufactured objects. But the main innovations of seventies art had no specific reference to American mass culture, and reactions against mass production, mechanistic aesthetics, and a commodity orientation abounded. Some artists turned to craft techniques; others developed art concerned with process, direct experience, or pure ideas. A resurgence of interest in nature and physical systems was most notable in monumental earthworks, which were situated in remote locations far from the banalities of urban life, the commercial ambiance of galleries, or the public spectacle of museums. Moreover, many artists turned away f r o m mass culture to explore questions of individual identity on the basis of sex, race, class, or ethnic distinctions. For example, artists inspired by the burgeoning feminist movement created compositions that asserted a feminist point of view and commented on the role of w o m e n in society. N o tably, this art had a decidedly personal tone and an overtly political character. T h e return of figuration in the late 1970s brought a new interest in the semiotic power of images and presentational modes, which developed in the early 1980s into a rigorous concern with the dynamics of visual communication. Artists again began to borrow images and techniques f r o m the mass media, though the primary emphasis now fell on the issue of appropriation and on the deconstruction of cultural messages subsumed within media imagery. B y manipulating and exaggerating quotations from advertising, movies, and television, artists like Barbara Kruger, C i n d y Sherman, Robert Longo, and David Salle revealed underlying layers of implicit codified meaning. In their juxtapositions of words and images, and in their bold displays of isolated figures, these artists reinvigorate presentational strategies developed by artists like Rosenquist, Ruscha, Lichtenstein, Warhol, Thiebaud, and Wesselmann. T h e newer generation's art, moreover, is also grounded in a vernacular that reasserts a connection between art and

American mass culture. B u t whereas postwar artists focused mainly on objects and environments, the eighties artists focus mainly on p e o p l e — n o t nameable people but stereotyped American figures s h o w n in stereotyped mass media roles. T h e n e w emphasis on narrative, f o r e x a m p l e in the w o r k o f Eric Fischl, R o b e r t Yarber, and Sue C o e , includes references to A m e r i c a n values and resumes the p o s t w a r reassessment o f the A m e r i c a n dream and the A m e r i c a n dilemma. M u c h o f the art o f the eighties deals with m i d dle-American culture and the corporate w o r l d o f signs and experience, but there is a revival o f attentiveness to the urban environment and fringe street life as well. Such subject matter is most pronounced in the paintings o f artists like Keith H a r ing, K e n n y Scharf, and Jean Michel Basquiat, w o r k s that feature graffiti scrawls and figurations inspired by comics and other sources outside the realm o f high art. In their expressive vitality and irreverence, their disjunctiveness and rawness, these compositions recall the early art o f Rauschenberg, Jess, Saul, or the Hairy Who.

N O T E S 1. Claes Oldenburg, Store Days (New York: Something Else Press, 1967), 39. 2. See especially, Frederic Jameson, "Postmodernism and Consumer Society," in The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, ed. Hal Foster (Port Townsend, Wash.: Bay Press, 1983), 1 1 1 - 2 5 ; and essays by Lawrence Alloway, Donald B. Kuspit, Martha Rosier, and Jan van der Marck in The Idea of the Post-Modem (Seattle: University of Washington, Henry Art Gallery, 1981).

J u s t as an A m e r i c a n focus has resurfaced in American art, artists abroad have turned to their o w n countries' heritages in order to c o m e to terms with history or present circumstances. T h e most vivid example o f this self-examination occurs in contemporary G e r m a n painting, w i t h artists like J o r g I m m e n d o r f , Anselm Kiefer, and A . R . Penck confronting such issues as N a z i s m , cultural disintegration, and East-West polarities. A s in A m e r i c a n art o f the 1950s and 1960s, G e r m a n art o f the 1980s forthrightly depicts cultural images that are e v o c a tive o f disturbing realities. Neither idealizing nor obscuring their situation, these artists determinedly raise issues o f national import and use images particular to their o w n culture. A s they seek to avert generalities and face the complexities o f a k n o w n , experienced life, they counter anew the universalist, Utopian pulse o f m o d e r n i s m . T h u s in recent years a n e w generation o f artists is r e v i v i f y i n g many o f the issues, images, and presentational modes explored by A m e r i c a n artists o f the fifties and sixties. Critical interest in p o s t m o d e r n ism is also spurring n e w appreciation o f A m e r i c a n p o s t w a r art, encouraging serious reconsideration o f its attributes and contribution to art history. Too, the continued strength and creative g r o w t h o f individual artists—Artschwager, Kienholz, O l d e n b u r g , R i n g g o l d , A r n e s o n , N u t t , and Paschke, f o r e x a m p l e — g i v e added resonance to the conceptual and iconographic richness o f the w o r k they produced at the beginnings o f their careers.

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James E. B. Breslin Frank O'Hara, Popular Culture, and American Poetry in the 1950s I want to be / at least as alive as the vulgar. Frank O'Hara, " M y Heart"

" P o e t r y was declining / Painting advancing / w e were complaining / it was 'so.' M Frank O ' H a r a wrote these lines in 1 9 5 7 — b y which time both painting and poetry were advancing. In 1956 Allen Ginsberg had dramatically announced the presence of a new generation of young poets w h o would revitalize American poetry; at the same time young painters such as Larry Rivers, Robert Rauschenberg, and Jasper Johns had boldly begun to push American art away from Abstract Expressionism. Appropriately, O'Hara's flip but accurate assessment of the state of the arts in 1950 was written for the first o f a series of lithographs, " S t o n e s , " on which he collaborated with Larry Rivers. Titled " U S , " the first lithograph suggested a personal and artistic bond ( " u s " = O ' H a r a and Rivers) and a shared commitment to vernacular materials ( " U S " = United States). In the late 1950s both poetry and painting were energized by a new and complex relation to specifically American materials; and at least some o f the p o e t s — O ' H a r a in particular—were directly affected by the painters. Surely, the history of American poetry between 1920 and 1950 had been one of declinc. T h e modernists—the generation of T. S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, William Carlos Williams, H. D . , Wallace Stevens, Marianne Moore—had joined literary rebellion, social dissidence, and monumental achievement. To be a " m o d e r n " poet, to be of the "present," meant accepting nothing from the literary tradition as given. T h e past became a " s o u v e n i r , " as Wallace Stevens wrote in " O f Modern Poetry"; or as Williams more defiantly put it, " N o t h i n g is good save the n e w . " Modern poetry had begun with Imagism, which stripped the lyric to its most elementary constituent part;—the image. Pound titled his epic poem The Cantos not for its subject but for its basic formal unit, and his efforts to redefine poetic f o r m extended (as did Williams's) to the poetic line itself: " t o break the pentameter, that was the first heave." It was not just that the modernists wished to move beyond certain Romantic and Victorian styles that they believed had been played out; their aims were more radical—going to the root. T h e y displaced attention from overarching wholes to constituent parts because they wanted to rebuild their medium f r o m the ground up. Such experiments were not narrowly literary investigations into the possibilities and limits of poetic f o r m , for modernism was a literary response to a broad cultural crisis. All ways of ordering and interpreting experience had become suspect in the aftershock of what Stevens called " t h e annihilation of the g o d s . " T h e modern moment was a secular moment, into which man was thrown "unspon-

sored"—without the protection of final ends or s:able values. Modernist writers were challenged, then, to find f o r m s for an era in which the act of forming had become highly self-conscious and problematic. " T h e s e fragments I have shored against m y ruins," Eliot wrote at the close of The Waste Land, making, as did many of his generation, the struggle to write the poem part of the meaning of the poem. These poets were aware of themselves as moderns, and that self-awareness also became a subject o f their work—as in Stevens's " O f Modern Poetry." M a n y of the modernists attached Salvationist hopes to poetic order; Stevens, for one, wrote eloquently of the "blessed rage for order," a rage that was generated by the perceived lack of order but that did not inspire him to imagine an order that was absolute—full, fixed, and final. Rather Stevens's idea of order was provisional, tentative, and shifting. Eliot's The Waste Land, Williams's Spring and AH, Pound's Cantos, Stevens's "Sunday M o r n i n g " — e a c h of these innovative works confronts cultural disintegration. These poets tried to absorb as much of the chaos and flux of the contemporary world as they could—pushing poetry very close to the breaking point. B y 1950, however, the modernist rebellion had degenerated into a genteel academicism. Surveying the "present state of p o e t r y " as late as 1958, Delmore Schwartz declared that " w h a t was once a battlefield has become a peaceful public park on a pleasant summer Sunday afternoon." 2 With this image of a tranquil, orderly, cultivated space isolated f r o m sordid urban realities and disruptive psychic energies, Schwartz accurately characterized both the diminished achievement of American poetry in the 1950s and the poetic theory that produced that pleasant malaise. The once-provocative principles of modernism were now assumed as the comfortable starting point for young poets and critics. N o longer scandalous, no longer modern, these principles now generated a poetry that was more polite than passionate, more respectful than revolutionary. Modernism had been domesticated. T h e younger poets of the 1950s were far more eager to placate than to displace authority. Writers such as James Merrill, W. S. M e r w i n , Adrienne Rich, Peter Viereck, Richard Wilbur—all of w h o m began their careers in the decade following World War II—adopted an avowedly conservative program. Accepting the designation N e w Formalists, they aspired to complete the modernist revolt by returning poetry to precisely those traditional means—accentual meters and predetermined forms—that the more adventurous modernists had sought to abolish. In what amounted to an ars po-

etica, Richard Wilbur asserted that " e v e r y poem begins, or ought to, by a disorderly retreat to defensible positions." 3 T h e aim was no longer to stretch literature to include the fragmented, discordant materials of modern life, but to pull back to what poetry could safely absorb. T h e new idea o f order stressed stability: f o r m was a pre-existing order that served as a defense against chaos. A s A d rienne Rich later recalled, " I n those years formalism was part of the strategy—like asbestos gloves, it allowed me to handle materials I couldn't pick up bare-handed." 4 T h e modernists had struggled to wrench order out of chaos, but the N e w Formalists did not confront the social and psychic forces that might contest their poetic orders. A s a result, their poems were well-tooled and pleasant to read but hard to care about. In their caution and withdrawal these emerging poets were supported by a powerful generation of literary fathers—the N e w Critics. In the 1950s, criticism dictated to poetry; practice was particularly governed by such N e w Critical eminences as Allen Tate and J o h n C r o w e Ransom. Their technique of close reading implicitly admonished young poets to be scrupulous rather than adventurous, controlled rather than extravagant. But the N e w Critics' allegedly neutral techniques of reading and interpretation were also a means to enforce a particular and rather narrow poetic ideology. T h e N e w Critics distinguished between prose (or science), which is rational, abstract, and discursive, and poetry (or art), which combines thinking and feeling in a seamless artistic whole. A w o r k of art thus becomes a " w e l l - w r o u g h t u r n " or "verbal icon," an autonomous and self-enclosed space (like Schwartz's public park) that has been purified of all personal, social, or political bias. T h e true artist, then, is to take the only "defensible position"— which is no position at all. T h e only values allowed the poet are the revered N e w Critical triumvirate: irony, paradox, and ambiguity. T h e N e w Critics' notion of art as autonomous and transcendent represented an effort to free art f r o m the contaminations of ideology, but separating the aesthetic f r o m the historical turned out to be a prescription for the enervation that marked American poetry in the fifties. Modernist art had been critical of both its o w n procedures and the social values that gave authority to those procedures; the poetry of the 1950s, claiming to transcend the contingent and the historical, simply reflected the social values of its historical moment. T h e skepticism of ideology, the emphasis on control over freedom, the eager compliance, the flight f r o m history itself—all were literary versions

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of attitudes widely held in American society in the fifties. C o l d War politics, seemingly validated by America's economic prosperity, set the domestic agenda: social conformity, intellectual timidity, and rule by consensus. In " T h e Present State of A m e r i can Poetry," Delmore Schwartz asserted that the writer's consciousness of "the growing spectre of the totalitarian state," along with "the growing poverty and helplessness of Western E u r o p e , " had made America, not Europe, "the sanctuary of culture." This view worked, implicitly, to repress dissent: " t o criticize the actuality upon which all hope depends thus becomes a criticism of hope itself." 5 Who will venture to criticize hope? T h e inhabitants o f the American sanctuary are clearly expected to speak in hushed, grateful tones—not in an angry " h o w l " of protest. T h e twin themes of a reconciliation with and a withdrawal f r o m A m e r i c a — o f America as a sanctuary for culture, and of High Culture as a sanctuary f r o m America—pervaded the now notorious Partisan Review symposium o f 1952, " O u r C o u n try and O u r C u l t u r e . " According to the editors' opening statement, " m o s t writers no longer accept alienation as the artist's fate in America; on the contrary, they want very much to be a part of A m e r i can l i f e . ' " All but a f e w of the contributors agreed with this observation, with Richard Chase, for example, dismissing "estrangement" as either a "literary pose or the product of a personal neurosis." American artists no longer needed to turn to Europe. Yet the symposium's contributors, many of them reformed leftists, were careful to establish that their acceptance of America was not unequivocal. What they chose to criticize, however, was not the politics of the C o l d War, not the problems created by advanced capitalism or by racism, but the dangers of " a mass culture which makes [the artist] feel that he is still outside looking i n . " Along with a good deal of complacency, the symposium generated a strong sense of crisis. T h e crisis, however, was not defined as political or social or economic, but as aesthetic and cultural. T h e artist, matured beyond adolescent rebellion, wished to be part of American life, but mass culture displaced him, kept him outside looking in. N o n e of the symposium's participants stopped to analyze mass culture; they merely evoked its specter in highly mythicized and grimly apocalyptic language: Its tendency is to exclude everything which does not conform to popular norms; it creates and satisfies artificial appetites in the entire populace; it has grown into a major industry which converts culture into commodity. Its overshadowing presence cannot be disregarded in any evaluation of the future of American art and thought. 214

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Invasive and engulfing, mass culture usurps High Culture; it annihilates differences and levels; it stimulates desire; it corrupts. Liberal remedies tended to emphasize the need to elevate the populace through education—a kind of cultural imperialism; Newton Arvin proposed to "master and fertilize it." As this language suggests, some of the Partisan crew imagined mass culture to be a passive female body that required the dominance of a male creative elite to bring it to fullness. M o s t of the contributors, however, preferred a stern aloofness. Irving H o w e concluded that "the least w e can do is to keep apart and refuse its f a v o r s , " implying that mass culture was a temptress too dangerous to even approach. And all agreed that the relation between High Culture and mass culture was necessarily antagonistic. High Culture, in fact, was a refuge and defense against mass culture. Most of the participants in the symposium had no doubt been affected by Clement Greenberg's "Avant-Garde and Kitsch," which Partisan Review published in 1939. 7 According to Greenberg, the avant-garde artist turns from the capitalist marketplace to achieve purity and authenticity by exploring "the disciplines and processes" of his own medium; kitsch appropriates the discoveries of the avant-garde and converts them into easily consumed commodities for a mass market. What begins as authentic ends up a stereotyped and massproduced simulacrum. Greenberg's tidy polarization of avant-garde and kitsch conveniently ignored the numerous instances in which a decadent high art was energized by an encounter with popular culture. His schema fails to consider, for example, the case of Cubist collage, with its newspapers, wallpaper, cigarette papers, oilcloth, and the like. O f course, neither the Partisan Review s y m p o sium participants nor the literary establishment of the fifties constituted an avant-garde: they were an academy. Greenberg goes on to point out that since kitsch loots the genuinely new, "all kitsch is academic; and conversely, all that's academic is kitsch. For what is called the academic as such 110 longer has an independent existence, but has become the stuffed-shirt 'front' for kitsch." The assumption of an inevitable antagonism between high and low, then, derived f r o m an uneasy sense of a powerful resemblance between them. In the 1950s artists and intellectuals were no longer bohemians or popular-front radicals; they were solidly bourgeois. T h e poetry produced by the literary hegemony was easily marketable, watereddown, derivative w o r k , delivered in prepackaged forms. The mythic threat of mass culture sustained the illusion among accommodating artists and intellectuals that they were indeed still on the outside

looking in; they had not been deceived or corrupted. At the same time, the bogey o f mass culture established High Culture as a sanctuary (a male sanctuary) f r o m the perils or wiles of popular America. T h e creative elite w h o participated in the Partisan Review symposium were actually defining their country, their culture. T h e insistence on excluding the historical and the social f r o m the aesthetic produced a poetry that, as Robert Lowell observed, displayed "tremendous skill" yet was "divorced f r o m culture s o m e h o w , " " p u r e l y a craft." 8 In the 1950s poetry also remained separate from the other arts. Although Greenberg proclaimed modern art to be self-critical, with each o f the arts committed to determining "the effects peculiar and exclusive to itself,'" modernism had thrived in part because of the extraordinary interaction between painting and poetry. T h e modernist proposal that a work of art was not an imitation of something but a thing itself had been appropriated, in part at least, f r o m the Cubist painters; Pound was one of the founders of Vorticism, a movement designed to embrace all the arts; and Williams and Stevens were both deeply affected by the developments in painting from Cezanne to Picasso. Yet neither the young formalist poets nor their slightly older contemporaries (the " m i d d l e " generation that included Lowell, John Berryman, and Randall Jarrell) looked across artistic boundaries for stimulation—as if cultural provincialism were a necessary part of making poetry stick to defensible positions. Ironically, the formalists' myopia worsened at the very moment that American "painting was adv a n c i n g " into a heroic age with the radical breakthroughs of the Abstract Expressionist generation—-Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Franz Kline, Robert Motherwell, and others. T h e career of Frank O'Hara illustrates how forcefully the impact of painting stimulated one young poet to open his w o r k to some of the energies in American culture and thus to find a way out of the period's poetic malaise. O'Hara's knowledge and understanding of the visual arts was intimate and sophisticated. He was a prolific and brilliant art critic, as t w o collections of his writings attest (Art Chronicles, 19541966 and Standing Still and Walking in New York). From i960 to 1966 he was a curator at the M u s e u m of Modern Art; he counted many artists a m o n g his closest friends; and he collaborated on p o e m painting projects with Larry Rivers and N o r m a n Bluhm. In particular, O ' H a r a venerated the generation of Pollock—partly because they served as exemplary models of artistic risk-taking: " T h e Abstract Expressionists decided, instead of imitating the

style of the European moderns, to do instead what they had done, to venture into the unknown, to give up looking at reproductions in Verve and Cahiers d'Art and to replace them with first-hand e x perimentation." 1 0 For the dissident young poet, the painters were, moreover, an early and enthusiastic audience: " W h e n w e all arrived in N e w York or emerged as poets in the mid 50s or late 50s, painters were the only ones w h o were interested in any kind of experimental poetry and the general literary scene was n o t . " Most important of all, O ' H a r a was "inspired by American painting . . . not in the sense of subject matter . . . but in the ambition to be that, to be the work yourself" [my emphasis]. Identifying the w o r k with the self that produced it provided O ' H a r a with an idea of creativity that could be transferred from a visual to a verbal medium—as shown by "Digression on ' N u m b e r 1 1 9 4 8 , " a poem that O'Hara inserted into the text of his monograph on Pollock: I a m ill today but I a m not t o o ill. I a m not ill at all. It is a perfect day, w a r m f o r w i n t e r , cold f o r fall. A fine day f o r seeing. I see ceramics, d u r i n g lunch h o u r b y M i r o and I see the sea by L é g e r ; L i g h t , complicated M e t z i n g e r s and a rude a w a k e n i n g by Brauner, a little table by Picasso, pink. I a m tired today but I a m not t o o tired. I a m not tired at all. T h e r e is the P o l l o c k , white, h a r m will not fall, his perfect hand and the m a n y short v o y a g e s . T h e y ' l l n e v e r fence the silver range. Stars are out and there is sea e n o u g h beneath the glistening earth to bear m e t o w a r d the future w h i c h is not so dark. I s e e . "

O ' H a r a does not attempt to describe Pollock's w o r k ; instead his poem, like Pollock's painting, is " a venture into the u n k n o w n . " "Digression on ' N u m b e r 1,' 1 9 4 8 " is about seeing—about seeing as an unfolding process of discovery. Rather than making poetry the occasion for controlling experience, O'Hara casually records the movements, the shifting, contradictory moods, the unforeseen discoveries of a lunch hour. At first he views beautiful objects (the ceramics by Mirô, the small table by Picasso) from a pleasurable distance. But when he suddenly comes upon the Pollock, the distance dis-

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solves and he is swept up into the w o r k . His earlier " I see the sea," now gives w a y to a direct apprehension of the sea as experienced by a venturesome voyager: "Stars are out and there is sea / enough beneath the glistening earth / to bear me toward the future." T h e closing monosyllables stress not the object of sight but the process of seeing: " I see." A t a time when poetry sought to " f e n c e i n " experience, Pollock thus provided the young O'Hara with a liberating alternative. Yet O'Hara's closest affinities were with the second generation of the N e w York School—most notably with Larry Rivers. From 1950 on, O ' H a r a and Rivers were friends, sometimes lovers, sometimes collaborators in multimedia projects. Their friendship inspired several of Rivers's works: a portrait of O'Hara in 1 9 5 1 , many drawings of O ' H a r a in the mid-fifties, a well-known paining of O ' H a r a f r o m 1954, a collage that served as the cover art for O'Hara's Collected Poems, and an illustration of O'Hara's " F o r the Chinese N e w Year and for Bill B e r k s o n " for the commemorative volume In Memory of My Feelings. O n O'Hara's side, there were several poems, an essay, a memoir about Rivers, and a published interview with him. T h e t w o also issued a mock manifesto, " H o w to Proceed in the Arts." A n excellent definition of their shared aesthetic appears in O'Hara's " O n Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing the Delaware at T h e Museum of Modern A r t " : N o w that o u r hero has c o m e back to us in his white pants and w e k n o w his nose trembling like a flag under fire, w e see the calm cold river is s u p p o r t i n g o u r forces, the beautiful history. T o be m o r e r e v o l u t i o n a r y than a nun is o u r desire, to be secular and intimate as, w h e n sighting a redcoat, y o u smile and pull the trigger. Anxieties and animosities, flaming and f e e d i n g on theoretical considerations and the jealous spiritualities o f the abstract, the robot? t h e y ' r e s m o k e , b i l l o w s a b o v e the physical event. T h e y h a v e burned up. See h o w free w e are! as a nation o f persons. D e a r father o f o u r country, so alive y o u must h a v e lied incessantly to be immediate, here are y o u r bones crossed o n m y breast like a rusty flintlock, a pirate's flag, b r a v e l y specific

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and e v e r so light in the misty glare o f a c r o s s i n g by w a t e r in w i n t e r to a shore other than that the b r i d g e reaches for. D o n ' t shoot until, the w h i t e o f f r e e d o m glinting on y o u r g u n barrel, y o u see the general fear. 1 2

Rivers's painting parodies the heroic idealization of Washington in Emanuel Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware. As Rivers told O'Hara in their interview: T h e last painting that dealt w i t h G e o r g e and the rebels is h a n g i n g at the M e t and w a s painted b y a coarse G e r m a n nineteenth-century academician w h o really loved N a p o leon m o r e than a n y o n e and thought crossing a river 011 a late D e c e m b e r a f t e r n o o n w a s j u s t another excuse f o r a general to assume a heroic, slightly tragic pose. . . . What could have inspired him I'll n e v e r k n o w . What / saw in the crossing w a s quite different. I s a w the m o ment as n e r v e - w r a c k i n g and u n c o m f o r t a b l e . I couldn't picture a n y o n e getting into a chilly river around C h r i s t mas time with a n y t h i n g resembling hand-on-chest heroics. 1 3

Rivers's choice of Leutze's painting, which exemplifies Greenberg's notion of the academic as kitsch, was intended to scandalize the reigning authorities in American painting in 1953, the A b stract Expressionists. Rivers explained: " I was energetic and egomaniacal and what is even more important, cocky and angry enough to want to do something 110 one in the N e w York art world would doubt was disgusting, dead, absurd. So, what could be dopier than a painting dedicated to a national cliché—Washington Crossing the Delaware." Rivers's use of a corny national cliché led some critics to designate him as the first Pop artist. B u t the label Pop is better reserved for artists like Andy Warhol, w h o took mass-manufactured objects— C o k e bottles, Campbell's soup cans—and rendered them with the slick impersonality of commercial art. Pop Art's images came not f r o m the artists' psyches but from the public domain. In this way Pop Art constituted an affront to the inwardness, spontaneity, and High Art pretensions of Abstract Expressionism. But Pop's impersonality implied a social comment—identifying the consumer's mind, in late capitalism, as blank and anonymous. Ironically, Warhol's art reiterates the view of mass culture espoused in the Partisan Review symposium. Rivers's painting, however, mocks both the academic and the avant-garde—and draws on both. Its clash of styles creates a w o r k that is human, immediate, alive, and specifically American. Culture is no longer a sanctuary.

Indeed, both Rivers's painting and O'Hara's p o e m make art a discomforting experience. G e n e r als cannot neatly control history in the w a y that Leutze's Washington does, and artists cannot neatly control their material or their m e d i u m in the w a y that Leutze appears to. In Rivers's pastiche Washington remains a focus, but the viewer's attention is dispersed around the canvas (to w h a t may be m u l tiple images o f Washington). In the absence o f stable hierarchies—stable selves—there is a universal ( " g e n e r a l " ) fear shared even by generals and artists. Yet this anxiety humanizes and animates, bringing even the stagey, cliched figure o f Washington to life. Rivers's Washington looks cold and leads an a r m y in disarray; O ' H a r a ' s Washington is cold, afraid, an incessant liar, and a killer. N o longer a historical abstraction, their f o u n d i n g father is a person, a hero in our "nation o f p e r s o n s . " O n c e w e admit the "general fear," the A m e r i c a n past can bec o m e a truly "beautiful h i s t o r y . " Rivers's Washington, already missing a right arm and leg, is threatened by the painter's cold, i n v a sive, abstract white; O ' H a r a ' s Washington is threatened by the poet's irony and verbal play. B u t in both w o r k s the general survives, asserting a human presence against the cold, the fear, the chaos, the abstraction, and the m o c k e r y . In the early 1950s both O ' H a r a and Rivers w e r e m a k i n g a " n e r v e w r a c k i n g and u n c o m f o r t a b l e " crossing o f their o w n , as their w o r k m o v e d a w a y f r o m the established formulas f o r recognition. In their playful, yet serious, revisions o f American history, Washington becomes at once a realistic person and a mythic hero, a " d e a r " revolutionary " f a t h e r , " a source o f innovative creative energy. N e w Critical d o g m a identified poetic expression as metaphoric; in his crossing O ' H a r a pushed p o etry toward the " b r a v e l y specific": " I want to be / at least as alive as the v u l g a r . " His " l u n c h p o e m s " are rapid, clear-eyed v o y a g e s o f discovery not into the self but into the animate, shifting life o f N e w Y o r k C i t y at noontime. T h e y are filled with things that remain literal, objects that are not metaphors but themselves: It is 12:20 in New York a Friday three days after Bastille day, yes it is 1959 and I go to get a shoeshine because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner and I don't know the people who will feed me ("The Day Lady

Died")

There are several Puerto Ricans on the avenue today, which makes it beautiful and warm. First Bunny died, then John Latouche, then Jackson Pollock. But is the earth as full as life was full, of them? And one has eaten and one walks, past the magazines with nudes and the posters for B U L L F I G H T and the Manhattan Storage Warehouse, which they'll soon tear down. I used to think they had the Armory Show there. ("A Step Away from

Them")

How funny you are today New York like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime and St. Bridget's steeple leaning a little to the left ("Steps")

O ' H a r a ' s precise, q u i c k - m o v i n g poems—alternately f u n n y and melancholy, comfortable and a n x i o u s — a r e less concerned w i t h staking out a defensible position than they are with greedily taking in all kinds o f A m e r i c a n stuff—high and low, J a c k son Pollock and bullfight posters, churches and movies. M o v i e s provided the source o f O ' H a r a ' s most productive venture into A m e r i c a n popular culture. Since their inception, the visual mass m e d i a — f i l m and later television—have most often been regarded by those manning the literary armchairs as f o r e s h a d o w i n g the collapse o f literacy. T h e m o d ernist poetic technique o f j u x t a p o s i n g parts w i t h out connectives m a y have been influenced b y cinematic montage, but modernist poets generally v i e w e d the n e w m e d i u m w i t h a melancholy eye. P o u n d lamented that the m o d e r n " 'age demanded' chiefly a m o u l d in plaster, / M a d e w i t h no loss o f time, / A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabast e r / O r the 'sculpture' o f r h y m e " ( " H u g h S e l w y n M a u b e r l e y " ) . T h e f i l m m e d i u m w a s " p r o s e , " rapidly produced f o r mass m a r k e t s — t h e antithesis o f the classical high arts o f sculpture and poetry. In one o f the Spring and All p o e m s William Carlos Williams w r o t e that " t h e decay o f cathedrals / is e f florescent / in the phenomenal g r o w t h / o f m o v i e h o u s e s . " Eliot w o u l d have made the substitution o f m o v i e houses f o r cathedrals a s y m p t o m o f social decay, but Williams presents the change as part o f a natural process. Yet even f o r h i m m o v i e houses merely unmasked w h a t has a l w a y s gone on in cathedrals: the " d y n a m i c c r o w d " w o r s h i p p i n g an illusion. F o r P o u n d and Williams the movies w e r e not a social o r artistic institution w o r t h y o f e x p l o -

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ration, but a symbol of what troubled them most about modern society. In a characteristic provocation, Frank O ' H a r a declared that "after all, only Whitman and Crane and Williams, of the American poets, are better than the movies" ("Personism: A Manifesto"). A poet interested in painting, dance, music, theater, and film, O'Hara eagerly participated in interdisciplinary artistic collaborations. But he was also concerned with formulating the specific character of each medium—as he did with painting and poetry in " W h y I A m N o t a Painter" and with writing and film in " A n Image of Leda." " T h e cinema is cruel / like a miracle," the poem begins, attributing to the movie screen the force of a divine assault, like the swan's rape of Leda. T h e cinematic image has an overpowering immediacy, but an immediacy purified of meaning: N o t created " b y / the hand that holds/ the pen," the moving pictures carry " n o message." Films, rather, are created by a " m a c h i n e , " the swan in this version of the story of Leda; and movies' immediacy is a technological illusion—which leads to the poem's closing paradox:

Our limbs quicken even to disgrace under this white eye as if there w e r e real pleasure in loving a shadow and caressing a disguise!

T h e cinema is a cruel illusion, but it can create real feeling. Moreover, as O'Hara suggests in his poem about the movie version of The Three-Penny Opera, the very illusoriness of film makes it lifelike, "an image of the times," which are themselves shadowy, theatrical, filled with masks and disguises. " M o t h e r s of America / let your kids g o to the movies!" O ' H a r a urges in " A v e M a r i a , " a tonguein-cheek account of the movie theater as a social institution. "It's true that fresh air is good for the b o d y , " O ' H a r a concedes, " b u t what about the soul / that grows in darkness, embossed by silvery images," not to mention "the darker j o y s " of going home " w i t h a pleasant stranger whose apartment is in the Heaven on Earth B l d g / near the Williamsburg B r i d g e . " T h e movie house, no longer an easy symbol for a degraded modernity, here becomes a place that permits " g l a m o r o u s " illusions and illicit sexuality. One of the leading institutions of American popular culture has been freed for poetry.

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B e y o n d the miraculous power of the cinematic medium and the permissive freedom of the movie theater, film most engaged O ' H a r a as the vehicle for people's partaking in a popular national m y thology. H o l l y w o o d provides a modern American pantheon of stars—our eternal deities. The death of J a m e s Dean, for example, inspired three of O'Hara's poems, though none of them all that successful. In his best w o r k O ' H a r a continually turns on himself, mocking his own attitudes and postures; but in " F o r James D e a n " — a n angry outpouring against the sadistic H o l l y w o o d machine that persecuted D e a n — O ' H a r a is merely posturing. A t the other end of his range and talent, " T o the Film Industry in C r i s i s , " a Whitmanesque celebration of the H o l l y w o o d stars, possesses a w o n derful complexity of tone. It is part tribute and part mockery, like the poem on Rivers's Washington Crossing the Delaware: N o t you, lean quarterlies and swarthy periodicals with y o u r studious incursions toward the pomposity of ants nor you, experimental theatre in which E m o t i v e Fruition is w e d d i n g Poetic Insight perpetually, nor you, promenading Grand Opera, obvious as an ear (though you are close to m y heart), but you. Motion Picturc Industry, it's y o u I love!

And O'Hara goes on to extol Richard Barthelmess as the " t o l ' a b l e " boy barefoot and in pants, Jeanette M a c D o n a l d of the flaming hair and lips and long, long neck, Sue Carroll as she sits for eternity on the damaged fender o f a car and smiles. Ginger Rogers with her pageboy bob like sausage on her shuffling shoulders, peach-melba-voiced Fred Astaire o f the feet, Eric von Stroheim, the seducer of mountain climbers' gasping spouses, the Tarzans, each and every one o f y o u (I cannot bring myself to prefer J o h n n y Weissmuller to Lex Barker, I cannot!), M a e West in a f u r r y sled, her bordello radiance and bland remarks, Rudolph Valentino of the moon. . . .

O ' H a r a really does " l o v e " these figures, as the precision of his details shows. His long declamatory lines, elevated diction, and heroic epithets create a tone that is neither heroic nor mock-heroic but a little bit of both. " P o e t r y is not instruments,"

O ' H a r a w r o t e in " T o Gottfried B e n n , " " p o e t r y ' s part o f y o u r s e l f , " and the g o d s o f H o l l y w o o d were part o f O ' H a r a . O ' H a r a m o c k e d even his o w n revolutionary pretensions: " t o be m o r e revolutionary than a nun / is our desire." B u t O ' H a r a w a s a ground-breaking p o e t — m o s t so w h e n he opened his w o r k to our country, our culture.

N O T E S 1. O ' H a r a , quoted in Marjorie Pcrloff, Frank O'Hara: Poet Among Painters ( N e w York: G e o r g e Braziller, 1977), illustration 3. 2. Delniore Schwartz, " T h e Present State o f Poetry," in Selected Essays of Del more Schwärted. Donald A . Dike and David H. Z u c k e r (Chicago: University of C h i cago Press, 1970), 44. 3. Richard Wilbur, " T h e Bottles B e c o m e N e w , T o o , " Quarterly Review of Literature 7 (1954): 189. 4. Adrienne Rich, " W h e n We Dead A w a k e n : Writing as R e - V i s i o n , " in Adrienne Rich's Poetry, ed. Barbara Gelpi and Albert Gelpi ( N e w York: N o r t o n , 1975), 9 4 955. Schwartz, "Present State o f Poetry," 46. 6. This and subsequent quotations arc f r o m Partisan Review 19 ( M a y - J u n e 1952). 7. Clement Greenberg, " A v a n t - G a r d c and K i t s c h , " in Art and Culture (Boston: Beacon Press, 1961), 1 1 . This essay originally appeared in Partisan Review 6 (Fall 1939). 8. Robert Lowell, " T h e Art of Poetry: Robert L o w ell," in Robert Lowell: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. T h o m a s Parkinson ( E n g l e w o o d C l i f f s , N . J . : PrcnticeHall, 1968), 19. 9. Clement Greenberg, " M o d e r n i s t Painting," in The New Art, ed. G r e g o r y Battcock ( N e w York: E. P. D u t ton, 1966), 1 0 1 . 10. Frank O ' H a r a , Art Chronicles, 1954-1966 ( N e w York: G e o r g e Braziller, 1975), 6 9 - 7 0 . 11. Ibid., 30. 12. Frank O ' H a r a , The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara, ed. Donald Allen ( N e w York: R a n d o m House, 1 9 7 1 ) , 233—34. All subsequent quotations f r o m O'Hara's poetry are f r o m this volume. 13. Frank O ' H a r a , " L a r r y Rivers: ' W h y I Paint A s I D o , ' " Art Chronicles, m - 1 2 .

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Thomas Schaub Caricature and Fiction in the Affluent Society

In a discussion held at a private residence in M a n hattan on a Tuesday evening in J u l y 1 9 5 5 , several editors and w r i t e r s — a m o n g them J e a n S t a f f o r d , W i l l i a m S t y r o n , and R a l p h E l l i s o n — r e f l e c t e d u p o n the question, What's w r o n g w i t h the A m e r i c a n n o v e l ? In the midst o f this i n f o r m a l and f o r the m o s t part uninteresting conversation, Ellison m a d e the o b s e r v a t i o n that the " i n d i v i d u a l m a n " in c o n t e m p o r a r y society experiences the contradictions o f " a w h o l e chaotic w o r l d existing within the ordered social p a t t e r n . " " T h o u g h he m i g h t be only v a g u e l y a w a r e o f i t , " Ellison claimed, " h i s sense o f reality is affected. H e is m o r e apt to get a sense o f w o n d e r , a sense o f self-awareness and a sharper reflection o f his w o r l d f r o m a c o m i c b o o k than f r o m m o s t n o v e l s . ' " Beneath the h o m o g e n i z e d narcosis o f w h a t w a s then called " m a s s s o c i e t y , " Ellison sensed the presence o f chaotic elements that the placid veneer only obscured or encased. In describing or reflecting the contradictory relations o f this chaotic o r der, the c o m i c b o o k , Ellison contended, is likely to succeed w h e r e the novel fails. A t first one is perhaps tempted to take this rem a r k as a clever h y p e r b o l e intended to c o n f i r m the general m o t i v e f o r the g a t h e r i n g — t h e A m e r i c a n n o v e l is in t r o u b l e — w i t h Ellison selecting the c o m i c b o o k to e x a g g e r a t e the current inadequacy o f the novel. C e r t a i n l y this is part o f his m e a n i n g , but his use o f the c o m i c b o o k as a term o f c o m p a r ison and measurement is m u c h m o r e precise than it at first appears. L i k e m a n y o f his contemporaries, both writers and critics, Ellison recognized the v i r tures o f c a r i c a t u r e — o f e x a g g e r a t i o n , distortion, t y p i n g , and accentuation—as a tool f o r analyzing a society v a r i o u s l y described as " c o n f o r m i s t , " " o t h e r - d i r e c t e d , " and " a f f l u e n t . " A f t e r 1945 m a n y w r i t e r s believed that to question and critique the apparent abundance and self-congratulation o f A m e r i c a n culture f o r readers w h o constituted a mass society required broader strokes than those a f f o r d e d by the narcissistic i m a g e s o f the realist's m i r r o r . Whether or not these assessments w e r e accurate, the prevalence o f caricature in the characterization and plotting o f narrative fiction d u r i n g the fifties and sixties is due, at least in part, to such convictions about mass society and the role o f the artist in it. T h e seriousness w i t h w h i c h Ellison c o m p a r e d the n o v e l and the c o m i c b o o k m a y be g a u g e d b y reference to the b o o k he had published three years earlier. In Invisible Man he m a d e extensive use o f caricature in the large parodic lines that define the successive zones o f Invisible M a n ' s social and political e n v i r o n m e n t . F r o m the S c h o o l and its s u r r o u n d i n g Rural B l a c k C o u n t r y , to N o r t h e r n Indus-

trial Capitalism (locked in battle with the Unions), to the Hospital and the Brotherhood, Invisible Man's journey is a kind of Pilgrim's Progress, and the characters with w h o m he contends—Bledsoe, Norton, Brother Jack (with one glass eye), Rinchart—are similarly drawn to accentuate and isolate the essential qualities of their types. T h e stage paint is applied to all the novel's features with a garish, clownlike severity, as if the audience were at a great distance and Ellison feared they might not get the point. (Since he was writing some years before the Supreme Court overturned the doctrine of "separate but equal," Ellison had good reason for this suspicion.) But caricature is not only a means of underscoring a point; it is a popular mode, with the accessibility and wide appeal of cartoons and comic books. One of Ellison's purposes in writing the novel was to insist that Invisible Man's proper sources of identity were his local and popular roots—not the elite white culture he sought to enter. Thus Ellison's use of caricature in narrative scene, character, and plot represents the choice of a popular form of expression in direct opposition to canons of high seriousness. This f o r m and theme interact marvelously throughout the novel, but one example will illustrate the point. After Invisible Man is released from the Factory Hospital, he is lured by the smell of baked yams that an old man is peddling on the streets of N e w York. In his desire to rise in the world, Invisible Man has earlier attempted to deny the appetites native to his Southern rural black culture. But now he is sufficiently free of those fears to purchase several yams and smother them in butter: " T o hell with being ashamed of what you liked," he exults. " N o more of that for me. I am what I a m ! " In this declaration, Ellison skillfully addresses both high and popular culture, for Invisible Man's words allude to Yahweh's answer to Moses ("I A M T H A T I A M , " Exodus 3:14) and at the same time invoke the cartoon figure of Popcye, w h o liked to say, " I am what I am. I'm Popeye the Sailor M a n ! " O f course, Popeye ate spinach, rather than baked yams, but for both characters familiar food is a source of self-confidence and strength. Another aspect of caricature's forcefulncss in affecting a mass audience resulted f r o m the proliferation of realistic images in everyday life. The public had access to as many photographs, audio recordings, and video documents of itself as it wished to have. At the beginning of the century Paul Valery had concluded that "the direct expression of things and the direct stimulation of the sensibility by new means—motion pictures, omnipresent music,

etc.—is being rendered useless or ineffective for the art of language." Further, "the growing precision of the sciences will render it difficult to treat freely [a] whole category of subjects—psychological, sociological, etc." 2 B y the late 1940s the photojournalism of the Luce publications and the development and popularity of television had further encroached on the terrain of realistic fiction. T h e mass society had many other means to inspect itself. As Flannery O ' C o n n o r declared in i960: " A literature which mirrors society would be no fit guide for it, and one which did manage, by sheer art, to do both these things [mirror and guide] would have to have recourse to more violent means than middlebrow subject matter and mere technical c x p e r t ^ s s . " ' During the Eisenhower era many writers were intent upon penetrating America's prosperous silence (which Thomas Pynchon later described as " t h e cheered land") and giving voice to the tics and twitches that subtly betrayed the denials and repressions of the affluent society. As a mode of expression, caricature offers a means to expose quirks and idiosyncrasies, to reveal the unnoticed or hidden. For stylistic accentuation and distortion subvert perceptual tendencies to absorb and integrate visual data into conventional wholes. Instead, caricature focuses the audience's attention on particular characteristics, and yet, somewhat curiously, conveys the impression of having laid open to view not the atypical blemish or unconscious gesture, but the essential, the core of the depicted person. T h e English term caricature is derived f r o m the Italian caricare ("to load" or "surcharge"), which in turn may be related to the Italian carattere ("character") and the Spanish cara ("face"). And, indeed, "the face is the point of departure for most caricatures." 4 American writers in the fifties and sixties tended to incorporate and caricature the " f a c e " of A m e r ica—its characteristic and telling images—the society's undeniably " r e a l " countenance that, however, often concealed truths which refuted its self-image. B y distorting the "illusion of reality," writers were able to express a deeper truth, "the illusion of l i f e " — t o use the distinction E. H. Gombrich makes in " T h e Experiment of Caricature," a chapter in his study of the psychology o f representation, Art and Illusion.5 Gombrich notes the success with which, for the audience, "the illusion of life . . . can do without any illusion of reality." His argument leads him to emphasize the development of caricature from Daumier to Munch and Picasso as contributing to the autonomy and increased abstraction of artistic expression.

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B u t h e r e I w a n t t o retain a f o c u s o n the c o m i c a n d analytical n a t u r e o f c a r i c a t u r e , in w h i c h t h e a u d i e n c e is e x p e c t e d t o set t h e n a r r a t i v e i m a g e beside reality, t o e x p e r i e n c e t h e o n e in t e r m s o f t h e o t h e r . O f special i n t e r e s t in this c o n n e c t i o n is a treatise p u b l i s h e d b y R o d o l p h e T o p f f e r in 1845, titled Essay du physiognomie. T o p f f e r ' s i n t e n t i o n , G o m b r i c h explains, was to describe the means o f d r a w i n g " p i c t u r e s t o r i e s " o f h u m a n f i g u r e s , stories t h a t w o u l d s e r v e as an e d u c a t i v e t o o l f o r m a s s c u l t u r e . T o p f f e r described the didactic value o f these pict u r e stories, t h e f o r e r u n n e r s o f m o d e r n c o m i c strips: " T h e p i c t u r e s t o r y t o w h i c h t h e c r i t i c i s m o f art pays n o a t t e n t i o n a n d w h i c h rarely w o r r i e s t h e l e a r n e d . . . has a l w a y s e x e r c i s e d a g r e a t a p p e a l . M o r e , i n d e e d , t h a n l i t e r a t u r e itself, f o r b e s i d e s t h e fact that t h e r e are m o r e p e o p l e w h o l o o k t h a n w h o can read, it appeals p a r t i c u l a r l y t o c h i l d r e n a n d t o t h e masses, t h e s e c t i o n s o f t h e p u b l i c w h i c h are p a r t i c u l a r l y easily p e r v e r t e d a n d w h i c h it w o u l d b e p a r t i c u l a r l y d e s i r a b l e t o r a i s e . " 6 TopfFer's d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n l i t e r a t u r e a n d p i c t u r e s is a p p l i c a b l e t o n a r r a t i v e fiction, in w h i c h o n e m a y also s p e a k o f p i c t u r e s a n d caricatures. W h i l e realistic f i c t i o n s a t t e m p t v e r i s i m i l i t u d e , stylized f i c t i o n s m a k e u s e o f e x a g g e r a t i o n , r e d u c t i o n , a n d d i s t o r t i o n in o r d e r t o affect t h e a u d i e n c e . A m o n g t h e m a s t e r s o f n a r r a t i v e c a r i c a t u r e in t h e fifties is F l a n n e r y O ' C o n n o r . S h e describes t h e children's m o t h e r in " A G o o d M a n Is H a r d t o F i n d , " as " a y o u n g w o m a n in slacks, w h o s e face w a s as b r o a d a n d i n n o c e n t as a c a b b a g e a n d w a s tied a r o u n d w i t h a g r e e n h e a d - k e r c h i e f t h a t h a d t w o p o i n t s o n t o p like a r a b b i t ' s e a r s . " A n d t h e face of Mrs. Freeman, the deadpan counterpoint to the f a t u o u s M r s . H o p e w e l l in " G o o d C o u n t r y P e o p l e , " is c o m p a r e d w i t h a t r u c k : " B e s i d e s t h e n e u t r a l e x p r e s s i o n t h a t s h e w o r e w h e n she w a s alone, M r s . F r e e m a n h a d t w o o t h e r s , f o r w a r d a n d reverse, that s h e u s e d f o r all h e r h u m a n d e a l i n g s . " 7 W i l l i a m B u r r o u g h s ' s D r . B e n w a y has n o face at all, b u t h e is a c h a r a c t e r w h o c o m e s d i r e c t l y f r o m t h e h o s p i t a l skits in v a u d e v i l l e a n d b u r l e s q u e . H e o f t e n a p p e a r s in Naked Lunch in a d r a m a t i c script f o r such a skit: Dr. Benway: "All the skill is going out of surgery. . . . All the know-how and make-do. . . . Did I ever tell you about the time I performed an appendectomy with a rusty sardine can? . . . "

A s the s u r g e r y p r o c e e d s , t h e p a t i e n t ' s h e a r t s t o p s , b u t D r . B e n w a y is w i t h o u t a d r e n a l i n . H e d e c i d e s to use a toilet-bowl plunger:

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Dr. Limpf:

" T h e incision is ready, doctor."

Dr. Benway forces the cup into the incision and works it up and down. Blood spurts all over the doctors, the nurse and the wall. . . . Nurse:

"I think she's gone, doctor."

Dr. Benway:

"Well, it's all in the day's work.""

T h e B e n w a y skits p r o b a b l y o w e s o m e t h i n g o f their i n s p i r a t i o n t o J a m e s T h u r b e r ' s " T h e Secrct Life o f Walter M i t t y , " p u b l i s h e d in The New Yorker in 1939. O n e o f M i t t y ' s fantasies i n v o l v e s t a k i n g o v e r in t h e o p e r a t i n g r o o m f o r a D r . R e n s h a w a n d a D r . B e n b o w , d e s c r i b e d as a " c r a v e n f i g u r e " w h o " d r a n k . " W h e n t h e n e w a n e s t h e t i z e r s h o w s signs o f g i v i n g way, M i t t y calls f o r a f o u n t a i n p e n a n d replaces the m a c h i n e ' s f a u l t y p i s t o n w i t h it. O f c o u r s e , B u r r o u g h s ' s skit is a p a r o d y o f t h e v a u d e ville r o u t i n e , a c a r i c a t u r e that has an analytical m o tive. In B u r r o u g h s ' s satiric d i s t o r t i o n o f T h u r b e r ' s p l a y f u l fantasy, M i t t y ' s r e s o u r c e f u l n e s s — t h e American fantasy of pragmatic, inventive capacity—falls under the writer's knife. T h u s the "crav e n " B e n b o w r e a p p e a r s as the f i g u r e o f c o n t r o l . Dr. Benway, whose manipulations serve to enforce a " w a y " that is far f r o m " b e n i g n . " In o n e o f t h e m o s t influential essays o n p o s t w a r fiction, " M a s s Society a n d P o s t m o d e r n F i c t i o n " ( i 9 5 9 ) . I r v i n g H o w e criticized t h e w o r k o f t h e fifties f o r its failure t o d e p i c t the " s u r f a c e t o n e , m a n ners, t h e social p a t t e r n s o f recent A m e r i c a n l i f e " a n d its p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h " m o r a l c r i t i c i s m s o f its essential quality.'"' H o w e w a s n o t alone: T h e m o r a l c o n c e r n s o f m a n y p o s t w a r w r i t e r s did n o t c o n f o r m t o t h e political o r i e n t a t i o n o f m a n y critics, w h o r e m a i n e d c o n v i n c e d that t h e realist t r a d i t i o n o f n a r r a t i v e p o r t r a i t u r e — i n w h i c h fiction is c o m p a r e d t o an u n d i s t o r t i n g m i r r o r o r a t r a n s p a r e n t w i n d o w — w a s t h e s o u n d e s t m e a n s o f a l t e r i n g m a s s society, which seemed to them both intractable and threatening. H o w e assumed that c o n t e m p o r a r y writers were u n a b l e t o p r o v i d e t h e requisite r e a l i s m b e c a u s e m a s s society o f f e r e d n o n e o f t h e class d i s t i n c t i o n s a n d o p p o r t u n i t i e s f o r social analysis t h a t earlier writers had exploited: " M o d e r n novelists tended to a s s u m e that the social relations o f m e n in t h e w o r l d o f capitalism w e r e established, f a m i l i a r , k n o w able. . . . W i t h o u t s o m e such a s s u m p t i o n t h e r e could not occur the symbolic compression of incid e n t , t h e readiness t o a s s u m e t h a t X s t a n d s f o r Y, w h i c h is a p r e r e q u i s i t e f o r the v e r y e x i s t e n c e o f t h e n o v e l . ' " 0 B u t o n e has e v e r y r e a s o n t o a r g u e t h e r e -

verse o f H o w e ' s position. S u c h a s s u m p t i o n s were o p e r a t i n g , f o r caricature, p a r o d y , and t r a v e s t y ass u m e that X equals Y and then distort the p r e s u m e d likenesses, r e l y i n g f o r their political, satirical, and c o m i c effects o n the audience's f a m i l i a r i t y w i t h the o r i g i n a l . T h e a s s u m p t i o n o f a c o m m o n store o f national i m a g e r y , f o r e x a m p l e , e n a b l e d E l lison to flood his n o v e l w i t h racial d i c h o t o m i e s , B u r r o u g h s to l a m p o o n p r a g m a t i s m and capital p u n i s h m e n t , and O ' C o n n o r and W a l k e r P e r c y to address a v a p i d national C h r i s t i a n i t y . T h i s fiction is flush w i t h " s u r f a c e t o n e " and " m a n n e r s , " t h o u g h the details and artifacts o f A m e r i c a n culture find their i m a g e s d i s t o r t e d and d e c o n t e x t u a l i z e d — a s w h e n P y n c h o n creates a c h a r acter n a m e d Stanley K o t e x . C a r i c a t u r e , G o m b r i c h points o u t , f o r c e s the reader to " s e c reality in t e r m s o f an i m a g e . " " T h i s essentially ironic intent i n f o r m s the d e p i c t i o n o f m o d e r n A m e r i c a , a w o r l d in w h i c h spray cans, Florida v a c a t i o n s , existentialism, r u m p u s r o o m s , and electric c h a i r s — t o n a m e but a f e w i t e m s — s e e m as natural and u n r e m a r k able as dirt; t h r o u g h irony, these i t e m s b e c o m e back-lit w i t h the g l o w o f i m p l i c a t i o n and m e a n i n g . Rather than a p p e a l i n g to caricature in d e s p e r a t i o n , w r i t e r s in the fifties a d o p t e d caricatural t e c h n i q u e s as o n e strategy b y w h i c h they c o u l d address and a w a k e n the mass society. In their c o m m e n t a r y , truth is pursued b y e x a g g e r a t i o n rather than m i metic similitude. T o his o w n a c c o u n t o f the mass s o c i e t y , H o w e had added in a p o l o g y : " N o w this is a social cart o o n and n o t a description o f A m e r i c a n s o c i e t y ; b u t it is a c a r t o o n that isolates an aspect o f o u r e x perience w i t h a s u g g e s t i v e n e s s that n o o t h e r m o d e o f analysis is likely to m a t c h . . . . the v a l u e o f the t h e o r y lies in b r i n g i n g to o u r attention a m a j o r historical d r i f t . " 1 2 H e r e the critic is u s i n g the l a n g u a g e and a r g u m e n t o f the writer. " T h e n o v e l i s t w i t h Christian concerns," O ' C o n n o r w r o t e , " w i l l find in m o d e r n life distortions w h i c h are r e p u g n a n t t o h i m , and his p r o b l e m w i l l be to m a k e these appear as distortions to an audience w h i c h is u s e d t o seeing t h e m as n a t u r a l . " L i k e m a n y o f her c o n t e m poraries, O ' C o n n o r f o u n d it necessary t o b r e a k w i t h realist c o n v e n t i o n s o f fiction, and like t h e m she s o u g h t a f o r m that w o u l d h a v e the e f f e c t o f reality u p o n her readers. T h e " r e a l i s m o f f a c t " c o u l d not, in her v i e w , a c c o m p l i s h the " d e e p e r k i n d s o f r e a l i s m " — b y w h i c h she m e a n t that the w h o l e a s s u m p t i o n o f w h a t constitutes reality (and therefore realistic representation) w a s o b s c u r e d f o r her audience: " T o the hard o f h e a r i n g y o u s h o u t , and f o r the a l m o s t - b l i n d y o u d r a w l a r g e a n d startling figures.'"3

O ' C o n n o r b e g a n w r i t i n g short stories in i m i t a tion o f the p s y c h o l o g i c a l i n f e r i o r i t y she had learned f r o m J o y c e and Faulkner. In o n e o f her earliest stories, " T h e T r a i n , " the m a i n c h a r a c t e r — H a zel W i c k e r s — i s i n t r o d u c e d t h r o u g h the i n t e r w e a v i n g o f an e x t e r i o r narrative v o i c e and the character's o w n colloquial v o i c e : " T h e m a n in the station had said he c o u l d g i v e h i m a l o w e r and H a z e had asked d i d n ' t he h a v e n o u p p e r o n e s . " B y b l e n d i n g the v o i c e s , O ' C o n n o r retains narrative c o n t r o l w h i l e g i v i n g the reader s y m p a t h e t i c access t o the character: " H i s m o t h e r had a l w a y s started up a c o n v e r s a t i o n w i t h the o t h e r p e o p l e o n the train. . . . M y m o t h e r w a s a j a c k s o n . ' " 4 W h e n O ' C o n n o r revised the story, u s i n g it as the first chapter o f the n o v e l Wise Blood (1952), this s y m p a thetic realism is entirely o b s t r u c t e d . N o l o n g e r p r i v y to Haze's consciousness, w e are f o r c e d to v i e w h i m as a strange o b j e c t , so that w e share the irritated p u z z l e m e n t o f the w o m a n seated f a c i n g h i m o n the train: " S h e w a n t e d t o get close e n o u g h t o see w h a t the suit had cost h i m b u t she f o u n d h e r s e l f s q u i n t i n g instead at his eyes, t r y i n g a l m o s t t o l o o k i n t o t h e m . T h e y w e r e the c o l o r o f pecan shells and set in deep sockets. T h e o u t l i n e o f a skull u n d e r his skin w a s plain and insistent." 1 5 In this d e scription, Haze seems a kind o f grotesque O r p h a n A n n i e , o p a q u e and m y s t e r i o u s , a caricature o f a human figure. N a r r a t i v e s a b o u t the sixties, e v e n ostensibly realist n o v e l s such as Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, Saul B e l l o w ' s Mr. Sammler's Planet, and J o h n U p dike's Rabbit Redux, operate a c c o r d i n g to a caricatural m o d e — b r o a d strokes, outlines, e x a g g e r a t e d t y p e s , accentuation o f isolated f e a t u r e s — r a t h e r than u n f o l d i n g a c c o r d i n g to the o r g a n i c interaction o f character and e n v i r o n m e n t . C o n s i d e r the f o l l o w i n g conversation between B i n x Boiling, prot a g o n i s t o f The Moviegoer, and N e l l L o v e l l , an acquaintance:

Nell Lovell, I was saying, spotted me and over she comes brandishing a book. It seems she has just finished reading a celebrated novel which, I understand, takes a somewhat gloomy and pessimistic view of things. She is angry. "I don't feel a bit g l o o m y ! " she cries. " N o w that Mark and Lance have grown up and flown the coop, I am having the time of my life. . . . Eddie and I have re-examined our values and found them pretty darn enduring. To our utter amazement we discovered that we both have the same life-goal. D o you know what it is?" "No." "To make a contribution, however small, and leave the world just a little better off."

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" T h a t ' s v e r y g o o d , " I say s o m e w h a t uneasily and shift about on the library steps. I can talk to N e l l as long as 1 d o n ' t l o o k at her. L o o k i n g into her eyes is an e m b a r rassment. " — w e g a v e the television to the kids and last night w e turned on the hi-fi and sat b y the fire and read The Prophet aloud. I d o n ' t find life g l o o m y ! " she c r i e s . "

This is caricature, not realistic dialogue, for every phrase of Nell Lovell s cliched talk alerts the reader to the absolute emptiness of her life—the exhaustion of language (the divorce of w o r d f r o m thing) providing an unmistakeable proof of the gulf between literal assertion ("I don't find life g l o o m y ! " ) and the denied existential reality. T h o u g h Bellow's Mr. Sammler's Planet and U p dike's Rabbit Redux have been credited with providing a good deal more realistic analysis of American culture than such contemporary books as P y n chon's The Crying of Lot 49 and Barthelme's Snow White, the former are but cartoon sketches of American culture, making covert use of many of the same devices that the latter purposely emphasize. Sammler appears to be a realistic figure only because of the veneer of exquisite (and comic) detail that Bellow applies to the novel's N e w York setting and to his protagonist's thoughts. All the characters to w h o m Sammler condescends, h o w ever, are caricatures: the Promiscuous, the Wayward Son, the Crude, the Romanticized Criminal, the Compulsive, and the Sadistic. And although Sammler is mildly reproved for his condescension, his judgments are sustained by the book as an analysis of the cultural forces tearing at the social fabric. This polemical analysis achieves its aesthetic and reflective power by means of caricature. Howe's critique of his o w n description of mass society applies here, too: " a cartoon that isolates an aspect of our experience with a suggestiveness no other mode of analysis is likely to match." Updike had wanted to be a cartoonist, and in Rabbit Redux he succeeds. A m o n g the dense, often elegant, rococo descriptions of everything from evening in B r e w e r to a hillside of flowers or R a b bit's living room are characters engaged in a plot that caricatures American culture in the sixties. Rabbit Angstrom, the all-American male, finds himself playing host to a cast of characters w h o resent the central forces that were impinging upon Middle America in the sixties: the flower child (Jill), the television generation (his son, Nelson), and women's liberation and the sexual revolution (his wife's affair with the hirsute Charlie Stavros); the Vietnam War, the War on Poverty, and Civil Rights are nicely compacted into the character of

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Skeeter, the black Vietnam veteran. T h e plot allows each to be brought, physically as it were, into Rabbit's house, so that everything that happens there is a distorted microcosm of what is happening to America. T h e circus is dcpicted with realistic detail: O n e day in S e p t e m b e r Rabbit c o m c s h o m e f r o m w o r k to find another man in the house. T h e man is a N e g r o . " W h a t the h e l l , " R a b b i t says, standing in the front hall beside the three chime tubes. " H e l l , man, it's revolution, r i g h t ? " the y o u n g black says, not rising f r o m the m o s s y b r o w n a r m c h a i r . "

Despite the detail ("the three chime tubes," " m o s s y brown armchair"), the work's analytical power relies on exaggeration and distortion, i m plausibilities (Rabbit does not call the police), and simplified character types. Criticizing the fiction of the sixties, Daniel Bell used terms similar to those H o w e had used twelve years earlier in writing about the fifties: "Despite all the social turmoil of the dccade, not one novel by these writers was political; none (with the exception of Bellow's Mr. Sammler's Planet) dealt with radicalism, youth, or social movements—yet all were anagogical in one way or another." Like H o w e , Bell objected to the " m o r a l " character of the era's fiction, which failed, he contended, to " r e port the doings of man in a social f r a m e w o r k . " 1 " But anagogical frames, scaffoldings that are mystical or metaphysical rather than social, do not necessarily preclude the writer from supplying readers with a mass of social detail and particularity of custom and manners. Indeed, anagogical references and metaphysical insinuations are legitimate tools for the analysis of social and political subjects. Insistent realists like H o w e and Bell, however, raise their eyebrows at departures f r o m mimesis. E x plicit social critiques such as Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Joseph Heller's Catch-22 are dismissed as devoid of political substance; S y l via Plath's Bell Jar is not even mentioned. T h e objection to the anagogical mode is a variant of the unqualified exclusion of fictional caricature from the realm of "serious" art and suggests how much stronger the cultural bias toward mimetic representation has been as regards narrative c o m pared to painting, sculpture, or music. " A r e w e m a d ? " Gilbert Sorrentino asks in an article on the prose of William Carlos Williams. " F i f t y years after J o y c e and Lewis, Williams and Ford, w e search for 'flesh and blood' characters w h o 'walk o f f the p a g e . ' " " Donald Barthelme challenges the realist prejudice by taking exception to Kenneth

Burke's worried warning that "the artist in an otherworldly art that leaves the things of Caesar to take care of themselves" runs the risk of "dependence upon some ruler w h o will accept the responsibility for doing the world's 'dirty w o r k . ' " Barthelme's counterargument follows the direction Gombrich pursues in Art and Illusion, citing the virtues o f the literary product as an object in the world, in its own right: " A r t is not about something but is something." James J o y c e , Gertrude Stein, and their kin " m o d i f y the w o r l d by adding to its store of objects the literary o b j e c t . . . so that the reader is not listening to an authoritative account of the world delivered by an expert (Faulkner on Mississippi, H e m i n g w a y on the corrida) but bumping into something that is there, like a rock or refrigerator." 2 0

of N e w York in the fifties and sixties. Although the book has historical referents, it insists upon itself as a literary object: " T h i s story is invention only. Put yourself into it. Perhaps you are already in it, or something like it." 2 2 Sorrentino turns to comic distortion to isolate the characteristic and essential qualities of the painters and writers of the period. A t times the act of characterization amounts to no more than a list of what a particular character likes:

(These] creations modify the beholder. I do not think it fanciful, for instance, to say that Governor Rockefeller, standing among his Miros and dc Koonings, is worked upon by them, and if they do not make a Democrat or a Socialist of him they at least alter the character of his Republicanism. Considered in this light, Soviet hostility to "formalist" art becomes more intelligible, as does the antipathy of senators, mayors and chairmen of building committees.

Some Things Sheila Henry Liked about Lou Henry, 1963-1967. Ears. Desert boots. He sniffed when he read Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen. T h e way he tossed salad. T h e w a y he wore his hat. His poems. Calling William Carlos Williams, " D o c " Williams. His admiration for Dick Detective. His buttocks. His understanding of D. H. Lawrence. A crown of Petrarchan sonnets he wrote for her twentieth birthday. T h e way he alternately washed and sucked her breasts when they showered together. Old suede jacket. T h e look of his genitals in jockey shorts. His contempt for his instructors. T h e way he sang off-key. 2 3

Similarly, R o y Lichtenstein's blown-up comic strips, he suggests, might provoke viewers to ask, "What do you think of a society in which these things arc seen as art?" 21 In fact, however, the more overtly experimental narrative art of the sixties is far more attentive to the world, more referential, than Barthelme's analogies with painting suggest. T h e transformation f r o m a realistic mode to an expressive mode, so typical of fiction in this period, represents an abstracting process that continues and heightens the exaggeration, the distortion, and the use of cartoonlike flat characters of the preceding decade. T h e works, for example, of Sorrentino, B a r thelme, and Pynchon—while differing in i m p o r tant ways—caricature American culture not only by distorting its image but also by incorporating, not unlike the Pop artists, the very materials and artifacts of that culture in the narrative. T h e experimental impulse of modernism ( " m a k e it n e w " ) here allies itself with the moral intentions o f the fifties. Sorrentino's Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things ( 1 9 7 1 ) is an antinovel that caricatures the art world

Sorrentino freely admits having borrowed this device from J o y c e (a sign of modernist continuity in recent fiction), but he later defended the list as a caricaturist's means of characterization: "In a list," he told an interviewer, " y o u can boil down to a w o r d or t w o a character and his motivations, and that word or t w o often deflates and punctures the pretentions of one's life. T h e impediments of life inhere in narrative and if you can rip all that garbage away and get the fact, you have an odd, comic quality about a man or w o m a n . . . . You get something that in a curious way approaches the truth of life, even though you have dropped what seems to be the truth of life. It is a selection of m a terials." 2 '' The reader is to confront Sorrentino's fiction as an abstract caricatural design with its o w n invented reality, which at the same time sustains what Gombrich called "the illusion of life." Like Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things, B a r thelme's Snow White (1967) prohibits and mocks the realist reader's expectations by blurring the line between story-telling and self-conscious remarks about the story: " W e are very much tempted to shoot our arrows into them [the girls], those tar-

This is the familiar doctrine of Modern Art, and Barthelme offers the characteristic argument for the political and social rclevancc of such art:

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gets. Y o u k n o w w h a t that m e a n s . " 2 5 In his r e w r i t i n g o f the fairy tale, B a r t h e l m e refers to the b o u r g e o i s w o r l d o f business and s u g g e s t s , h o w e v e r s u b l i m i n a l l y , that the u p d a t e d tale s h o u l d reflect the c o n s u m e r - o r i e n t e d discontent o f o u r culture. T h e n o v e l p r o c e e d s b y t a k i n g the phrases and w o r d s o f c o l l o q u i a l A m e r i c a n speech and r e c o n t e x t u a l i z i n g t h e m in the f r a m e w o r k o f the p o p u l a r children's story. M o s t o f the l a n g u a g e o f the b o o k is a p p r o p r i a t e d f r o m particular subcultures. T h e s e v e n d w a r v e s , f o r e x a m p l e , speak the i d i o m o f utilitarian therapy, o f s u p p l y - s i d e p s y c h o l o g y : Bill " c a n n o t bear t o be t o u c h e d , " and o t h e r s o f the s e v e n are d i s t u r b e d ("it b o t h e r s m e " ) t o see " a l l that potential b e i n g pissed a w a y . . . w h e n he c o u l d b e o u t realizing his p o t e n t i a l . . . m a x i m i z i n g his possibilities." B y setting b e f o r e his readers their o w n l a n g u a g e caricatured b y the v e r y act o f f o c u s i n g u p o n it, B a r t h e l m e elicits l a u g h t e r and scores his satiric p o i n t . A g o o d deal o f the l a n g u a g e he attacks is p h i l o s o p h i c a l and literary-theoretical, as w h e n S n o w W h i t e has " p u l l e d herself t o g e t h e r " b u t c o m p l a i n s , " i t is still w a i t i n g , and w a i t i n g , as a m o d e o f existence is, as B r a c k has n o t e d , a d a r k s o m e m o d e " ; o r w h e n Jane, the w i c k e d Q u e e n f i g ure, threatens: " I t m a y n e v e r h a v e c r o s s e d y o u r m i n d t o t h i n k that o t h e r u n i v e r s e s o f d i s c o u r s e distinct f r o m y o u r o w n existed, w i t h p e o p l e in t h e m , d i s c o u r s i n g . Y o u m a y have, in a c o m m o n s e n s e w a y , r e g a r d e d y o u r o w n u. o f d. as a p l e n u m , filled to the b r i m w i t h d i s c o u r s e . " H e r e the cliches o f a d v e r t i s i n g ( " f i l l e d to the b r i m " ) , e v e r y d a y speech ( " h a v e c r o s s e d y o u r m i n d " ) , and p h i l o s o p h i c a l j a r g o n ( " u n i v e r s e s o f d i s c o u r s e " ) are t h r o w n t o g e t h e r in a pastiche that parodies the " t r a s h p h e n o m e n o n " it e m b o d i e s . 2 6 L i k e Warhol's C a m p b e l l ' s S o u p cans, the dialects o f A m e r i c a n culture are stacked f o r display. P y n c h o n ' s The Crying of Lot 49 (1966) o f f e r s ano t h e r response t o the affluent society. T h e b o o k s e e m s a fictionalization o f The Feminine Mystique: A dissatisfied h o u s e w i f e ( B a r t h e l m e calls t h e m " h o r s e w i v e s " ) is lured i n t o a search f o r A m e r i c a and in the process redefines b o t h her o w n identity and the nation's. T h e intentional i m p l a u s i b i l i t y o f the narrative accentuates the peculiar and penetrati n g reality the search e v e n t u a l l y acquires f o r b o t h h e r o i n e and reader, w h i l e flat c a r t o o n l i k e characters, e x a g g e r a t i o n , and a m a n i p u l a t i v e i n s i n u a t i n g narrative v o i c e u n d e r m i n e the placid surface o f the heroine's life. O e d i p a M a a s (a f e m a l e O e d i p u s , o n e m o r e time) lives in K i n n e r e t - A m o n g - t h e - P i n e s , a life that a f f o r d s her all the clichés o f the m i d d l e class C a l i f o r n i a h o u s e w i f e :

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T h r o u g h the rest o f the afternoon, t h r o u g h her trip to the market in d o w n t o w n K i n n e r e t - A m o n g - t h e - P i n e s to b u y ricotta and listen to the M u z a k . . . ; then through the sunned gathering o f her marjoram and sweet basil f r o m the herb garden, reading o f b o o k r e v i e w s in the latest Scientific American, into the layering o f a lasagna, garlicking o f a bread, tearing up o f romaine leaves, eventually, oven on, into the m i x i n g o f the twilight's w h i s k e y sours against the arrival o f her husband, Wendell ( " M u c h o " ) Maas f r o m w o r k , she w o n d e r e d , shuffling back through a fat deckful o f days w h i c h seemed ( w o u l d n ' t she be the first to admit it?) m o r e or less identical. 27

T h o u g h P y n c h o n provides a compelling mystery plot that carries the reader and O e d i p a in search o f T r y s t e r o , the principal d e d u c t i o n s m a d e b y the reader and the h o u s e w i f e - t u r n e d - d e t e c t i v e c o n c e r n the m e d i u m that c o m p o s e s the novel's w o r l d : the materials and artifacts o f A m e r i c a n culture in the fifties. It is this resistant m e d i u m that O e d i p a g r a d ually discovers: the u b i q u i t o u s and b l o s s o m i n g f r e e w a y s , the address n u m b e r s in " t h e 70 and then 80,000 s " ( O e d i p a " h a d never k n o w n n u m b e r s to run so h i g h . It s e e m e d u n n a t u r a l " ) . In the b a t h r o o m o f the E c h o C o u r t s M o t e l , s o m e t h i n g breaks in a can o f hairspray and " w i t h a great o u t s u r g e o f pressure the s t u f f c o m m e n c e d a t o m i z i n g , p r o p e l ling the can s w i f t l y a b o u t the b a t h r o o m . " T h e p h a r m a c o p o e i a o f A m e r i c a n culture r e s o u n d s in the narrator's descriptions: In O e d i p a ' s i g n o r a n c e o f the national life a b o u t her " t h e r e had h u n g the sense of buffering" (italics mine), and the road taki n g her into San N a r c i s o appears to her as a " h y p o d e r m i c needle, inserted s o m e w h e r e ahead into the vein o f a f r e e w a y , a vein n o u r i s h i n g the mainliner L . A . , k e e p i n g it h a p p y , c o h e r e n t , p r o t e c t e d f r o m p a i n . " In the c o u r s e o f her j o u r n e y s , O e d i p a finds an u n d e r w o r l d , " i n v i s i b l e y e t c o n g r u e n t w i t h the cheered land she lived i n " (italics m i n e ) . B e n e a t h the aspirin, the d e t e r g e n t , the f r e e w a y s , and the M u z a k , O e d i p a u n c o v e r s a reality quite u n l i k e the distorted surface she had o n c e taken f o r granted. 2 " F r o m the c l o s i n g o f this circle, caricature achieves its essential unsettling effects. T h o u g h caricature begins b y presenting a distorted i m a g e o f an o r i g i n a l w i t h w h i c h the audience is familiar, it ends b y transferring the quality o f d i s t o r t i o n f r o m the i m a g e to the face that it m o c k s . T h e fictions o f the fifties and sixties are galleries o f s u c h i m a g e s , and the readers w h o scan the pictures o n the w a l l find t h e y can n o l o n g e r describe the face o f A m e r ica as " t h e affluent s o c i e t y . "

NOTES 1. "What's Wrong With the American Novel?" American Scholar 24, no. 4 (Autumn 1955): 4 7 0 - 7 2 . 2. Valéry, in Location, no. 1 (Summer 1964), 14. 3. Flannery O'Connor, " T h e Grotesque in Southern Fiction," in Mystery and Manners, ed. Sally Fitzgerald and Robert Fitzgerald (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1969), 46. 4. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 14th ed., s.v. "caricature and cartoon." 5. E. H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), 336, 330-358 passim. 6. Ibid., 338. 7. Flannery O'Connor, A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories (1955; reprint. N e w York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1976), 9, 169. William Burroughs, Naked Lunch (1959; reprint. 8. N e w York: Grove Press, 1966), 59-60. 9. Irving Howe, "Mass Society and Postmodern Fiction," Partisan Review 26 (April 1959): 266-75; reprinted in A World More Attractive (New York: Horizon Press, '963), 9310. Ibid., 80, 82. 11. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, 345. 12. Howe, "Mass Society," 86. 13. Flannery O'Connor, " T h e Fiction Writer and His Country," in Mystery and Manners, 33, 39, 34. 14. Flannery O'Connor, The Complete Stories (blew York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1971), 54-55. 15. Flannery O'Connor, Three by Flannery O'Connor (New York: Signet, 1962), 9. 16. Walker Percy, The Moviegoer (1961; reprint. N e w York: Avon, 1980), 83-84. 17. John Updike, Rabbit Redux (New York: Fawcett Crest, 1971), 183. 18. Daniel Bell, " T h e Sensibility of the Sixties," The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 137. 19. Gilbert Sorrentino, " T h e Various Isolated," New American Review, no. 15 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1972), 19«20. Barthelme, " A F T E R J O Y C E , " Location, no. 1 (Summer 1964): 13. 21. Ibid., 14. 22. Gilbert Sorrentino, Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things (New York: Pantheon Books, 1971), 9. 23. Ibid., 1 5 - 1 6 . 24. John O'Brien, "An Interview with Gilbert Sorrentino," The Review of Contemporary Fiction 1, no. 1 (Spring 1981): 19. 25. Donald Barthelme, Snow White (1967; reprint, N e w York: Bantam Books, 1968), 8. 26. Ibid., 4, 20, 77, 44-45, 97. 27. Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 (New York: Bantam Books, 1966), 2. 28. Ibid., 14, 22, 10, 14, 135.

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Ben H. Bagdikian Endings, Beginnings, and Endings: Media in the 1950s

For the major media, the 1950s were a time of endings and beginnings and endings again, of old media cultures dying, some so gradually that their passing was unnoticed, and some, newly created, rushing onto the public stage with the flamboyance of innocent youth. Newspapers, once the creation of strong editors w h o wanted to say something, emerged as large corporate enterprises still beloved by their owners as mouthpieces for their own ideas, but chastened by the realization that if they didn't make too many people angry, the thundering presses could make higher profits than most of the country's glamour industries. Radio, which had been a living room presence since the 1920s, and the voice of solemn reporting of wartime battles, suddenly found itself, at its height, shockingly drab in the presence of a new electronic box with a tiny screen that not only emanated sounds but living, moving images. Television, which had been a technological reality since the 1920s, became a household reality so rapidly in the 1950s that it took years before most people realized that it had transformed family life, popular culture, and the nature of cities. In all the other media, the new invention, unexpectedly but inexorably, caused mutations, some of them terminal diseases. For people in radio, the little T V boxes were at first a cute newcomer w h o m they chucked patronizingly under the chin, believing, as did theater owners, that nobody would become devoted to the little five-inch screens with snowy images. But the jokes turned quickly to horror as the clumsy infant turned into a giant that threatened radio, which dealt solely in pictureless sound, and movie theaters, which required people to leave home and pay admission. Newspapers were faster to develop anxieties. R a dio had already killed the " E x t r a ! " , those unscheduled editions printed quickly whenever a dramatic event occurred. N o w people heard the breaking news on the radio. For most papers, the last " E x tra!" was the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor 011 December 7, 1 9 4 1 , but even then, most people got the news from a news break in regular Sunday broadcasts ("We interrupt this program . . . "). The press in this century has always harbored an obsessive fear that some little black box will kill printed news. T h e fear surfaces with every announcement of a telecommunications invention. Nevertheless, it was years before most papers realized that broadcasting would not kill them, but would change their content and their role in society.

World War II changed the mind-set of A m e r i cans, but the media understood this only slowly. With 14 million men in the armed services, the public could not get enough reports of battles, of casualty lists, of tactics and strategies. The public read and listened not as entertainment but with profound involvement. The lives of loved ones were at stake. It was not impossible that the J a p a nese would bomb the United States—coastal cities were blacked o u t — o r that Hitler w o u l d win. Newspapers were devoured, radio newscasts were tuned in religiously. (Archibald MacLeish said of Edward R. M u r r o w , broadcasting for C B S from Europe, " Y o u burned the city o f London in our houses and w e felt the flames. . . . You laid the dead of London at our doors and w e knew that the dead were our dead. . . .") Papers that had used their wartime rationed newsprint to emphasize news instead of ads emerged f r o m the war with less cash in the bank but stronger reader loyalty; those were the papers that survived in the f o l l o w ing years, as their competitors failed and many cities became one-newspaper towns. B y the start of 1950 these transformations were proceeding, but, as ever, the old media were impelled by past momentum that concealed the depth of change. That year there were 108 radio entertainment series that had been on the air for ten years and were still popular: Jack Benny, B o b Hope, A m o s 'n Andy, Bing Crosby, and " T h e R o mance of Helen Trent" among them. But by 1953 Bob Hope's ratings had dropped from 23.8 to 5.4. The decade began with a bizarre mixture of chaos and caution, of jarring events and national conformity that would involve the mass media as both actors and reactors to alterations of public thinking. On February 9, 1950, the junior United States Senator f r o m Wisconsin, probing desperately for an issue to win re-election, gave a speech in Wheeling, West Virginia, in which he said he had in his hand a list of 205 people known by the Secretary of State to be members of the C o m m u nist party but w h o were still "shaping policy in the State Department." It was the start of four years of national hysteria, and though Senator Joseph M c Carthy would never expose a single spy, his years of wild accusations would shake every major American institution, including the mass media. Most newspapers for a long time praised the increasingly dubious charges by the Senator and the political groups he inspired. A few major papers assigned staffs to help him carry out his campaign. McCarthyist groups began purging broadcasting of people they said represented " C o m m u n i s t influence on radio and television." Broadcasters began

hiring right-wing Red-hunters to " c l e a r " performers before they were allowed to appear. (The list of those accused of " C o m m u n i s t influence" included Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, G y p s y Rose Lee, William L. Shirer, Howard K . Smith, Orson Welles, and 145 others, most of w h o m had merely contributed to noncommunist causes disliked by the McCarthyites.) In that same crucial year, 1950, President Truman approved the development of the hydrogen bomb, the Korean War began, and a small item in some papers, not even printed in others, reported that the United States was sending thirty-five military advisors to a place called Vietnam. Readers and viewers were absorbing the shock of the turbulent news while their media were simultaneously changing ways the public got their news. Television needed more complex wires than radio to carry live signals, and at first the co-axial cable tied together only the big East Coast cities. Other cities and towns saw network T V shows and news thanks to propeller planes that delivered grainy movie films of the original broadcasts. In bad weather, Alaskans got their national news a few days late. But gradually the cable was extended from coast to coast on utility poles, through underground cables, and by the new microwave dishes that sent signals from hilltop to hilltop. When the cable link was completed to a city, it was hailed by front-page news stories about Milton Berle now coming live into local living rooms. It soon became evident that promoting national television presentations which would be seen across the country at the same moment represented a new power to inform, entertain, or move an entire people. Less evident than the instant power of live network broadcasting was what it did to the centers of cities. A s the co-axial cable reached a new city, families delighted in being able to watch the popular evening shows at the nationally announced time, and they quickly broke with the national habit of going to the movies twice a week. Ornate movie palaces that had been the American entertainment center for almost twenty years were suddenly empty. Fred Allen, popular as a sardonic comedian on radio, said the movie theaters were so empty you could hear the butter trickling through popcorn in the lobby. A n d when families no longer went d o w n t o w n to the movies, they no longer stopped for dinner or coffee at a nearby restaurant, no longer stopped at a department store to shop. T h e availability of the new home entertainment, combined with the flight of the affluent to the suburbs, transformed the centers of American cities

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into cold and e m p t y wastelands after the sun w e n t down. T w o events on the n e w living r o o m appliance notified the image makers that a revolution w a s at hand. In 1950 Hazel B i s h o p , an obscure lipstick c o m pany w i t h gross earnings o f only $50,000 a year, began advertising on television. T h e c o m p a n y ' s annual gross j u m p e d to $4.5 million. T h e financial p h e n o m e n o n demonstrated that television w o u l d b e c o m e the greatest merchandiser o f commercial products in the history o f civilization. T h e k n o w l edge transformed television itself. Until the lipstick commercials ran, the major sponsors o f television programs were corporations, w h i c h used p r o g r a m s to enhance their image as dignified institutions. Philco, M o t o r o l a , G o o d y e a r , Texaco, U . S . Steel, and others sponsored original live dramas or c o m e d y hours, one sponsor for the entire program. W h e n the merchandising magic o f television was recognized, h o w e v e r , the n e t w o r k s cancelled the current shows, even t h o u g h they had high ratings and the sponsors wanted to keep them. Instead, the n e t w o r k s and local stations developed their o w n p r o g r a m s and sold " s p o t s " to a n u m b e r o f different companies, earning higher revenues f r o m a series o f the five-second, thirtysecond, and sixty-second spots than they had f r o m single-sponsor h o u r l o n g programs. U n l i k e sponsorship, w h i c h was intended to buttress institutional reputations, the n e w commercials w e r e designed to sell g o o d s in a presentation measured in seconds. T h e s e " n e w " commercials required highly refined imagery w i t h o u t m u c h concrete detail, designed mainly for rapid emotional association. T h e p r o g r a m in w h i c h the brief sales pitch w o u l d be imbedded could not be too serious since that w o u l d not create a " b u y i n g m o o d " needed to make brief, fantasy-oriented messages about c o m mercial products effective. B u t e n o r m o u s profits for both the merchandiser and the stations w o u l d c o m e only i f the largest possible audience stayed glued to one channel. Furthermore, the spot c o m mercials w e r e not best on serious dramas and other continuous p r o g r a m s that had attracted large audiences in the early years o f television. T h e industry needed a n e w w a y to attract and fix attention. For this, the m e d i u m turned to the sovereign attentiongetters in h u m a n history, sex and violence. T h i r t y years later, sex and violence remain the devoted partners in A m e r i c a n commercial television, a partnership that decades o f complaints and endless indictments by psychological studies could not dissolve. A l f r e d H i t c h c o c k , the m o v i e director, said

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mordantly, "Television has brought murder into the h o m e , w h e r e it b e l o n g s . " T h e merchandisers o f consumer g o o d s were not alone in recognizing the n e w power. O n e could sell fabulous quantities o f deodorants and detergents t h r o u g h the n e w m e d i u m . But one could also sell political ideas and candidates. T h e political use o f television was inevitable, given its h u g e reach, its m o v i n g imagery, and its capability for creating highly polished and w e l l choreographed studio recordings that had the appearance o f candor and spontaneity. O n television a speaker could reach millions simultaneously and intimately, seeming to be speaking to each individual v i e w e r f r o m a f e w feet away. Neither a Hitler nor a Caesar could have c o m m a n d e d so large an audience w i t h such total control. T h e year 1952 launched that political lesson. A national military hero, General D w i g h t Eisenh o w e r , w a s the Republican candidate for president; an intellectual g o v e r n o r o f Illinois, Adlai Stevenson, w a s the D e m o c r a t i c candidate. It w a s almost inevitable that E i s e n h o w e r w o u l d w i n , television or not, but the campaign established w h a t w o u l d b e c o m e the standard m e d i u m o f politics for the next generation. Eisenhower's first live press conference w a s a disaster. He was ill at ease, did not have answers for the reporters' questions, and seemed unable to i m part a sense o f purpose or familiarity w i t h the issues. From then on, his managers concentrated 011 short television commercials that blended imagery and capsule remarks by the General. Released only after hours o f shooting, editing, and refining, these t w e n t y - s e c o n d commercials had little real content. To mention ideas or programs, it w a s feared, w o u l d risk o f f e n d i n g voters w h o m i g h t differ w i t h the candidate, and there was no one to ask unrehearsed questions. That same year, the General's vice-presidential candidate, Senator Richard N i x o n , w a s e m b a r rassed by disclosure o f a secret fund that had permitted California businessmen to finance his political career. M a n y Republican party leaders said that N i x o n should resign in order to prevent loss o f the election. General Eisenhower reserved j u d g m e n t until N i x o n had a chance to reply. Richard N i x o n and his w i f e appeared in a special half-hour appeal to the public that has since been called the " C h e c k ers s p e e c h " because o f an emotional statement by N i x o n that one o f his gifts, a d o g named C h e c k e r s , had been f r o m a little girl, and w o u l d never be divested by the N i x o n family. It was a speech that unsympathetic viewers derided as filled w i t h c o n trived e m o t i o n and bathos, but it had the effect o f

keeping N i x o n in the campaign and salvaging a career that would bring him to the presidency. It left no political manager in doubt about the future technique for political campaigning in the United States. A society fearful that being unusual might be seen as subversion, observing that liberals and radicals were called before congressional committees on national television, led in government by conservative businessmen, and centered around a population cohort feeling middle-class affluence while building families and careers, was soon seen, not surprisingly, as rigidly conformist. It was a time when corporate j o b recruiters hiring the brightest college graduates noted whether applicants had proper regimental ties, proper attitudes, and proper wives. Advertisements and c o m mencement addresses tended to salute career achievement and proper company life. Nevertheless, there were growing murmurs that condemned conformity and quoted Emerson and Thoreau. There was a fulcrum in this see-saw of orthodoxy and change. T h e fulcrum year was 1954. Joseph M c C a r t h y was finally censured by the United States Senate, and the United States Supreme C o u r t declared that school segregation was unconstitutional. It was the start of a new spirit, of change directed at equality and equity. Like any genuine social change, it released bitter antagonisms. It would be three more years before a decisive event made clear that the country was about to change race and social patterns, with all these i m plied f o r everything else, in the Deep South, and then everywhere. T h e moment was in 1957 at Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, where, in a tense historic moment, the governor called out his National Guard to stop agents of the United States government f r o m carrying out a federal court order to integrate the school. There were nervous jokes about firing on Fort Sumter. In the end, President Eisenhower called out federal troops, w h o stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with bayonetted rifles, to surround the school. M o r e than t w o hundred correspondents from around the world, and Americans at their television sets, observed while a company of the 1 0 1 s t Airborne Infantry of the United States A r m y accompanied nine black students into the previously all-white high school. In journalism, literary life, and academia, there was a parallel ferment resisting the smothering conformity. In 1950 David Riesman published The Lonely Crowd, on alienation in modern society. T h e next year a whole generation of young middle-

class Americans were drawn to J . D . Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, a private world of the y o u n g w h o were uncomprehended by their elders. B y 1956 William H. Whyte had published The Organization Man, aiming at the lockstep of proper college graduates shaping themselves to be acceptable to their corporate employers, a book complete with an appendix explaining how to cheat on the psychological tests given by companies to new j u nior executives. T h e next year J a c k Kerouac published On the Road, a precursor of 1960s hippiedom and its satirization of bourgeois propriety and familiar media symbols like advertisements and melodramatic comic strips. In newspapers, there was a new, impersonal corporate structure like conventional industries. B u t it was inhabited by a body of new journalists w h o were increasingly serious. In previous generations, American journalists were characterized by a small number of serious reporters and editors concentrated in a few newspapers, the majority of reporters were required mainly to be fast on their feet and on the keyboard. M a n y were talented and skilled, but few had gone to college and most were seldom asked to do more than write stereotyped stories o f crimes, lurid court trials, and hijinks at City Hall. Novels about American journalism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries often featured a sensitive reporter on a simplistic newspaper, the trap called "the newspaper-as-cemetery." But the postwar population was increasingly college educated and no longer smug about i m a g ined isolation f r o m the rest of the world. Postwar families raising school-age children and voting in their communities were less tolerant of flippant news. Advertising became more important as a source o f revenue to newspapers and, as in broadcasting, revenues depended on the size of the audience. Newspapers once interested in devoting as much of their space as possible to pursue their owners' personal and ideological interests n o w wished to attract as many different people in the community as possible, so objectivity in news writing became the style, leaching out subjective expression and j u d g mental adjectives that might delight some readers but offend others. There was a more businesslike collection of serious news that not only was more profitable but was less likely to cause public resentment at the new pattern o f local monopoly. O w n ers' personal predilections still prevailed, but more subtly, in selection and display of news rather than in open advocacy in the reportage. Furthermore, the American audience had other sources of information. T h e public had near-

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universal access to radio and television for n e w s , to b o o k s and texts and the g r o w i n g n u m b e r o f m a g a zines. W h e n the Soviet U n i o n launched Sputnik into space in 1957, it shocked the U n i t e d States into raising the rigor o f all its schools. H i g h schools got tougher t e x t b o o k s and colleges accelerated their studies. W h e r e once only w i n n i n g quarterbacks seemed to get their pictures in the local papers, n o w it w a s the local winners o f the N a tional M e r i t Scholarships. D a i l y printed n e w s had to i m p r o v e and so did journalists. C o n v e n t i o n s o f systematic training and codes o f conduct developed. Reporters no longer w o r e their hats in the office, and they w e r e f o r g i v e n b y their older peers if they read b o o k s or even w r o t e them. Television n e w s w a s at its best w h e n done by the f o r m e r n e t w o r k reporters f r o m radio like E d w a r d R . M u r r o w and Walter C r o n k i t e , but most o f it w a s s k i m p y and frivolous. T h e shift f r o m radio to television occasionally embarrassed the old techniques. Prize fights had been popular on radio, partly because they encouraged a breed o f radio fight announcer w h o created a verbal scene o f relentless slaughter in the ring. W h e n the fights w e r e first televised, the same announcers w e r e used, g i v i n g staccato, manic descriptions o f a scene o f uncontrolled savagery. B u t the cameras w e r e transmitting a real scene, usually o f t w o v e r y large, tired m e n shifting f r o m f o o t to foot and taking indifferent s w i n g s f r o m great distances. A n o t h e r radio art f o r m , the recreated baseball game, also s y m b o l i z e d the change o f n e w s f r o m the spoken w o r d to the m o v i n g image, and signaled the start o f s o m e t h i n g approaching a national mania, televised sports. In the past, an imaginative announcer w a t c h e d a teletype machine send i n n i n g - b y - i n n i n g statistics o f distant games, but the announcer w o u l d pretend to be on the scene and fill in the events w i t h excited step-by-step imaginary descriptions as t h o u g h directly o b served. T h e most popular o f these "recreators" w a s G o r d o n M c L e n d o n in Dallas, but the one w h o w o u l d ultimately b e c o m e even m o r e f a m o u s was an announcer named Ronald Reagan. B y the late 1950s television had b e g u n to take its present f o r m : images o f reality as defined by the live camera on the scene w i t h intermittent e x a m ples o f w h a t w a s fast b e c o m i n g the most expensive, ubiquitous, and polished art f o r m in society, the television commercial. Radio became the w a l l f l o w e r o f broadcasting, alive for the m o m e n t because it could be easily introduced on the w o r k b e n c h , in m o v i n g cars, and in the n e w handheld transistor receivers, but still

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years f r o m its later resurgence as a m e d i u m for n e w s and for specialized categories o f music. T h e newspapers, ever fearful o f the black b o x , initially did w h a t most irrationally fearful victims tend to d o — t h e y began imitating their enemy. T h e y assumed that since television seemed to gain popularity because o f pictures, newspapers w o u l d c o m p e t e best by running lots o f photographs. T h e newspapers o f the 1950s blossomed w i t h h u g e photographs and, in the same kind o f mistaken compulsion, increasingly brief n e w s items. Since broadcasting can transmit only one item at a time, no one piece o f n e w s can be so l o n g as to bore those uninterested in that particular kind o f n e w s . W h e n the broadcast consumer gets bored or irritated, he turns the dial and the station o w n e r has lost a customer. M o s t newspapers had forgotten that i f they ran stories that bored or irritated a reader, the reader could turn the page and the p u b lisher had not lost the customer. M o s t publishers w e r e also slow to realize that w h e n the bored reader turned the page l o o k i n g for n e w s o f his particular interest, he did not w a n t a brief, six-line s u m m a r y , but plenty o f interesting detail. B u t fear is a p o w e r f u l propellant o f fashion, and the fashion became oversized photographs and miniature n e w s items. T h e lust for T V - l i k e photographs, w h i l e ultimately futile as a w a y to c o m p e t e w i t h broadcasting, produced a w e l c o m e change in public p h o t o g raphy and in the public's sophistication in graphics. T h e traditional newspaper p h o t o g r a p h w a s taken by a b u l k y instrument like the b o x l i k e Speed Graphic, illuminated by a flash. T h e typical n e w s paper photograph was a rigid line o f c o m m i t t e e m e m b e r s arranged by height or status, grinning frozenly into the lens, details o f their faces washed out by the blinding flashbulb. A n e w l y efficient device, the 35-millimeter camera, using m o r e sensitive film and better lighting, c o m b i n e d w i t h editors' desire for better photographs w i t h w h i c h to defeat television, produced p h o t o g r a p h s that w e r e both m o r e versatile and artistic, and displayed people and scenes closer to candid reality. Until the 35-millimeter camera and fear o f television struck newspapers, the public's main source for g o o d photographs w i t h s o m e degree o f unplanned reality was Life magazine, the spectacularly successful w e e k l y launched b y H e n r y Luce in 1936. Life's cadre o f the best photographers in the country raised the national level o f the art and in the 1950s set the standards for n e w s pictures. B y the early 1970s, h o w e v e r , Life, Look, the Saturday Evening Post, and other national magazines o f g e n -

eral circulation had died. It had b e c o m e clear that broadcasting w i t h its huge reach and m o v i n g ads, could reach each A m e r i c a n household more cheaply than even the big national magazines at the height o f their circulations. It dawned only gradually on the press that broadcasting had not killed it but transformed its role. N o longer the original announcer o f dramatic news, newspapers dealt with an audience w h o already had heard the top o f important events and looked to the press to c o n f i r m and add details and b a c k g r o u n d . In a sense, broadcasting increased the public hunger for n e w s by reaching m o r e people w i t h current events than had ever before been included in the n e w s net. T h e papers that satisfied this hunger for detail and b a c k g r o u n d did better than the ones that continued as in the past or persisted in the illusion that they could be more p h o tographically graphic and briefer than the broadcasters. T h e change in the n e w s became clear to me during the winter o f 1 9 6 0 - 6 1 . A s a Washington correspondent, I covered the last press conference o f the o u t g o i n g President Eisenhower. It w a s held in the cramped, baroque Indian Treaty R o o m o f the E x ecutive O f f i c e Building, next to the White House. Television cameras w e r e present, but their film was released only hours later, after the W h i t e H o u s e had examined it for passages it t h o u g h t might be harmful to the public interest or its o w n . T h e old order prevailed: after about thirty minutes o f questions and responses, the senior w i r e service reporter present concluded with the ceremonial, " T h a n k y o u , Mr. President," f o l l o w e d by an unceremonial ritual. A s the doorkeeper opened the door, correspondents for w i r e services and major papers r a n — t h e y did not w a l k — t o w a r d the nearest telephones, mentally c o m p o s i n g their stories, w h i c h they shouted into their telephones. A t the other end, their h o m e offices transmitted the shouted stories, w o r d by w o r d , to a w a i t i n g public. T h e next press conference I covered, a f e w w e e k s later, was the first by the n e w president, John F. Kennedy. Kennedy decided that his press conferences w o u l d be transmitted live as they occurred. H e k n e w that he w a s effective in that setting and the i m m e d i a c y o f a live vision o f the y o u n g , attractive president w o u l d m a k e the press conferences, and the president, popular. T h i s press conference was not held in the Indian Treaty R o o m — t o o many correspondents n o w w a n t e d to attend, and the setting w a s t o o drab. It w a s in the relatively new, decorator-cool State D e p a r t m e n t A u d i -

torium. A t the end o f this first, fascinating thirty minutes, the senior w i r e service correspondent, as usual, said, " T h a n k y o u , M r . President," turned, and, as usual, ran toward the lobby, as did the other correspondents w i t h instant deadlines. B u t as they rushed pell-mell through the door, they froze in sudden, embarrassed paralysis. T h e y realized, w i t h sheepish grins, that no one in the h o m e o f f i c e was w a i t i n g breathlessly for w o r d f r o m t h e m — t h e h o m e office had watched on its o w n television set and transmitted the n e w s as it happened in real time. Besides, a large part o f the voters had seen the conference instantly. It w a s clear that f r o m then on the most i m p o r tant print journalists w o u l d be valued not for their legs and fast composition, but for w h a t they m i g h t add to w h a t the public already knew. T h i s w a s m o r e than a poignant m o m e n t for a f e w specialized correspondents. It w a s a reminder that television could reach practically e v e r y o n e instantaneously and d o it over the heads o f mediating journalists, overriding the p o w e r to put the leader's w o r d s in the context o f history or the voices o f the opposition. T h a t had been true o f radio, o f course, but television w a s qualitatively different: It p r o jected the m o v i n g image o f the speaker and, as inevitably w o u l d happen, leaders w o u l d learn h o w to present themselves as compelling and credible, at least for that m o m e n t . It w a s a p o w e r f u l n e w w a y to stimulate instant national consensus. A m e r i c a n politics and the creation o f popular values w o u l d never be the same.

ENDINGS,

BEGINNINGS,

AND ENDINGS

233

Chronology

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1950

Alger Hiss convicted of perjury in his denial of espionage charges Truman approves development of hydrogen b o m b Sen. Joseph M c C a r t h y begins anti-communist campaign

ART

EVENTS

Arshile G o r k y , Jackson Pollock, and Willem de Kooning included in U . S . Pavilion at Venice Biennale Young Painters in the United States and France, Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York

Dr. Klaus Fuchs convicted of espionage; Julius and Ethel Rosenberg arrested for espionage North Korea invades South Korea. U . S . and United Nations send troops to aid South Korea. Chinese communist forces j o i n North Koreans U . S . sends 35 military advisors to Vietnam First computer is marketed U . S . minimum w a g e rises to $ 1 an hour; gross national product up 1 1 % for the year

1951

Passage of 22d amendment to U . S . Constitution, limits president to t w o terms Julius and Ethel Rosenberg convicted and sentenced to death U . S . federal budget shows $6 billion surplus, but consumer prices j u m p 7 . 9 % ; gross national product up 1 5 % for the year

Influences on a Young Painter: Wayne Tliiebaud, first solo exhibition, E. B . Crocker Art Gallery, Sacramento, Calif. Robert Rauschenberg, first solo exhibition, Betty Parsons Gallery, N e w York Abstract Painting and Sculpture in America, The M u seum of Modern Art, N e w York Common Art Accumulations, Place Bar, San Francisco Roy Lichtenstein, first solo exhibition, Carlsbach Gallery, N e w York Duane Hanson, first solo exhibition, Museum of Art, Cranbrook Academy of Art, Bloomfield Hills, Mich.

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

All About Eve wins best picturc Oscar. Movies released include Born Yesterday, Sunset Boulevard, The Gun fighter, No Way Out, Annie Get Your Gun, Fatiter of the Bride, The Jackie Robinson Story, Destination Moon

BOOKS

Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles . . , Davld d e s m a n et al., The Lonely Crowd

9 % of U . S . homes have T V sets Sen. Estes Kefauver's hearings on Frank Costello's crime activities are nationally televised " Y o u r Show of S h o w s , " " T h e Jack Benny S h o w , " " Y o u Bet Your L i f e , " "Masterpiece Playhouse" premiere on T V

An American in Paris wins best picture Oscar. M o v ies released include A Streetcar Named Desire, The Whip Hand. The Marrying Kind, Quo Vadis, I Was a Communist for the FBI, I'll See You in My Dreams, The A frican Queen, The Day the Earth Stood Still First color telecast by C B S Walt Disney releases fully animated Alice in Wonderland " T h e A m o s and A n d y S h o w , " " D r a g n e t , " E d w a r d R. Murrow's " S e e It N o w " premiere on T V

Rachel Carson, The Sea Around Us James Jones, From Here to Eternity Norman Mailer, Barbary Shore Marshall McLuhan, The Mechanical Bride C. Wright Mills, White Collar J . D. Salinger, Tlte Catcher in the Rye Mickey Spillane, One Lonely Night Herman Wouk, The Caine

Mutiny

CHRONOLOGY

237

HISTORY AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1952

ART

EVENTS

Richard Nixon's Checkers speech on T V and radio

Robert Rauschenberg, Merce Cunningham, and John Cage collaborate at Black Mountain College, N . C . Premiere of Cage's j j ' j j "

First successful U . S . test of hydrogen bomb in the Marshall Islands

Formation of Hansa Gallery, artists' cooperative gallery, in New York

Dwight D. Eisenhower elected president

Andy Warhol: Fifteen Drawings Based on the Writings of Truman Capote, first solo exhibition, Hugo Gallery, N e w York

Truman and steelworkers clash over right to strike

B-52 bomber developed

1953

Joseph Stalin dies, Nikita Khrushchev becomes First Secretary of U S S R

Willem de Kooning: Paintings on the Theme of the Woman, Sidney Janis Gallery, New York

U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare created

Larry Rivers's Washington Crossing the Delaware exhibited at Tibor de Nagy Gallery, New York

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg executed at Sing Sing

Dada igi6-ig2j,

Korean War truce signed at Panmunjom; U . S . casualties reach 54,000 dead, 103,000 injured

Raymond Saunders, first solo exhibition, Pittsburgh Playhouse Gallery, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York

U S S R explodes hydrogen bomb Earl Warren appointed chief justice of the U . S . U.S. unemployment rate 2.9%, postwar low; federal price controls removed

1954

Puerto Rican nationalists shoot five U . S . Congressmen

Collage and Object, Institute of Contemporary Arts, London

French troops leave Vietnam

Jess, first solo exhibition, Place Bar, San Francisco

U . S . Supreme Court declares school segregation illegal (Brown vs. Board of Education)

Two Centuries of American Painting, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Sen. McCarthy censured by U . S . Senate for inappropriate investigative activities Dow Jones industrial average breaks 400

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

BOOKS

MEDIA

Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

The Greatest Show on Earth wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include High Noon, Singin' in the Rain, My Son John, The Steel Fist, This Is Cinerama

John Kenneth Galbraith, American Capitalism

First issue of TV

Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Guide

Partisan Review publishes symposium " O u r Country and Our Culture"

Bernard Malamud, The Natural

Retrospective of Terrytoons cartoons at Museum of Modern Art, N e w York

Reinhold Niebuhr, The Irony of American History

"Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet," " T h e Today S h o w , " "Adventures of Superman," " D r a g n e t " premiere on T V

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

From Here to Eternity wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Stalag 17, Shane, Calamity Jane, How to Marry a Millionaire, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes First issue of Playboy

Marianne Moore, Collected Poems

Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood

Saul Bellow, The Adventures of Augie March Alfred C . Kinsey, Sexual Behavior in the Human Female Russell Kirk, The Conservative Mind Arthur Miller, The Crucible Peter Viereck, The Shame and Glory of the Intellectuals

On the Waterfront wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Them!, Dial M for Murder, Living it Up, The Wild One, Rear Window

Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (English translation)

5 5 % of U . S . homes have T V sets

Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

"Father Knows B e s t , " "Walt Disney," " L a s s i e " premiere on T V

Wright Morris, The Huge Season

A r m y - M c C a r t h y hearings nationally televised First issue of Sports Illustrated

William Golding, Lord of the Flies

Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Ernest Hemingway awarded Nobel Prize for literature

Elvis Presley's first recordings First T V dinner marketed

CHRONOLOGY

239

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1955 U . S . begins sending foreign aid to South Vietnam

ART

EVENTS

The New Decade: 55 American Painters and Sculptors, Whitney Museum, N e w York

U . S . and U S S R end io-year occupation of Austria Geneva summit conference yields no agreements Dr. Martin Luther K i n g , J r . , leads a 54-week bus boycott in Montgomery, Ala.

1956

Khrushchev denounces Stalin personality cult U . S . hydrogen b o m b test at Bikini atoll E g y p t nationalizes Suez Canal; Israel, Britain, and France invade

George Segal, first solo exhibition, Hansa Gallery, N e w York This Is Tomorrow, exhibition of British Pop Art, Whitechapel Art Gallery, London

Eisenhower reelected president National Defense H i g h w a y Act authorizes construction of interstate highway system D o w Jones industrial average breaks 500; U . S . federal budget shows $4 billion surplus

1957

Eisenhower pledges foreign aid to Middle East nations to fight communism

Contemporary Bay Area Figurative Painting, TheOakland Museum, Oakland, Calif.

Eisenhower sends federal troops to Central High School, Little Rock, A r k . , to enforce desegregation

Wallace Bennati, first solo exhibition, Fcrus Gallery, Los Angeles

U S S R launches Sputnik

Leo Castelli Gallery opens in N e w York

Creation of S A N E (National Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy) U . S . space satellite explodes at Cape Canaveral

240

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

R u d o l f Flesch, Why Johnny Can't Read

Marty wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Man with the Golden Arm, The Blackboard Jungle, The Rose Tattoo, Rebel Without a Cause

Herbert Marcuse, Eros and

First televised presidential press conference

Arthur Miller, A View from the Bridge

Disneyland opens in Anaheim, Calif.

Flannery O ' C o n n e r , A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories

" T h e Mickey Mouse C l u b , " " T h e Ed Sullivan S h o w , " " G u n s m o k e , " " T h e $64,000 Question," " T h e Ernie Kovacs S h o w , " " T h e Honeymooners" premiere on T V James Dean dies in car crash

Civilization

Robert Penn Warren, Band of Angels Sloan Wilson, The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit Herman Wouk, Marjorie

Morningstar

Hit records include Bill Haley, " R o c k Around the C l o c k " ; Fess Parker, "Ballad of Davey C r o c k e t t "

Around the World in So Days wins best picture O s car. Movies released include Baby Doll, The Trouble with Harry, Patterns, Giant, Picnic, Lore Me Tender

John Ashbery, Some Trees

Hit records include Elvis Presley, "Heartbreak Hotel," " H o u n d D o g " ; Little Richard, "TuttiFrutti"

Allen Ginsberg, Howl

Saul Bellow, Seize the Day

J o h n Keats, The Crack in the Picture Window Grace Metalious, Peyton Place C . Wright Mills, The Power Elite William H. Whyte, J r . , The Organization

Man

The Bridge on the River Kwai wins best picture O s car. Movies released include The Three Faces of Eve, Edge of the City, Islands in the Sun, Paths of Glory, And God Created Woman, Twelve Angry Men

J a m e s Agee, A Death in the Family

" L e a v e It to Beaver," " P e r r y M a s o n , " " T h e Real M c C o y s , " "Wagon Train" premiere on T V

Jack Kcrouac, On the Road

Hit records include Elvis Presley, "All Shook U p , " "Jailhousc R o c k "

Frank O'Hara, Meditations in an Emergency

J o h n Cheever, The Wapshot Chronicle J o h n F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage

Bernard Malamud, The Assistant

Vance Packard, The Hidden Persuaders A y n Rand, Atlas Shrugged M a x Schulman, Rally Round the Flag, Boys Nevil Shute, On the Beach Alan Watts, The Way of Zen

CHRONOLOGY

24I

HISTORY AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1958

U . S . satellite Explorer I orbits earth Creation of N A S A (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) U . S . t r o o p s sent to Beirut at request of Lebanese government C o n g r e s s passes National Defense Education Act

ART

EVENTS

Jasper Johns, first solo exhibition, Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York Allan Kaprow, e n v i r o n m e n t , Hansa Gallery, N e w York H. C. Westermann, first solo exhibition, Allan F r u m k i n Gallery, C h i c a g o

J o h n Birch Society f o u n d e d

Billy Al Bengston, first solo exhibition, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles

U . S . u n e m p l o y m e n t rate reaches 6 . 8 % , p o s t w a r high

Robert Rauschenberg, c o m b i n e paintings, Leo C a s telli Gallery, N e w York Bruce Conner, first solo exhibition, East-West Gallery, San Francisco Marisol, first solo exhibition, Leo Castelli Gallery, N e w York Red Grooms, first solo exhibition, Sun Gallery, Provincetown, Mass. G u g g e n h e i m M u s e u m opens n e w building in N e w York

1959

C u b a n dictator Fulgencio Batista flees; Fidel C a s t r o becomes premier

Allan Kaprow, ¡8 Happenings in Six Parts, Reuben Gallery, N e w York

Alaska and Hawaii granted statehood

Sixteen Americans, T h e M u s e u m of M o d e r n Art, N e w York

Selection of first seven U . S . astronauts "Kitchen d e b a t e " b e t w e e n N i x o n and K h r u s h c h e v telecast live f r o m M o s c o w K h r u s h c h e v visits U . S . Eisenhower invokes Taft-Hartley Act to c o m b a t steelworkers' strike D o w J o n e s industrial average breaks 6oo

242

CHRONOLOGY

Below Zero, Reuben Gallery, N e w York New Images of Man, T h e M u s e u m of M o d e r n Art, N e w York Robert Bechtle, San Francisco M u s e u m of Art Edward Kienholz, first solo exhibition, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, A Coney Island of the Mind

Gigi wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Touch of Evil, The Lefthanded Gun, The Defiant Ones, The Tunnel of Love, A Movie

John Kenneth Galbraith, The Affluent

"Popeye the Sailor" premieres on T V

Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums, The

Subterraneans

First stereo records

Martin Luther King, J r . , Stride Toward

Freedom

Everly Brothers, Ricky Nelson, Kingston Trio top record charts

William J . Lederer and Eugene Burdick, The Ugly American

Society

Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun

U . S . Postmaster General seizes copies o f D. H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterly's Lover claiming book is obscene

Beit-Hur wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Some Like it Hot, The Fugitive Kind, Compulsion, On the Beach, Pull My Daisy

Saul Bellow, Henderson the Rain King

Rigged T V quiz shows scandal

William S. Burroughs, Naked

" T h e Twilight Z o n e , " " B o n a n z a " premiere on T V

Allen Drury, Advise and Consent

Frankie Avalon, Paul Anka, Bobby Darin top record charts

Langston Hughes, Selected

Norman O. Brown, Life Against

Lunch

Poems

Norman Mailer, Advertisements for James Michener,

Death

Myself

Hawaii

Vladimir Nabakov, Lolita (English translation) Vance Packard, The Status Philip Roth, Goodbye,

Seekers

Columbus

CHRONOLOGY

243

HISTORY AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

I960 Four black students sit-in at a segregated lunch

EVENTS

counter in Greensboro, N . C . ; similar protests around the nation

Claes Oldenburg, The Street, first solo exhibition, Judson Gallery, Judson Memorial Church, N e w York

Cuba signs a trade agreement with the U S S R . U . S . begins training forces to invade Cuba

New Media—Neit' N e w York

Caryl Chessman executed at San Quentin

New Media—New Forms, Version II, Martha J a c k son Gallery, N e w York

U . S . U - 2 spy plane shot down over U S S R Civil Rights Act of i960 provides for federal referees to safeguard the rights of black voters Oral contraceptives approved for sale in U . S . K e n n e d y - N i x o n debates televised nationally J o h n F. Kennedy elected president Creation of S N C C (Students NonViolent C o o r d i nation Committee) and S D S (Students for a D e m ocratic Society)

1961 U . S . breaks diplomatic ties with Cuba Creation of Peace C o r p s Passage of 23d amendment to U . S . Constitution provides voting rights for residents of District of Columbia U S S R c o s m o n a u t safely orbits earth

Forms, Martha Jackson Gallery,

John Baldessari, first solo exhibition, La Jolla M u seum of Art, La Jolla, Calif. Ceramics and Sculpture by Robert Arneson, The O a k land Museum, Oakland, Calif. Rosalyti Drexler, first solo exhibition, Reuben Gallery, N e w York Green Gallery opens in N e w York

Environments, Situations, Spaces, Martha Jackson Gallery, N e w York The Art of Assemblage, T h e Museum of Modern Art, N e w York Claes Oldenburg: The Store, 107 East Second Street, N e w York

U . S . invasion of Cuba (Bay of Pigs) fails

Tom Wesselmann, Great American Nude, first solo exhibition, Tanager Gallery, N e w York

First U . S . plane hijacked to Cuba

Doom Shoif, March Gallery, N e w York

Freedom Riders attacked by mobs in several Southern cities

Llyn Foulkes, first solo exhibition, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles

Alan Shepard is first American in space; Kennedy vows to put a man on the moon before 1970

George Herms, first solo exhibition, Batman Gallery, San Francisco

Dominican Republic dictator Rafael Trujillo killed by CIA-backed assassins

Peter Saul, first solo exhibition, Allan Stone Gallery, N e w York

East Germany erects Berlin Wall

Edward Kienholz, Calif.

U . S . and U S S R resume nuclear weapons testing after three-year moratorium U . S . sends military advisors to Vietnam D o w Jones industrial average breaks 700

244

ART

CHRONOLOGY

Pasadena Art Museum, Pasadena,

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

The Apartment wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Psycho, Exodus, G. I. Blues, The Bell Boy, Please Don't Eat the Daisies

Daniel Bell, The End of Ideology Leslie Fiedler, Love and Death in the American Novel

87% of U . S . homes have T V sets

Paul G o o d m a n , Growing Up Absurd

Winter O l y m p i c games televised live (from Squaw Valley, Calif.) for the first time

Herman Kahn, On Thermonuclear War Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Jack Paar walks o f f " T h e Tonight S h o w " to protest censorship

C . Wright Mills, The Causes of World War III

Elvis Presley, Everly Brothers, Brenda Lee top record charts

Gary Snyder, Myths and Texts

First business photocopier marketed

John Updike, Rabbit, Run

Charles Olson, The Maximus Poems

Federal court rules D. H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterly's Lover is not obscene

West Side Story wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Misfits, Hustler, Splendor in the Grass " B e n C a s e y , " " D r . Kildare," " C B S Reports," " W i d e World of Sports," " T h e Dick Van D y k e S h o w , " "Saturday Night at the M o v i e s " premiere on T V C h u b b y Checker, Del Shannon, B o b b y Lewis top record charts

E d w a r d Albee, The American Dream James Baldwin, Nobody Knows My Name Amiri Baraka [LeRoi Jones], Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note Allen Ginsberg, Kaddish and Other Poems John Griffin, Black Like Me Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land Joseph Heller, Catch-22 Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (first legal U . S . publication) Walker Percy, The Moviegoer J . D . Salinger, Franny and Zooey T. H. White, The Making of the President: i960 Ernest H e m i n g w a y commits suicide

CHRONOLOGY

245

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1962 J o h n Glenn is first American to orbit earth A d o p h Eichmann executed in Israel for w a r crimes

ART

EVENTS

James Rosenquist, first solo exhibition, Green Gallery, N e w York

S D S National Convention at Port Huron, Mich.

Roy Lichtenstein, cartoon images, Leo Castelli G a l lery, N e w York

U . S . Supreme Court bans prayer in schools

1961, Dallas Museum for Contemporary Arts

Cesar Chavez founds United Farm Workers union

Wayne Thiebaud, M . H . de Young Memorial M u seum, San Francisco

Cuban missile crisis Pope J o h n X X I I I convenes Vatican Council II

Robert Indiana, first solo exhibition, Stable Gallery, N e w York

James Meredith denied admission to University of Mississippi; federal troops suppress riots when he registers

The New Realists, Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York My Country 'Tis of Thee, D w a n Gallery, Los Angeles A Symposium on Pop Art, T h e Museum of Modern Art, N e w York The New Painting of Common Objects, Pasadena Art Museum, Pasadena, Calif. Directions in Collage: California, seum, Pasadena, Calif.

Pasadena Art M u -

Andy Warhol, Campbell's Soup paintings, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles Joe Goode, first solo exhibition, Dilexi Gallery, Los Angeles Phillip Hefferton, first solo exhibition, R o l f Nelson Gallery, Los Angeles Robert Arneson: Ceramics, Drawings and Collages, M . H. de Young Memorial Museum, San Francisco Claes Oldenburg: The Store, Green Gallery, N e w York

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

Lawrence of Arabia wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Miracle Worker, The Manchurian Candidate First live telecast using Telestar communications satellite Jackie Kennedy gives televised tour o f the White House Johnny Carson begins hosting " T h e Tonight Show." Walter Cronkite begins anchoring " C B S Evening News" Chubby Checker, " T h e Twist"; Ray Charles, Four Seasons, Bobby Vinton top record charts

BOOKS

Edward Albee, Who's Afraid of Virginia James Baldwin, Another Rachel Carson, Silent

Woolf?

Country

Spring

Buckminster Fuller, Untitled Epic Poem on the History of Industrialization Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Dwight MacDonald, Against the American Essays on the Effects of Mass Culture Marshall McLuhan, The Gutenberg

Galaxy

John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: America Alan Watts, The foyous Cosmology T i m o t h y Leary)

Grain:

In Search of

(Foreword by

Tennessee Williams, The Night of the Iguana J o h n Steinbeck awarded Nobel Prize for literature

CHRONOLOGY

247

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1963

ART

EVENTS

Harvard dismisses Richard Alpert and T i m o t h y Leary for L S D experiments

Marcel Duchamp, retrospective, Pasadena Art M u seum, Pasadena, Calif.

A Buddhist monk sets himself on fire to protest religious persecution in South Vietnam

Six Painters and the Object, Solomon R. G u g g e n heim Museum, N e w York

Civil rights leader Medgar W. Evers assassinated in Mississippi

Robert Rauschenberg, retrospective. T h e Jewish M u seum, N e w York

U S S R puts the first w o m a n in space U . S . Post Office introduces zip codes

Popular Art: Artistic Projection of Common American Symbols, Nelson Gallery and Atkins Museum, Kansas City, M o .

U . S . , U S S R , and Great Britain sign nuclear test ban treaty

Pop! Goes the Easel, Contemporary Art Museum, Houston

March on Washington; Martin Luther K i n g , J r . , delivers " I have a d r e a m " speech

The Popular Image, Washington Gallery of Modern Art, Washington, D . C .

B o m b kills four black girls in a Birmingham church

Pop Art USA, Calif.

J o h n F. Kennedy assassinated by Lee Harvey O s wald in Dallas. O s w a l d murdered by Jack Ruby. Lyndon B . Johnson becomes president

Andy Warhol, Elvis Presley paintings, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles

T h e Oakland Museum, Oakland,

Americans 1963, The Museum of Modern Art, N e w York The NO Show, Stein Gallery, N e w York Mixed Media and Pop Art, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, N e w York Six More, Los Angeles County Museum of Art Robert Arneson: Recent Ceramic Sculpture, Richmond Art Center, Richmond, Calif. Jake Berthot, first solo exhibition, Finer Gallery, N e w York Edward Rtischa, first solo exhibition, Ferus Gallery, Los Angeles Tony Berlant, first solo exhibition, David Stuart Gallery, Los Angeles Bruce Conner, Wichita Art Museum, Wichita, Kans. Three Centuries of Popular Imagery, Des Moines Art Center, Des Moines, Iowa Allan D'Arcangelo, first solo exhibition, Fischbach Gallery, N e w York May Stevens, Freedom Riders, first solo exhibition, R 0 K 0 Gallery, N e w York Black artists group, Spiral, formed in N e w York CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

Tom Jones wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Birds, Cleopatra, How the West was Won, Scorpio Rising; A n d y Warhol's Sleep, Kiss, Blow Job

James Baldwin, The Fire Next

Julia Child introduces " T h e French C h e f " to T V

Mary McCarthy, The Group

"American Revolution 1 9 6 3 , " documentary on civil rights, is one of the first three-hour T V specials

Jessica Mitford, The American Way of Death

Evening network T V news expands f r o m 15 minutes to 30

Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle

Betty Friedan, The Feminine

Time Mystique

Michael Harrington, The Other America

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

William Carlos Williams, Pictures from Brueghel

Marilyn Monroe dies of a drug overdose Hit records include Beach B o y s , " S u r f i n g U . S . A . " J a n & Dean, " S u r f C i t y " ; Beatles, " I Want to Hold Your H a n d "

CHRONOLOGY

249

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1964

U S S R begins to buy U . S . wheat U . S . Surgeon General declares cigarette smoking hazardous to health World's Fair opens in N e w York 24th amendment to U . S . Constitution abolishes poll taxes J i m m y H o f f a , president of the Teamsters Union, convicted of j u r y tampering Three civil rights workers murdered in Mississippi Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects voting rights and prohibits racial discrimination in housing and employment U . S . Senate passes G u l f of Tonkin resolution authorizing bombing of North Vietnam Creation of V I S T A (Volunteers in Servicc to America) Warren Commission concludes that Oswald acted alone Martin Luther King, J r . , awared Nobel Peace Prize Leonid Brezhnev becomes First Secretary of U S S R China explodes its first atomic bomb Johnson reelected president Berkeley Free Speech Movement protests, 796 arrests D o w Jones industrial average breaks 800

250

CHRONOLOGY

ART

EVENTS

Four Environments by Four New Realists, Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York Boxes, D w a n Gallery, Los Angeles Jasper Johns, retrospective, The Jewish M u s e u m , N e w York Jasper Johns, Robert Rauschenberg, and Clacs Oldenburg included in U . S . Pavilion at Venicc Biennale. Rauschenberg wins first prize Robert Bechtle, San Francisco Museum of Art Mel Ramos, first solo exhibition, Bianchini Gallery, N e w York The American Supermarket, Bianchini Gallery, N e w York

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

My Fair Lady wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Dr. Strangelove, A Hard Day's Night, Lord of the Flies

Amiri Baraka [LeRoi Jones], Dutchman

The Beatles perform on " T h e Ed Sullivan S h o w " and tour U . S .

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

First issue of Los Angeles Free Press "Daniel Boone," "Man from U . N . C . L . E . , " "That Was the Week That Was," "Peyton Place" premiere on T V Beatles, Roy Orbison, Supremes top record charts

Saul Bellow, Herzog

Richard Hofstadter, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life Stanley Kubrick, Dr. Strangelove Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man Frank O'Hara, Lunch Poems

CHRONOLOGY

251

HISTORY

AND

SOCIAL

EVENTS

1965

ART

EVENTS

Voting rights demonstrations in Selma, A l a . ; over 2,000 arrests

Richard Artschwager, first solo exhibition, L e o C a s telli Gallery, N e w Y o r k

J o h n s o n orders large-scale b o m b i n g o f N o r t h Vietnam

Prints, Drawings, and Paintings by Wayne San Francisco M u s e u m o f Art

M a l c o l m X fatally shot in N e w Y o r k

The New American Realism, Worcester Art M u seum, Worcester, Mass.

J o h n s o n mobilizes National G u a r d to protect freed o m marchers in Selma First Vietnam antiwar teach-in at U n i v e r s i t y o f Michigan U . S . Marines sent to D o m i n i c a n Republic E d w a r d White is the first U . S . astronaut to w a l k in space Medicare enacted Voting Rights Act o f 1965

Thiebaud,

Larry Rivers Retrospective, R o s e Art M u s e u m , B r a n déis University, Waltham, Mass. Robert Rauschenberg Paintings 1953-1964, Center, Minneapolis

Walker Art

New York, the Second Breakthrough, 1959-1964, Gallery, U n i v e r s i t y o f California, Irvine J a m e s Rosenquist's F-111 N e w York

Art

at Leo Castelli Gallery,

Race riots erupt in Watts, L o s Angeles

Romare Bearden, C o r c o r a n Gallery, Washington, D.C.

United Farm Workers strikes California grape growers

Pop Art and the American Tradition, M i l w a u k e e Art Center

P o w e r failure blacks out the Northeast

Word and Image, S o l o m o n R . G u g g e n h e i m M u seum, N e w Y o r k

J o h n s o n halts Vietnam b o m b i n g s f o r C h r i s t m a s season; U . S . troops in Vietnam exceed 184,000 Cultural Revolution begins in C h i n a D o w J o n e s industrial average breaks 900

Jasper Johns Retrospective, Pasadena Art M u s e u m , Pasadena, Calif. Ray Johnson,

Collages, Willard Gallery, N e w York

Bruce Conner, R o s e Art M u s e u m , Brandéis U n i v e r sity, Waltham, Mass. Andy Warhol, Institute o f C o n t e m p o r a r y Art, U n i versity o f Pennsylvania, Philadelphia

252

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Sound of Music wins best picturc Oscar. M o v ies released include Help!, A Patch of Blue, The Sandpiper, Dr. Zhivago

John Berryman, 77 Dream Songs

" T h e F . B . I . " premieres on T V

Frank Herbert, Dune

B o b Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited; Rolling Stones, "Satisfaction"; Beatles, Supremes, Herman's Hermits, Beach B o y s , B y r d s top record charts

Pauline Kael, I Lost It at the Movies N o r m a n Mailer, An American Dream Herbert Marcuse, Culture and Society Ralph Nader, Unsafe at Any Speed Robert Odenwald, The Disappearing

Sexes

Arthur Schlesinger, J r . , The Thousand Days

CHRONOLOGY

253

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1966 U . S . resumes bombing North Vietnam Federal government declares L S D illegal First conviction for draft-card burning International Days of Protest against Vietnam War U . S . Supreme Court rules that all suspects must be read their rights (Miranda vs. Arizona) Race riots in Chicago, Brooklyn, Cleveland, and Baltimore Richard Speck murders eight Chicago nurses

ART

EVENTS

Contemporary Urban Vision, The N e w School for Social Research, N e w York The Hairy Who, Hyde Park Art Center, Chicago Artists organize Peace Tower in Los Angeles as part of antiwar protest Vija Celmins, first solo exhibition, David Stuart Galleries, Los Angeles Works by Roy Lichtenstein, Cleveland Museum of Art

B o m b i n g of Hanoi

Flag Constructions by Marc Morrei, Stephen Radich Gallery, N e w York

Black Panthers organize in Oakland, Calif.

Ten from Los Angeles, Seattle Art Museum

N O W (National Organization of Women) founded

The Art of the American Negro, Harlem Cultural Council, N e w York

Emergence of Hippie movement

Edward Kienholz, Los Angeles County Museum of Art

U . S . unemployment rate declines to 3 . 8 %

Andy Warhol, Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston Whitney Museum opens new building in N e w York

254

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

A Man for All Seasons wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include Blow Up, The Fortune Cookie

J o h n Barth, Giles

Senate Foreign Relations Committee Hearings on Vietnam, chaired by William Fulbright, televised nationally

Konrad Lorenz, On Aggression

National Football League games televised in prime time " B a t m a n , " " T h e Dating G a m e , " "Mission: Impossible" premiere on T V

Goat-Boy

Truman Capote, In Cold Blood

Masters and Johnson, Human Sexual

Response

Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 Susan Sontag, Against Interpretation Hunter T h o m p s o n , Hell's Angels

Last Beatles concert; Barry Sadler, " B a l l a d of the Green Berets"; height of popularity for M o t o w n recordings; Simon & Garfunkel, Righteous B r o t h ers, Mamas & Papas, Rolling Stones, Lovin' Spoonful top record charts

CHRONOLOGY

255

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1967

ART

EVENTS

Three U . S . astronauts die in launch-pad fire

The Hairy Who, H y d e Park Art Center, Chicago

Arab-Israeli six-day w a r

Roy Lichtenstein, Pasadena Art Museum, Pasadena, Calif.

T h u r g o o d Marshall s w o r n in, first black U . S . Supreme Court justice Race riots in N e w a r k , N . J . , 26 dead; 43 die in D e troit riots Bolivia confirms death of C h e Guevara A n t i w a r demonstrators march on Pentagon U . S . minimum wage rises to $ 1 . 4 0 an hour

Memorial Exhibit for Martin Luther King, Jr., Museum of Modern Art, N e w York

The

Claes Oldenburg, Projects for Monuments, Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago Protest and Hope: An Exhibition of Contemporary American Art, T h e N e w School for Social Research, N e w York Bruce Conner: Sculpture, Assemblages, Collages, Drawings, and Film, Institute of Contemporary Art, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia Roy Lichtenstein: An Exhibition of Paintings and Sculpture, Contemporary Art Center, Cincinnati Environment USA: 1957-1967, Moderna, Sào Paulo, Brazil

Muscu de Arte

American Sculpture of the Sixties, Los Angeles County Museum of Art Faith Ringgold, first solo exhibition, Spectrum Gallery, N e w York Ellen Lanyon, Fort Wayne Art Museum, Fort Wayne, Ind. Homage to Marilyn Monroe, Sidney Jams Gallery, N e w York Robert Bechtle, San Francisco Museum of Art Collage of Indignation created as part of " A n g r y Arts Against the War in V i e t n a m , " N e w York University Karl Wirsum, first solo exhibition, Dell Gallery, Chicago

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

BOOKS

In the Heat of the Night wins best picturc Oscar. Movies released include Cool Hand Luke, The Graduate, Bonnie and Clyde, Guess Who's Coming for Dinner?, Accident

John Barth, Sot-Weed Factor

First Super B o w l

Marshall McLuhan, The Medium is the Message

Carnegie Commission issues report on public television. Public Broadcasting Act of 1967 establishes federally funded corporation for Public Broadcasting

William Manchester, The Death of a President

Donald Barthelme, Snow White Stokely Carmichael, Black Pouter!

William Styron, The Confessions of Nat Turner

Aretha Franklin, " R e s p e c t " ; Beatles, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band; Monkees, T h e Doors, Young Rascals top record charts

CHRONOLOGY

257

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1968

North Korea seizes U . S . Pueblo Viet Cong launch surprise Tet offensive Poor People's Campaign; Resurrection City, Washington, D . C . Martin Luther King, Jr., assassinated in Memphis; violence erupts around the nation Civil Rights Act of 1968 prohibits racial discrimination in housing Student demonstrations at Columbia University Robert F. Kennedy assassinated in Los Angeles U . S . and U S S R sign treaty for nonproliferation of nuclear weapons Miami race riots U S S R invades Czechoslovakia March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom Antiwar demonstrators clash with police at Democratic Convention in Chicago Two U . S . runners expelled from Olympics for giving black-power salute Richard M. Nixon elected president Vietnam peace talks continue in Paris; U . S . troops in Vietnam exceed 520,000 U . S . minimum wage rises to $1.60 an hour

ART

EVENTS

Wayne Thiebaud, Pasadena Art Museum, Pasadena, Calif. George Segal: 12 Human Situations, Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago Robert Indiana, Institute of Contemporary Art, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia The Hairy Who, Hyde Park, Chicago Realism Now, Vassar College Art Gallery, Poughkeepsie, N . Y . Andy Warhol shot by Valerie Solanis Richard J. Daley Exhibition, protest against violence by Chicago civil authorities at Democratic National Convention, Richard Feigen Gallery, Chicago Violence in Recent American Art, Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago Romare Bearden: Paintings and Projections, Art Gallery, State University of New York, Albany H. C. Westermann, retrospective, Los Angeles County Museum of Art The West Coast Now, Portland Art Museum, Portland, Ore. Paste-ups by Jess, San Francisco Museum of Art Wallace Bermati: Verifax Collages, Jewish Museum, N e w York Assemblage in California, Art Gallery, University of California, Irvine Duane Hanson, Ringling Museum, Sarasota, Fla. Robert Indiana, Institute of Contemporary Art, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia Richard Estes, first solo exhibition, Allan Stone Gallery, N e w York

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

Oliver! wins best picture Oscar. Movies include The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Baby, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Green Funny Girl, The Fox, Night of the Living

BOOKS

released Rosemary's Berets, Dead

" S i x t y Minutes," " T h e M o d S q u a d , " " R o w a n & Martin's L a u g h - I n " premiere on T V J i m i Hendrix, Simon & Garfunkel, Janis Joplin, Fifth Dimension top record charts

Eldridge Cleaver, Soul on Ice Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem J o e McGinniss, The Selling of the President N o r m a n Mailer, Armies of the Night John Updike, Couples James D . Watson, The Double

Helix

Tom Wolfe, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test

CHRONOLOGY

259

HISTORY

AND SOCIAL

EVENTS

1969

Harvard students strike over black studies and ROTC People's Park riot in Berkeley Warren Burger appointed chief justice of the U . S . N i x o n announces withdrawal of 25,000 U . S . soldiers f r o m Vietnam Weatherman faction creates split at S D S convention Neil Armstrong is first man to walk on the moon Manson family murders Sharon Tate and four others

ART

EVENTS

Artworkers Coalition formed Harlem on My Mind: Cultural Capital of Black America, 1900-1968, T h e Metropolitan Museum o f Art, N e w York Pop Art Redefined, Hayward Gallery, London Roy Lichtenstein, Solomon R. Guggenheim M u seum, N e w York The Spirit of the Comics, Institute of Contemporary Art, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia Don Batim Sez "Chicago Needs Famous Artists," M u seum of Contemporary Art, Chicago

University of California, Los Angeles dismisses Angela Davis

Human Concern / Personal Torment: The Grotesque in American Art, Whitney Museum of American Art, N e w York

March Against Death, antiwar protest, in Washington, D . C .

Edward Ruscha, L a j o l l a Museum of Art, Lajolla, Calif.

Native Americans seize Alcatraz Island in San Francisco B a y

Raymond Saunders, Beaumont-May Gallery, H o p kins Center, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N . H.

G a y Pride movement emerges in N e w York

West Coast ¡945-1969, Pasadena Art Museum, Pasadena, Calif. The Highway, Institute of Contemporary Art, U n i versity of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia

260

CHRONOLOGY

MASS

MEDIA

Midnight Cowboy wins best picture Oscar. Movies released include The Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Easy Rider, Alice's Restaurant, Take the Money and Run

BOOKS

Lillian Hellman, An Unfinished

Woman

LaurenceJ. Peter and Raymond Hall, The Peter Principle

Woodstock, N.Y., and Altamont, Calif., music festivals

Mario Puzo, The

C B S cancels " T h e Smothers Brothers S h o w " after disputes over censorship

Kurt Vonnegut,

Godfather

Philip Roth, Portnoy's

Complaint

Slaughterhouse-Five

"Monday Night Football," "Sesame Street" premiere on T V T h e Doors, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Rolling Stones top record charts

CHRONOLOGY

2ÓI

Bibliography

Adams, Hugh. Art of the Sixties. Oxford: Phaidon, 1978. Albright, Thomas. Art in the San Francisco Bay Area, ¡945-1980. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985. Alloway, Lawrence. American Pop Art. Exhibition catalogue. N e w York: Collier Books in association with the Whitney Museum of American Art, 1974. . "Art as Likeness." Arts Magazine 41 (May 1967): 38-39. "Marilyn Monroe as Subject Matter." Arts Magazine 42 (December 1967): 27-30. . May Siefens. Exhibition catalogue. Ithaca, N . Y . : Herbert F.Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University, 1973. . "Popular Culture and Pop Art." Art International 78 (July 1969): 1 7 - 2 1 . . Robert Rauschenberg. Exhibition catalogue. Washington, D . C . : National Collection of Fine Arts, Smithsonian Institution, 1976. . Roy Lichtenstein. New York: Abbeville Press, 1983. . Six More. Exhibition catalogue. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1963. . Six Painters and the Object. Exhibition catalogue. New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1963. . Topics on American Art Since 1945. New York: W. W. Norton, 1975. Amaya, Mario. Pop Art . . . and After. New York: Viking, 1965. Arnason, H. H. American Abstract Expressionists and Imagists. Exhibition catalogue. New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1961. Art International 7 (January 1963): 23-48. Special issue, "The New Realism, Neo-Dada, Common Object Painting, etc." Articles by Barbara Rose, Pierre Restany, Sonya Rudikoff, Ellen H. Johnson, and Allan Kaprow. "Art: Something New Is Cooking—Joining Blend of Billboard Pieces." Life 52 (June 15, 1962): 115-20. Richard Artschwager Theme(s). Exhibition catalogue. Texts by Suzanne Delehanty, Linda L. Cathcart, and Richard Armstrong. Buffalo, N . Y . : Albright-Knox Art Gallery, 1979. Ashton, Dore. The New York School: A Cultural Reckoning. N e w York: Viking, 1972. Atkinson, Tracy. Pop Art and the American Tradition. Exhibition catalogue. Milwaukee: Milwaukee Art Center, 1965. Auping, Michael. Jess: Paste-Ups (and Assemblies) 1951-1983. Exhibition catalogue. Sarasota, Fl.: John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, 1983.

Bagdikian, Ben H. The Information Machines. N e w York: Harper & Row, 1971. Barnouw, Erik. The Image Empire. Vol. 3 of A History of Broadcasting in the United States. N e w York: O x f o r d University Press, 1970. . Mass Communications. N e w York: Rinehart, 1956. . The Tribe of Plenty. N e w York: O x f o r d University Press, 1975. Barr, Alfred H., Jr., The New American Painting. Exhibition catalogue. N e w York: International Council of the Museum of Modern Art, 1958. Barrett, William. " T h e Painter's Club." Commentary 73 (January 1982): 42-54. Battcock, Gregory, ed. The New Art. N e w York: E. P. Dutton, 1966. . Super Realism: A Critical Anthology. N e w York: E. P. Dutton, 1975. Becker, Stephen. Comic Art in America. N e w York: Simon & Schuster, 1959. Bell, Daniel. The End of Ideology. Glencoc, 111.: Free Press, i960. Belz, Carl. Mel Ramos: A Twenty-Year Survey. Exhibition catalogue. Waltham, Mass.: Rose Art Museum, Brandcis University, 1980. Benezra, Neal. Robert Artieson: A Retrospective. Exhibition catalogue. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1986. Billy Al Betigston. Exhibition catalogue. Text by James Monte. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1968. Wallace Berman Retrospective. Exhibition catalogue. Texts by Walter Hopps and Robert Duncan. Los Angeles: Otis Art Institute Gallery, 1978. Boorstin, Daniel J. The Americans: The Democratic Experience. N e w York: Vintage, 1974. . The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America. N e w York: Athencum, 1978. Bourdon, David. Works by Ray Johnson. Exhibition catalogue. Roslyn Harbor, N.Y.: Nassau County Museum of Art, 1984. Bowman, Russell. Jim Nutt. Exhibition catalogue. Rotterdam: Rotterdamse Kunstichting, 1980. Breslin, James E. B. From Modern to Contemporary American Poetry, 1945-1965. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1984. Brogan, D. W. " T h e Problem of High Culture and Mass Culture." Diogenes 5 (Winter 1954): 1—13. Brooks, John N . The Great Leap. N e w York: Harper & Row, 1966. Burner, David, Robert D. Marcus, and Thomas R. West. A Giant's Strength: America in the 1960s. N e w York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971. Bush, Martin H. Duane Hanson. Exhibition catalogue. Wichita, Kans.: Edwin A. Ulrich M u seum of Art, Wichita State University, 1976.

Cage, John. Silence: Lectures and Writings. Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1961. . A Year from Monday: Lectures and Writings by John Cage. Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1969. Calas, Nicholas, and Elena Calas. Icons and Images of the Sixties. N e w York: E. P. Dutton, 1971. Campbell, Mary Schmidt. Tradition and Conflict: Images of a Turbulent Decade, 1963-1973. Exhibition catalogue. Essays by Vincent Harding, Benny Andrews, and Lucy R. Lippard. N e w York: Studio Museum of Harlem, 1985. Canaday, John. " P o p Art Sells O n and O n — Why?" New York Times Magazine, May 31, 1964. . Richard Estes: The Urban Landscape. Exhibition catalogue. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 1978. Carter, Paul A. Another Part of the Fifties. N e w York: Columbia University Press, 1983. Vija Celmins: A Survey Exhibition. Exhibition catalogue. Essay by Susan C. Larsen. Newport Beach, Calif.: Newport Harbor Art Museum, 1979. Claridge, E. Mel Ramos. London: Matthews Miller Dunbar, 1975. Cockcroft, Eva. "Abstract Expressionism: Weapon of the Cold War." Artforum 12 (June 1974): 3 9 4iCohen, Stanley, and Lorman Ratner. The Development of an American Culture. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1970. Compton, Michael. Pop Art. London: Hamlyn Publishing Group, 1970. Coplans, John. " T h e N e w Paintings of C o m m o n Objects." Artforum 1 (November 1962): 26-29. . Pop Art USA. Exhibition catalogue. O a k land, Calif.: Oakland Museum, 1963. . Wayne Thiebaud. Exhibition catalogue. Pasadena, Calif.: Pasadena Art Museum, 1968. , ed. Roy Lichtenstein. N e w York: Praeger, 1972Crichton, Michael. Jasper Johns. Exhibition catalogue. N e w York: Harry N . Abrams in association with the Whitney Museum of American Art, 1977. Crone, Rainer. Andy Warhol. Translated by John William Gabriel. N e w York: Praeger, 1970. Daedalus 89 (Spring i960). Special issue, "Mass Culture and Mass Media." Statements by Hannah Arendt, Edward Shills, Ernest van den Haag, Oscar Handlin, Leo Rosten, Frank Stanton, James Johnson Sweeney, Randall Jarrell, James Baldwin, Stanley Edgar Hyman, H. Stuart Hughes, and Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Italicized page numbers refer to illustrations. A & P, 109 Abstract Expressionism, 4, 7 - 8 , 9, 10, 67, 212; and death, 163; flag representations and, 17, 23, 26; Ray Johnson and, 128; and landscape, 45; Oldenburg and, 46; poets and, 212, 215; Rivers and, 14, 212, 216 Accident, The (Rivers), 172, 173 Accidents, car, 172-74, 205 Advertising, 39, 98, 99, 1 0 5 - 7 , 109, 1 1 1 , 138, 182; food, 56, 7 9 80, 81, 8 8 - 9 1 , 95, 109; Packard on, 10, 105; presidential image, 36, 38, 230; real estate, 6 0 - 6 1 ; television, 89, 99, 160, 230, 232; Times Square, 56 "Aesthetic of Indifference" (Roth), 4

Affirmation, 1 0 - 1 1 Affluence, 39-40, 50, 95-96, 108, 221 Affluent Society, The (Galbraith), 95-96 Alabama, 185-86, 190-93 Alabama (Indiana), 191 Alaska, 32 Alienation, 7 - 8 , 214 Allen, Steve, 128 Alloway, Lawrence, 2, 5 A1 Roon's Health Club, 44 America (Ginsberg), 148 American dilemma, 162-206 American dream, 162-206 American Dream (Ringgold), 187 American Dream (Saunders), 188, 189, 190 American Gothic (Wood), 31 American Legion, 206 American Madonna # J (DArcangelo), 31, 32 "American Painting During the Cold War" (Kozloff), 4 American People Series (Ringgold), 187-88 American studies programs, 8 American Supermarket, The exhibition (1964), 103 "American Type Painting" (Greenberg), 7 Amos 'n Andy, 229 Annie (Ruscha), 155 Antinovels, 225-26 Apple, Billy, 103 Arkansas, 34, 185, 231 Arlington National Cemetery, 206 Army-McCarthy hearings, 19, 128

Arneson, Robert, 209; Case of Bottles, 96, 97; Hydrox, 97; In God We Trust, 40, 41; 1303 Alice Street, Viewed (as if it were a Billboard) From the Corner of L and Alice, 63 Art and Illusion (Gombrich), 2 2 1 , 225 Art Chronicles, 1954-1956 (O'Hara), 215 Art Digest, 44 Art market, 1 1 , 100, 102 Artnews, 44 Artschwager, Richard, 209; High Rise Apartment, 48, 49; Tract Home series, 6 0 - 6 1 ; Untitled (Tract Home), 61; The Washington Monument, 43 Art:USA:j8 exhibition (1958), 8 Arvin, Newton, 214 Ashcan group, 45 Assemblage, 4, 27, 39, 119, 120, 166, 180 Atomic bomb, 1 1 - 1 2 , 147, 162 Automation, 91, 109 Avant-garde, 9, 14, 214, 216 "Avant-Garde and Kitsch" (Greenberg), 9, 214 "Ave Maria" (O'Hara), 218 Babbit (Lewis), 109 Back Fender (Bengston), 175 Backyard (Bearden), 51, 52 Bagdikian, Ben H., 228-33 Bakery Counter (Thiebaud), 86, 87 Baldessari, John, Looking East on 4th and C, Chula Vista, 69, 70, 71 Ballets Suédois, 160 Barnes, Henry A . , 75 Barthelme, Donald, 224, 225, 226 Baseball, 1 2 1 , 123, 124, 127, 232 Baseball (Warhol), 124 Baseball Girl (Wirsum), 127 Baskin-Robbins ice cream, 83, 109 Basquiat, Jean Michel, 209 Batman (Warhol), 152 Batmobile (Ramos), 152 Batten Barton Durstine and Osborn advertising agency, 36 Bay of Pigs fiasco, 12 Bearden, Romare, 50-52; Backyard, 51, 52; Black Manhattan, 51, 52; Childhood Memories, 5 0 , 5 1 , 52 Beatles, 128 Beat poets, 10, 1 1 , 148, 1 6 1 , 1 6 7 68

Bechtle, Robert, 208; Kona Kai, 62, 63; '60 T-Bird, 62, 63 Bell, Daniel, 224

Index

Bell Jar, The (Plath), 224 Bellow, Saul, 223, 224 Bengston, Billy Al: Back Fender, 175; Skinny's, 21, 174, 175 Benny, Jack, 229 Berlant, Tony: Camel Burger, 81 Berle, Milton, 128, 229 Berlin, Irving, 200 Berlin Wall, 12, 166 Berman, Wallace: Untitled, 168, ¡69, 170 Bernstein, Leonard, 229 Berra, Yogi, 123 Berry man, John, 2 1 5 Berthot, Jake: Little Flag Painting, 26 Bianchini Gallery, N e w York, 103 Big Daddy Paper Doll (Stevens), 182 Big Torn Campbell's Soup Can (Warhol), 91 Billboards, 56 Birmingham, Alabama, 1 8 5 - 8 6 Birth of the Flag, 44 Black consciousness, 52. See also Civil rights movement Black Manhattan (Bearden), 51, 52 Blam! The Explosion of Pop, Minimalism, and Performance, 1958-64 exhibition (1984), 5 Blue Liz as Cleopatra (Warhol), 140, 141 Bluhm, Norman, 2 1 5 Bob Hope (Marisol), 142, 143 Bombers, 195-96 Bombs. See Nuclear weapons Boone, Daniel, 7 Boorstin, DanielJ., 109 Boston, 52 Bottle, Glass and Violin (Picasso), "3 Boy for Meg, A (Warhol), 116 Brace (Rauschenberg), 122, 123 Brand names, 88-99, 103, 105, 107, 109, 120 Brando, Marlon, 174 Brecht, Bertolt, 91 Breslin, James E. B . , 2 1 2 - 1 9 Brillo, 103 Brillo, Campbell's Tomato Juice, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes Boxes (Warhol), 103 British hydrogen bomb, 12 British Pop Art, 2, 5 Brown, H. Rap, 176 Bubble-gum wrapper, 154 Bucks County, Pennsylvania, 59 Buddhism, Zen, 168 Bugs Bunny, 154 Bulletin (Metropolitan Museum), 8 Burger King, 81

272

INDEX

Burke, Kenneth, 225 Burroughs, William, 222, 223 Bus Driver, The (Segal), 72 Bus Riders (Segal), 72 Bus Station, The (Segal), 72 Cage, John, 4, 1 0 - 1 1 California: artists of, 4; houses of, 50, 59, 63. See also Los Angeles; San Francisco California Peace Tower of 1966, Los Angeles, 202 Camel Burger (Berlant), 81 Camels, 56, 81, 98, 99 Campbell's Soup, 9 0 - 9 1 , 99, 109 Campbell's Soup Can series (Warhol), 90, 91 Campbell's Tomato Juice, 103 Candy Store, The (Estes), 106 Can Our National Bird Survive? (D'Arcangelo), 164, 165, 166 Cantos (Pound), 212, 213 Canyon (Rauschenberg), 43 Cape Cod, 24 Capitalism, 9 1 - 9 2 , 93, 99 Capital punishment, 180 Caricature, 220-27. See also Comic strips Cars, 63; accidents with, 172-74, 205. See also Highways; Traffic, urban Carvel, 83 Case of Bottles (Arneson), 96, 97 Castelli, Leo, 19, 44, 100, 206 Castro, Fidel, 12 Catcher in the Rye (Salinger), 231 Catch-22 (Heller), 224 C B S , 124, 160, 229 Celebrities, 1 1 , H I , 1 1 3 , 1 2 8 - 4 3 , 172, 177, 2 1 8 - 1 9 Celmins, Vija, 160; Freeway, 71, 72; T.V., 118 Cézanne, Paul, 159, 215 Changes of Time (Haberle), 40 Charlene (Rauschenberg), 43 Chase, Richard, 214 "Checkers speech" (Nixon), 36, 148, 2 3 0 - 3 1 Cheever, John, 59 Cherry Pie (Lichtenstein), 88 Chessman, Caryl, 180 Chesterfield, 81 Chicago, 4, 59 Child (Conner), 180 Childhood Memories (Bearden), 50, 5U 52 China, 1 1 Choke (Rauschenberg), 43, 52, 53, 54

Civil defense, national, 166

Civil rights movement, 34, 52, 172, 182, 1 8 5 - 9 3 , 2 3 ' Civil War, 34, 172 Cleaver, Eldridge, 161 Cleveland, 52 Coca-Cola, 92-97, 99, 109, 138 Coca Cola Plan (Rauschenbcrg), 95, 96 Cockcroft, Eva, 4 Cocktail Party, The (Ringgold), 187 Coe, Sue, 209 Cold War, 4, 8, 1 1 - 1 2 , 158, 170, '95. 196; Coca-Cola during, 93; highways and, 64-65; Kennedy and, 25; patriotism and, 1 6 - 1 7 , 19; poetry and, 214; and Vietnam, 195, 199 Collage of Indignation, New York, 202 Collected Poems (O'Hara), 216 Collectivism, 10 Color Field painting, 4 Comic strips, 146-60, 220, 221; Europeans and, i6i;Lichtenstein's, 34, 88, 152-59 passim, 179. 225 Communism, 4, 12, 162; and marketing, 9 1 - 9 2 , 93, 99, 108. See also McCarthy, Joseph/McCarthyisni; Soviet Union Commuters, 66 Computers, 91, 109 Conccptualism, 4 Conformity, 9 1 - 9 2 , 93, 97, 1 0 6 - 7 , 109. See also Nonconformity Congress: flag-desecration bill by, 202; highway authorization of, 64; and McCarthy, 231; military appropriations of, 195; and pledge of allegiance, 19; urban renewal act by, 46; and Vietnam, 197 Conner, Brucc, 2; Child, 180; Homage to Chessman, i8o\ A Movie, 168; Untitled, 166-167, 168 Conservatism, 17 Conspicuous consumption, 106 Conspiracy theories, Kennedy assassination, 185 Consumerism, 10, 1 1 , 39, 95-96, 99-108, 120 Coonskinism, 7 Copeland, Aaron, 229 Coplans, John, 44 Counterculture movement, of sixties, 7 1 , 168, 182 Crack in the Picture Window, The (Keats), 58 Craig (Lichtenstein), 156

C r a w f o r d , Ralston, Overseas Highway, 66, 67 C r i m e , 1 7 6 - 7 7 , 182 C r o n e , Raincr, 206 C r o n k i t e , Walter, i n , 2 3 2 C r o s b y , B i n g , 229 Crying of Lot 49, The ( P y n c h o n ) , 224, 226 C u b a , 1 2 , 166 C u b i s t s , French, 164, 2 1 j ; collage experimentation o f , 1 1 3 , 1 1 4 , 2 1 4 ; f o o d paintings o f , 77, 89, 90 Cunningham, Merce, 4 Curfew ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 95 Currency, 4 0 - 4 2 Cut with the Kitchen Knife (Hoch), 113. " 4 Czechoslovakia, 11

Dadaists, 1 1 3 , 1 1 4 D a i r y Q u e e n , 83 Dallas, 59 Dante's Inferno scries ( R a u s c h e n berg), 36 D ' A r c a n g c l o , A l l a n , 2, 67, 166; American Madonna #;, 31, 32; Can Our National Bird Survive?, 164, 165, 166; Full Moon, 64, 65; U.S. 80 (In Memory of Mrs. Liuzzo), 192, 1 9 3 ; U.S. Highway 1, 65, 66 Daughters of Revolution (Wood), 16 Daumicr, Honore, 221 D a v i s , Stuart, 8 9 - 9 0 , 1 1 4 ; Garage Lights, 68; Lucky Strike, 89, i 15; Town Square, 68 " D a y Lady D i e d " (O'Hâra), 2 1 7 Dean, J a m e s , 1 3 1 , 2 1 8 Death, 1 1 9 , 1 6 0 - 7 5 passim, 180, 1 8 2 - 8 5 , 1 9 6 - 9 7 , 199 Death of a President, The ( M a n c h e s ter), "185 Death penalty, 180 Death Valley U.S.A. (Foulkcs), 170, 171, 1 7 2 de K o o n i n g , W i l l e m , 100, 1 6 1 ; Marilyn Monroe, 133, 1 6 1 ; Woman series, 1 3 3 , 1 3 8 D e l a c r o i x , E u g e n e , 1 4 , 44 D e m u t h , C h a r l e s , I Saw the Figure Five in Gold, 164 Demuth American Dream # 5 (Indiana), 163, 164 D e n v e r , 59 Detectives, 1 4 8 - 5 1 Detroit, 52, 59 de Weldon, Felix, 206 D i c k Tracy, 1 4 7 , 148, 149 Dick Tracy (Warhol), 148, 1 5 4

" D i g r e s s i o n on ' N u m b e r I' 1 9 4 8 " (O'Hara), 2 1 5 , 2 1 6 Disney, Walt, 1 2 0 , 146, 1 5 4 D o l l a r bills, 4 0 - 4 2 Donald Duck, 154 " D o n n a R e e d S h o w , " 59 Dos Criados (Paschke), 145 D r e x l e r , R o s a l y n , Home Movies, 177 D r i v e - i n , f a s t - f o o d , 81 D u c h a m p , M a r c e l , 14, 124; Fountain, 44; Wanted, Ready Made, 205 Duncan, Robert, 161 Duplication aesthetic, 91 D u t c h M a s t e r s , 98 Dylaby ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 95 131 East of Eden, Easy Rider, 1 7 4 Echo ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 124, 123 Eddie Diptych (Lichtenstein), 1 5 6 , 157 " E d Sullivan S h o w , " 128 Eisenhower, D w i g h t D . , 25, 162, 2 2 1 ; and mass media, 36, 38, 39, 99, 230, 2 3 3 ; in paintings, 36; and patriotism, 1 7 , 19 Electric Chair (Thiebaud), 1 8 0 Electric C h a i r series (Warhol), 1 8 0 Eleventh Hour Final, The ( K i e n holz), ¡99, zoo Eliot, A l e x a n d e r , 8 Eliot, T. S . , 2 1 2 , 2 1 7 ; The Waste Land, 2 1 3 Ellison, R a l p h , 2 2 0 - 2 1 , 2 2 3 Elvis Presley No. 1 ( J o h n s o n ) , 1 2 8 , 129 E m e r s o n , R a l p h Waldo, 2 3 1 Empire of Light, II, The (Magritte), 66 Empire of Light series (Magrittc), 66 " E n d Y o u r S i l e n c e " ad, 202 Essay du physiognomic (TöpfFer),222 Estate ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 43, 52 Estes, Richard: The Candy Store, ¡06; Food City, toy, Gordon's Gin, 54, }6; Welcome to 42nd Street (Victory Theater), 54, 55 E u r o p e a n art, 7, 14, 96, 99, 1 1 3 14, 1 2 4 . See also C u b i s t s , French E u r o p e a n discoveries o f A m e r i c a n art, 1 6 1 E u r o p e a n eating, 78 E u r o p e a n mass culture, 8, 9 European supermarkets, 109 Every Building on Sunset Strip ( R u s cha), 69 Evil New 193

War God

(Westermann),

"Experiment of Caricature" (Gombrich), 221 E x p o r t i n g , o f A m e r i c a n culture, 1 2 , 1 3 , 93, 108 Face in the Abyss, The (Jess), 170 Factum I (Rauschenberg), 36 Factum II (Rauschenberg), 36 Fake ingredients, 84 Falconer, J a m e s , 1 5 9 Fallout shelters, 166 Fastest Gun (Lichtenstein), 178, 1 7 9 " F a t h e r K n o w s B e s t , " 59 Faulkner, William, 8, 2 2 3 , 225 Feminine Mystique, The (Friedan), 226 Ferus Gallery, L o s A n g e l e s , 1 6 1 Films. See M o v i e s Fischi, E r i c , 209 Five Coke Bottles (Warhol), 93 Five Hot Dogs (Thiebaud), 78 Flag, A m e r i c a n , 1 4 - 1 6 , 1 7 - 2 9 , 32, 44, 160, 202, 206 Flag ( H e r m s ) , 26, 27, 28, 44 Flag ( J o h n s ) , 21 Flag ( O l d e n b u r g ) , 23 F l a g g , J a m e s M o n t g o m e r y : I Want You for U.S. Army, 179, 200 Flag Is Bleeding, The ( R i n g g o l d ) , 188 Flag on Orange Field, II ( J o h n s ) , 20 Flags ( J o h n s ) , 22 Flaming Star, 131 Flash Gordon ( R a m o s ) , 1 5 2 Flash, L.A. Times (Ruscha), 117, 146 Floor Cone ( O l d e n b u r g ) , 84, 85 F-tii (Roscnquist), 194-95, 196, 202 Food, 7 7 - 1 0 9 Food City (Estcs), 105, 106 Football, 1 2 4 - 2 7 Football Player (Thiebaud), 126, 1 2 7 Forecast ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 43 F o r e i g n policy, 1 1 - 1 2 , 1 3 . See also C o l d War; C o m m u n i s m " F o r James D e a n " (O'Hara), 218 Formalism, 3 - 4 , 2 1 3 , 215 " F o r the C h i n e s e N e w Y e a r and f o r Bill B e r k s o n " ( O ' H a r a ) , 2 1 6 F o u l k e s , L l y n : Death Valley U . S . A . , 1 7 0 , 171, 1 7 2 Fountain ( D u c h a m p ) , 44 Four Ice Cream Cones (Thiebaud), 84 Franchising, 6 8 - 6 9 Freeway ( C e l m i n s ) , 71, 7 2 French fries, 83 French Fries and Ketchup ( O l d e n b u r g ) , 82, 83

INDEX

273

French history, 14. See also C u b ists, French Friedan, Betty, 226 Friendship of America and France (Kennedy and de Gaulle), The (Rivers), 98, 99 Fuchs, Klaus, 12 Fulbright, William, 197 Full Moon (D'Arcangelo), 64, 65 Fur-Lined Tea Cup (Oppenheim), 84 Futurists, 124 Gablik, Suzi, 3 Galbraith, John Kenneth, 95-96 Garage Lights (Davis), 68 Garrison, Jim, 185 Gas (Hopper), 68 Gasoline stations, 67-68, 69 Gas Station, The (Segal), 72-73 Geldzahler, Henry, 3 George Washington (Lichtenstein), 34, 44 George Warshington in Drag (Kienholz), 32, 33 Giant Hamburger (Oldenburg), 79, 80 Giant Ice Cream Cone (Oldenburg), 84 Gimbel's, 106 Ginsberg, Allen, 212; America, 148; Howl, 148, 168 Gloria (Rauschenberg), 112, 113— 14 " G o d Bless America" (Berlin), 200 God Bless America (Ringgold), ¡87 Gombrich, E. H., 221, 223, 225, 226 " G o o d Country People" (O'Connor), 222 Goode, Joe, 59-60; The Most of It, 60; November 13, 1963, 59 Goodman, Paul, 10 " G o o d Man Is Hard to Find, A " (O'Connor), 222 Goodyear, 230 Gordon's Gin (Estes), 54, 56 Gould, Chester, 148 Grant, Ulysses S., 1 7 1 - 7 2 Gray, Cleve, 3 Great American Nude #8 (Wesselmann), 30 Great American Nude series (Wesselmann), 29-30, 3 1 , 34 "Great Figure, T h e " (Williams), 164 Great Train Robbery, 131 Green, Art, 159 Greenberg, Clement, 7 - 8 , 9, 214, 215, 216

274

INDEX

Greensboro, North Carolina, 185 Grooms, Red: One Way, 54; The Patriots' Parade, 197, 198 Growing Up Absurd (Goodman), 10 Guernica (Picasso), 158 Guggenheim Museum, 5 Guilbaut, Serge, 4 Guns, 179 Haberle, John: Changes of Time, 40 Hairy Who, 159-60, 209 Hairy Who Catalogue (Hairy Who), '59 Halberstam, David, 1 2 1 , 198 Hamburger (Oldenburg), 79, 80 Hamburgers, 79-80 Hand Marilyn Monroe (Johnson), '34, 135 Hanford project, 147 Hanson, Duane: Motorcycle Accident, 175 Happenings, 44, 46 Haring, Keith, 209 Harnett, William, 40 Harrington, Michael, 75 Hauptman, William, 4 Hawaii, 32 Hazel Bishop company, 230 H. D . , 2 1 2 "Heartbreak Hotel" (Presley), 128 Hedrick, Wally, 23, 44 Heel Flag (Oldenburg), 25 Hefferton, Phillip, 40-42; Poo Poo, 40; Sinking George, 40; Sweet Funk, 40, 41; White House, 42 Hefner, Hugh, 3 0 - 3 1 , 143 Heller, Joseph, 224 Hell's Angels, 174 Hemingway, Ernest, 225 Henry Francis Dupont Winterthur Museum, 8 Herms, George, 2; Flag, 26, 27, 28, 44; Macks, 206 Hidden Persuaders, The (Packard), 10 High Class San Francisco (Saul), 50 High Culture, 9, 2 1 4 - 1 5 High Rise Apartment (Artschwager), 48, 49 Highways, 45, 64-73; car accidents on, 172-74; motorcycles on, 174-75 Hiss, Alger, 12 History painting, 14, 44 Hitchcock, Alfred, 230 Hoch, Hannah, Cut with the Kitchen Knife, 1 1 3 , ¡14 Hollywood: landmark of, 56, 75; stars of, 1 2 8 - 4 1 , 172, 2 1 8 - 1 9 Hollywood Study (Ruscha), 56, 57, IS

Homage to Chessman (Conner), 180 Home Movies (Drexler), 177 Hopalong Cassidy, 160 Hope, Bob, 143, 229 Hopper, Edward, 60; Gas, 68 Hot dogs, 78 Houses, suburban, 59-63 Howard Johnson's ice cream, 83 Howe, Irving, 214, 222-23, 224 Howl (Ginsberg), 148, 161 " H o w to Proceed in the Arts" (O'Hara and Rivers), 216 Hugh Hejher (Marisol), 143 " H u g h Selwyn Mauberley" (Pound), 2 1 7 Hungary, 1 1 , 12 Hyde Park Art Center, 159 Hydrogen bomb, 12, 147-48, 229 Hydrox, 97, 99 Hydrox (Arneson), 97 Hymnal (Rauschenberg), 176 Icebox (Saul), 104, 105 Ice cream, 83-84 Ice cream cone, 83 "I have a dream" speech (King), 187 Image neutralization, 43 "Image of Leda" (O'Hara), 218 Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things (Sorrentino), 225-26 Imagism, 2 1 2 Immendorf, Jorg, 209 Indiana, Robert, 2; Alabama, 191; The Demuth American Dream # 5 , ¡63, 164 Indian art, 7 Individualism, 10, 17, 28, 60 Indochina, 12. See also Vietnam War Industrialism, 91, 109, 159 In God We Trust (Arneson), 40, 41 Ingres, Jean Auguste, 30 In Memory of My Feelings (O'Hara), 216 "Inner-directed" people, 10 Instant On (Kienholz), 119, 185 International prestige, 108 International relations. See Foreign policy International trade, 12, 13, 93, 108 Invisible Man (Ellison), 220-21 I Saw the Figure Five in Gold (Demuth), 164 I Want You for U.S. Army (Flagg), 179, 200 fackie (The Week That Was) (Warhol), 182, 183, 185, 206 fames Dean (Johnson), 1 3 1 , 132

J a r r e l l , Randall, 2 1 5 J e n n e y , N e i l : Them and Us, 196 J e s s , 1 6 1 , 209; The Face in the Abyss, 170-, Tricky Cad—Case I, 146, 147; Tricky Cad—Case V, 147; Tricky Cad collages, 1 4 7 - 4 8 J o h n Heller G a l l e r y , N e w Y o r k , 44 J o h n s , J a s p e r , 2, 4, 1 1 , 19, 2 3 , 2 5 , 26, 160, 208, 2 1 2 ; Flag, 21; Flag on Orange Field, II, 20; Flags, 22; Map, 3 2 , 33; Painted Bronze, 100; Sculpmetal Flag, 21 Johnson, Lyndon B . , 1 6 1 , 162, 1 9 5 . 197 J o h n s o n , R a y , 2; Elvis Presley No. 1, 1 2 8 , 129; Hand Marilyn Monroe, l 34< ' 3 5 ; James Dean, 1 3 1 , 132 John Wayne ( M a r i s o l ) , 143 J o y c e , James, 223, 225 Justice system, 1 8 0 - 8 2 K a n d i n s k y , Wassily, 158 K a p r o w , A l l a n , 1 1 , 46 K a t z , A l e x : Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1 7 , 18 Keats, J o h n , 58 K e l l o g g s C o r n Flakes, 103 Kennedy, Jackie, 1 8 2 - 8 5 , 2 0 6 K e n n e d y , J o h n F., 2 5 , 108, 1 2 8 , 1 5 8 , 162; assassination o f , 1 1 9 , 1 8 2 - 8 5 ; mass m e d i a and, 36, 38, 1 1 9 , 1 2 8 , 1 8 2 - 8 5 , 2 3 3 ; and nuclear a r m s race, 166; in paintings, 36, 38, 1 5 8 Kennedy Family (Marisol), 143 K c r o u a c , J a c k , 69, 2 3 1 Kesey, Ken, 224 K i e f c r , A n s e l m , 209 K i e n h o l z , E d w a r d , 2, 160, 208, 209; The Eleventh Hour Final, 199, 200; George Washington in Drag, 3 2 , 33; Instant On, 119, 185; O'er the Ramparts We Watched Fascinated, 194, 1 9 5 ; The Portable War Memorial, 200-201, 202; Six o'Clock News, 120; Untitled American President, 38, 39 K i n g , M a r t i n Luther, J r . , 1 8 2 , 1 8 5 , 187 " K i n g o f the R o a d , " 69 K i n s e y report, 3 1 Kite ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 203, 205 K i t s c h , 9, 2 1 4 , 2 1 6 K l i n e , Franz, 7, 45, 2 1 5 K o c h , Kenneth, 1 7 Kona Kai (Bechtle), 62, 63 K o r e a n War, 1 1 , 2 3 , 1 6 2 , 1 9 3 , 2 2 9 Kozloff, M a x , 3 Kramer, Hilton, 3 K r u g e r , B a r b a r a , 208

Ladies' Home Journal, 107 Lady Chatterly's Lover (Lawrence), 168 Landscape, A m e r i c a n , 4 5 - 7 5 L a n y o n , Ellen, Ya Ya Yogi, 123 Large Reclining Nude (Matisse), jo L a w r e n c e , D . H . , 168 LBJ (Marisol), 143 " L e a v e It to B e a v e r , " 59 Lee, G y p s y R o s e , 229 L e o Castelli Gallery, N e w Y o r k , 1 9 Leutze, E m a n u e l : Washington Crossing the Delaware, 14, 15, 1 6 - 1 7 , 216, 217 Levitt, W i l l i a m J . / L e v i t t C o m p a n y / L e v i t t - t y p e houses, 59, 61 L e w i s , Sinclair, 109 L e x i n g t o n , Massachusetts, 59 Liberalism, A m e r i c a n , 44 Liberty Leading the People ( D e l a croix), 1 4 Lichtenstein, R o y , 2, 1 7 , 44, 1 5 4 , 1 5 6 - 5 9 , 208, 2 2 5 ; Cherry Pie, 88; Craig, 156; Eddie Diptych, 1 5 6 , 157; Fastest Gun, 178, 179; George Washington, 34, 44; Look Mickey, 154; Mr. Bellamy, 136-, Pistol, 178, 179; Popeye, 1 5 2 , 153; Torpedo . . . Los!, 1 5 7 , 1 58; Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1 7 , 18 Life, h i , 2 3 2 - 3 3 ; on H o l l y w o o d stars, 1 3 2 , 1 3 7 , 1 6 1 ; on K e n n e d y assassination, 185; on race riots, 186; on s u p e r m a r k e t exhibition, 103 L i n c o l n , A b r a h a m , 34 Lincoln ( R a u s c h e n b e r g ) , 34, 35 L i p p a r d , L u c y R . , 44 Lipstick (Ascending) on Caterpillar Tracks ( O l d e n b u r g ) , 2 0 1 , 202 Little Flag Painting (Berthot), 26 Little Great American Nude #6 (Wesselmann), 28, 29 Little Great American Nude # 7 (Wesselmann), 29 Little O r p h a n A n n i e , 1 5 5 Little R o c k , A r k a n s a s , 34, 1 8 5 , 2 3 1 Liuzzo, Viola, 191 Liz (Warhol), 1 4 1 " L o n e l y c r o w d , " 48, 66 Lonely Crowd, The (Riesman), 1 0 , 2 3 1 L o n g Island, N e w Y o r k , 59 L o n g o , R o b e r t , 208 Look, 1 8 5 , 2 3 2 Looking East on 4th and C, Chula Vista (Baldessari), 69, 70, 71 Look Mickey (Lichtenstein), 1 ¡4 L o s A n g e l e s , 52, 56, 59, 1 6 1 , 1 9 3 , 202. See also H o l l y w o o d

Los Angeles C o u n t y Museum of Art, 5 Los Angeles Free Press, 7 1 Los Angeles Times, 1 1 7 Louis D. Brandeis on Democracy (Untitled) (Rosenquist), 56, 58 Love Me Tender, 1 2 8 Lowell, Robert, 2 1 5 Luce, Henry R . , 1 1 1 , 232 Lucky Strike (Davis), 89, 1 1 5 Lunch Table (Thiebaud), 87 Macks ( H e r m s ) , 206 M a c L e i s h , A r c h i b a l d , 229 M a d i s o n Square G a r d e n , 8 Mad magazine, 1 5 9 M a g a z i n e s , 1 7 4 , 1 8 5 , 2 3 2 - 3 3 . See also Life; Playboy; Time M a g r i t t e , René: The Empire of Light, II, 66; The Empire of Light series, 66 M a i d m a n Theatre, 17 M a l c o l m X , 190 Manchester, William, 185 Manhattan project, 1 4 7 Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, The (Wilson), 59 Man Leaving a Bus (Segal), 72, 7 3 , 74 Mantle, Mickey, 123 Map ( J o h n s ) , 32, 33 M a p s , U . S . , 32 M a r c h on Washington, 1 8 6 - 8 7 M a r c u s e , Herbert, 202 M a r e y , Etienne J u l e s , 1 2 4 Marilyn Monroe (de K o o n i n g ) , 133, 161 M a r i l y n M o n r o e exhibition (1967), 161 Marilyn Monroe, I (Rosenquist), 138, ¡39 Marilyn Monroe's Lips (Warhol), 137 Maris, Roger, 123 M a r i s o l : Bob Hope, 142; Hugh Hefner, 143;John Wayne, 1 4 3 ; The Kennedy Family, 1 4 3 ; LBJ, 143 M a r k e t , art, 1 1 , 1 0 0 , 1 0 2 M a r k e t i n g , 7 7 - 1 0 9 , 1 1 1 . See also Advertising M a r s h , R e g i n a l d : White Tower Hamburger, 80 M a r s h a l l Plan, 93 M a r y l a n d , 103 Massachusetts, 24, 52, 59 M a s s culture, 2 - 1 2 passim, 2 1 4 - 1 5 , 2 1 6 , 2 2 0 - 2 4 passim. See also M e dia, mass " M a s s S o c i e t y and P o s t m o d e r n Fiction" (Howe), 222-23

INDEX

275

Matisse, Henri, 30; Large Reclining Nude, 30 Matthews, Jane de Hart, 4 Maxwell House, 56 McCarthy, Joseph/McCarthyism, 12; media rise and fall of, 128, 229, 231; patriotism in response to, 16-17, 19; Roth study of, 4 McDonald's, 81 McLendon, Gordon, 232 McLuhan, Marshall, n o Mechanization, 91, 109, 159 Media, mass, 9, 10, 1 1 0 - 6 1 , 2 2 8 33; and alternative press, 7 1 ; on civil rights issues, 186, 190, 231; consumerism promoted by, 99, 120-21 (see also Advertising); on criminals, 177; Eisenhower and, 36, 38, 39. 99, 230, 233; on Kennedy, 36, 38, 119, 128, 182-85, 233; O ' H a r a and, 2 1 7 - 1 8 ; on Vietnam, 198. See also Magazines; Movies; Newspapers; Television Melville, Herman, 88 Men in Her Life (Mike Todd and Eddie Fisher), The (Warhol), 140, 141 Merrill, James, 213 Merwin, W. S., 213 Metropolitan Museum of Art, 8 Mickey Mouse, 120, 146, 154 "Mickey Mouse C l u b , " 120 Military-industrial complex, 158, 193-205. See also Korean War; Nuclear weapons; Vietnam War Miller, Arthur, 105 Mr. Bellamy (Lichtcnstcin), 156 Mr. Sammler's Planet (Bellow), 223, 224 Modernism, 4, 7, 77, 2 1 2 - 1 3 , 215, 217, 225 Mona Lisa, 14 Money, 39-42. See also Affluence Monroe, Marilyn, 132-37, 161 Montgomery, Alabama, 185, 190 Moore, Marianne, 2 1 2 Morning Sun (Rosenquist), 56, 57 Morrei, Marc, 202 Most of It, The (Goode), 60 Most Wanted Men, No. i:John M. (Front View and Profile) (Warhol), 176 Motherwell, Robert, 7, 215 Motorcycle Accident (Hanson), 175 Motorcycle gangs, 174 Motorcycles, 1 7 4 - 7 5 Motorola, 230 Movie (Conner), 168 Moviegoer (Percy), 223-24

INDEX

Movie Poster, The (Segal), 135, 137 Movies: O ' H a r a and, 2 1 7 - 1 9 ; on suburbia, 59; television and, 229. See also under Hollywood Munch, Edvard, 221 Murphy, Gerald, 89; backdrop for the ballet Within the Quota, 114, 115, 160; Villa America, 160 Murrow, Edward R., 128, 229, 232 Museum of Modern Art, N e w York, 44, 215 Muybridge, Eadweard, 124 Naked Lunch (Burroughs), 222 " N a n c y " (comic strip), 154 Nancy (Warhol), 154-55 National Biscuit Company, 109 National Football League, 124 National Geographic, 16 National Merit Scholarships, 232 Nazis, 120 Newark, 52 N e w Critics, 213, 217 N e w Formalists, 213 New Jemima (Overstreet), 190 N e w Jersey, 52, 59 N e w m a n , Barnett, 7, 45 N e w Mission Gallery, San Francisco, 44 New Realists, The exhibition (1962), 5 News, i n , 119-20, 228-29, 2 3 1 33; art becoming, 11; disaster reporting in, 173-74. See also M e dia, mass Newspapers, 160, 229, 231, 232, 233; comics in, 146; riots in, 186. See also individual papers Newsweek, 58, 186 N e w York City: artists of, 4, 5 , 6 7, 202, 216; O'Hara on, 217; rioting in, 52; The Store in, 1 0 0 102; Times Square in, 54-56; traffic in, 54, 75 New Yorker, 222 N e w York State Pavilion, 176 New York Times, 16, 202 N e w York Worlds Fair (1964), 176-77 Nilsson, Gladys, 159 Nixon, Richard M., 36, 128, 148, 230-31 Nonconformity, 9, 23 N o r t h Carolina, 185 Novels, 59, 220-21, 222-26 November 13, 1963 (Goode), 59 Nuclear weapons, n - 1 2 , 147-48, 162, 164-67, 170, 195, 229 Nudes, 29-32, 137

N u t t , Jim, 159, 209; Snooper Trooper, 149; Y Did He Du It?, 150, 151 Obscenity trials, 168 Occult mysticism, 168 O ' C o n n o r , Flannery, 221, 222, 223 Odalisk (Rauschenberg), 123 O ' D o h e r t y , Brian, 3 O'er the Ramparts We Watched Fascinated (Kicnholz), 194, 195 " O f Moderrt> Poetry" (Stevens), 212, 213 O'Hara, Frank, 212, 2 1 5 - 1 9 ; Art Chronicles, 1954-1956, 215; "Ave Maria," 218; Collected Poems, 216; " T h e Day Lady Died," 217; "Digression on ' N u m b e r I' 1948," 215, 216; "For James Dean," 218; "For the Chinese N e w Year and for Bill Berkson," 216; "An Image of Leda," 218; In Memory of My Feelings, 216; " O n Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing the Delaware at T h e Museum of Modern Art," 216, 217; "Personism: A Manifesto," 218; Standing Still and Walking in New York, 215; "A Step Away f r o m T h e m , " 217; "Steps," 217; "To Gottfried Benn," 219; "To the Film Industry in Crisis," 218; " W h y I Am N o t a Painter," 218 O'Keeffe, Georgia, 48 Old Dump Flag, The (Oldenburg), ¿4 Oldenburg, Claes, 2, 23-25, 44, 81, 97, 208, 209; Flag, 2j, 24; Floor Cone, 84, 8y, French Fries and Ketchup, 82, 83; Giant Hamburger, 79, So; Giant Ice Cream Cone, 84; Hamburger, 79, 79; Heel Flag, 25; Lipstick (Ascending) on Caterpillar Tracks, 201, 202; The Old Dump Flag, 24-, Pastry Case, I, 86, 87; 7-Up with Cake, 100, 101; Soft Fur Good Humors, 84, 85-, The Store, 25, 75, 100, 101, 102-, The Street, 46, 75; Two Cheeseburgers with Everything (Dual Hamburgers), 79; Upside Down City, 46, 47, 48, 50; U.S.A. Flag, 25 One Dollar Bills (Warhol), 40 One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Kesey), 224 S199 Television (Warhol), 120, 121 One Way (Grooms), 54

" O n Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing the Delaware at The Museum of Modern A r t " (O'Hara), 216, 2 1 7 On the Road (Kerouac), 69, 231 Oppenheim, Meret: Fur-Lined Tea Cup, 84 Orange Disaster (car accident) (Warhol), 173 Orange Disaster (Electric Chair series) (Warhol), 181 Order, poetic, 213 Oregon, 59 Oreo, 97 Organization Man, The (Whyte), 10, 1 9 - 2 3 , 58-59, 106, 231 Oswald, Lee Harvey, 119, 185 Other America, The (Harrington), 75

"Other-directed" people, 10 " O u r Country and Our Culture" symposium (1952), 8 - 9 , 2 1 4 - 1 5 Overseas Highway (Crawford), 66, 67 Overstreet, Joe: New Jemima, 190 "Ozzie and Harriet," 59 Packard, Vance, 10, 105 Painted Bronze (Johns), too "Parable of American Painting" (Rosenberg), 7 Parker, Tom, 128 Parking Garage (Segal), 72 Partisan Review, 8 - 9 , 10, 2 1 4 - 1 5 , 216 Pasadena Art Museum, 206 Paschke, Ed, 209; Dos Criados, 145-, Purple Ritual, 184, 185; Tightroper, ¡44, 145 Pastry Case, I (Oldenburg), 86, 87 Patriotism, 12, 1 6 - 1 7 , [ 9. I o 8 . , 8 7 Patriots' Parade, The (Grooms), 197, 198 Peanuts (Schulz), 161 Penck, A. R . , 209 Pennsylvania, 59 People's Republic of China, 11 Pepsi-Cola, 56, 97, 99 Percy, Walker, 223-24 "Personism: A Manifesto" (O'Hara), 218 Peto, John, 40 Phantom, The (Ramos), 152 Philadelphia, 59 Philco, 230 Photocopiers, 91 Photography, 124-25, 232 Photorealism, 4 Physical appearance, of celebrities, 128

Picasso, Pablo, 146, 2 1 5 , 221; Bottle, Glass and Violin, 113; Guernica, 158; Seated Woman, 107 Pillar of Truth (Westermann), 1)4 Pistol (Lichtenstein), 178, 179 Plath, Sylvia, 224 Playboy, 3 0 - 3 1 , 137, 143 Please Don't Eat the Daisies, 59 Pledge of allegiance, 19 Podhoretz, Norman, 6 Poets, 2 1 2 - 1 9 ; Beat, 10, 1 1 , 148, 1 6 1 , 167-68 Poland, 12 Politics: artists active in, 202; mass media and, 38, 2 3 0 - 3 1 , 233 (see also under Media, mass); on television, 2 3 0 - 3 1 . See also Cold War; Communism; Presidents, U.S. Pollock, Jackson, 7, 8, 45, 2 1 5 - 1 6 Poo Poo (Hefferton), 40 Pop Art, 2-5, 216 Pop Art (Lippard), 44 " P o p Art and Non Pop A r t " (Rosenblum), 3 Pop Art Redefined (Gablik), 3 Popeye (Lichtenstein), 152, 153 Popeye (Warhol), 152, 154 Popsicles, 84 Portable War Memorial, The (Kienholz), 200-201, 202 Porter, Cole, 160 Portland, Oregon, 59 Pound, Ezra, 2 1 2 , 2 1 5 , 217; The Cantos, 212, 2 1 3 ; " H u g h Selwyn Mauberley," 2 1 7 Poverty, 52, 75, 100 Powers That Be, The (Halberstam), 121 Precisionists, 6, 45, 67 "Present State of American Poetry" (Schwartz), 214 President Elect (Rosenquist), 38 Presidents, U . S . , 32-38. See also Eisenhower, Dwight D.; Kennedy, John F.; Nixon, Richard M . ; Reagan, Ronald; Washington, George Presley, Elvis, 1 2 8 - 3 1 , 161 Press: alternative, 71. See also Magazines; Newspapers Press conferences, 230, 233 Price, The (Miller), 105 Prime Time (Stevens), 120, 121 Protestant ethic, 99 Proto-Pop, 4 Provincetown, R.I., 24 Public monuments, 43, 200-202 Public relations, 38, 1 1 1 , 128-42. See also Celebrities

Purple Ritual (Paschke), 184, 185 Pynchon, Thomas, 2 2 1 , 223, 224, 225, 226 Quiz programs, 99 Rabbit Redux (Updike), 223, 224 Race Riot series (Warhol), 186 Race Riot (Warhol), 186 Racism, 52, 185, 190 Radiators, 34 Radio, 120, 228, 229, 232, 233 Rally Round the Flag, Boys (Shulman), 59 Ramos, Mel: Batmobile, 152; Flash Gordon, 152; The Phantom, 152-, Superman, 151, 152 Ransom, John Crowe, 2 1 3 Rauschenberg, Robert, 2, 4, 32, 34-38, 43, 147, 209, 212; Brace, 122, 123; Canyon, 43; Charlene, 43; Choke, 43, 52, 53, 54; Coca Cola Plan, 95, 96; Curfew, 95; Dante's Inferno series, 36; Dylaby, 95; Echo, 124, J25; Estate, 43, 52; Factum I, 36; Factum II, 36; Forecast, 43; Gloria, 112, 1 1 3 - 1 4 ; Hymnal, 176; Kite, 203, 205; Lincoln, 34, 33; Odalisk, 123; Retroactive I, 37\ Tracer, 204, 205 Reagan, Ronald, 232 Real estate advertisements, 60-61 Rebel Without a Cause, 59, 131 Recession, 39, 99 Redcoatism, 7 Red Elvis (Warhol), 1 3 1 Regionalists, 6, 45 Retroactive I (Rauschenberg), 37 Rich, Adrienne, 213 Richmond, California, 59 Riesman, David, 10, 231 Ringgold, Faith, 209; The American Dream, 187; American People Series, 187-88; The Cocktail Party, 187; The Flag Is Bleeding, 188; God Bless America, 187 Rioting, 52, 186, 193 Rivers, Larry, 2, 1 1 , 97-98, 212, 215, 216; The Accident, 172, 173; The Friendship of America and France (Kennedy and de Gaulle), 98, 99-, Washington Crossing the Delaware, 14, 15, 1 6 - 1 7 , 32, 44, 2 1 6 - 1 7 ; Webster and Cigars, 98 Robinson, Jackie, 185 Rocca, Suellen, 159 Rockefeller, Nelson, 177 Rockville, Maryland, 103 "Romance of Helen Trent," 229 Romanticism, 2 1 2

INDEX

277

Rosenberg, Ethel, 12 Rosenberg, Harold, 7 Rosenberg, Julius, 12 Rosenblum, Robert, 3 Rosenquist, James, 2, 56-58; F111, ¡94-95, 196, 202, 208; Louis D. Brandeis on Democracy (Untitled), 56, 58; Marilyn Monroe, I, 138, 139; Morning Sun, 56, 57; President Elect, 38; Untitled (Joan Crawford Says . . .), 141; Woman I, 138 Rosenthal, Joe, 206 Roth, Moira, 4 Rothko, Mark, 45, 215 " R o u t e 66," 69 Roy Rogers, 81 Rubin, Jerry, 161 Rural life, 45 Ruscha, Edward, 208; Annie, 155; Every Building on Sunset Strip, 69; Flash, L.A. Times, 117, 146; Hollywood Study, 56, 57, 75; Some Los Angeles Apartments, 69; Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas, 67, 68, 69; Thirty/our Parking Lots in Los Angeles, 69; Twentysix Gasoline Stations, 69, 75 Ruth, Babe, 123 Safer, Morley, 197-98 Saigon (Saul), 197 St. Louis World's Fair (1904), 83 Salinger, J. D., 231 Salle, David, 208 Samaras, Lucas, 46 San Francisco, 44, 50, 59, 161 Saturday Evening Post, 174, 232 Saul, Peter, 196-97, 209; High Class San Francisco, 50; Icebox, 104, 105; Saigon, 197 Saunders, Raymond: American Dream, 188, ¡89, 190 Scharf, Kenny, 209 Schaub, Thomas, 220-27 School of N e w York, 7, 216. See also under N e w York City School of New York exhibition (195O. 7 School of Paris, 7 Schulz, Charles M., 161 Schwartz, Delmore, 213, 214 Sculpmetal Flag (Johns), 21 Seated Woman (Picasso), 107 Seattle, 59 "Secret Life of Walter Mitty, T h e " (Thurber), 222 "See It N o w , " 128 Segal, George, 2; The Bus Driver, 72; Bus Riders, 72; The Bus Sta-

INDEX

tion, 72; The Gas Station, 72-73; Man Leaving a Bus, 72, 73, 74; The Movie Poster, 135, 137; Parking Garage, 72 Selma, Alabama, 190-93 Selz, Peter, 3 Senate Foreign Relations C o m m i t tee, 197 7-Up, 97. 99 7-Up with Cake (Oldenburg), 100, 101 Sexual Behavior in the Human Female (Kinsey), 31 Sexuality, 30-32, 168; mass media and, 3 0 - 3 1 , 137, 138, 230; in sports, 127; in war, 196-97 Shapiro, Cecile, 4 Shapiro, David, 4 Sheeler, Charles: Skyscrapers (Offices), 48 Sherman, Cindy, 208 Shirer, William L., 229 Shopping, 105. See also Consumerism "Should the Artist Become a Man of the World?" (Kaprow), 11 Shulman, Max, 59 Sidney Janis Gallery, N e w York, 161 Signs: highway, 65; paintings as, 155; urban, 52, 54, 56, 75 Sinking George (HefFerton), 40 Six o'Clock News (Kienholz), 120 Six Painters and the Object exhibition (1963), 5 '60 T-Bird (Bechtle), 62, 63 Skinny's 21 (Bengston), 174, 175 Skyscrapers, 46-48 Skyscrapers (Offices) (Sheeler), 48 Smith, Howard K., 111,229 Smith, Kate, 200 Snooper Trooper (Nutt), 149 Snow White (Barthelme), 224, 226 Social Realism, 6, 45, 66, 163 Soft Fur Good Humors (Oldenburg), 84, 85 Solomon, Alan R., 3 Some Los Angeles Apartments (Ruscha), 69 Sorrentino, Gilbert, 224-25 Soup Cans (Warhol), 91 Soviet Union, 8, 11-12, 158, 166, 195. 196; consumerism and, 108; Sputnik launched by, 12, 193, 232. See also Cold War Spiral, 52 Spirit o f ' 7 6 , 17 Spiritual orientations, 168-69 Sports, 121-28, 232 Sports Illustrated, 121

"Spring and All" (Williams), 213, 217 Sputnik, 12, 193, 232 Stable Gallery, N e w York, 206 Stafford, Jean, 220 Standard Station, Amarillo, Texas (Ruscha), 67, 68, 69 Standing Still and Walking in New York (O'Hara), 215 Stars. See Celebrities Stars (Oldenburg) happening (1963), 44 Statue of Liberty, 43 Statue of Liberty (Warhol), 42, 43 Status Seekers, The (Packard), 10 Stein, Gertrude, 225 "Step Away f r o m T h e m " (O'Hara), 217 Stephen Radich Gallery, N e w York, 202 "Steps" (O'Hara), 217 Stevens, May, 180-82; Big Daddy Paper Doll, 182-, Prime Time, 120, 121 Stevens, Wallace, 212, 215; " O f Modern Poetry," 212, 213; "Sunday M o r n i n g , " 213 Stevenson, Adlai, 230 Still Life #24 (Wesselmann), 107 Still Life #28 (Wesselmann), 34 Still Life #30 (Wesselmann), 107, 108 Still Life #31 (Wesselmann), 34, 35 Still Life paintings (Wesselmann), 34, 107 "Stones" (O'Hara and Rivers), 212 Store, The (Oldenburg), 25, 75, 100, tot, 102 Street, The (Oldenburg), 46, 75 Stuart, Gilbert, 34, 36 Studio 35 conference (1950), 7 Styron, William, 220 Suburbia, 45, 58-63 Sullivan, Ed, 128 "Sunday M o r n i n g " (Stevens), 213 Sunshine Company, 97 Super Giant, 103 Superman, 151 Superman (comicbook), 146 Superman (Ramos), 151, 152 Superman (Warhol), 152, 153 Supermarkets, 103-5, 109 Supreme Court desegregation decision, 185, 231 Surrealists, 66, 67 Sweet Funk (HefFerton), 40, 41 Tate, Allen, 213 Taylor, Elizabeth, 132, 141

Technology, 9; food, 83. See also Nuclear weapons; Television Television, 105, 1 1 0 - 1 1 , 1 1 8 - 2 0 , 160, 228-33 passim; advertising on, 89, 99, 160, 230, 232; celebrities created by, i n , 128; civil rights events on, 34, 231; detective stories on, 148-49; presidents' use of, 36, 230, 233; quiz p r o g r a m s on, 99; sports on, 121, 124, 128; suburbia-based sitcoms on, 59; Vietnam War on, 198-200; westerns on, 131 Texaco, 230 Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, 160 Them and Us (Jenney), 196 Thiebaud, Wayne, 5, 208; Bakery Counter, 86, 87; Electric Chair, 180; Five Hot Dogs, yS\ Football Player, 126, 127; Four Ice Cream Cones, 84; Lunch Table, 87; Trucker's Supper, 76, 7 7 - 7 8 Thirteen Most Wanted Men series (Warhol), 1 7 6 - 7 7 1303 Alice Street, Viewed (as if it were a Billboard) From the Corner of L and Alice (Arneson), 63 Thirty/our Parking Lots in Los Angeles (Ruscha), 69 Thoreau, H e n r y David, 231 Three Hundred Years of American Art (Eliot), 8 Three-Penny Opera, 218 T h u r b e r , James, 222 T i b o r de N a g y Gallery, N e w York, 44 Tightroper (Paschke), 144, 145 Time, 111 ; on advertising, 89; American art championed in, 8; on automation, 109; celebrities in, 132, 143; on Coca-Cola, 93; on detectivc stories, 148-49; on European discoveries of American art f o r m s , 161; on guns, 179; on highways, 65; on Leutze's painting, 16; on P o p Art, 3; on race riots, 186; on Spirit o f ' 7 6 , 17; on suburbs, 58; on supermarkets, 109; on urban renewal, 46, 52; on westerns, 131 Time-lapse photography, 124 T i m e s Square, 54-56 "To Gottfried B e n n " (O'Hara), 219 Tolstoy, L., 14, 44 Tôpffer, Rodolphe, 222 Torpedo . . . Los! (Lichtenstein), 157. 158 "To the Film Industry in Crisis" (O'Hara), 218 Town Square (Davis), 68

Tracer (Rauschenberg), 204, 205 Tract Home series (Artschwager), 60-61 Traffic, urban, 52-54, 75 "Train" ( O ' C o n n o r ) , 223 Transcendentalism, 163 Trenton, N e w Jersey, 59 Tricky Cad—Case I (Jess), 146, 147 Tricky Cad—Case V (Jess), 147 Tricky Cad collages (Jess), 147-48 "Tricky D i c k , " 148 Triple Elvis (Warhol), 130, 1 3 1 , 161 Trompe I'oeil illusionism, 40 Trophy for a Gasoline Apollo (Westermann), 94, 95 Trucker's Supper (Thiebaud), 76, 77-78 Truman, Harry, 11, 229 Truman Doctrine, 11, 13 Tunnel of Love, 59 T. V. (Celmins), 118 T V dinners, 83 TV Dinner (Watts), 83 " T w e n t y - O n e " show, 128 Twenty-five Colored Marilyns (Warhol), 136, 137 Twentysix Gasoline Stations (Ruscha), 69, 75 Two Centuries of American Painting exhibition (1954), 8 Two Cheeseburgers with Everything (Dual Hamburgers) (Oldenburg) 79 210 Coca-Cola Bottles (Warhol), 92, 93 Understanding Media (McLuhan), 110 United Nations, 16 Universalism, 11 Untitled American President (Kienholz), 38, 39 Untitled (Berman), 168, 169, 170 Untitled (Conner), 166-167, 168 Untitled (Joan Crawford Says . . .) (Rosenquist), 141 Untitled (Tract Home) (Artschwager), 61 Updike, J o h n , 223, 224 Upside Down City (Oldenburg), 46, 47. 48, 50 U r b a n milieu, 45, 46-58. See also Rioting; Traffic, urban U r b a n renewal, 46, 52 Urey, Harold C . , 11-12 " U S " ( O ' H a r a and Rivers), 2 1 2 U.S.A. Flag (Oldenburg), 25 U.S. 80 (In Memory of Mrs. Liuzzo) (D'Arcangelo), 192, 193 U.S. Highway 1 (D'Arcangelo), 65, 66

U S S R . See Soviet U n i o n U . S . Steel, 230 Valéry, Paul, 221 Vanderbilt, Gloria, 1 1 3 Van Doren, Charles, 128 Victorianism, 2 1 2 Viereck, Peter, 213 Vietnam War, 111, 182, 195, 1 9 6 200, 202, 229 Villa America (Murphy), 160 Violence, 168, 1 7 6 - 7 9 , 182-93, 196-98, 230 Vorticism, 215 Walker, J o h n , 8 "Wally Hedrick: Offense Intended" (Coplans), 44 Wanted, Ready Made (Duchamp), 205 Wapshot Chronicle, The (Cheever), 59 War and Peace (Tolstoy), 14, 44 Ward, Eleanor, 206 Warhol, Andy, 2, 97, 109, 128, 142-43, 205, 209, 216; Baseball, 124; Batman, 152; Big Torn Campbell's Soup Can, 91; Blue Liz as Cleopatra, 140, 141; A Boy for Meg, 116; Brillo, Campbell's Tomato Juice, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes Boxes, 103-, Campbell's Soup Can series, 90, 91; Dick Tracy, 148, 154; Electric Chair series, 180; Five Coke Bottles, 93; Jackie (The Week That Was), 182, 183, 185, 206; Liz, 141; Marilyn Monroe's Lips, 137-, The Men in Her Life (Mike Todd and Eddie Fisher), 140, 141; Most Wanted Men, No. 1: John M. (Front View and Profile), 176; Nancy, 154-55; One Dollar Bills, 40-, S199 Television, 120, 121; Orange Disaster (car accident), 173; Orange Disaster (Electric Chair series), 181; Popeye, 152, 154; Race Riot, 186; Race Riot series, 186; Red Elvis, 131; Soup Cans, 91; Statue of Liberty, 42, 43; Superman, 152, 153; Thirteen Most Wanted Men series, 1 7 6 - 7 7 ; Triple Elvis, 130, 1 3 1 , 161; Twenty-five Colored Marilyns, 136, 137; 210 Coca-Cola Bottles, 92, 93 War memorials, 200-201 Warren C o m m i s s i o n , 185 Washes (Oldenburg) happening (1965), 44 Washington, George, 16, 17, 32, 36, 40, 88, 2 1 7

INDEX

279

Washington Crossing the Delaware (Katz), 17, ¡S Washington Crossing the Delaware (Leutze), 14, 15, 1 6 - 1 7 , 2 1 6 , 2 1 7 Washington Crossing the Delaware (Lichtenstein), 17, 18 Washington Crossing the Delaware (Rivers), 14, 15, 1 6 - 1 7 , 32, 44, 216-17 Washington Gallery of Modern Art, 44 Washington Monument, The (Artschwager), 43 Waste Land, The (Eliot), 2 1 3 Watts, Robert, 103; TV Dinner, 83 Watts rioting, 193 Wayne, J o h n , 128 Webster and Cigars (Rivers), 98 Websters, 98 Welcome to 42nd Street ( Victory Theater) (Estes), 54, Welles, Orson, 229 Wendy's, 81 Wesselmann, Tom, 2, 208; Great American Nude #8, jo; Great American Nude series, 2 9 - 3 0 , 3 1 , 34; Little Great American Nude #6, 28, 29; Little Great American Nude # 7 , 29; Still Life #24, 107-,

Still Lije # 2 8 , 34; Still Life #30, 107, io8\ Still Life #31, 34, 35; Still Life paintings, 34, 107 West, Mae, 161 West Coast, 5, 50. See also California Westermann, H. C . , 2; Evil New War God, 193; Pillar of Truth, 94-, Trophy for a Gasoline Apollo, 94, 9 5; White for Purity, 94 Westerns, 1 3 1 White for Purity (Westermann), 94 White House (Hefferton), 42 White Tower, 80 White Tower Hamburger (Marsh), So Whitman, Robert, 46 Whitney Museum of American Art, N e w York, 5 " W h y I A m N o t a Painter" (O'Hara), 2 1 8 Whyte, William H., J r . , 10, 1 9 - 2 3 , 58-59, 106, 231 Wilbur, Richard, 213 Wild One, 174 Williams, William Carlos, 2 1 2 , 2 1 5 , 2 1 7 - 1 8 , 225; " T h e Great Figure," 164; " S p r i n g and A l l , " 213. 217 Wilson, Sloan, 59

Designer: Mechanicals: Compositor: Text: Display: Printer: Binder: Editorial Coordinator: Production Coordinator:

280

INDEX

Wirsum, Karl, 159, Baseball girl, 127 Wise Blood (O'Connor), 223 Within the Quota, 160; Murphy's backdrop for, 1 1 4 , 115, 160 Woman I (Rosenquist), 138 Woman series (de Kooning), 133, 138 Wood, Grant: American Gothic, 3 1 ; Daughters of Revolution, 16 World Fair 11 performance (1962), 75 World's Fair: N e w York (1964), 1 7 6 - 7 7 ; St. Louis (1904), 83 World War I recruitment poster, 179 World War II, 58, 137, 160, 229 Wrigley's, 56 Wyeth, Andrew, 60 Yale University, 202 Yarber, Robert, 208 Ya Ya Yogi (Lanyon), 123 Y Did He Du It? (Nutt), 150, 151 Zap, 159 Zen Buddhism, 168

Steve Renick Ina Clausen Wilsted & Taylor Linotron 202 Bembo Bembo & Glaser Stencil Bold Toppan Printing Co., Ltd. Toppan Printing Co., Ltd. Marilyn Schwartz Ellen M. Herman