Treasures of the Master Drawings Fair, from a Surprising Portrait to a Strange Dreamscape

Théodore Géricault, “Study of a Lion at Rest” (ca. 1820) at Stephen Ongpin Fine Art (image courtesy Stephen Ongpin Fine Art)

A few days ago I made my return visit to this year’s iteration of the annual Master Drawings in New York fair. I have developed some affection for the enterprise, which is much more diffuse than other New York fairs — to experience it one needs to perambulate among a selection of Upper East Side galleries beginning from a 54th Street location (technically on the west side) up to 93rd street. (Most, though, are clustered between 60th and 80th streets, so it can be easily walked in an afternoon.)

Flemish School (early 17th century) “Nocturnal Animals” (circa 1600) oil on panel, 16 by 22¼ inches at Mireille Mosler, Ltd. (image courtesy Mireille Mosler, Ltd.)

As with times previous, I found myself drawn to a diversity of work: illustrations, studies, human portraiture, animal portraiture, nudes, a couple of surreal landscapes, and inventive, post-war abstract works. I was surprised to find the latter, and when I admitted to Katherine Degn of Kraushaar Galleries that I admired her gallery the most of those I had seen that day, she said to me that their emphasis was more on the “drawing” than on the “masters.” This is where I saw a strange dreamscape by Dorothy Dehner titled “Balloon Ascension #3: Dithyrambe Played by the Ashraf” (1947), and a couple works that were not actually drawing: a print from a woodcut by John Storrs “Repose (Reclining Figure Under a Tree)” (ca. 1920); and a black-and-white, abstract work by William Kienbusch, “From the Porch, Cape Split #2” (1972), which might represent an old set of antenna that used to typically line the roofs of houses in the 1970s.

Dorothy Dehner, “Balloon Ascension #3: Dithyrambe Played by the Ashraf” (1947), ink on paper, 17.5 x 26 inches at Kraushaar Galleries (image courtesy Kraushaar Galleries)

I paid less attention on this trip to works from the European Renaissance, with a couple of notable exceptions. Jacopo Pontormo’s work at Christopher Bishop Fine Art was quite impressive. Pontormo’s double-sided drawings represent four key scenes depicted in paintings that once occupied a loggia (a covered exterior gallery) at Villa Castello and which were lost after the Medici dynasty ended. According to Bishop, the drawings represent complex interconnected mythological narratives that dovetailed with the realpolitik intrigue of Cosimo I, who assumed the Ducal throne of Tuscany as a teenager to continue the reign of the Medici family after the assassination of a cousin, Alessandro.

View of the exhibition staged around the double-sided drawing of Jacopo Pontormo circa 1537, at Christopher Bishop gallery, including a projection of what the drawings may have looked like as paintings on the loggia ceiling (image courtesy Christopher Bishop gallery)

Jacopo Pontormo, “Saturn and Ceres” (ca. 1537) (one side of the double-sided drawing) pen and brown ink on buff paper with black chalk, 161 x 247 mm at Christopher Bishop Fine Art (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

Among my other favorites are a small, reddish study of a lion in repose by Théodore Géricault. It’s simple, but gets the blasé dispassion of the creature when it’s at rest. I was also completely engaged by Rembrandt Van Rijn’s “Woman Sitting Half Dressed Beside a Stove”(1658), an etching and engraving that captures the weariness of the subject. The more I see of Rembrandt, the more I’m convinced that as much as he was a master, he was also an empath. I was surprised to find a portrait of someone who looks like me in Santiago Arcos y Ugalde‘s “Absalam” (1887), on display at Stephen Ongpin Fine Art. Santiago expertly renders the facial hair of the Moroccan man, as well as his quiet self-containment; it’s rare to find this among the work across the fair: a dark-skinned person given this sort of dignity. I was also excited to see the drawing study by Jared French of a painting I’ve seen at the Whitney Museum of American Art: “Study for State Park” (1946). I immediately recognized the drawing because the painting had stayed in my memory years after seeing it — the strained poses of the characters are so strange and yet they seem comfortable in their strangeness.

Lastly, I was happy to run into Giacomo Balla’s “Vortice” (ca. 1913-14) at David Tunick. I have for a long time loved the Italian Futurists, particularly Balla, who made several paintings that looked liked swirling squalls of hurly-burly, and this constant activity certainly feels like a foundational feature of modern life, evocative of the way we live now.

Rembrandt Van Rijn, “Woman Sitting Half Dressed Beside a Stove” (1658), etching, engraving and drypoint on Japanese paper, dimensions: 8 5/8 x 7 3/8 in, at David Tunick (image courtesy David Tunick, Inc.)

John Storrs, “Repose (Reclining Figure Under a Tree)” (circa 1920), woodcut, 6.375 x 6.375 inches, at Kraushaar Galleries

Jared French, “Study for State Park” (1946), graphite and white wash on paper, 12 x 12 inches at James Francis Trezza (photo by the author)

Saul Steinberg, “Artist at his Drawing Table (1964), dedicated to Jean Stein, 12 x 15 inches, ink on paper at James Francis Trezza (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

Santiago Arcos y Ugalde, “Absalam” (1887), watercolor over traces of an underdrawing in pencil, 314 x 192 mm at Stephen Ongpin Fine Art (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

Gustav Klimt, “A Standing Female Nude” (n.d.), pencil on buff paper, 570 x 370 mm at Stephen Ongpin Fine Art (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

Barent Fabritius, “A Sleeping Youth” (n.d.), tip of brush, brown, grey, and ocher wash, heightened with white, 6 x 8 in at Découvert Fine Art (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

Jean Metzinger, “Seaside Village” (n.d.), pencil on paper, 516 x 714 mm at Stephen Ongpin Fine Art (photo by Seph Rodney/Hyperallergic)

William Kienbusch, “From the Porch, Cape Split #2” (1972), casein on paper, 81.3 x 103.5 cm at Kraushaar Galleries (image courtesy Kraushaar Galleries)