These were a welcome revelation to me – the collages of American poet John Ashbery – for their economy of images and the deftness of their poetics. So much of collage is grating, hard on the senses and purposely obfuscating – though it is frequently worth it, when it reaches something we can only know by recognizing it in the everyday. Not so with these beautiful, though brief, gestures.
Ashbery’s collages are like mini-micro haiku. Forget words, with their wispy ligatures and lover-like demands on the imagination. Ashbery offers a humble axe and a stump of wood,
the swift collision of which brings clarity, exemplifies industry and initiates a new beginning.
These “chops” (or more precisely, cuts) are not the “shock of the new,” as Hughes called it – for, even in their day (Ashbery’s most productive period appears to span the 1970’s, although he began collaging in the late 1940’s and continues to this day), their whimsy, civility and glamour were at odds with the prevailing filthy winds blowing through New York City at the time (think Hell’s Kitchen, blackouts and the “Summer of Sam”). But, rather than stiffening our reserve, and evoking our reactionary tendencies, we become pliable in their presence. Our joints are loosened and we are ready for play.
Captain America and friend launch an offensive (or is it a defense?) on behalf of the Smithsonian Institution.
To say they exist in some other sphere, possibly truer than our own, only begins to approximate it. “It” being the wonder and the magic they possess. It would be closer to the truth to say that in not imposing anything on our minds, by not using “trash” to cause us to mourn our own decay, by not insisting on ugliness, they stand distinctly apart from most of postmodern culture, all while steadfastly refusing to be sentimental or cloying or coy. They are, as Shakespeare was wont to say, “the very soul of wit.”
Ashbery’s collages also happen to be some of the most beautiful things rattling around in my mind right now.
The collages of John Ashbery were previously on view at Tibor de Nagy in New York. To see more, follow this link to a slideshow by The New York Times.
