Levis Fine Ar Presents 'Maurice Golubov: Ahead of Time'
- September 17, 2014 13:23
Levis Fine Art will present the exhibition 'Maurice Golubov: Ahead of Time,' from Sept. 18 to Oct. 15, 2014, in New York City.
Maurice Golubov (1905-1987) was born, dramatically, in the cellar of his family home in Vetka, Russia, near Kiev, while a pogrom raged outside. In 1912, his father left for the United States in search of a less precarious life, promising to send for his family when he had re-established himself. Two years afterward, with the onset of World War I, his mother decided to leave Vetka, then Russia itself, eventually sailing from Oslo with her children for the United States. In a series of “horrid adventures,” Golubov was inadvertently separated from his family for several traumatic months, finding them again only by chance. They finally arrived in New York in 1917, rejoining his father.
Golubov was raised in an orthodox Hasidic household and was introduced to
Jewish mysticism at a very young age by his parents, later embracing the
Kabala, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, American Transcendentalism, Plato,
Spinoza, Bergson, and other philosophers and philosophies of the absolute, the
infinite and the metaphysical. He said that he had believed in mysticism from
the beginning, “the mysteries of the unseen world always very near to me.” He
was also, even as a child, a gifted mimetic artist, copying illustrations by
Gustave Doré pictured in a Bible that he found in the family barn. But it was “abstraction,” Golubov wrote in an
undated manuscript, that “became my true realism,” the realist co-existing with
the metaphysician. Seeing no conflict between the figurative and the
non-objective, his resolutions were unlike those of any of his contemporaries.
He said: “I was self-taught in my painting, which might be described as
realistic, expressionistic, abstract, non-objective and surrealistic. I was trying
to reconcile all these tendencies…The results were, and still are,
metaphysical-non-objective and metaphysical-figurative. How I
hate all these terms! But how else to describe it?”
Francis V. O’Connor noted, in
Maurice Golubov (1905-1987), His Abstract
and Figurative Art: An Interpretive Essay, that “Golubov’s art can be seen
as a continuous dialectic between what he wants to emphasize as meaningful — as
he does in his expressionist figurative works that reflect his fraught boyhood
in Russia as a refugee — and in his geometric abstractions, where he reduces
his subject to the omission of everything but the design and color to reveal a
“4th Dimension” of reality as he understands it. But it will become apparent
that he is an expressionist at heart, utilizing three modes of painting: 1) the
rows of figures he calls both ‘wanderers’ and ‘metaphysical,’ 2) the
non-objective abstract designs, where he uses color and painterly facture
within the designs to enliven his dimensional beliefs — which he also calls ‘metaphysical,’
and 3) geometric designs that are painted in an overall painterly manner that
softens their linear structures with facture and color.”
The fourth dimension intrigued Golubov, a theoretical discourse of vital significance
in the annals of early Modernism. Many artists and intellectuals at the time
read Charles Howard Hinton and P.D. Ouspensky, two early proponents of higher
dimensions and the spiritual who influenced Kandinsky, Malevich, Mondrian and
countless others. Indeed, Ouspensky’s observation seems restated in Golubov’s
discussion of “an illogically logical possibility of a world arrested in many
endless moments into one whole instant moment.”
The
fourth dimension offered an escape from gravity and a point of view from where
to see objects as if from multiple directions simultaneously. Not only was
Golubov interested in imagining flight, but his fourth-dimensional figure
exists in “every possible position such as top, bottom, this side—that side—any
side—the depth of any direction,” he
declared. He was immersed in the three-dimensional
world also but it was not enough in itself, working and experimenting
“endlessly to find a key to enter the fourth dimensional hidden world behind
the third” and see if it could be expressed in art that would enable him “to explore
a rich mysterious unknown world.”
Golubov chose a diamond shape
as a fitting fourth dimensional figure. As a square on its side, it had greater
dynamism and potentiality. He called it a symbol of four dimensions in “a
surface way” and the introduction of a circular or spiral movement into it “will
naturally go into depth,” however indeterminate, the circle or spiral exploring
“every possible space in and around it.” In an audacious solution, Golubov used
the spiral to visually and emblematically break apart the cube’s
three-dimensional restrictions through the implication of movement in space and
time. Golubov
invented “a unique way to overcome the containing faces of the cube by using
the spiral to imaginatively pierce each face and extend space outward or inward
from that plane,” Linda Dalrymple Henderson observed in her essay, Maurice Golubov and the Fourth Dimension.
“He then suggested the simultaneous combinations of views that would result in
an unprecedented, transparent intersection of multiple spaces…a highly original
contribution to the rich painterly tradition of grappling with higher
dimensions.”
This density is also
evident in the later works, such as the untitled, softly hued oil painting from 1972, a medley of mauve, green and pale yellow shapes, the ground intersected
by triangular planes that suggest solid streams of light or space and, if
Michael Golubov is right, perhaps a disembodied railroad track as well.
Ascendant, it might also read as a Jacob’s ladder to higher, invisible realms.
A beauty from a year later is Metaphysical
Dimensions, and the equally masterful Untitled, Abstract, 1978, consisting of a
proliferating network of luminous colored pieces, another one of his elaborate
jigsaw puzzles; he likes to put things together, he said in a 1980 interview
with Greta Berman, included in Maurice Golubov,
Paintings 1925-1980, the catalogue for his 1980 retrospective at the Mint
Museum in Charlotte, North Carolina. Mystical
Dimensions also suggests an incipient, expandable electronic system with
odd, unexpected spatial twists and small areas of lush paint amid the circuitry,
the images tautly put together, seemingly locked in place, but, on closer
inspection, the edges can blur, as if vibrating, in a state of transition.
A few of his figurative works are also on view, a painting with charged, glowingly outlined beings titled Figures at Sunset, 1952. While his abstractions recall that of Analytical and Synthetic Cubism, his were not Cubist resolutions; he had said to Berman that he didn’t want to break up reality. Instead, they were something more psychologically complex, idiosyncratic, and spatially prescient, comparable to images generated by today’s sophisticated computer graphics as well as to the multi-dimensional universes of theoretical physics, making his work appear remarkably fresh and ready for reappraisal, disentangled from the restrictive Greenbergian formalism that dominated mid-century American art. Culture, Henderson remarked, had caught up with him at last.
During his long, extremely
prolific life as an artist, Golubov never calculated his trajectory, driven
more by the instinctual, his evolution informed not by a rational progression,
but by tapping into the ineffable time and time again for his inspiration.
Susan C. Larsen said, in her essay for the Mint catalogue, “Expanded Spaces:
The Paintings of Maurice Golubov,” that he did not see “the purposes of
painting in stylistic terms…He is in the most precise terms an abstract artist,
one who restructures both observed and invented forms in accordance with his
own interpretive vision.” At the cusp of art, science and mysticism, he had a
preternatural sensitivity and attentiveness to phenomena, like a kind of
perfect pitch, perhaps. And it is not surprising that he thought music was the
most fluid means of expression. Once again, from his notes: “I snatch
constantly eternal Life from Death through beautiful permanent forms and symbols
(much more easily achieved through music and perhaps true religious feelings.)”
When young, Golubov had also wished for wings, “to fly to all parts of the
world,” a wish that was granted when he became an artist, the wings that of
imagination, boundless.
- excerpt from the exhibition essay