WHITE
LIGHT
The ultimate in monotone painting is the black or white canvas.
As the two extremes, the so-called no-colors, white and black
are associated with pure and impure, open and closed. The white
painting is a ‘blank’ canvas, where all is potential; the black painting
has obviously been painted, but painted out, hidden, destroyed.1
on the subject inspired the title of this exhibition—from the collection of the
Addison Gallery of American Art come into focus.
—Lucy Lippard
Through challenging juxtapositions, harmonious ensembles, creative
dialogues, unexpected pairings, and provocative displays, the exhibition
invites the viewer to discover how different formal elements and mediums
are employed to visually render conceptual themes. From subtle tonalities
to bold contrasts, black and white allow artists to capture a moment,
create mood, and connote meaning; yet, they also function as an effective
language for meditative Minimalism and geometric abstraction.
In the first half of the twentieth
century, artists began to experiment
with cameraless photography,
often referred to by the terms
‘photogram’ or ‘rayograph.’ The
direct contact between object and
photosensitized paper results in
abstract, unavoidably flat imagery
with more visual affinities to nonrepresentational painting of the time
Gordon “Diz” Bensley, Photogram on Black,
than representational photography
1967, photograph, gelatin silver print,
museum purchase, 1967.30
attempting to capture volume and
three-dimensional space. The relationship between figure and ground
resembles that of photographic negatives in that objects protect areas of
the paper and thus appear light, whereas the empty spaces around them
are depicted by darkness. While Man Ray (1890-1976) is credited with first
introducing his experiments with light and shadow into the realm of the fine
arts, other artists, such as Theodore Roszak (1907-1981), Konrad Cramer
(1888-1963), and Gordon Bensley (1924-2009), were also drawn to the
effects of light and matter on chemically treated paper.
While traditionally posited as opposites, black and white have come to
embody very similar themes, such as void and absence, emptiness and
blankness, negative and positive space. But the similarity does not end
there; on a scientific level, white and black are both composed by the sum
of all colors, the former in the realm of light, the latter in the realm of matter.
Through this lens, paintings, sculptures, prints, drawings, and photographs
by artists such as Josef Albers, Roy DeCarava, Carroll Dunham, Sol LeWitt,
Robert Mangold, Ray Metzker, Louise Nevelson, Dorothea Rockburne, Fred
Sandback, Frank Stella, and Ad Reinhardt—whose avant-garde treatise
Man Ray’s early experimentation with photograms inspired Hungarian artist
László Moholy-Nagy to explore the medium as well,2 which he began to do
regularly starting in 1923, when he was appointed master at the Bauhaus
and thus gained access to a darkroom. In 1937, Moholy-Nagy transmitted
his mature aesthetic to the American art scene, when he immigrated to the
U.S. and established the Institute of Design in Chicago. Before passing
away in 1946, he hired the promising young photographer Harry Callahan
(1912-1999), whose gelatin silver print Sunlight on Water (1943) illustrates
their shared sensibilities, to continue his legacy.
It would hardly be considered an exaggeration to characterize black and
white as essential tools for artistic expression throughout the ages. Beyond
their effectiveness in depicting three-dimensionality and conveying light and
shade to construct the illusion of space, the two colors have long fascinated
artists, as they are rich with symbolism, metaphor, and association. The
twentieth century brought a renewed interest to this chromatic duo, as
modern and contemporary artists reexamined, questioned, and redefined
not only the aesthetic and conceptual possibilities of black and white, but
their physical properties as well.
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LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
LIGHT & SHADOW
One of Callahan’s most devoted students was Ray Metzker (19312014), who arrived at the Institute of Design for graduate studies in 1956.
Metzker’s training with Callahan was formative; he began to develop his
vocabulary through his graduate thesis, “My Camera and I in the Loop,”
consisting of a group of 119 photographs made between 1958 and 1959.
Ray Metzker, Venice, 1960, gelatin silver print, museum purchase, 2015.4
It was his decision to fulfill his dream of traveling to Europe, however, in
1960, that paved the way for the formulation of a rigorous focus on the
treatment of light and shadow. While he spent a considerable amount
of his time in Innsbruck, Austria, he also drove across the continent
from Scandinavia to Italy, and from Hungary to the Iberian Peninsula,
photographing continuously with a 35mm Leica over a period of twentyone months. Perhaps one of the most powerful images among Metzker’s
early work is the photograph in which rays of sunlight pass through the
cracked doors of a Venetian church to form a cross-like shape, while the
dark interior space provides a seductively rich black backdrop. Reflecting on
this period, he noted the importance of this photograph as a landmark in the
development of his aesthetics.
Beyond its obvious implications for the medium of photography, light also
plays an essential role in the interpretation and display of works such as the
Kodalith print and Plexiglas photo-sculptures of Douglas Prince (b. 1943).
Combining various negatives in each composition, the photo-sculptures
consist of multiple images printed on film layered between sheets of
Plexiglas and set within 2 ½-inch-deep frames. In addition to the fictitious
nature of the scenes depicted, the transparency of the support, coupled
with the depth of the frames, also results in an artificial depth of field, while
the small scale of the works invites the viewer to approach for an intimate
experience. In the 1969 piece Laundry, diaphanous layers—each bearing
printed imagery of articles of clothing and linens hanging on a clothesline—
overlap, creating new relationships between light and shadow.
Well known for his highly fantastical paintings and prints, Phillips Academy
graduate Carroll Dunham (b. 1949) animated the figures of his lively visual
vocabulary by capturing their shadows and rendering them in the threedimensional sculptures of his series Shadow in a Corner (2004). From an
art-historical perspective, they can be considered as the twenty-first century
sculptural counterpart of the Victorian silhouette, a genre that portrayed
figures in profile by depicting their shadows as solid black shapes. Though
diverse in medium—cutting black paper, painting in oil, drawing in India ink,
and smoking glass were all common techniques—historical examples of
the silhouette share a hand-made quality, whereas Dunham’s water-jet cut,
urethane painted stainless steel objects are the result of advanced industrial
fabrication methods. Invoking the narrative genre of shadow theater, the
Shadow in a Corner series adopts a cartoonish quality, with its exaggerated
geometric and biomorphic forms enacting an untold storyline at once
ominous and comical, dark and light.
PITCH BLACK
The black—or, more aptly, “black”—canvases of Ad Reinhardt (1913-1967)
are not only the most iconic among the artist’s monochromatic paintings,
but also some of the most conceptually influential works of the twentieth
century. Picking up on precedents of abstraction introduced by Kazimir
Malevich’s Suprematist Black Square of 1915, as well as Georgia O’Keeffe’s
Black Cross of 1929, and imbuing them with philosophical ideas of Eastern
aesthetics, he began to experiment with the color black in the early 1950s,
LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
2
ultimately abandoning bright colors entirely in 1953. Reinhardt was not only
a methodic painter, but also a prolific writer; and while his paintings are often
framed by critical discourse about Minimalism, Conceptual Art, or Buddhist
philosophy, the definitive message of his writings remains somewhat
elusive.3 Reinhardt’s writings on the color—or, as he referred to it, the
“non-color”—black have played a crucial role both in the understanding
of his own paintings and in the study of mid-twentieth-century Minimalist
aesthetics overall.
In a series of unpublished, undated free-association notes, Reinhardt
describes darkness and blackness, their contrast with lightness and
whiteness, and their varying formal qualities, conceptual connotations, and
physical properties.4 In response to Picasso’s famous 1958 proclamation,
“My painting represents the victory of the forces of light and peace over the
powers of darkness and evil,” in 1959 Reinhardt issued a statement in the
form of a parody: “My painting represents the victory of the forces of
darkness and peace over the powers of light and evil.”5 In fact, his extensive
writings provided inspiration not only for the title of the exhibition, but for its
organizing themes as well.
Around the same time, another influential figure of late modernism – early
Minimalism was exploring the vast possibilities of blackness; only four years
after graduating from Phillips Academy in 1954, Frank Stella (b. 1936) set his
career into orbit by completing his first series, the famous Black Paintings.
In 1962, his friend and Phillips Academy classmate Hollis Frampton wrote
about his Black Paintings, “Frank Stella is a Constructivist. He makes
paintings by combining identical, discrete units. Those units are not stripes,
but brush strokes.” Yet, given the continuous interchange between blank
areas of the canvas and those covered by brushstrokes of black paint,
the visual association with pinstripe fabric, so popular for men’s suits at
that time, seems unavoidable. Stella’s direct references to the real world,
however, are never present in the works and are made only through highly
associative titles. The entirety of Stella’s Black Paintings was reproduced in
1967 in The Black Album in collaboration with master printer Kenneth Tyler.
Both Reinhardt and Stella turned to black as a means of eliminating
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LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
all visual points of reference from the picture plane, and thus further
heightening the concept of art for art’s sake—or “art is art,” as Reinhardt
himself stated. In broader terms, tendencies toward the non-objective in
American art, visible in the work of Sol LeWitt, Robert Mangold, and Brice
Marden, emerged in the late 1950s as a reaction to the dominant style of
Abstract Expressionism. Conversely, the oeuvre of Louise Nevelson (18991988) evolved in dialogue with—rather than in opposition to—Abstract
Expressionism. As a budding artist, Nevelson was exposed, through the
instruction of Hans Hofmann, to various types of art and techniques—
Cubism, collage, Surrealism, and indigenous art forms from various parts
of the world—that would ultimately inform her mature work. Starting in
1941, she began to exhibit her avant-garde sculptural environments, which
often included found objects painted black to obscure their origin, function,
and meaning. By the late 1950s, Nevelson had developed what is now
identified as her signature style: all-black, box-like relief wood sculptures,
ranging from single units—often in diptych format like the 1958 example in
the Addison’s collection—to modular pieces occupying entire walls. The
artist described her attraction to black as such:
Black is the most aristocratic color of all. ….You can be quiet and it
contains the whole thing. There is no color that will give you the feeling of
totality. Of peace. Of greatness. Of quietness. Of excitement. I have seen
things that were transformed into black, that took on just greatness.6
Despite the sheer blackness of her sculptures, the play between light and
shadow caused by the topography of the surface is visually intriguing, thus
encouraging the close observation of detail.
Another female artist, whose quintessential late style evolved from her
Abstract Expressionist beginnings, is Shirley Goldfarb (1925–1980). She
belongs to a long and distinguished list of expatriate American artists
who reached artistic maturity in the European milieu. Having first arrived
in Paris—as an art student eager to see the old masters—in 1954, she
became immersed in the rich artistic tradition and contemporary café
culture, was enamored of the City of Light, and quickly decided to live there.
Back in New York, Jackson Pollock had been a significant influence on her
artistic beginnings, but it was in Paris that Goldfarb’s signature style
emerged. Among the many artists she interacted with, Yves Klein—the
first French artist to invite Goldfarb to visit his studio—was perhaps the
most influential for her, as she credits him with inspiring her interest in
monochrome painting. The distinct modularity in her application of paint,
however, can actually be traced to an entirely different source. The
treatment of light in the paintings of Claude Monet, which she saw for the
first time in Paris, made a powerful and lasting impression. Combining an
“aggressive” expressive sensibility, stemming from Abstract Expressionism
and its French counterpart, Tachisme, with her gravitation toward the
aesthetic sensitivity of Monet’s Impressionism, Shirley Goldfarb’s canvases
are at once captivating and mesmerizing.
The Addison’s 1980 Black Painting, which anchors the black section of the
exhibition, is among the artist’s final works. Despite her terminal illness, she
continued to maintain a rigorous painting schedule, working at least five
hours a day. The undulating patterns of paint strokes create a magnetic field
of pure blackness, a visual expression of the artist’s emotional state at the
time. In a 1979 interview, Goldfarb had discussed how her paintings are
reflections of her inner world:
Perhaps it is metaphysical! I hope that what I feel inside me are mysterious,
metaphysical, religious things that have a spiritual meaning. I want each
gesture of my hand to project what is inside of me, that powerful emotion
of the beauty of life…. I want each gesture to say something that comes
from within the deepest recesses of my inner being.7
This black painting was preceded by two others on a smaller scale, one
of which was painted as an homage to Jackson Pollock after his death in
1956. Yet, black was not exactly a mournful color for Goldfarb; more so,
black was a color she associated closely with, a color of power and impact,
her “war paint.”8 Thus—despite the artist’s impending death, or perhaps
because of it—this painting takes on a different meaning than what seems,
at first consideration, obvious; rather than a gesture of sorrow and despair,
it is an autobiographical statement reminding us of the artist’s strength, an
elegiac self-portrait of epic proportions.
PURE WHITE
In examining the origins and significance of a purely white work of art,
Malevich’s legacy is, again, definitive; his 1918 Suprematist Composition:
White on White can undoubtedly be considered the intellectual forbearer of
numerous postmodern works in the exhibition’s white room, such as Robert
Ryman’s print series Six Aquatints (1975) and pastel and graphite Untitled
Drawing (1976), Dorothea Rockburne’s print series Locus (1972-75), and
Anne Ryan’s paper and fabric collage No. 1 (1951).
Reaching artistic maturity in the early 1960s, when Minimalism was
becoming a leading mode of expression among American artists, Robert
Ryman (b. 1930) claimed subtly contrasting shades of white as his signature
visual vocabulary. Like many of his predecessors and contemporaries,
Ryman saw the absence of color and representational references to the
physical world as a way of heightening the viewer’s perception of minute
variations between the white tones of the linen or cotton support, the
occasional layer of warm creamy yellow priming, and the white pigments
used in his paintings. Despite identifying his interest in white not as a color
but as a neutral ground, Ryman paradoxically catalogued a wide variety
within the spectrum of white, thus “demonstrating its latent non-neutrality
when seen in relation to itself,” Robert Storr points out in his seminal
1993 monograph on the artist. “I am not really interested in white as a
color, although I have at times used different whites for different purposes.
Sometimes I [have] used warm white because I wanted to have a warm
absorbing light. At other times I’ve used colder white… it has to do with
light – softness, hardness, reflection and movement – all these things,”
Ryman notes, and then clarifies, “I don’t think of myself as making white
paintings. I make paintings; I’m a painter. White paint is my medium.”9 The
untitled drawing on Plexiglas is one in a series of four that he made with
white pastel and graphite for the landmark 1976 Museum of Modern Art
exhibition Drawing Now: 1955-1975. In his printmaking practice, Ryman
sought to further explore the possibilities of subtle variation in form and
color; in printing Six Aquatints on ivory paper, he employed two kinds of
white pigment—Titanium White and White Lead—either individually or in
combination, thus achieving a range of slightly contrasting tonalities.
LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
4
Dorothea Rockburne (b. 1934) began her artistic career as a sculptor in
the late 1960s, following the heyday of the Minimalist movement. In her
print series Locus, Rockburne approaches white with reductivist intentions
and uses it as a means of highlighting the intricacies of form. Folding the
paper into seemingly random, yet precisely calculated, shapes before
running them through the etching press, she created hybrid works that
not only manifest on both sides of the paper, but also blur the taxonomical
line between prints and sculpture. While each of the six etchings is an
independent piece, together they form a complex spatial system—as
alluded to by the title, Locus—which, due to the monochromatic blankness
of the composition, is entirely self-referential.
Among all tones, nuances,
white best reflects both light and color.
Because it is considerate,
therefore most influential.
In the abstract it is regarded clean
and even cool;
It has no smell, it has no taste.
We think of white as something simple,
untouched, immaculate
and understand it as a symbol
of innocence.
Yet in reality we almost never
see real white;
because it always mirrors its surroundings.
Indoors, we see it only shaded;
outdoors it traces sky and earth
and mixes so with blue and other colors.
Dorothea Rockburne, Plate 1 from Locus,
1972-75, relief etching and aquatint on folded
paper, gift of Henry R. Silverman, by exchange,
1983.46.1 © Dorothea Rockburne/Artists
Rights Society (ARS), New York
Another artist whose writing has provided an intellectual framework for the
interpretation of mid-twentieth-century Minimalist aesthetics is Josef Albers
(1888-1976), who gives high praise to the color white in his homonymously
titled poem of circa 1944:
White is the sum of light,
the combination of all colors.
That makes it rich and strong.
Although considered “colorless”
it is a color of distinction.
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LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
Pure white without reflections
- as separated in an apparatus appears unpleasant, bare.
White paint is used much more
than any other pigment,
it is the one most necessary,
it is a paint most helpful.
Most colors need the aid of white,
as base, in mixture, or for contrast,
to brighten or to tint them.
Therefore, the painter’s largest tube
is white.
The painter knows that white connects
all kinds of hues and values;
he knows how difficult it is
to work without much white.
White is a measure for plasticity and distance,
it points at volume, space,
it graduates the shadows.
Watch white emerging from the tube
and see it has more amplitude
than all the many paints.
White is dynamic - it represents activity;
it can be static also - means then composure.
Therefore, it is most versatile.
Describing white, we need superlatives,
this proves it is essential.
Remembering the most exciting landscape,
we think of earth and mountains,
of trees and houses covered high with white.
I like to see and have much white;
to use it often and more often.
It is the color of relationship, and substance.10
It was in the late 1940s that the poet-turned-artist Anne Ryan (1889-1954)
began to make her first collages, inspired by an exhibition by collagist Kurt
Schwitters. Composed of different weights and textures of paper and fabric
in slightly divergent shades of white, her monochromatic collage No. 1 is
displayed in the white room of the exhibition, along with the etchings of
Ryman and Rockburne. This piece exemplifies what has been identified as
the type of collage for which the artist is best known and in which “color is
handled with greater subtlety and nuance—some compositions approach
invisibility as the lightest shades of, for example, white, grey and buff are
juxtaposed….”11 Ryan, who often used master papermaker Douglass
Howell’s exquisite handmade papers in her collages,12 here goes a step
further, including in her piece a printed announcement of his 1951 exhibition
Anne Ryan, No. 1, 1951, paper, fabric
collage on illustration board, gift of
Elizabeth McFadden, 1960.8
at the University of Maine. Thus Ryan’s overt, yet visually concealed nod to
Howell serves as further reminder of the endless subtle variations within the
overarching whiteness typically associated with paper.
BLACK AND WHITE AS SYMBOLS AND PICTORIAL DEVICES
Following the seductive layers of light and shadow, the boldness of black,
and the ethereality of white, the exhibition presents groups of historical and
contemporary works—both figurative and abstract—that employ the colors
black and white together in a variety of formal and symbolic contexts. Ebony
and Ivory (c. 1897), for example, a fin-de-siècle photogravure by F. Holland
Day (1864-1933) presents a compelling chromatic contrast between the
ivory figurine and the black nude figure that echoes the cultural and political
polarities of the postcolonial era. Almost a century later, the treatment of
the black male nude in the four-part photographic series Thomas (1987) by
Robert Mapplethorpe (1946-1989) is similarly based on the stark contrast
between the darkness within the cylindrical element that frames each of the
figure’s poses and the white surroundings. The photographer’s powerfully
minimal black-and-white aesthetic, paired with the classical treatment of his
subject—especially given the figure’s position in profile—is reminiscent of
the depictions of athletes on ancient Greek vases.
White as a symbol of femininity and innocence—already a prominent visual
and literary theme in the nineteenth century13—brings together a group of
LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
6
works of different mediums and
time periods. A comparative study
of modern and contemporary
aesthetic approaches, ranging from
the 1950 gelatin silver print Woman
in White Dress and Veil, Paris by
Louis Stettner (b. 1922) and the
untitled c. 1982 gelatin silver print
by Wendy Ewald (b. 1951) depicting
means of crafting female identity to
the 1990 softground etching Venus
by Judith Shea (b. 1948), reveals
white’s timeless appeal, while also
highlighting shifting artistic intentions.
In his practice of street photography,
Stettner captures human subjects
Judith Shea, Venus, 1990, softground etchand their urban environments with a
ing, gift of Betsy Senior (PA 1976), 1994.9
strong formalist agenda; his female
figure draped in sheer white veils exudes a distinctly ethereal quality. Ewald’s
long-standing interest in identity remained constant as her practice evolved
from documentary to conceptual photography; her image of a vintage
sewing machine and modest white dress on a hanger alludes to a bygone
time of uncomplicated beauty particularly befitting youthful innocence. Yet
for Shea, whose practice as a sculptor is informed by her background as a
fashion designer, white is neither purely symbolic nor purely representational;
rather, it functions in a hybrid modality, allowing her to effectively convey the
evolution of ideals of beauty and femininity from antiquity to the present by
depicting a white torso in the classical style alongside a noticeably smaller
in size minimal white dress against a black backdrop symbolizing the
continuum of time.
For his 1948 portrait of French actress Micheline Presle in a black veil,
photographer Philippe Halsman (1906-1979) opted for a dramatic dark
background to heighten the allure of the femme fatale, while the 1963
photograph Jackie Kennedy at Funeral by Elliott Erwitt (b. 1928) serves as a
reminder of the function of black as a color of mourning. Despite being the
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LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK
products of different photographic approaches—the former of highly creative
studio portraiture, the latter of photojournalism—the common compositional
element of the black veil, coupled with the low contrast between the blackbearing female figures and their backgrounds, brings these two images into
the same realm, emphasizing the pictorial and symbolic versatility of black.
The significance of the dichotomies of light/dark and white/black has
occupied thinkers in the field of aesthetics and philosophy since antiquity.
Plato relates the colors white and black to behavioral phenomena of
matter; specifically, he defines white as the visual perception of the
expansion of matter and black as the visual perception of the contraction
of matter. Regardless of the scientific accuracy of Plato’s theory, his
treatment of black and white is of fundamental significance, not only to the
field of color theory, but also to the study of metaphysics. The literature
examining the nature of black (and white) in different time periods and
schools of thought is voluminous: books such as Linda Van Norden’s The
Black Feet of the Peacock: The Color-Concept ‘Black’ from the Greeks
through the Renaissance, James Hillman’s Alchemical Psychology, and
Stanton Marlon’s The Dark Sun: The Alchemy of Darkness discuss the
psychological meaning of black(ness) in Jungian and post-Jungian thought.
Michel Pastoureau’s Black: The History of A Color provides an extensive
cultural history of the color black, with all its social, political, and artistic
connotations. Most recently, Kathryn Simon’s 2013 doctoral dissertation
“Poetics of Black,” the central subject of which is the interpretation of the
work of Ad Reinhardt through the lens of Buddhist concepts such as
interdependence and emptiness, provides an innovative and uniquely
interdisciplinary examination of previous scholarship on this topic. The
exhibition LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK picks up on several of those
threads by presenting a broad selection of works from the Addison’s
collection, conceived in different time periods, inspired by different stimuli,
executed in different mediums, motivated by different artistic intentions, yet
brought together by the common themes of lightness, darkness, whiteness,
and blackness.
Kelley Tialiou
Charles H. Sawyer Curatorial Assistant | Librarian | Archivist
NOTES
1. Lucy Lippard, “The Silent Art,” Art in America, Jan.–Feb. 1967, p. 58.
Reproduced in Robert Storr, “Simple Gifts,” Robert Ryman (London and New York:
Tate Gallery and The Museum of Modern Art, 1993), 16.
2. Susan Laxton, “White Shadows: Photograms Around 1922,” in Leah Dickerman,
ed., Inventing Abstraction, 1910-1925: How a Radical Idea Changed Modern Art
(New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2012), 335.
3. Yves-Alan Bois, “The Limit of Almost,” Ad Reinhardt (New York: The Museum of
Modern Art and Los Angeles: The Museum of Contemporary Art, 1991), 13.
4. Barbara Rose, ed., Art as Art: The Selected Writings of Ad Reinhardt (New York:
The Viking Press, 1975).
5. Reproduced in Ad Reinhardt: Black Paintings, 1951-1967 (New York:
Marlborough Gallery Inc, 1970), 13.
André Emmerich Gallery, 1979), exh brochure.
12. In fact, it was through Ryan’s work that Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner
discovered Douglass Howell’s handmade papers and began using them as well.
13. The far-reaching influence of Wilkie Collins’s The Woman in White is an
important precedent to note; the title and plot of the 1859-60 mystery novel—in
which the use of white as a symbol is not only avant garde for the Victorian era, but
also multiplicitous and even conflicting—invoke connotations of fragility and mental
illness, as well as mystery. The cultural power of The Woman in White was, in
fact, so irresistible that when James McNeill Whistler’s famous painting Symphony
in White, No. I: The White Girl was first exhibited at the Berners Street Gallery in
London, the gallery manager advertised the work—without Whistler’s consent—as
a “Picture of ‘The Woman in White.’” “Matthew Somerville Morgan, 1839-1890,”
The Correspondence of James NcNeill Whistler, http://www.whistler.arts.gla.ac.uk/
correspondence/people/biog/?bid=Morg_2&initial=M.
6. Louise Nevelson, Daws and Dusks: Conversations with Diana MacKown (New
York: Scribner’s Sons, 1976), 126.
7. Shirley Goldfarb, interview with Michel Sicard, summer 1979. Excerpts published
in Shirley Goldfarb (Washington, D.C.: The National Museum of Women in the Arts,
1997).
8. Marc Masurovsky, correspondence with the author, January 20, 2015.
9. Robert Storr, “Simple Gifts,” Robert Ryman (London and New York: Tate Gallery
and The Museum of Modern Art, 1993), 16-17.
10. Unpublished typescript, Box 22, Josef Albers Papers (MS 32), Manuscripts
and Archives, Yale University Library. Handwritten and typescript with handwritten
corrections, Box 81, Folder 37, The Papers of Josef and Anni Albers. Published
in Josef Albers: Minimal Means, Maximum Effect (Madrid: Fundación Juan March,
2014), 260.
11. Eric Gibson, “Introduction,” Anne Ryan: Collages 1948-1954 (New York:
ADDISON
Addison Gallery of American Art
Phillips Academy Andover MA 01810
addisongallery.org
Co-curated by Allison Kemmemer, Mead Curator of Photography and Curator of Art after
1950, and Kelley Tialiou, Charles H. Sawyer Curatorial Assistant | Librarian | Archivist,
LIGHT/DARK, WHITE/BLACK is on view at the Addison Gallery of American Art from
January 17 to July 31, 2015.