Max Lieberman

Max Lieberman
Songs of Innocence and Experience
24 May – 18 June, 2008
Robin Gibson Gallery, Sydney

Max Lieberman’s recent paintings draw together a disparate mix of objects, settings and moods. Joy and melancholy meet in delightfully ’sculpted’ vignettes. Despite their camouflage of ease, Lieberman’s paintings are anything but ‘easy’. To contemplate them is to enter not simply the modest drama of a still life, but rather psychological vistas rich in painterly play, loaded with history, symbolism and archetypes.

Lieberman’s is a realm of poetic resonance. A quiet world that combines a sense of childlike mischief, the magic of mysticism and the illusive qualities of anthropomorphic association. Beneath their surface his works interweave a diverse tapestry of influences such as Eastern European folk arts, illuminated manuscripts, retablo and ex-voto, Indian signage and, perhaps most notably within a western context, the late Phillip Guston as well as the Italian metaphysical painters, de Chirico and Morandi.

Newell Harry, May 2008

This transcript is an edited discussion between Max Lieberman and Newell Harry. Harry, a childhood friend of the artist, has known the Lieberman family for almost twenty years. An enthusiast of Oceanic art and Melanesian culture, Harry divides his time between Port Vila and Sydney.

Newell Harry: In most cases your paintings deal with objects through the genre of still life. Can you tell us about these objects, why you select them and what purpose they play in your work?

Max Lieberman: I view the objects as archetypes and symbols. As such, they are a vehicle – a means to convey an inner resonance and personal meaning. In this sense they are not unlike actors in a play and, like actors, are auditioned. I select them for their varied characteristics and physicality: colour, tone, shape, texture or cultural heritage, for example.

I try not to be overly literal in my selection of objects. I allow juxtapositions to occur that wouldn’t perhaps occur in real life. I try not to project too much onto the objects, or overly define meanings; I allow them to be things they have never been before and I try to surprise myself. The arrangement of the objects becomes a type of ‘free association’ that leaves room for the ‘unconscious’ to reveal itself. Seen in this way, a painting becomes an inner landscapes or dreamscape. Only after a painting is well on its way will I know what the painting signifies or what it says about me. On many occasions, I only ’see’ a painting years after I have done the work

NH: It’s interesting you make this parallel with the ‘dreamscape’; it recalls the Italian metaphysical painters whose works were precursors to the Surrealists and their investigation of dreams and the unconscious. De Chirico is an obvious example. Can you speak a little on this theme of ‘dreamscapes’?

ML: We start with a blank canvas. There’s the idea and the artist’s initially formless intention. Then, if the artist can manage to overcome the ego and surrender to ’something else’, the idea becomes manifest as a resonant, realized form. What is intangible becomes tangible. Perhaps it’s like the dream of finding something precious but then waking with that object in your hand. When people talk about the ‘alchemy’ of art, to me, this is what they are talking about.

The parallels between dreams and artworks are very interesting. Like dreams, an artwork’s content can be read and interpreted in a symbolic and archetypal way. Like dreams an artwork may be a deep expression of the individual’s unconscious awareness. Like dreams, some artworks are even able to give expression to the ‘collective unconscious’, revealing something of the condition of humanity and its psychological and spiritual condition. I think this is why De Chirico’s iconic dreamlike works are so successful.

NH: Some of your recent paintings, I’m thinking particularly of those on found irregular-shaped boards, have a flat graphic quality. Like much of your work they exude a rich, playful naivety. The subject and format of the objects, compositionally, as well as the use of found materials, recall a kind of ad hoc street signage. They also share a trade-painters unpretentiousness and simplicity. Looking at the placement of the objects and format brings to mind the influence of Indian painting, especially considering your shallow use of space and colour. You often refer to your appreciation of Indian street signs and the ‘hand written’, which are obvious influences. Could you talk a little about this influence and how it relates to your works?

ML: I have spent a lot of time in India, and I consider it my second home. It’s a very inspiring place for me – and so culturally rich. Actually, my wife is from Pune, not far from bustling Mumbai. So we go there and stay with the family when we can. As a result, both my work and personal life have been, and continue to be, deeply inspired by Indian culture.

The hand painted signs and graphic art that can be seen all over the place in India always makes an impression on me. They are painted on old bits of wood or directly onto concrete or brick. Nearly everything is hand done, the street signs and markings, the shop signs, the product advertisements. They use great colour combinations that are unique to India that people here would not even think of. On the last trip I even had a number plate painted, on my Father-in-law’s old M-50 motorbike.

Painted signs have a human touch in contrast to today’s mass-produced printed material. Being handmade, they convey a natural and organic quality. Importantly, they’re never considered ‘high art’ and unlike fine art ‘proper,’ are not done for purposes other than to convey their message. There is an inherent humility and tradesman-like ‘rough and ready’ confidence in this approach that I admire. And sometimes there are moments of awkward over-confidence. It’s at these wonky moments where ‘naïve’ or ‘outsider’ art and sign writing cross over. As a painter, I’m drawn to the flat stylisation and abbreviated approach of sign painters. Yet despite such work not being a form of ‘high art’, I’m always intrigued by the level of dexterity and craftsmanship in such work. It also feels honest and unassuming.

Aside from the signs and graphic art of India, I should also mention its traditional and folk art forms. The depth and meaningful content, as well as the diversity, of the arts there is awe-inspiring. These traditional and folk art forms inform my work both stylistically and in terms of philosophy and content.

NH: Other aspects of your work show a certain rapport with ‘naïve’ or ‘untrained’ artists. There is a similar poetry in your simple compositions and subjects. Your brush mark conveys a soft, natural, ‘uncertainty’. I tend to think of not just naïve icons such as Alfred Wallis or Henri Rousseau, but also one or two of the English modernists, who were also influenced by naïve art. William Scott and Ben Nicholson are examples. Can you tell us how naïve art has come to inform you?

ML: ‘Naïve’ art is actually a huge category, it includes ‘itinerant’, ‘visionary’, ‘outsider’, ‘folk’, and, of course, ‘Art Brut’; there are obviously crossovers. Within that mix, I am drawn to ‘naïve’ artists that come across as more childlike, optimistic and less heavy.
Having been done from a perspective of earnest, inner need, as raw as it is, much of naïve art has such an authenticity and sincerity that is clearly unrivalled by the vast majority of sophisticated and clever art we see in commercial galleries and art museums today. Such work is often rich in personal symbolism and imagery. I am often disappointed with a lot of art today that appears to be a spiritual wasteland, cynical, superficial and devoid of inner content.

It’s interesting that, on the whole, naïve artists remain largely anonymous and so gain little commercial success or recognition. Yet the artists continue to make their work from an inner conviction and need. This brings to attention the fact that such art is greater than names, market forces and commercial parameters. The first artist that will always come to mind when talking about naïve art is obviously Henri Rousseau, who is a really great figure among ‘modern’ artists in general; and yet my guess is that without the help of Picasso, Apollinaire and their circle of friends he would have remained totally obscure.

In relation to the Cornish artist Alfred Wallis, I will say I greatly appreciate traditional English folk art, especially forms of horse and pig painting. Actually Wallis’s case is just like Rousseau’s. It is well known that he was ‘discovered’ by the artists Ben Nicholson and Christopher wood.

Retablo and Ex-Voto painting also interest me greatly for its style and religious content. In a different but related area I’m drawn to the work of mediaeval illuminated manuscripts. I particularly admire the work of the German mystic, Hildegard Von Bingen. I shouldn’t forget to mention the great visionary artist and poet William Blake whose writings and art are a constant inspiration to me. I am indebted to Blake for my referencing of his book titles ‘Songs of Innocence ‘ and its sequel, ’songs of Experience’, in the title of this exhibition.

NH: Speaking of these influences unveils a number of formal issues. There are obvious relationships between the various forms of Indian and naïve painting as well as illuminated manuscripts and eastern European icons. For example, they all share a shallow use of space – a property that is found in much of your work.

ML: Yes, but more importantly, formal issues aside, such works are meaningful, sincere, and done for a spiritual purpose. These are works that convey the connection between the painter and their God, works that demonstrate the artist’s inner journey.

Share on Facebook