Cartin Residence, New York, 2021. Courtesy the Cartin Collection
Highlights from the Cartin Collection
Accompanying the exhibition Seen in the Mirror: Things from the Cartin Collection, on view through December 18 at the gallery’s 537 West 20th Street location in New York, this viewing room highlights specific works dating from 1942 to 2011. Drawn from a truly original collection that spans many periods, this selection provides insight into Mickey Cartin’s keen connoisseurial eye, his deeply personal connection to the creative drive that has compelled artists throughout time, and his deft ability to find beauty and truth in overlooked places.
As Luke Syson writes, “Mickey Cartin’s collection charts the places from which our creativity emerges: the visionary and the insane, the idiosyncratic and perceptive, the illusory, from moments of chance, intensity, imitation, and insight. He wants to know artists.… He wants to see beneath their surfaces.”
Here, Mickey Cartin shares his insights and recollections about selected works in the exhibition.
“Without a compelling, driven curiosity—the kind that regularly distracts you from all other earthly daily duties and the obligations of life—nobody could create an authentically personal collection of art. It has to come from an interior voice.”
—Mickey Cartin, 2021
“In spite of many recent efforts to explain the mind of Forrest Bess in books, videos, and museum and gallery exhibitions, I continue to feel only his enigma. I choose to put the analytical theories aside and embrace the constant riddle of his tiny pictures. He was making them during the time of Rothko, de Kooning, and Still, but he didn’t compete with them. He knew these artists and their work from his visits to New York to see his dealer Betty Parsons, but his pictures remained tiny, completely elusive glimpses into his eccentricity. And, for me, eccentricity in its full glory, as I saw it in him, is one of the most fascinating human attributes, should they be blessed with it as he was.”
Forrest Bess, Untitled (No. 1), 1957 (detail)
“Bess revealed that eccentricity as a shrimp fisherman in Galveston Bay, where he would often fall asleep on his back in his shrimp boat. He said that images were burnished on the backs of his eyelids from the sun, and at the end of the day he’d return to his boathouse and attempt to replicate those images. He is also thought of as a lexicographer who constructed a unique visual system of symbols of his own. Maybe. But it is what we misunderstand about Forrest Bess, what we cannot really know about him, that matters most to me.”
Cartin Residence, New York, 2021. Courtesy the Cartin Collection
“I met Francis Alÿs in 2001 when he came to Hartford to do an exhibition at the Wadsworth Atheneum [Francis Alÿs: 1-866-FREE-MATRIX]. That show was a rather ingenious mash-up of incongruous ideas qua mysteries, explainable only through the artist’s attenuated visual and linguistic flourishes. I was struck by how warm, generous, and completely interesting he was. There were a number of small paintings on show—basically studies for performance pieces. I had seen some of them at Jack Tilton’s earlier 1990s Alÿs shows. Tiny paintings with gigantic rushes of mystery and captivating as stand-alone objects.”
Cartin Residence, New York, 2021. Courtesy the Cartin Collection
“I first saw Morris Hirshfield’s Girl with Pigeons at MoMA in the mid-1980s. It was one of the most peculiar and alluring pictures I had ever seen, and it still is. I looked into the Hirshfield-Sidney Janis connection, and setting my intimidation aside I made a call to the gallery and asked to speak with him. His son Carroll answered and I could hear him tell his father that someone wanted to speak with him about Morris Hirshfield. ‘Morris Hirshfield, put him on.’ So to my surprise I was on the phone with the legendary dealer/writer/grand supporter and trustee of MoMA and men’s shirt manufacturer, already in his nineties. He asked when I would next be in New York and I took that as an opportunity and said I would be there at 2:30 pm. He and I spent ninety minutes or so together as he regaled me and showed me a few pictures. I finally gathered the courage to state my interest in buying a picture. He replied, ‘You would, would you?’ He then summoned Carroll and said, ‘See this young man here? Please remember his name and after I’m gone make sure you offer him a choice of a painting.’ That call never came, but some fifteen years later I found this wonderful painting at an art fair.”
“Nick Weber [Nicholas Fox Weber, executive director of The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation] has been a friend of mine since our childhood, same hometown, same high school, and everything I know about Josef and Anni Albers I absorbed through his unique relationship with both of them. I regret that I never met them but I feel as if I had. I was visiting The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation in Bethany, Connecticut, when I first saw this yellow picture. I picked it up and immediately read the back of the canvas board to learn about its ingredients. It had this incredible radiance. I had never considered buying a Josef Albers painting, but from that point forward I became a believer and purchased them when I could. I also was fortunate to be able to buy his very first Homage to the Square—painted in 1950.”
“I met Walton Ford in the mid-1990s and visited him often at his home and studio in western Massachusetts. I was taken by the intensity of his enthusiasm for making pictures, by his multidirectional imagination, by his library—history of anatomy, zoology, human risk-taking, and the strangeness of evolution—and moreover, taken by his eagerness to share all of this.”
“History is the central theme in Ford’s work, and his pictures are from his brilliant, unconventional take on it. This picture is a great example of bringing a contemporary edge to the traditional genre of natural history illustration. All of this makes me grateful. Grateful to be able to learn from and know a really great artist with an expansive mind who is also so generous.”
Charles LeDray, Untitled, 1996–2003 (detail)
“I first encountered Charles LeDray at gallery openings in the 1990s. I got to know him as a master potter, tailor-seamster, carver, wordsmith, and inventor-sculptor of all imaginable materials, some—human bone, for example—quite difficult at first to imagine at all. Understanding Charles as a master is paramount. I visited him in his studio, complete with a miniature potter’s wheel. It was also filled with hundreds, thousands even, of unglazed embryonic pots not taller than one and a half inches. At that point he had completed his collection of two thousand white glazed pots and it had been acquired by the Whitney Museum [Milk and Honey, 1994–1996].”
“What I was seeing in his studio was the beginning of the work you see in this exhibition [Untitled, 1996–2003]. This massive and growing assembly of pots would evolve into an even more intricate and stupefying group of four thousand pots—in two separate works this time—turned and glazed in every conceivable color variant, each housed in two eighty-inch-tall towers that he would refer to as their homes. If there is one unifying theme that I see, it is a telling of the history of ceramics, from Etruscan pottery to the Biloxi potter George Ohr to LeDray himself. The other tower of two thousand pots is in the collection of The Museum of Modern Art, where its and his brilliance shines.”
“Sol LeWitt was a soft-spoken, understated giant of a human being, and I had the great fortune of getting to know him and his wonderful family in his later years. He and Carol, his wife, lived only a thirty-minute drive from my home. My visits to his studio were a constant thrill, and my patient coaxing of answers from him began as a challenge and resulted in great reward. I hope he felt something in return, and I began to receive constant reinforcement from his regular smile. He became one of the most influential people in my life.”
“I first learned of Albert York in 1995 when I saw this painting, simply titled Two Reclining Women in a Landscape (c. 1967). And I simply wondered, or so I thought, ‘why?’ Why did he make a picture like this? And such a large picture in such a small ten-by-twelve-inch format. I still wonder why. A question he asked in every one of his little pictures. Big questions, small pictures. I’ve seen perhaps one hundred of them over decades and they continue to perplex me. Along the way my wonder intensified, and I continued to need answers to other questions he seemed to ask but never really answered. This is a constant feature in the work, and often the subtext of all great artists. At the very least, they ask unanswerable questions, and in my view York is one of these artists. A great and most humble one of that group.”
Installation view, Seen in the Mirror: Things from the Cartin Collection, David Zwirner, New York, 2021
“I learned of Joseph Yoakum—a powerful dreamer and artist—in a rather conventional way. I saw one here and one there from 1989 to 2004 at a few dealers in New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago. He had already died, so I conducted my own inquiries, asked hundreds of questions, and came to believe I was understanding these powerful fantasies of imaginary destinations. I also learned to reject this idea of the outsider artist and all its pejorative implications. That he was from a very small group of artists—outsiders as opposed to insiders like Edward Hopper, for example?—who had authentically come from a ‘culture of one’ was a consideration I pondered as poetic and plausible but also ultimately rejected. Yoakum lived in Chicago, he was employed by and traveled extensively with itinerant circuses and carnivals. He had his culture, but much more evident was the power of his curiosity and imagination and the magnificent form he gave to it in these wondrous things. I visited with Jim Nutt, an early Yoakum advocate and collector, in his studio. That visit itself was a wonderful mind-shifting experience for me, and I saw the sense of awe over Yoakum in Nutt’s eyes as he spoke of him. So it took fifteen years to put this group of six pictures together, and in each case I knew it was ‘the one.’ I wonder if you might agree?”
Installation view, Seen in the Mirror: Things from the Cartin Collection, David Zwirner, New York, 2021
“Joe Coleman sees the world exclusively and unmistakably in the Joe Coleman way. His way of seeing and transcribing his reality is gripping, loving, and often shocking, repellent and vulgar. It captured me from our very first meeting at his 1992 exhibition at the Psychedelic Solution Gallery, in Greenwich Village, where I bought a self-portrait and have continued to do the same for the past thirty years. Spend a couple of minutes with A Doorway to Joe in the exhibition, a grand self-portrait in the middle of fifteen or so portrait and self-portrait vignettes. You’ll either understand my intrigue, or you’ll think I am as crazy as he is.”
Joe Coleman, A Doorway to Joe, 2007–2009 (detail)
Seen in the Mirror: Things from the Cartin Collection