Reading about classic Chevrolet cars I learned that there is a consensus about the flamboyant, excessive automobile designs of the late fifties. A 57 Chevy calls for a stylish match in terms of pictorial representation, and Vic aptly offers grotesque viewing angles and close ups that emphasize the magisterial metallic bodies, which have long been lauded to epitomize an entire era in post war America. That these cars are now sought for collectibles reflects a nostalgia for that era — and the artist probes into the collective sentiment, as well as partakes in it: his paintings remind why these machines are so irresistible, and how much care and affection they elicit from their owners and admirers, in either actual or painterly form.
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I once bought a carton of unusual eggs. They were chicken’s alright — the anomaly went in a different direction: every other time after breaking an egg, I ended up with two yolks in the pan. I have to admit that I felt a slight pang of regret and otherwise inexplicable emotional response at the sight of this memorable phenomenon — hypothetical twins floating in the limpid liquid. After the second occurrence I felt strangely unsure, my hands were trembling and light, I was nervous. “Should I be sorry?” thought I, “And ponder the what-ifs?” I did when I had a whole chicken on Passover last year… Well, for me, these paintings transcend their own visual power to evoke such seemingly trivial memories and perhaps even force a reassessment of them as more meaningful.
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Vic Vicini is an American artist (see more of his work on this website and on this and this blog) who paints primarily still life, with exquisite realistic detail. His subjects include kitchen utensils and appliances, food, florals and cars, among others. Studying his paintings one comes to a realization that the artist harbors a particular fascination with reflection: metal objects of all sorts trap light and mirror the ambiance; they are so deliciously bright and shiny that a comparison to a crystal ball (especially with the round shaped kettles and pots) sneaks into the viewer’s mind — implying a clairvoyance of the simple kind, that of a dedicated homemaker doing his or her magic in the kitchen.
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Lets take a look at some of Ming’s black and white illustrations and comic strips. That’s where his humor and feather light touch (the side that I have not given due attention in previous posts) find a space to breathe and attest the artist’s funny bone, which may have receded in the larger pieces. These works, minimalistic by generic constraints, savour of all the pungency of the artist’s salt — just like chamber music, where there is more silence to fill, may sharpen and focus more clearly the peculiarities of the composer’s style (which may become obfuscated in symphonies) — the spacious, usually expressing a single idea comics speak for the artist tersely and to the point.
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Ming has demonstrated a keen eye for impressionism in his interpretation of such great masters as Monet and Cezanne. Although his variety is somewhat darker, “messier” than the originals, compressing homage with seeds of disruption — a development one would expect from a contemporary artist — the confident handling of the painterly vocabulary of the art movement evokes nostalgia and a renewed sense of trust in the classic repository. It is reassuring that artists still hold the keys to it, visit its brilliant galleries and occasionally allow the rest of us in, offering a new angle or sometimes simply a visual commentary.
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