Envisaged as a part of a series, the painting stands out for its overpowering, almost brutal display of concrete or brick-made mass. In a curious overturn, the artist’s direct “attack” method has backfired: the building, it seems, is ready to attack back. Possible symbolism aside,  nowhere before in Stephen Magsig’s work have the crumbling structures of Detroit appeared so dangerously close to the viewer, so dangerously close to collapse. The sensation of an overwhelming, intimidating cliff, aided by the low vantage point, becomes even more intensified by the strong red colors.

Colors are scarce but expressive. The red spreads all over the canvas in different values; from blazing scarlet at where the light falls directly, it transforms to nearly black in deep shadow, and to shades of brown at the top stories, where the light is filtered by the tree tops. Areas of sky blue and green embrace and cushion the top floor, containing somewhat the heat emanating from below. Neutral asphalt gray performs a similar function at the bottom of the painting.

The red monochromatic swathes convey the scene’s strong industrial flavor: manufacturing work is often monotonous, dull, repetitive. “Dirty,” chaotic brushwork on the walls adds an element of raggedness and almost palpable realism, lending more depth to the overall sensation of a production mill. Extreme economy of composition — there is nothing to divert the eye from the building except a few grass sprouts – directly confronts the viewers with these effects. It is a harsh, uncompromising vision.

Russian Oven-Bed

On a different note, I would like to digress and direct your attention to interesting similarities between the Detroit structure and a traditional Russian oven-bed. The oven-bed was once indispensable to the Russian peasant way of life, tumbling its way into many popular folk tales. In these tales, the oven can talk, move around and save Ivan the fool from various troubles…

Russian people loved it and glorified it for its universal qualities: it served as a resting place, it provided the people with bread and it warmed the hut — the ultimate source of life and leisure. In the image above the oven appears painted in neutral, soothing white, an antipode to the intensity of “Downtown Red.”

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Strategically dispersed points of light, shimmering and glowing, assure that this almost completely monochromatic vision has, in fact, a life on the inside. The artist places the bulk of the plant slightly to the right of the center: the composition unfolds from left to right, literally peaking at the highest point of the structure, the crimson dot of the tallest chimney. Both the slight angle of the subject and the water expanse before it mitigate the “frontal attack” method the artist usually employs in his industrial Detroit pieces.

Rhythm plays an important part in the organization of the composition. Though not immediately apparent, it nevertheless determines the progression of the smaller buildings, from left to right, almost like in an ascending stairway. The three chimneys, breaking the monotony of this established rhythm, themselves generate a visual “beat.” Anyone who lived in a large urban center and witnessed a mass scale construction, will recognize in this murky scene a certain aesthetic logic, and even beauty.

The river at the foreground adds the image a touch of tranquility, but also of suspense. As the surface reflects and smudges the lights, the water becomes a sort of a “buffer zone” between the viewer and the factory, a calm transitional phase that at once communicates and warns about the other side. The reflections almost inevitably bring to mind Claude Monet’s landmark “Impression: Sunrise;” indeed, the loose treatment of light and contours suggests impressionistic sensibility that’s rarely seen in the artist’s daytime paintings.

Nocturne is a relatively narrow musical genre with the clear objective to reflect or engender in listeners the sense of night: it’s usually mellow, soothing, and evocative. Despite its generic limitations, a nocturne can be a gripping, and quite charming piece of music. Stephen Magsig’s use of the term asserts the programmatic nature of this work (several other Nocturnes exist) and, eventually, confirms its very own, remotely humming, night-time charm.

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Let down by the symbolism, the composition nevertheless exhibits considerable power, power derived from the sheer physical presence of the structures. Both the bridge and the warehouse parade massive weight and bulk and, as they overlap, emphasize the illusion of depth. Their rigid linear frames are softened by the curving rails in the low right corner of the piece.

Buy placing the bridge at the top third of the painting, the artist devises an effect of an impending collapse. While this imbalance creates visual tension and interest, symbolically it portends, once again, unfavorable auspices. A seemingly collapsing bridge, while may not break above mentioned infrastructure, could well paralyze it, with adverse effects on the economy. It seems that this was exactly the state of events Stephen Magsig wanted to capture.

Colors faithfully convey the bleak and foggy atmosphere of an industrial area. Grayish green, blue, and especially brown tones (on the ground, the bridge, the rusty rails) soak up the light and dull it; dust can almost be felt in the static air between all the structures and buildings. It’s never easy to breathe in an industrial area, and from given point of view the struggle becomes almost literally apparent.

True to his style, the artist tackles the scene head-on, placing the warehouse almost exactly at the center of the composition. The green edifice, like a sleeping giant, appears to stand in wait — perhaps for better times. As other Magsig’s pieces indicate, some of these buildings awaken during the night, suggesting that not all is yet lost for the city of Detroit.

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Perhaps this mood is characteristic of the city to which Stephen Magsig is so dedicated — the city of Detroit. The artist strives to represent it from various angles, in multiple settings, and different times of day, as well as night. He paints the downtown and the immediate suburbia, all in the endeavor to make the representation as objective and as comprehensive as possible.

Looking at these pieces one cannot help but become fascinated with the city, its life, and its history. The Detroit series evoke a sense of respect and even awe towards the industrial beast: a sentiment shared and conveyed by the artist.

The variety of locations reveals the minutiae of the city’s expansion. The towers and the high windows demonstrate vertical growth; criss-crossing streets and junctures display depth and horizontal spreading. Geographical span — and especially the linear roads and cables — bring to mind  the progression of time. Getting from one point to another, we are reminded, always takes time.

Most of these urban snippets are well lit — just about enough to convey a reserved sense of optimism, which, in turn, the night scenes may whittle down. The artist consistently dwells on corner buildings and shops; as a result, one side would often be abundantly illuminated while the other would remain in deep shadow.

These clashes of light and shadow, while captured from a point of view of an actual crossroad, suggest the allegorical crossroad of the struggle between light and dark. Many of the structures appear to be sliced by various horizontal objects (for instance, poles or columns), contributing to an uncertain sense of anxiety.

The artist exploits well the inherently static nature of his subjects, and concocts punchy, effective compositions. Portrayed objects, often quite massive, are confronted head-on, decisively and unflinchingly.  Similar qualities are also notable in the brushwork: a pair of thick paint strokes will define an architectural motif, or delineate an emerging strip of light.

Through a continuous focus on Detroit’s neighborhoods, buildings, factories, and parks, Stephen Magsig offers his vision of the city. He carved a niche — “A visual diary of Detroit in paintings,” in his own words — and, eventually, proved it to be very resourceful.

Stephen Magsig exhibits his artwork at various established galleries and on this blog.

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