Art & Critique » Stephen Magsig

Stephen Magsig: Downtown Red

elijah — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 23:06:01 +0000

This building displays such an unassailable medieval character, that it may appear as an anomaly in the middle of a modern city. Interestingly, except the sidewalk, there a no urban elements in this painting. It’s as if the artist wants to play around a little bit with the viewers, to make them doubt the depicted era. The artist often chooses subjects planned for demolition or that look like it would be the best thing for them in their current condition — this building, though seemingly firm, makes an impression of a giant rotten from the inside, ready to collapse. It’s an ugly and awkward architectural structure: only people would revivify it by their presence; there are no people, and the building remains naked in its deformity — a Quasimodo of the town’s houses. Its funny how easily the wretched image travels from Paris to Detroit.

Colors are scarce but expressive. The red spreads all over the canvas in different values; it is somewhat oppressive and also industrial. The building has the look of a factory, albeit of an abandoned one. I think that in terms of formal architectural style it can be categorized as Brutalist. It indeed seems brutal and coarse, highly utilitarian and without much consideration for aesthetics. Even the trees hang heavily, like two old-fashioned chignons. The brushwork on the walls adds an element of raggedness, which joins the list of unfavorable features. Yet once again, despite the long list, the structure fails to affect the viewer negatively; personally, I feel neither a threat nor fear. Perhaps the light that illuminates the building contributes to an overall objectively, compensates for the darkness and puts everything in perspective. Horror films are not as much effective when watched in the morning.

It took me some time to figure out that this building resembles a Russian oven-bed — perhaps that was the subconscious reason why I have chosen it, having read so many fairy tales about this once indispensable to the Russian peasant way of life structure. In these tales, the oven can talk, move around and save Ivan the fool from troubles. Story tellers and the 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. The American oven-bed, though much larger, basically involves similar properties. It looks like a factory, which makes it both a source of food and heat, to which the red of the walls strongly alludes. The two eye-like windows on the second story also suggest personification. Maybe there is too much proletarian bias to this comparison (and maybe not, considering the title). Still, from a certain standpoint, the proletariat of the world has symbolically united in this piece, and without any government involvement.

Stephen Magsig: Nocturne in Blue & Grey #2

elijah — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 21:04:04 +0000

A heap of metal and coal, this giant machine tries to intimidate the viewer — but fails. It’s odd, but the black so totally dominating this piece emits vapors of acceptance and assimilation; its inherent neutral quality is given a free play, particularly as there are almost no brighter colors to oppose the darkness, and remind the viewer that black is… well, black. Moreover, there’s also a lot of gray, and in different values. The richness that the artist elicits from this seemingly unremarkable color is quite remarkable — at some spots it almost turns to white. It seems as though there’s warmth glimmering inside the plant, as if it had a heart and a bloodstream, as the crimson dot on top of one of the chimneys insinuates. Looking at this painting I’m thinking about Zola’s coal mines, and, not so much about the misery, but the camaraderie of the workers.

It appears that the rhythmic patterns in this piece are conducive to an emotionally approving interpretation: the three chimneys arising so close one to the other and the three lights beneath and to the left evoke a sense of fellowship and togetherness. There is a subtle subterranean glorification of labor and community in this depiction, a notion I have had only a brush with as kid living in the USSR. It may seem symbolical and surprising that this idea resurfaces in such an outspokenly antagonistic to the deceased communist state place. It is definitely not surprising that a work of art bridges the political gap, but I will stop before drowning in the flood of cliches. Speaking of drowning, the river adds a touch of tranquility, but also of suspense. “Still waters run deep;” the river, though probably contaminated, can still stand for the communal power, potentially unbridled. Still can’t manage without a cliche. Where is the world going?!

The artist uses little orange to describe the sunset, but exploits it to the maximum, installing a somewhat nostalgic mood, so characteristic of this time of the day. The atmosphere is the key element here: the general mood of the piece as well as the real actual air in it. I think that the latter pushes the formal style slightly towards impressionism — we witness only the remnants of the day’s light, but it magnetically draws the bulk of our attention. There is indeed a distant resemblance to Monet’s landmark “Impression: Sunrise,” as the lights reflected in the water go seesaw and the bright spot above reminds of the rising sun. Perhaps the shift towards a livelier and shakier style compensates for the general monochromatism. Being limited to one color, the artist makes it move and vibrate, in what may seem (in the context of his oeuvre) like an opportunistic trick. The thing is, opportunism in art means creativity and imagination — and the ability to act upon them.

Stephen Magsig: Midtown Warehouse

elijah — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 21:16:34 +0000

Showing a warehouse dissected by a bridge almost inevitably alludes to the economic infrastructure of production, storage and distribution. This piece includes all of these key elements by displaying a cross section of an industrial area. The lights are on, as the windows of the building indicate — there’s some activity going on and there is money to be made; the city is alive. I think that the strange air of abandonment that is so characteristic of the artist’s work, here assumes an additional, and perhaps a contradicting meaning. This place only seems desolate because everyone is inside, we don’t see the bustle because it’s hidden by the walls, and everyone is too busy to show themselves, — and this is the antipode of dereliction. On the other hand, the windows may have been veneered, and it’s not a light that they emit, but a darkness that they cover. That way my “ghost city” thesis remains valid in its original straightforward form, though I am not sure I like it so.

This bridge divides the painting into two parts, the upper, heavier one, and the lower, less loaded. As a result, an interesting effect of a threat of possible collapse is devised: physical, as well as an implication of an economical one. However, since the bridge supports the sign, it also manifests itself as savior of a sort, once again reaffirming its connecting significance through painterly metaphorical means. Distribution is an indispensable component of any business model, and it firmly lies in the basis of this painting too. The criss-crossing pattern of thick horizontal and vertical lines finds a compositional relief in the curved double track in the right low edge of the canvas — and offers an alternative resource for distribution. The tracks also add a historical touch to the piece, both because the railway was the first significant industrial trade route and because here it looks neglected and underused, belonging more to history than to the future, owned by the mighty semi-trailers.

I think that the colors faithfully convey that bleak and foggy atmosphere of an industrial area. Thus, to my mind, the achievement of the artist in this piece was to maintain interest through compositional methods. In simple words, the artist keeps it real by keeping the palette pale, but twists reality into something unusually fascinating by choosing an engaging viewing angle. Moreover, I am convinced that this scene would have made a good photograph as well. However, the medium of painting allows to ignore the small, unnecessary details, which could have detracted the viewer form the main message. I imagine that there would be some junk lying around the tracks and the building, but the artist possesses the ability to ignore it, and to lead the viewers gaze towards the larger objects. This appears to be a sensible choice considering the size of the painting. I like the artistic choices made here but, having been given the choice to visit the place, I doubt would have made it myself.

Stephen Magsig

elijah — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 23:05:07 +0000

Stephen Magsig’s urban scenes share one common feature: despite the realism, they possess an eerie atmosphere, as though inflated by foreboding whiffs of air. It’s as if these locations have just been abandoned, all the people being forced to evacuate the setting by a fire alarm; Stephen follows, and documents what has been left behind. Perhaps, this is the characteristic mood of the city to which the painter is so dedicated — the city of Detroit. The artist strives to represent it from many angles, in various settings and different times of day, and night; he paints the downtown and the suburbia, all in the endeavor to make this representation as objective and as comprehensive as possible. Looking at his pieces one cannot but become fascinated with the city, its life and its history. Gradually, one would have to acknowledge a growing delicate sense of respect and even awe towards this industrial beast. Recognizing the artist’s intent in communicating these impressions would be the next logical step.

The variety of locations shown on Stephen’s paintings reveals how the city expands laterally; the towers and the depictions of highly positioned windows demonstrate the vertical growth. I think that conceptually, the former can describe the city’s past and present, while the latter may imply that it also has a future. 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. This complex emotional scheme finds a further expression in the choice of subject matter: the artist consistently dwells on corner building and shops; as a result, one side would often be abundantly illuminated while the other would stay in almost complete darkness — these are real, as well as allegorical junctions. Moreover, many of the structures appear to be sliced by various horizontal objects, such as poles or columns, contributing to a certain, though not clearly definable, anxiety.

These features denote the artist’s flair for effective compositions as his strongest stylistic ability. I imagine that finding the right setting, and sifting out millions of others, can be a frustrating and even a creatively detrimental and paralyzing activity. It demands considerable confidence, decisiveness and eventually risk taking. These qualities are also notable in the brushwork: examined closely, it may appear random in some parts of a painting, and only after a repeated viewing will it become obvious that these are the most surprising and lively parts of that particular piece. All in all, Stephen offers a vision of the city through a continuous focus on its neighborhoods, buildings, factories and parks. He forged a niche — “A visual diary of Detroit in paintings,” in his own words — and proved it to be very resourceful. And I will testify that for once, I learned a great deal about a place not from the movies, but from the paintings.

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

Art & Critique » Stephen Magsig

Stephen Magsig: Downtown Red

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Stephen Magsig: Nocturne in Blue & Grey #2

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Stephen Magsig: Midtown Warehouse

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