The Unimpeachables 2

Sean Scully: the Trump of Painting

   For over two decades, I have considered Sean Scully as a champion of painting, as the living champion of abstract painting. It was enchanting to see how much his paintings were able to evoke, to suggest, how much tension they held, despite relatively modest means. His painting was all the more compelling because it seemed to reject not only virtuosity, but any prefabricated and superimposed meaning. The painting was refreshingly unhampered by any notion of a presupposed given reality. It was there, present, without vociferously claiming our attention. Rare qualities in contemporary art, and particularly contemporary painting.

   All this time I believed the painter's personality to reflect his work, to be unpretentious yet powerful, thoughtful and focused.

    Fortunately, I have been rid of this silly notion, courtesy of a tv documentary entitled Unstoppable: Sean Scully and the Art of Everything, (BBC Two, April 2, 2019).

   Without doubt, it is not difficult to imagine how hard it is for an artist, for a painter, to establish his  place (rightful, or less so) in the art world. A precarious livelihood, chronic menace of anonimity, rejection, lack of recognition within one's family and without, commercially treacherous entities, and ever vulnerable to mockery. It is high time that the painter takes up arms and fights for his rights.

   If one was not yet familiar with the artist's early days as a street fighter, Sean Scully gladly reminds us of them, repeatedly. Moreover, he is combative to the present day, at the age of 72. He is the great Martial Artist, generously displaying his fighting moves whenever there is a camera about. He is a true superhero fighting the dark and evil powers within the art world.

   Probably since Picasso we haven't known a painter willing and able to succeed to this degree, and of this international caliber. Picasso who did not search, but who found. Picasso, whose main artistic aim was to outdo Matisse (and in the process put lesser painters, such as Braque and Bonnard, in their place). Well, at the beginning of his international career, Scully set out “to be more famous than Matisse.” I believe that the only precedent for this courageous and professional attitude is Andy Warhol, who “wanted to be Matisse.” It shows just how mature and masterful Scully is.

   Scully has now reached a point where he can play the art world like a toy piano. He is the perfect strategist. He has truly consolidated his position, built a buffer against the capricious market of supply and demand in the form of a personal reserve of paintings (I have one of those), he has devised a profitable system of donating or selling works to museums and collections all over the world, and is an unrivaled marketeer of his own oeuvre, travelling the world in his private jet, ever on his way to address the converted. Painting, to Sean Scully, is all “distribution, distribution, distribution.”

   Moreover, no painter in art history has ever succeeded in thwarting critics as has Scully. To any criticism or unwelcome question, he replies: “I don't care.” When the press hack in question insists, Scully responds forcefully: “No, you don't understand – I don't care!” What better way to prevent sterile reflection, barren discussion of side-issues.

   I for one, greatly appreciate his Ghost Gun-series, his flaming indictment of the liberal US government policy on the bearing of weapons. At last, painting in its the truest essence, imbued with meaning, with emotion, bearer of a dedicated message. Away with the freedom of painting. In with the new painting that is saying something!

   Unfortunately, the documentary provides a voice to I believe two fault-finders, who dare to suggest that the Great Master should perhaps invest more time in painting than in building his career. Sour grapes, as ever. Fake news. Sean Scully is a radiant example to painters all over the world (not in large numbers, I agree), who are willing to fight for their careers, who are prepared to divert the necessary energy and time away from their stuffy studio's, from their unproductive pursuits. His contribution should be acknowledged by all, with gratitude.

   Finally, I should like to make modest proposition, inspired by Sean Scully himself. As he, in a briljant move, calls himself “the left-wing Trump of painting,” we might consider making it a criminal offence to criticize Scully's work, his ideas, his motivation. After centuries of insecurity, we all deserve, a last, a truly unimpeachable painter. And let us build that wall, together with Sean Scully, let us protect ourselves against the hordes of critics and lesser painters alike.