Deleted
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January 1970
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Deleted on Jan 29, 2020 13:08:49 GMT 1, Absolutely classic Herrera. Probably a bit classy for this bunch!
Absolutely classic Herrera. Probably a bit classy for this bunch!
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kuni
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by kuni on Jan 29, 2020 14:17:16 GMT 1, This is awesome. Such a perfect image and totally calming to my mind. Also a bit rich for my blood. Good luck!
This is awesome. Such a perfect image and totally calming to my mind. Also a bit rich for my blood. Good luck!
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DrWhite
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by DrWhite on Apr 24, 2020 20:21:17 GMT 1, Potentially for sale - Unframed- U.K. location
Untitled (2017), 2017 Lithograph 39 2/5 × 26 2/5 in 100 × 67 cm Edition of 100
Please PM with offers - thx
Potentially for sale - Unframed- U.K. location Untitled (2017), 2017 Lithograph 39 2/5 × 26 2/5 in 100 × 67 cm Edition of 100 Please PM with offers - thx
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 6, 2020 21:30:06 GMT 1, Carmen Herrera Island, 2020 Lithograph 28 1/8 × 26 1/16 in 71.4 × 66.2 cm Edition of 23 Hand-signed by artist $15,000
www.artsy.net/artwork/carmen-herrera-island
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Deleted on Oct 6, 2020 21:39:53 GMT 1, So ridiculously over priced.
I don’t believe there has ever been a Herrera print sell anywhere secondary for this much.
I have a load of Carmen prints. She’s amazing but this is double value
So ridiculously over priced.
I don’t believe there has ever been a Herrera print sell anywhere secondary for this much.
I have a load of Carmen prints. She’s amazing but this is double value
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Winter
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Winter on Oct 6, 2020 21:45:36 GMT 1, She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing
She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Terry Fuckwitt on Oct 6, 2020 21:48:04 GMT 1, She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing
🙈
She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing 🙈
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Deleted
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January 1970
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Deleted on Oct 6, 2020 22:18:49 GMT 1, She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing
I think at 105 her career is ok 😂
She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing I think at 105 her career is ok 😂
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LJCal
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by LJCal on Oct 6, 2020 22:21:40 GMT 1, Crazy money, if you’re into this style you can buy nice Ellsworth Kelly prints for quarter the price
Crazy money, if you’re into this style you can buy nice Ellsworth Kelly prints for quarter the price
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 6, 2020 22:31:23 GMT 1, Low edition size make a difference? Seems signed on the back - not front.
Low edition size make a difference? Seems signed on the back - not front.
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nobokov
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by nobokov on Oct 6, 2020 22:47:39 GMT 1, She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist....
She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist....
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 19:16:56 GMT 1, She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist....
You own several her other prints, yes?
Thoughts on this print image itself?
She’s not going to have a long career with this kind of pricing ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist.... You own several her other prints, yes? Thoughts on this print image itself?
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Deleted
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January 1970
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Deleted on Oct 7, 2020 19:25:09 GMT 1, I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified.
I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified.
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 19:50:52 GMT 1, I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified.
Got it. What would appropriate price be here? $10k?
I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified. Got it. What would appropriate price be here? $10k?
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Deleted
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January 1970
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by Deleted on Oct 7, 2020 19:58:04 GMT 1, I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified. Got it. What would appropriate price be here? $10k?
I think tops. If secondary prices at auction rarely hit 10k It seems ambitious to start at 15.
She’s an icon and a legend and will obviously pass sooner rather than lately sadly , so I guess she’ll have a price spike after.
I really hope they make some new shows on her. The 100 years show is wonderful.
A true art legend
I’ve got a few. This a great image but the price just isn’t justified. Got it. What would appropriate price be here? $10k? I think tops. If secondary prices at auction rarely hit 10k It seems ambitious to start at 15. She’s an icon and a legend and will obviously pass sooner rather than lately sadly , so I guess she’ll have a price spike after. I really hope they make some new shows on her. The 100 years show is wonderful. A true art legend
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rbt
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 20:18:35 GMT 1, London show now:
theperimeter.co.uk/on-view/
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nobokov
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by nobokov on Oct 7, 2020 20:25:03 GMT 1, ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist.... You own several her other prints, yes? Thoughts on this print image itself? I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising.
ridiculous pricing for an early-career artist.... You own several her other prints, yes? Thoughts on this print image itself? I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising.
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brycepen
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by brycepen on Oct 7, 2020 20:46:20 GMT 1, You own several her other prints, yes? Thoughts on this print image itself? I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising.
Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal.
To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album.
To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money.
You own several her other prints, yes? Thoughts on this print image itself? I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising. Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal. To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album. To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money.
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nobokov
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by nobokov on Oct 7, 2020 21:11:28 GMT 1, I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising. Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal. To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album. To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money.
Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days.
Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me.
I'm probably not the right person to ask. I just don't understand abstract minimalism and usually breeze right past the Ellsworth Kelly section. To me, the works are incredibly dull, but her underdog story is a standout and the pricing seems justified since she was a historically significant pioneer. Considering all the crap prints that are being sold for crazy amounts from random nobodies, it's not surprising. Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal. To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album. To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money. Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days. Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me.
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brycepen
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by brycepen on Oct 7, 2020 21:14:07 GMT 1, Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal. To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album. To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money. Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days. Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me.
I didn’t think we were arguing. I thought you made some interesting points and was trying to contribute to the discussion as well. Apologies if it came off adversarial. I appreciate your well reasoned posts on subjects like this.
Imho, historical context does not add value to something that is entirely abstract and lacks any incorporation of that context. We judge (or at least should judge) the quality of art by its enduring appeal. To analogize, compare this work to the albums produced by a visionary band or musical group. Let’s say they make an album, and most people agree that the album is pretty crap. It wouldn’t matter if their first album is the greatest album of all time. The second album would still be a terrible album. To your second point, random nobodies put out crap music all the time and people love it and those artists earn a ton of money. Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days. Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me. I didn’t think we were arguing. I thought you made some interesting points and was trying to contribute to the discussion as well. Apologies if it came off adversarial. I appreciate your well reasoned posts on subjects like this.
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 21:18:11 GMT 1, Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days. Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me. I didn’t think we were arguing. I thought you made some interesting points and was trying to contribute to the discussion as well. Apologies if it came off adversarial. I appreciate your well reasoned posts on subjects like this.
Interesting points. What’s your take on this print?
Im not sure what we're arguing, but I was just expressing that I think the entire genre is crap and most prints are overpriced these days. Art value is subjective so while you don't value historical context, others do and purchase for investment. So if enough people see value in the history of the artist or a brand, above the crappy image, some value will be placed on it. And who's to say that the artwork isn't aesthetically pleasing to others. Just not to me. I didn’t think we were arguing. I thought you made some interesting points and was trying to contribute to the discussion as well. Apologies if it came off adversarial. I appreciate your well reasoned posts on subjects like this. Interesting points. What’s your take on this print?
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 21:20:50 GMT 1,
Found this article too: www.ft.com/content/8f08a20a-ac28-4a56-92f2-362a426d35ad
Carmen Herrera: the 105-year-old artist on late-life fame
The Cuban-American painter and sculptor talks about colour, feminism — and why being ignored is ‘a form of freedom’
The Cuban-American artist Carmen Herrera celebrated her 105th birthday this year, and email was her medium of choice for our interview. Forty-eight hours after sending my questions, I received replies whose vivacious, intimate tone and occasionally whimsical syntax showed that the elderly artist was still firmly in control of her own voice.
That is cosmic justice, given how long it has taken for her to be heard. Like so many female artists of her generation, Herrera remained largely invisible throughout the 20th century.
An exponent of geometric abstraction, working in bold, tangy colours and crisp lines, there was no reason for her not to have been classed as a groundbreaking minimalist alongside the likes of Ellsworth Kelly and Frank Stella. But this was an era when a gallerist — female, as it happened — had no qualms in telling Herrera that, however good she was, she couldn’t be shown “because I was a woman”, as the artist recounted in the insightful 2015 documentary about her life, The 100 Years Show.
Other than participating in a sprinkling of New York shows devoted to Latin American artists, Herrera remained in the shadows. In the late 1990s, a solo show at El Museo del Barrio won critical acclaim. But it still took another 10 years before, in 2009, Ikon Gallery in Birmingham invited her to show for the first time in Europe, when one critic called her “the discovery of the year — of the decade”. A year later she joined Lisson Gallery and in 2016, when she was 100 years old, New York’s Whitney Museum gave her a solo show that catapulted her to art-world stardom.
Herrera is equanimous about the neglect. “Being ignored is a form of freedom,” she writes. “I truly used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to constantly please anyone.”
Our conversation is triggered by the decision of collector Alexander Petalas to show Herrera’s work at The Perimeter, his independent art space in London’s Bloomsbury. Working in collaboration with Lisson, Petalas has put together a rare display of Herrera’s paintings and sculptures from the 1980s and ’90s.
“I just thought it was really special and beautiful,” Petalas tells me, when I ask why he was drawn to Herrera’s vision. “There’s something incredible about the simplicity [of the work] without being simple.” He was impressed by her “commitment to working in two colours since the ’50s, early ’60s. She’s never veered off course.”
Being ignored is a form of freedom. I used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to please anyone
Colour, Herrera says, is always about “a dialogue”. She has always been “curious about two colours reacting or dancing with each other”, she continues, before admitting that “all colours are quite the same to my liking . . . including black and white. But put two of them together in the context of minimal forms and divisions, with a straight line, and you have a unique sensation.”
The paintings at The Perimeter testify to her words. In a trio of panels — “Blues” (1991), “Two Yellows” (1992) and “Horizontal” (1992) — Herrera paints the surface in one colour, fizzing lemon or intense cobalt, then disturbs it with a right angle or rectangle whose narrow border contrasts a shade of the same hue. The result illuminates the background colour in such a way as to evoke its essence. Blue has never looked “bluer” than in a Herrera painting.
Many critics assume her effervescent palette stems from her Latin youth. But although she admits her “sense of colour must have Cuban roots”, she stresses that colour “is a most intuitive thing”: the time she has spent in New York and Paris is a key influence, as are artists from “Giotto to Zurbarán to Malevich and Mondrian”.
If that sounds as if she’s lived life to the full, it’s no lie. Born in Cuba in 1915 to a father who founded the newspaper El Mundo and a mother who was a reporter, Herrera took drawing lessons as a child before travelling to Paris, where she studied art, and visited Rome and Berlin. She returned to Cuba in 1931, just before the president, Gerardo Machado, was forced to step down and Herrera’s own brothers were arrested.
The “political turmoil” put paid to her chance to study architecture, though she did manage a year at the University of Havana. Yet, “fascinated by space and lines”, she studied architecture on her own and considers that research crucial to her later painting practice.
Asked if she is a feminist, Herrera is scornful. “My mother was the first feminist in Cuba!” she exclaims. “She was a working journalist. It was always part and parcel of the parlour and dinner discussion of my home. Of course I am a feminist. What a question to a woman!”
Yet she makes no bones that her husband, Jesse Lowenthal, was also a cornerstone of her career. The pair met in 1937 when Lowenthal, a poet and English teacher, visited Havana. After their marriage in 1939, the couple moved to New York. “He truly believed in my work and would not allow me to leave my studio to earn extra income,” Herrera writes, as she recalls life with someone she describes as “quite a man, a literature teacher, a linguist [he spoke six languages]. At the age of 95 he taught himself ancient Greek so he could read Homer in the original.”
Her only regret, she says, is that Lowenthal did not live to see her success. (That he died at the age of 98 tells us how overdue that success was.)
Nevertheless, the couple clearly had a blast. In 1948, they moved to Paris for six years and became part of a charmed circle that included the artist Marie Raymond (the mother of Yves Klein), Jean Genet and fellow Cuban painter Wifredo Lam. “Such interesting people!” writes Herrera, the exclamation mark underscoring her excitement at a world where she saw “the first production of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot . . . what a shock!” and participated, in 1949, at the Salon des Réalités Nouvelles, which championed abstract art and included Robert Delaunay and Jean Arp among its stable.
In New York, she had her first solo show in 1956 at the Galeria Sudamericana (her very first solo had taken place in Havana in 1950). Living on Central Park West, she and Lowenthal hosted tertulias (social gatherings) with bohemian friends. Every Sunday, she recalls, they enjoyed brunch with Barnett Newman and his wife Annalee. “Barney was . . . a source of wisdom and an incredible intellect.”
When success finally came, it gave Herrera “a lift and a major surprise”. With paintings selling for seven-figure sums, she was at last able to “afford to do my sculpture!” Explaining that her paintings had been “begging to become sculptures” since the 1960s, she enthuses over the “beautifully metallic surfaces” she can now create.
Two of her sculptures — in aluminium, painted in acrylic and exuding her signature tension between passionate colour and restrained form — are included in The Perimeter show, while an exhibition of large-scale outdoor sculptures is due to be unveiled in Houston, Texas, later this month.
An “avid reader” all her life, Herrera has recently become devoted to the poetry of Emily Dickinson and quotes the following lines: “I’m nobody! Who are you?/Are you — Nobody — too?”
Carmen Herrera, however, is somebody at last.
Found this article too: www.ft.com/content/8f08a20a-ac28-4a56-92f2-362a426d35adCarmen Herrera: the 105-year-old artist on late-life fame The Cuban-American painter and sculptor talks about colour, feminism — and why being ignored is ‘a form of freedom’ The Cuban-American artist Carmen Herrera celebrated her 105th birthday this year, and email was her medium of choice for our interview. Forty-eight hours after sending my questions, I received replies whose vivacious, intimate tone and occasionally whimsical syntax showed that the elderly artist was still firmly in control of her own voice. That is cosmic justice, given how long it has taken for her to be heard. Like so many female artists of her generation, Herrera remained largely invisible throughout the 20th century. An exponent of geometric abstraction, working in bold, tangy colours and crisp lines, there was no reason for her not to have been classed as a groundbreaking minimalist alongside the likes of Ellsworth Kelly and Frank Stella. But this was an era when a gallerist — female, as it happened — had no qualms in telling Herrera that, however good she was, she couldn’t be shown “because I was a woman”, as the artist recounted in the insightful 2015 documentary about her life, The 100 Years Show. Other than participating in a sprinkling of New York shows devoted to Latin American artists, Herrera remained in the shadows. In the late 1990s, a solo show at El Museo del Barrio won critical acclaim. But it still took another 10 years before, in 2009, Ikon Gallery in Birmingham invited her to show for the first time in Europe, when one critic called her “the discovery of the year — of the decade”. A year later she joined Lisson Gallery and in 2016, when she was 100 years old, New York’s Whitney Museum gave her a solo show that catapulted her to art-world stardom. Herrera is equanimous about the neglect. “Being ignored is a form of freedom,” she writes. “I truly used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to constantly please anyone.” Our conversation is triggered by the decision of collector Alexander Petalas to show Herrera’s work at The Perimeter, his independent art space in London’s Bloomsbury. Working in collaboration with Lisson, Petalas has put together a rare display of Herrera’s paintings and sculptures from the 1980s and ’90s. “I just thought it was really special and beautiful,” Petalas tells me, when I ask why he was drawn to Herrera’s vision. “There’s something incredible about the simplicity [of the work] without being simple.” He was impressed by her “commitment to working in two colours since the ’50s, early ’60s. She’s never veered off course.” Being ignored is a form of freedom. I used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to please anyone Colour, Herrera says, is always about “a dialogue”. She has always been “curious about two colours reacting or dancing with each other”, she continues, before admitting that “all colours are quite the same to my liking . . . including black and white. But put two of them together in the context of minimal forms and divisions, with a straight line, and you have a unique sensation.” The paintings at The Perimeter testify to her words. In a trio of panels — “Blues” (1991), “Two Yellows” (1992) and “Horizontal” (1992) — Herrera paints the surface in one colour, fizzing lemon or intense cobalt, then disturbs it with a right angle or rectangle whose narrow border contrasts a shade of the same hue. The result illuminates the background colour in such a way as to evoke its essence. Blue has never looked “bluer” than in a Herrera painting. Many critics assume her effervescent palette stems from her Latin youth. But although she admits her “sense of colour must have Cuban roots”, she stresses that colour “is a most intuitive thing”: the time she has spent in New York and Paris is a key influence, as are artists from “Giotto to Zurbarán to Malevich and Mondrian”. If that sounds as if she’s lived life to the full, it’s no lie. Born in Cuba in 1915 to a father who founded the newspaper El Mundo and a mother who was a reporter, Herrera took drawing lessons as a child before travelling to Paris, where she studied art, and visited Rome and Berlin. She returned to Cuba in 1931, just before the president, Gerardo Machado, was forced to step down and Herrera’s own brothers were arrested. The “political turmoil” put paid to her chance to study architecture, though she did manage a year at the University of Havana. Yet, “fascinated by space and lines”, she studied architecture on her own and considers that research crucial to her later painting practice. Asked if she is a feminist, Herrera is scornful. “My mother was the first feminist in Cuba!” she exclaims. “She was a working journalist. It was always part and parcel of the parlour and dinner discussion of my home. Of course I am a feminist. What a question to a woman!” Yet she makes no bones that her husband, Jesse Lowenthal, was also a cornerstone of her career. The pair met in 1937 when Lowenthal, a poet and English teacher, visited Havana. After their marriage in 1939, the couple moved to New York. “He truly believed in my work and would not allow me to leave my studio to earn extra income,” Herrera writes, as she recalls life with someone she describes as “quite a man, a literature teacher, a linguist [he spoke six languages]. At the age of 95 he taught himself ancient Greek so he could read Homer in the original.” Her only regret, she says, is that Lowenthal did not live to see her success. (That he died at the age of 98 tells us how overdue that success was.) Nevertheless, the couple clearly had a blast. In 1948, they moved to Paris for six years and became part of a charmed circle that included the artist Marie Raymond (the mother of Yves Klein), Jean Genet and fellow Cuban painter Wifredo Lam. “Such interesting people!” writes Herrera, the exclamation mark underscoring her excitement at a world where she saw “the first production of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot . . . what a shock!” and participated, in 1949, at the Salon des Réalités Nouvelles, which championed abstract art and included Robert Delaunay and Jean Arp among its stable. In New York, she had her first solo show in 1956 at the Galeria Sudamericana (her very first solo had taken place in Havana in 1950). Living on Central Park West, she and Lowenthal hosted tertulias (social gatherings) with bohemian friends. Every Sunday, she recalls, they enjoyed brunch with Barnett Newman and his wife Annalee. “Barney was . . . a source of wisdom and an incredible intellect.” When success finally came, it gave Herrera “a lift and a major surprise”. With paintings selling for seven-figure sums, she was at last able to “afford to do my sculpture!” Explaining that her paintings had been “begging to become sculptures” since the 1960s, she enthuses over the “beautifully metallic surfaces” she can now create. Two of her sculptures — in aluminium, painted in acrylic and exuding her signature tension between passionate colour and restrained form — are included in The Perimeter show, while an exhibition of large-scale outdoor sculptures is due to be unveiled in Houston, Texas, later this month. An “avid reader” all her life, Herrera has recently become devoted to the poetry of Emily Dickinson and quotes the following lines: “I’m nobody! Who are you?/Are you — Nobody — too?” Carmen Herrera, however, is somebody at last.
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brycepen
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by brycepen on Oct 7, 2020 21:35:21 GMT 1, Carmen Herrera: the 105-year-old artist on late-life fame The Cuban-American painter and sculptor talks about colour, feminism — and why being ignored is ‘a form of freedom’ The Cuban-American artist Carmen Herrera celebrated her 105th birthday this year, and email was her medium of choice for our interview. Forty-eight hours after sending my questions, I received replies whose vivacious, intimate tone and occasionally whimsical syntax showed that the elderly artist was still firmly in control of her own voice. That is cosmic justice, given how long it has taken for her to be heard. Like so many female artists of her generation, Herrera remained largely invisible throughout the 20th century. An exponent of geometric abstraction, working in bold, tangy colours and crisp lines, there was no reason for her not to have been classed as a groundbreaking minimalist alongside the likes of Ellsworth Kelly and Frank Stella. But this was an era when a gallerist — female, as it happened — had no qualms in telling Herrera that, however good she was, she couldn’t be shown “because I was a woman”, as the artist recounted in the insightful 2015 documentary about her life, The 100 Years Show. Other than participating in a sprinkling of New York shows devoted to Latin American artists, Herrera remained in the shadows. In the late 1990s, a solo show at El Museo del Barrio won critical acclaim. But it still took another 10 years before, in 2009, Ikon Gallery in Birmingham invited her to show for the first time in Europe, when one critic called her “the discovery of the year — of the decade”. A year later she joined Lisson Gallery and in 2016, when she was 100 years old, New York’s Whitney Museum gave her a solo show that catapulted her to art-world stardom. Herrera is equanimous about the neglect. “Being ignored is a form of freedom,” she writes. “I truly used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to constantly please anyone.” Our conversation is triggered by the decision of collector Alexander Petalas to show Herrera’s work at The Perimeter, his independent art space in London’s Bloomsbury. Working in collaboration with Lisson, Petalas has put together a rare display of Herrera’s paintings and sculptures from the 1980s and ’90s. “I just thought it was really special and beautiful,” Petalas tells me, when I ask why he was drawn to Herrera’s vision. “There’s something incredible about the simplicity [of the work] without being simple.” He was impressed by her “commitment to working in two colours since the ’50s, early ’60s. She’s never veered off course.” Being ignored is a form of freedom. I used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to please anyone Colour, Herrera says, is always about “a dialogue”. She has always been “curious about two colours reacting or dancing with each other”, she continues, before admitting that “all colours are quite the same to my liking . . . including black and white. But put two of them together in the context of minimal forms and divisions, with a straight line, and you have a unique sensation.” The paintings at The Perimeter testify to her words. In a trio of panels — “Blues” (1991), “Two Yellows” (1992) and “Horizontal” (1992) — Herrera paints the surface in one colour, fizzing lemon or intense cobalt, then disturbs it with a right angle or rectangle whose narrow border contrasts a shade of the same hue. The result illuminates the background colour in such a way as to evoke its essence. Blue has never looked “bluer” than in a Herrera painting. Many critics assume her effervescent palette stems from her Latin youth. But although she admits her “sense of colour must have Cuban roots”, she stresses that colour “is a most intuitive thing”: the time she has spent in New York and Paris is a key influence, as are artists from “Giotto to Zurbarán to Malevich and Mondrian”. If that sounds as if she’s lived life to the full, it’s no lie. Born in Cuba in 1915 to a father who founded the newspaper El Mundo and a mother who was a reporter, Herrera took drawing lessons as a child before travelling to Paris, where she studied art, and visited Rome and Berlin. She returned to Cuba in 1931, just before the president, Gerardo Machado, was forced to step down and Herrera’s own brothers were arrested. The “political turmoil” put paid to her chance to study architecture, though she did manage a year at the University of Havana. Yet, “fascinated by space and lines”, she studied architecture on her own and considers that research crucial to her later painting practice. Asked if she is a feminist, Herrera is scornful. “My mother was the first feminist in Cuba!” she exclaims. “She was a working journalist. It was always part and parcel of the parlour and dinner discussion of my home. Of course I am a feminist. What a question to a woman!” Yet she makes no bones that her husband, Jesse Lowenthal, was also a cornerstone of her career. The pair met in 1937 when Lowenthal, a poet and English teacher, visited Havana. After their marriage in 1939, the couple moved to New York. “He truly believed in my work and would not allow me to leave my studio to earn extra income,” Herrera writes, as she recalls life with someone she describes as “quite a man, a literature teacher, a linguist [he spoke six languages]. At the age of 95 he taught himself ancient Greek so he could read Homer in the original.” Her only regret, she says, is that Lowenthal did not live to see her success. (That he died at the age of 98 tells us how overdue that success was.) Nevertheless, the couple clearly had a blast. In 1948, they moved to Paris for six years and became part of a charmed circle that included the artist Marie Raymond (the mother of Yves Klein), Jean Genet and fellow Cuban painter Wifredo Lam. “Such interesting people!” writes Herrera, the exclamation mark underscoring her excitement at a world where she saw “the first production of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot . . . what a shock!” and participated, in 1949, at the Salon des Réalités Nouvelles, which championed abstract art and included Robert Delaunay and Jean Arp among its stable. In New York, she had her first solo show in 1956 at the Galeria Sudamericana (her very first solo had taken place in Havana in 1950). Living on Central Park West, she and Lowenthal hosted tertulias (social gatherings) with bohemian friends. Every Sunday, she recalls, they enjoyed brunch with Barnett Newman and his wife Annalee. “Barney was . . . a source of wisdom and an incredible intellect.” When success finally came, it gave Herrera “a lift and a major surprise”. With paintings selling for seven-figure sums, she was at last able to “afford to do my sculpture!” Explaining that her paintings had been “begging to become sculptures” since the 1960s, she enthuses over the “beautifully metallic surfaces” she can now create. Two of her sculptures — in aluminium, painted in acrylic and exuding her signature tension between passionate colour and restrained form — are included in The Perimeter show, while an exhibition of large-scale outdoor sculptures is due to be unveiled in Houston, Texas, later this month. An “avid reader” all her life, Herrera has recently become devoted to the poetry of Emily Dickinson and quotes the following lines: “I’m nobody! Who are you?/Are you — Nobody — too?” Carmen Herrera, however, is somebody at last.
Interesting to read about the artist. I can certainly relate to her perspective in many ways. I still stand by my opinion that historical context adds little value to abstract art, at least in the present tense. She very well may be a visionary and this print will be a work of art celebrated in the future. I, however, am not afraid to admit that I don’t like it and I don’t get it. And though I certainly lean toward realist and surrealist art, I also really can enjoy abstract and geometric art. I’ve dabbled in it myself.
Edit: also quite love the Dickinson quote at the end. Quality journalism here
Carmen Herrera: the 105-year-old artist on late-life fame The Cuban-American painter and sculptor talks about colour, feminism — and why being ignored is ‘a form of freedom’ The Cuban-American artist Carmen Herrera celebrated her 105th birthday this year, and email was her medium of choice for our interview. Forty-eight hours after sending my questions, I received replies whose vivacious, intimate tone and occasionally whimsical syntax showed that the elderly artist was still firmly in control of her own voice. That is cosmic justice, given how long it has taken for her to be heard. Like so many female artists of her generation, Herrera remained largely invisible throughout the 20th century. An exponent of geometric abstraction, working in bold, tangy colours and crisp lines, there was no reason for her not to have been classed as a groundbreaking minimalist alongside the likes of Ellsworth Kelly and Frank Stella. But this was an era when a gallerist — female, as it happened — had no qualms in telling Herrera that, however good she was, she couldn’t be shown “because I was a woman”, as the artist recounted in the insightful 2015 documentary about her life, The 100 Years Show. Other than participating in a sprinkling of New York shows devoted to Latin American artists, Herrera remained in the shadows. In the late 1990s, a solo show at El Museo del Barrio won critical acclaim. But it still took another 10 years before, in 2009, Ikon Gallery in Birmingham invited her to show for the first time in Europe, when one critic called her “the discovery of the year — of the decade”. A year later she joined Lisson Gallery and in 2016, when she was 100 years old, New York’s Whitney Museum gave her a solo show that catapulted her to art-world stardom. Herrera is equanimous about the neglect. “Being ignored is a form of freedom,” she writes. “I truly used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to constantly please anyone.” Our conversation is triggered by the decision of collector Alexander Petalas to show Herrera’s work at The Perimeter, his independent art space in London’s Bloomsbury. Working in collaboration with Lisson, Petalas has put together a rare display of Herrera’s paintings and sculptures from the 1980s and ’90s. “I just thought it was really special and beautiful,” Petalas tells me, when I ask why he was drawn to Herrera’s vision. “There’s something incredible about the simplicity [of the work] without being simple.” He was impressed by her “commitment to working in two colours since the ’50s, early ’60s. She’s never veered off course.” Being ignored is a form of freedom. I used that all my life. I felt liberated from having to please anyone Colour, Herrera says, is always about “a dialogue”. She has always been “curious about two colours reacting or dancing with each other”, she continues, before admitting that “all colours are quite the same to my liking . . . including black and white. But put two of them together in the context of minimal forms and divisions, with a straight line, and you have a unique sensation.” The paintings at The Perimeter testify to her words. In a trio of panels — “Blues” (1991), “Two Yellows” (1992) and “Horizontal” (1992) — Herrera paints the surface in one colour, fizzing lemon or intense cobalt, then disturbs it with a right angle or rectangle whose narrow border contrasts a shade of the same hue. The result illuminates the background colour in such a way as to evoke its essence. Blue has never looked “bluer” than in a Herrera painting. Many critics assume her effervescent palette stems from her Latin youth. But although she admits her “sense of colour must have Cuban roots”, she stresses that colour “is a most intuitive thing”: the time she has spent in New York and Paris is a key influence, as are artists from “Giotto to Zurbarán to Malevich and Mondrian”. If that sounds as if she’s lived life to the full, it’s no lie. Born in Cuba in 1915 to a father who founded the newspaper El Mundo and a mother who was a reporter, Herrera took drawing lessons as a child before travelling to Paris, where she studied art, and visited Rome and Berlin. She returned to Cuba in 1931, just before the president, Gerardo Machado, was forced to step down and Herrera’s own brothers were arrested. The “political turmoil” put paid to her chance to study architecture, though she did manage a year at the University of Havana. Yet, “fascinated by space and lines”, she studied architecture on her own and considers that research crucial to her later painting practice. Asked if she is a feminist, Herrera is scornful. “My mother was the first feminist in Cuba!” she exclaims. “She was a working journalist. It was always part and parcel of the parlour and dinner discussion of my home. Of course I am a feminist. What a question to a woman!” Yet she makes no bones that her husband, Jesse Lowenthal, was also a cornerstone of her career. The pair met in 1937 when Lowenthal, a poet and English teacher, visited Havana. After their marriage in 1939, the couple moved to New York. “He truly believed in my work and would not allow me to leave my studio to earn extra income,” Herrera writes, as she recalls life with someone she describes as “quite a man, a literature teacher, a linguist [he spoke six languages]. At the age of 95 he taught himself ancient Greek so he could read Homer in the original.” Her only regret, she says, is that Lowenthal did not live to see her success. (That he died at the age of 98 tells us how overdue that success was.) Nevertheless, the couple clearly had a blast. In 1948, they moved to Paris for six years and became part of a charmed circle that included the artist Marie Raymond (the mother of Yves Klein), Jean Genet and fellow Cuban painter Wifredo Lam. “Such interesting people!” writes Herrera, the exclamation mark underscoring her excitement at a world where she saw “the first production of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot . . . what a shock!” and participated, in 1949, at the Salon des Réalités Nouvelles, which championed abstract art and included Robert Delaunay and Jean Arp among its stable. In New York, she had her first solo show in 1956 at the Galeria Sudamericana (her very first solo had taken place in Havana in 1950). Living on Central Park West, she and Lowenthal hosted tertulias (social gatherings) with bohemian friends. Every Sunday, she recalls, they enjoyed brunch with Barnett Newman and his wife Annalee. “Barney was . . . a source of wisdom and an incredible intellect.” When success finally came, it gave Herrera “a lift and a major surprise”. With paintings selling for seven-figure sums, she was at last able to “afford to do my sculpture!” Explaining that her paintings had been “begging to become sculptures” since the 1960s, she enthuses over the “beautifully metallic surfaces” she can now create. Two of her sculptures — in aluminium, painted in acrylic and exuding her signature tension between passionate colour and restrained form — are included in The Perimeter show, while an exhibition of large-scale outdoor sculptures is due to be unveiled in Houston, Texas, later this month. An “avid reader” all her life, Herrera has recently become devoted to the poetry of Emily Dickinson and quotes the following lines: “I’m nobody! Who are you?/Are you — Nobody — too?” Carmen Herrera, however, is somebody at last. Interesting to read about the artist. I can certainly relate to her perspective in many ways. I still stand by my opinion that historical context adds little value to abstract art, at least in the present tense. She very well may be a visionary and this print will be a work of art celebrated in the future. I, however, am not afraid to admit that I don’t like it and I don’t get it. And though I certainly lean toward realist and surrealist art, I also really can enjoy abstract and geometric art. I’ve dabbled in it myself. Edit: also quite love the Dickinson quote at the end. Quality journalism here
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nobokov
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by nobokov on Oct 7, 2020 22:51:07 GMT 1, Thanks for posting. There's also a nice podcast discussing her here.
Personally, I can't imagine spending $15,000 on a print of four triangles rather than on a substantial sized painting from an emerging artist. To me, it looks like this:
Thanks for posting. There's also a nice podcast discussing her here.
Personally, I can't imagine spending $15,000 on a print of four triangles rather than on a substantial sized painting from an emerging artist. To me, it looks like this:
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eyectopus
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by eyectopus on Oct 7, 2020 23:21:53 GMT 1,
These hung around on eBay for a long time a few years ago. It seemed to be one seller selling a lot of them. They were $900 from what I recall.
These hung around on eBay for a long time a few years ago. It seemed to be one seller selling a lot of them. They were $900 from what I recall.
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 7, 2020 23:32:18 GMT 1, Image of the Herrera print
Image of the Herrera print
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rbt
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Carmen Herrera 🇨🇺 Abstract • Minimalist, by rbt on Oct 8, 2020 20:23:57 GMT 1, lol. This print doesn’t look like that halloween?!
lol. This print doesn’t look like that halloween?!
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