THE SILO
A poet in his late 20s
Valerio Adami
Gianfranco Baruchello
Mary Bauermeister
a poem for Max Beckmann
Gene B. Beery
Biala
James Bishop
Norman Bluhm
Jonathan Borofsky
Ulises Carrión
Guglielmo Achille Cavellini
Robert Colescott
James Collins
The Critics
René Daniëls
Karin Davie
Nöel Dolla
East 10th Street (Passlof, Munk)
Melvin Edwards
Jean Eustache
Fallen
Llyn Foulkes
Julio Galán
Gérard Gasiorowski
Paul Georges
Alberto Gironella
Amy Goldin
Raymond Hains
Rachel Hecker
In Memory of Steve Dalachinsky
Shirley Jaffe
Matisse Etc. (part 1)
Matisse Etc. (part 2)
Thomas McEvilley
Carmengloria Morales
Stephen Mueller
Gastone Novelli
Pier 34
Polke and Prince
Cora Pongracz
Chris Reinecke
Alix Cléo Roubaud
Maya Sachweh
Jean-Michel Sanejouand
Cindy Sherman
Kimber Smith
Duncan Smith
Daniel Spoerri
Marjorie Strider
George Sugarman
Suh Se-ok
Hervé Télémaque
Nahum Tevet
Textility (a woven essay)
The Best Job in the World
Gwenn Thomas
Time Out in the City Limits
Richard Van Buren
Vitrine
Biala
Untitled (Lagune et la Douane), ca. 1981, oil on canvas, 45 by 57 inches, courtesy Tibor de Nagy Gallery, New York
For too long, Biala (1903-2000) was known more for her associations with other people than for her own accomplishments. In the 1930s, she lived in France with the legendary English writer Ford Madox Ford; her brother Jack Tworkov was far better-known as a painter; in New York in the 1940s, she was in the heart of the Abstract Expressionist scene (she’s the woman in the white blouse between Bradley Walker Tomlin and Robert Goodnough in a much-reproduced photograph of the “Studio 35 Artists’ Session” of 1950), but never gained much recognition for her own paintings.
The big problem with Biala’s work was that it seemed to belong to a bygone era. Despite her involvement with Abstract Expressionism, her paintings, especially after 1960, remained firmly within the School of Paris mode. Her interiors (some with figures) and landscapes and cityscapes feature blocks of color, spatial distortions and wonderfully loose brushwork, but always, ultimately, at the service of representation. For the last 40 years of her life she built on the legacy of Matisse circa 1910-1916 with more sensitivity and painterly intelligence than any other painter I know of. Unfortunately for Biala’s career, following in the footsteps of Matisse on the eve of the First World War wasn’t something than many critics, curators, dealers or collectors cared about at the time.
I met Biala a few times (through her long-time friend Shirley Jaffe), visiting the house-studio she shared in Paris with her painter-husband Daniel Brustlein. To my great regret, I never wrote about Biala’s work while she was alive. I could see that hers were wonderful paintings, but, like too many others, I was confused by their old-fashioned, School of Paris trappings. It was only with a posthumous show at Tibor de Nagy in 2006 that I finally could fully respond to her work and write about it, in part, because it no longer seemed so old-fashioned, as so many younger painters were discovering the kind of painterly abstracted representation that Biala made her own.