Philip Guston. Singularities at Hauser & Wirth Zurich, Limmatstrasse

7 June–7 September 2024
The exhibition opens with ‘Painter’s Forms’ (1972), one of Guston’s masterpieces and, according to the arthistorian Dore Ashton, a ‘true distillation of Guston’s late oeuvre into a single painting.’ A few of his most familiar objects spew out of the painter’s mouth against a washed-out pink background: a boot, a bottle, a cigarette, the sole of a shoe, the top of an easel, and a nameplate bearing his initials. It is a painting about the act of painting. In many of these enigmatic late works, the distinction between interior and exterior space largely disappears as domestic elements merge with outdoor scenes. In the allegorical landscapes in which these strange dramas unfold, Guston’s signature cadmium red medium dominates the lower terrain, while the upper sections are atranquil, cloudless blue. In ‘Feet on Rug’ (1978), two feet are stranded in a barren red landscape against a sky-blue horizon, standing on a rug whose fringes morph into crawling insect legs. The bug-amoeba form is echoed in ‘Future’ (1978), where it appears to rotate alongside a snail-like creature as a despairing human figure sinks into a post-apocalyptic ground or sea. In ‘Untitled’ (1969)—one of the never-before exhibited paintings—an earlier version of this snail form, nautilus-chambered, curls its way into a cozy but colorless domestic interior.
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In a 1972 slide talk, Guston told students that when he returned to Italy after first exhibiting his late work, he wanted to see the paintings of the past that he loved. But not for their beauty. ‘I wanted to see early frescoes of The Last Judgments and end-of-the-world paintings. Particularly Romanesque paintings and Sienese fresco painters who paint huge, marvelous frescoes of the damned, all the tortures in hell, and so on. Heaven is always very dull, with just a lot of people lined up. Like trumpets, they’re all lined up. There’s not much to look at. But when they’re going to hell, the painter really goes to town. All kinds of marvelous stuff. That’s when they really enjoyed painting. I feel we live in comparable times. Oh yeah, and I want to paint that. I don’t want to copy, but I feel that’s the big subject matter. I don’t know how it’s going to come out. Well, I’ve begun. I’ve begun with this story.’ ‘Door and Room’ (1978), on view for the first time, suggests a story of forced entry into the artist’s studio. The realities of the world intrude into his sanctuary, leaving the artist as a witness to perpetual acts of war. The dull and black scene is relieved only by the narrow strip of blue at the top, like a slight breath of air or a hope for peace. Yet in the bloody field of combat, there are unmistakable signs of a painterly, exuberant celebration of dynamic form and color.

A demonstration of Guston’s ability to introspectively capture the struggles of his time with meticulous composition and nuanced detail is ‘Agean (Aegean)’ (1978). In this large painting, the convergence of outstretched hands, arms, and shields in the form of trash can lids recalls his early work from the ‘40s, in which he depicted childhood street fights that mimicked the theatrics of warfare. But these games are clearly more than child’s play; they are precursors to war. The late Guston addresses the inherent nature of violence as it manifested in the political turmoil of his era, evoking the Holocaust, the Vietnam War, and the civil unrest that permeated the late 1960s. Expanding on this theme, Guston’s ‘Untitled’ (1979)—made in the last year of his life—can also be understood as an allegory of human struggle. Shields float in the void, creating a bizarre scene that oscillates between violence and humor.

Guston said, ‘I wanted to include everything. I felt, like everybody else, disturbed about everything to such an extent that I didn’t want to exclude it from the studio. Paint it. I didn’t think I was illustrating anything.’ Philip Guston’s late paintings retain a mysterious quality, and all are driven by the artist’s desire to tell stories that not only reflect his state of mind but also provide insights into the social and political climate of his time. When seen together, they show the singular depth and complexity of his rich personal iconography.