My weakness for parody has emerged at easel in attempts to paint pictures that convey a profound disquiet over gun culture. I read (present tense) the paintings of Robert Colescott (1925 – 2009) with profound amazement, and Roberta Smith’s comments, as always, with interest. She calls Colescott’s work “relentlessly provocative.”

It reveals a man who was eventually able to meld his own private demons about race with his country’s public ones, creating one of the most compelling, simultaneously personal and socially relevant bodies of work in 20th century American painting.

… He trafficked in stereotypes and caricature of both Blacks and whites, often reformulating Western masterpieces with nonwhite subjects. They were antic and savagely satirical… Colescott’s paintings continue to make people nervous, especially in the art world’s coastal enclaves.

His points were pushed forward by his searing palette (hot pink, magenta and a vibrant cerulean blue) and vigorous brushwork, at once masterly and sloppy. In 1990, he wrote of making “big sensuous paintings. It’s the first impact that people get. They walk in and say, ‘Oh wow!’ And then, ‘Oh [expletive]’ when they see what they have to deal with in subject matter. It’s an integrated ‘one-two’ punch; it gets them every time.”

(Roberta Smith, “Robert Colescott Throws Down the Gauntlet,” NYTimes, 7-7-22)

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