Kamala, Thailand, August 2014
Hundvåg, Norway, August 2014
I have never seen any of Truitt’s sculptures other than in photograps, she came to me through her writing. A mature woman’s literary reflections on motherhood and art, such a rare story to be told, was what initially got me interested. I find her work, seen from a very long distance, really beautiful, but believe the greatness in her sculptures lay in a subtle play of color-tone, in details one actually have to view on site to get a grip on.
Her journals have many readers, but for some, like the critic Peter Plagens, Anne Truitt was first and foremost an artist. In a review of her exhibition A Life in Art, at Baltimore Museum of Art in 1992, he writes:
Anne Truitt is an artist of the old school. That she was born into genteel circumstance in Baltimore in 1921 and graduated from Bryn Mawr during World War II are only indirectly connected. Yes, Truitt is a grandmother who lives and works not in Soho but in Washington, D.C., reads the classics, and is given to saying things like “I have a friend in Horace.” (“I like to smoke when I talk,” is about as downtown as she gets.) Of course she writes well, having published two critically praised memoirs, “Daybook” (1982) and “Turn” (1986). But what really marks her as an orphan of the current cacophonous scene is her beautiful sculpture.
He continues …
Truitt’s remarkably consistent sculpture first surfaced in New York in a gallery solo show in February 1963. The exhibition was badly (in both senses of the word) reviewed by Donald Judd (who showed his first minimalist work 10 months later). Truitt has been underrated ever since. Perhaps it has to do with her use of romantic, nonprimary colors on the kind of basic geometric forms other sculptors prefer to render in black or white or naked steel. Maybe it’s her work’s inescapable allusions (to a place, a season, a time of day) that cause theorybound critics to see it as too much heart and not enough head.
Anne Truitt, in her own words:
To be honest – I feel I have almost been absorbed by Anne Truitt (1921–2004) this summer. It has been a uniquely positive experience. I have read her three journals with great interest and attention, and have already started to reread them. These texts speak to me personally, as if I was talking to a wise friend, a foremother.
Anne Truitt’s first book, Daybook, is based on a journal, which she kept for seven years, recalling her childhood on the Eastern Shore of Maryland and her career transition from psychology to art. But most of all it is a meditation on how to combine a creative career (a calling) with family life, especially with being a mother. Divorcing her husband after 22 years of marriage also makes the question of economical endurance very acute. She made no compromises in her work, even if the reception of it at times was rather harsh.
I’ve struggled all my life to get maximum meaning in the simplest possible form. That’s what I’ve spent my life doing, and it’s never been understood.
As most artist, she would not agree to representing a definitive group or direction within art. Still her friend, the influential art critic Clement Greenberg, wrote: “If any one artist started or anticipated Minimal Art, it was she.” Truitt resisted the connection because her work was painstakingly made by her own hand rather than through the industrial processes that are the hallmark of minimalism.
In young adulthood Truitt went from psychology to art because, in her words, “the clearest beacons of aspiration that I had in my own life, I found in the work of artists — writers as well as sculptors and painters.”
When I swept wide brushes over large areas, I felt profoundly attuned to both structure and paint, as if I were doing what I had been born to do.
Her art might be challenging, due to a fine and highly developed sense of abstraction, but her writing is very simple, very easy to understand – even if the depth of what she says might shake the grounds on which you have founded your own life.
First published in 1982, Daybook was followed by two more journals; Turn (first published in 1986) and Prospect (first published in 1996), all published after Truitt had turned 60. The second and third book continues the artist’s reflections on her work and surroundings as she enters new stages of life, further exploring her views on womanhood, aging and art.
As already mentioned, I’m deeply captivated by Truitt’s writing – BE WARNED: my thoughts will continue to spill out …
SHORT BIOGRAPHY: Anne Truitt was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1921 and spent much of her youth on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. She obtained a BA in psychology from Bryn Mawr College and began art training first at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Washington, DC, and later at the Dallas Museum of Fine Arts when her husband was transferred to Texas. Most closely aligned with Minimalism and the Washington, D.C.-based Color Field painters, the artist is considered an important figure of American abstraction. Truitt’s first solo exhibition was held in 1963 at the André Emmerich Gallery in New York. Truitt received numerous honors throughout her career—including fellowships from both the Guggenheim Foundation and National Endowment for the Arts—and taught at the University of Maryland from 1975–1991. She also wrote extensively on her art-making practice and published three books—Daybook (1982), Turn (1987), and Prospect (1996). Truitt died in December 2004 in Washington, DC.
It seems I’ve turned my blog into a self-help channel … Here are some advices from Virginia Woolf:
In the first place, I want to emphasise the note of interrogation at the end of my title. Even if I could answer the question for myself, the answer would apply only to me and not to you. The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions.
If this is agreed between us, then I feel at liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because you will not allow them to fetter that independence which is the most important quality that a reader can possess. After all, what laws can be laid down about books?
I have finished and delivered my essay on Woolf, hopefully the text will be strong enough to take on a life of it’s own.
But I am still enjoying Woolf – tremendously! She will definitively be coming along to Thailand. In a more relaxed mode, I let her thoughts sieve in, fertilizing my tired brain, expanding my mind. I never knew a more funny, intelligent and inspirational voice than hers.
Just see for yourself:
Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices. If we could banish all such preconceptions when we read, that would be an admirable beginning.
there are many different infinities—there’s an infinity between zero and one, and another one that counts everything beyond. Both ranges are endless, but they map different terrains
– a beautiful formulation of something completely incomprehensible …
I’m reading Anne Truitt’s Daybook: The Journal of an Artist. It’s a beautiful and very insightful portrayal of the artist at work. Truitt worked in several medias, and I believe her Daybook will be of interest to all people making a creative living. Through reading Truitt one actually gets access to the creative process as it unfolds. Here is a short excerpt:
An eye for this order is crucial for an artist. I notice that as I live from day to day, observing and feeling what goes on both inside and outside myself, certain aspects of what is happening adhere to me, as if magnetized by a center of psychic gravity. I have learned to trust this center, to rely on its acuity and to go along with its choices although the center itself remains mysterious to me. I sometimes feel as if I recognize my own experience. It is a feeling akin to that of unexpectedly meeting a friend in a strange place, of being at once startled and satisfied-startled to find outside myself what feels native to me, satisfied to be so met. It is exhilarating.
These days I’m struggling with my essay on Woolf. Today I will keep these words by Truitt in mind:
The most demanding part of living a lifetime as an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself to work steadfastly along the nerve of one’s own intimate sensitivity.
I believe these words to be true for the writer as well.
Anne Truitt (1921 – 2004) was a major American artist of the mid-20th century. Critics have often associated her with both Minimalism and the Washington Color Field artists, although like many artists she rejected reductive classifications. Along with her art Truitt was noted as a teacher and as an author of memoirs: Daybook (1982), Turn (1986), and Prospect (1996).