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"The Gang," 2006, by Eric Fischl, is among the paintings which will be on exhibit at Guild Hall in East Hampton.[/caption]
By Emily J Weitz
Eric Fischl is constantly questioning where, precisely, the boundary between people lies. From his early works in the 1970s, you can see the tension that resides underneath the surface of his subjects. He has said this comes from his childhood, growing up in an alcoholic, suicidal home where boundaries were tenuous and relationships threatening.
“One has themes that they respond to,” says Fischl, “that are very much a part of how they deal with the world. They come from formative things in life, and then you evolve, and you always evolve in relationship to those themes.”
Because of his personal experience, Fischl is fascinated with relationships, not just between people but between people and objects.
“When is something comfortable?” he asks. “When is it invasive? What’s the relationship with the objects that they’ve invested more than money in? What are the objects they believe can give them solace or certainty? What happens when they are let down?”
To capture this kind of intense emotional journey, Fischl depends heavily on body language.
“I’ll see something somebody does that holds my attention, even though I don’t know why. I’m drawn in with a kind of awe. So I start with that.”
He’ll take a photo of that moment, and spend hours in his studio asking himself why he found it compelling. And then, he’ll make up a story. He might have taken a photo of a woman on Main Street, but he’ll take her out of context, put her in her kitchen or living room.
“If the person is bending over to pick something up,” he says, “I’ll think about why. Did they lose something? Was it important or irritating? I go through a series of questions and move things around. I’ll slide figures in to the scene, to see how it adds tension or drama.”
This idea of using art as a narrative is at the core of Fischl’s work.
“I don’t know how I’m feeling until I tell myself stories and make paintings that show me how I’m feeling. The feelings that come through the relationship that people have with their bodies, and their bodies in relation to other bodies — there’s an internal energy or combustion and an external way of expressing that.”
This look at bodies, and subtle movements that contain deep truths, is amplified in a study of the beach, in the solo exhibition presented this month at Guild Hall, “Eric Fischl: Beach Life,” which opens on Saturday.
“The beach sets a particular kind of stage,” says Fischl. “It’s elemental, and dramatic. There’s a psychological resonance to the ocean, to the rhythm of the water, the power of the seas. All of that is present. And the people who are more or less self aware, who are unobservedly or unconsciously going about some activities we are watching, that we can see as more meaningful than they can.”
Then there’s the simple fact that on the beach, we are nearly naked, and our voices carry to the next blanket over. We’re exposed, and yet we feel comfortable.
“It’s stunning,” says Fischl. “Our body language is public. Social exchange is public. We’re talking to each other, handing something to someone else. But the physicality is something we’ve always put into the private sphere. The nakedness. It’s hedonistic, and it’s also a break from the way you are in the rest of your life. At the beach, you’re acting on the pleasure principle. It’s a great lab for me.”
Then, of course, Fischl can take a subject who’s completely comfortable and unaware in a bikini on the beach and transport her to the living room, and build a narrative.
In this particular show, works from Fischl’s entire career will be on display. Pieces on loan from the Whitney and MoMA, as well as paintings from private collections, come together under the beach umbrella.
“There’s a painting in the show called ‘The Gang’,” says Fischl. “It’s a group portrait of my friends, and it’s the first painting I did where everyone is smiling. There’s such a sense of warmth and wellbeing in it. That’s a very different set of relationships, as opposed to a painting I did in the 80s, A Visit To/A Visit From, which is also in the show.”
In this latter painting, Fischl split the frame between white people frolicking in turquoise waters and a dark, turbulent scene of Haitian people desperate to leave this paradise.
“I think if you spend your life in a constant critique of the world, it’s harder to genuinely make someone smile. It’s much harder than one would assume. There’s a lot of experience in the world to show you that smiling is temporal, fugitive and could be false. But to find a place where you can love, that’s quite a journey. ‘The Gang,’ that’s a hard won smile. It’s a real love letter.”
