Metamorphosis in Clough’s Work
Charlotta Kotik
“Metamorphosis in Clough’s Work,” in Charles Clough. Buffalo: The Buffalo Fine
Arts Academy, 1983, pp. 7-12. Catalogue published in conjunction with exhibitions Charles Clough:
Recent Work, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York, April 8-May 8, 1983, and Charles
Clough: Selections 1972-1981, Burchfield Center, State University College at Buffalo, New York,
April 8-May 8, 1983. Reprinted with the permission of the publisher.
(Charlotta Kotik is the curator of contemporary art at The Brooklyn Museum.)

Looking at the work by Charles Clough over the past two years, one feels confronted with a
succession of dialogues with painters, living and dead. Their works, most of them popular
masterpieces which have permeated our culture in myriad color reproductions, are the opening
statements in what later develops into short stories of appropriation.
These visual narratives begin when Clough selects illustrations of one particular artwork from a vast
pool of images. The selection is guided by his intuitive response to certain images available at certain
times and there is no logical explanation for these preferences. He then obliterates the illustration with
vigorous strokes of finger applied enamel paint, which render the original composition almost
unrecognizable. During this process, judgment is suspended; a direct, visceral, instinctual response to
the illustrated work takes over. Thus, the marks bestowed upon the surface flow through his
“passive” hand to record the dictation of the subconscious. The technique of Surrealist automatism is
clearly suggested. The new narrative situation spanning the sensibilities of centuries is equally
surrealistic. The expressionism of the formal execution serves as a “decoy” to attract our immediate
attention. However, to use this art historical jargon is misleading, since Clough’s goals are far more
complex than the mere exploration of the properties of bygone styles.
After he finishes the initial overpainting, Clough moves on to the second chapter in which the
conscious intellect takes over. The overpainted piece is juxtaposed and compared with other similar
images. If he is satisfied that a balanced interaction has been achieved between the painterly gesture
and the impersonal surface of the reproduction, then the piece is set aside with others to be considered
for further work. Thus he stocks a large “image bank” from which to choose.
According to Clough, he is, above all, striving to create harmonious interaction between all the
elements present in the pictorial frame. By this frequent selection of French artists, especially
Poussin, Manet, Cezanne and Matisse, as the basis for his own work, he demonstrates his admiration
for the traditions of balance and serenity inherent in French art. “In a way painting comes down to
rhythm and color,”1 says Clough, in an attempt to simplify the complexity of his technique as well as
the unfathomable complexity of his own thoughts. There is an echo of Matisse speaking On
Modernism and Tradition in 1935:
“In the same way that in a musical harmony each note is a part of a whole so I wish each color to have
a contributing value. A picture is the coordination of controlled rhythms, and it is thus that one can
change a surface which appears red-green-blue-black for one which appears white-blue-red-green; if
it is the same picture, the same feeling is presented differently, but the rhythms are changed. The
differences between the two canvases is that of two aspects of a chessboard in the course of a game of
chess. The appearance of the board is continually changing in the course of play, but the intentions of
the players who move the pawns remain constant.” 2
Clough explores the continually changing arrangements of his own chessboard—the picture
area—with the intention of harmonizing and/or eliminating disturbing formal contradictions. He seeks
to balance the composition by the use of various juxtapositions of shapes and colors, by the addition
or elimination of elements and by constructing and restructuring the inner content of the work through
the dialogue of past and present. Paradoxically, in his pursuit of almost classical ideals, Clough
resorts to the creation of contradictory situations, as a preliminary step. The first conflict, as has been
mentioned above, is created by his juxtaposition of past and present aesthetics by painting over the
reproduction of the work of another artist. However, the concealment of the original work is only
symbolic—Clough is not affecting the real work but only one of a myriad likenesses. These copies
are as alienated from both the original and the originator as is a mass-produced article from the worker
who operates the conveyor belt. In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,3 Walter
Benjamin discusses the influence of mechanical reproduction techniques as opposed to those of the
craftsman, on the very essence of art. He points out that a work of art has always been reproducible
and that, throughout the centuries, copies of famous art works have been made in smaller or larger
quantities. However, until the late eighteenth-century, these reproductions could only be made by a
lengthy and usually costly process. With the advent of lithography, this situation began to change.
The nineteenth-century invention of photography and its impact on the development of reproduction
techniques caused the most profound change in our appreciation of art works of both past and
present, and influenced the very mode of creation. “One might generalize by saying: the technique of
reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition. By making many
reproductions it substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the
reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his own particular situation, it reactivates the object
reproduced. These two processes lead to a tremendous shattering of tradition...”4 This shattering of a
traditional perception of a well-known art work and its reactivation are at the core of Clough’s work.
The availability of mechanical reproductions, providing both the stimulus and the raw material,
enables the whole process to take place.
Clough’s use of the reproduction is well in keeping with what is claimed to be a distinguished
characteristic of Post-Modernism—the employment of imagery lifted from both high and mass
culture. The popularity of this method suggests that he feeling of true originality in our image-oriented
and image-saturated culture is almost impossible and that it would therefore be presumptuous to strive
for truly new visual inventions and creativity. “I really do not believe in originality, but in the
existence of shared archetypes which serve as inspiration in various ways to various people,” says
Clough.
Appropriation of prefabricated images became a distinct mode in the late 1970s and in the 1980s.
Practiced by many young artists, some of whom rapidly achieved prominence within the current art
structure, there are however distinct differences in the way in which this mode is used by its
practitioners. These differences are manifest in both the choice of images to be appropriated and in the
formal execution of the resulting piece. The impersonal surfaces of Jack Goldstein’s strictly black and
white, airbrushed “spectacles;” Nancy Dwyer’s figurative line drawings, with their seemingly simple
technique, which frequently explore emotionally charged issues of human health with mocking irony;
Richard Seehausen’s large canvases of love/hate relationships painted with a vigorously
expressionistic brushstroke—all of these works explore imagery found in popular magazines. Not
only painters, but also photographers have resorted to appropriation. Among those who explore the
imagery of the art of the past is Sherrie Levine, who rephotographs reproductions of diverse art
works. This further distances the original painting from its multiple re-presentation while in this
process creating new content within her own work. In her simultaneous use of art historical material
and of photography there is a kinship with the work of Clough.
Charles Clough occupies a special position among his peers. His work is not easily categorized—it
exploits the properties of both photography and painting, with the same degree of emphasis. The
interaction of these media serves Clough’s interest in exploring both the impersonal surface qualities
of the mechanically reproduced image and the highly personal surfaces of his enamel-painted
gestures. An on-going relationship with one particular image, developed through a sequence of
modifications, is another characteristic of Clough’s work.
Clough is not content simply to “lift” an image and use it allusively. After the initial applications of
paint on the surface of the illustration, the chosen image is rephotographed. Then when the color
enlargement is printed, it is often manipulated so as to change the color scale. Sometimes the negative
is flopped from left to right, or printed several times on one sheet of photo paper. He chooses one
enlargement as his background and collages others over it. This new configuration is either left alone
or is again painted over with enamel colors, thus distancing it yet further from the original illustration.
Venous Plexus, 1982, was begun by painting over the illustration of Manet’s Concert at the Tuileries.
It was photographed and enlarged into several color prints, some of which were cut and used in a
large horizontal collage onto which more paint was applied. Another enlargement was trimmed
laterally and the remaining central part was painted over. This resulted in a square version of Venous
Plexus 3, 1983. These works had their origins in the same small piece, but each developed an
independent identity as a result of the transformation of its formal elements. Nasion 7, 1981, resulted
from the combination of several works, Den of Axis, Jugum and Lunate, all of 1981. These were
photographed and cut and the sections were glued onto Nasion, 1981. In the new collage, the distinct
brushstrokes of Lunate are legible. A comparison of the sequence of works also clearly shows the
manipulation of the negative. A white area in the center of Jugum becomes a focal point of the left
side of a new composition, Nasion 6, 1981, as a result of a deliberately flopped. Nasion 6 was then
rephotographed, enlarged and again painted over. The result is Nasion 7 which shows segments of all
of the previous works, painted over with fragmented staccato lines
For a large mural called Sparky, which will be placed in the Allen/Hospital Station of the Buffalo
subway system, Charles Clough chose numerous reproductions of works by Charles Burchfield as
the initial impulse for his complex explorations. With typical ambivalence Clough points out that
“yes, he has chosen Burchfield as the base for the Buffalo piece because Burchfield worked in
Buffalo for so long, but no, he has chosen him because he was a good painter, whom he had not yet
incorporated into his own work.” Obviously, both reasons are partially true. The main reason,
however, was his nagging desire to change his color scale from a “crayon box” rainbow color scheme
to a spectrum closer to Burchfield’s muted tones. This interest in more subdued colors developed as a
reaction to his earlier, rather “democratic,” to use Clough’s own word, choice of colors. Having
explored various juxtapositions of bright hues for several years, Clough felt the need to try more
neutral tones, and to create works in which the selection of colors is a more thought-out process.
Thus, in the course of this transition, an exploration of Burchfield’s subtle color schemes was a
logical step. Typically, Clough recorded his ideas not only in innumerable sketches but also in
copious notes which, in their collage-like structure, parallel the visual work. His notes provide a
verbal description of formal elements present in his compositions:
The Resolution of Sparky
“Meditation on Burchfield. Why did he stay in Buffalo? What is the quality of his inspiration? How
can I use his meanings to express mine? What’s the essence of Buffalo? Great Lakes sensibility?
How Motown drives across Erie? How I want to freeze to death/the economics of winter/a cold war
Guernica for a frigid zone Phoenix/Buffalo was a was be, by water Buffalo got west (to India?)/the
forest after the fire/all those steeples and hills (blending greys) how I gain a better sense of neutral
values to get to Manet through Burchfield.../and get a superior proportion of hot to cold/sparks in
ashes, sparks to fire lost civilization’s forgotten power/tank of content, soul of the city/Sparky the
heat, the symbol of city’s passion”.5
Pontine, 1982, shows the lessons learned from working with Burchfield material. Its pearly greys,
blues and greens contrasting with light and dark brown, bring his whole palette into a state of calm,
which conveys a sense of contemplation to the viewer. Several enlargements were made from the
negative of this piece. In some of them, the color of the enlargement has been manipulated. Some
were printed from the negative, which was flopped from left to right. The prints were then cut up and
shapes were combined to reflect the composition of the initial small piece. The new compositions
were then once more overpainted.
One of these new works, Pontine 2, 1982, alludes to the first small piece in much of its structure and
color, but it is distinctly different in its overall impact. Clough explores the art of allusion to its
fullest. Alluding to the works of old masters as much as to his own, he manipulates our expectations.
The elements to which he alludes are both present and absent: they appear and disappear with the
swiftness of a silverfish. The viewer’s mind is led to an inferential interpretation of the forms with
which he believes himself to be confronted.
It would be hard not to see allusions to Abstract Expressionism in the painted gestures in Clough’s
work. However, close scrutiny often reveals that these too are illusionary, since what we see is, in
fact, the impeccable flatness of a mechanically reproduced surface. The two elements have equal
importance— the results for which Clough is striving depend on this interaction of gesture and
impersonal reproduction.
Visual contradictions and illusion are intrinsic characteristics of painting as explored by Clough. He
talks vividly about his fascination with Gorky’s masterpiece, The Liver is the Cock’s Comb, 1944, at
the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. Many years ago, when confronted with this piece for the first time,
Clough spent hours trying to decipher the various shapes and their allusions. He endowed the work
with his own meaning, derived from the interaction of the illusionary protagonists of the pictorial
space. This painting has remained one of Clough’s favorite pieces precisely for its inexplicable form
and content and for its high degree of painterly illusionism.
Clough’s fascination with ambiguity found an excellent tool in photography. He has been interested
in the medium for many years and began to use photography on a regular basis after 1971. Slides and
negatives serve him as visual notes—they fill the role of a sketch book.
“These bits of photography constitute my personal image bank (part of the larger public media pool),
my mulch pile, cess pool, primal soup from which I evolve my many cultures...shows faith in
technology—that anything of value will become an image multiplied many times and that from this
plenitude of pictures will come sweet inspiration.”6
The romanticism inherent in this statement is one of the qualities specific to Clough, and it is a
quality responsible for many features of his work. His obsession with gesture and the physical
properties of paint, his instant inspiration transferred to onto the surface of the piece with
“expressionist” ferocity, his love of contradictions and obscurity, all stem from this characteristic.
The medium of photography enables Clough to explore all of the contradictions in greater depth. The
flatness of the mechanically enlarged and reproduced surface of his sketch is in sharp contrast to the
density of paint on the small original sketch. The painted surface invites us to touch, to get to close
physical contact, whereas the photo enlargement creates a distance, withdrawing into illusionary
space. The painted gesture is unique: the one in the photograph can be repeated indefinitely in an
additive process. What is personal and intimate becomes impersonal and remote.
There is a sense of self-mocking irony in this process which indicates the artist’s pervasive doubts
which are embedded in the synthetic surface of the photographs. Through photo reproductions, artists
have been made aware of the entire history of art and inevitably have to deal with this heritage. Thus
the artist has become, consciously or unconsciously, a critic of past movements and a commentator
upon the state of his own mass-produced culture. He is influenced by and influences it in return,
through the fast dissemination of visual information. The artist has to make decisions as to what
elements of his culture have the potential for further growth in his own work. He must make the same
set of basic decisions as in the past—selecting his subject matter and a set of formal means for
transcribing an idea into a visible presence. And since an artist’s mind is and always has been
seismographically sensitive to the tremors within the society, he is naturally haunted by the imagery
generated by television, that liber pauperum of the modern age, and of film, which stands for the
successfully staged psychodrama of the Catholic church. Engulfed by the cultural waves emanating
from color television, bombarded by the plethora of advertisements and illustrations in magazines and
books, faced with a swift succession of “hyped” fashions, artists respond in the idiom of their
time—by appropriating segments of their own reality in an attempt to present it anew.
“What moves men of genius, or rather, what inspires their work, is not new ideas, but their
obsession with idea that what has already been said is still not enough.”7 This statement by Eugene
Delacroix summarizes the situation today as keenly as it did in the mid-nineteenth century. Certain
laws of creation remain unchanged through the ages, as man strives for a better understanding and
assessment of his own situation.
“I do not reveal new unknown thoughts, but continue the revelation of something which was an initial
inspiration for myself.” This is Clough’s own assessment of his approach. By deconstructing the
already existing imagery of other artists and reassigning it to another context, Clough reveals new
qualities inherent in the appropriated works while at the same time creating his own independent
commentary. The initial dependence upon the earlier piece is overcome by the complex process of
Clough’s own work, proving in a new way that the choice of a temporary dependence can be the first
step towards developing an independent identity.
Notes
Unless otherwise noted, all quotations are from conversations between the artist and the author, New
York, November 1982?January 1983.
1. Carter Ratcliff, “Expressionism Today: An Artists’ Symposium: Charles Clough,” Art in America,
December 1982, vol. 70, no. 11, pp. 62, 63, 139.
2. Jack D. Flam, ed., “On Modernism and Tradition,” Matisse on Art (New York: E. P. Dutton,
1978), p. 72.
3. Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Illuminations, (New
York: Schocken Books, 1969)’ pp. 217-251.
4. Ibid., P. 221.
5. Unpublished notes by the artist, 1982.
6. Ibid.
7. Eugene Delacroix The Journal of Eugene Delacroix (Ithaca, New York: Cornell Paperbacks, 1980)
p. 40.