Peggy Katz: Studio Visit
Peggy Katz is a metal sculptor. She takes flat, rectangular pieces of metal, stood upright on bases, and welds images on each side. Or she'll give the piece more dimension by cutting out figures or objects and welding sides together. She then paints them in bright shimmering colors. Her images range from views of Mt. Fuji to cows at pasture in sun or snow viewed through a window to saints and, most recently, to large hands containing "sacred" objects. There's also a recurrent motif of a Matisse-like still-life of fruit and small resting cows on a table.
Drawing in steel, she's reworked the concept of lines in space. The content is light but the metal is heavy and this unexpected difference gives the pieces their transcendent strength. "This," she says, "is lines on a plate but the way it's painted, I try to get a floating sensation. I'm trying to get a perfect line so it makes a statement about permanency and the importance of strength of line.
"I work in series, phases, because it's all like a science project. A discovery. I might make a hundred versions of something. Nothing is the same. You try to make them similar and it's impossible. The mistakes, the differences between the pieces is exciting. I try to get familiar with the lines so it becomes a gesture. Then, continuing, you develop, leave one dimension of it behind and go further through painting it, or grinding the surface, or pasting jewels on ... A lot of these pieces have been about surface. Some are painted and in others some surfaces are left raw so when they're outside, they'll rust. The weight always comes through. It's the truth.
"A lot of what I do is about art, the conception of it—what a still-life was supposed to be, a landscape. You have to think back into the past. A lot of it is about humor, taking basic things and putting this other level in to elevate it beyond what it's made of—leaving the still-life behind, making a bold statement about the grace of the line.
"They relate back to universal symbols, magic from ancient times . . . My favorite sculptors aren't in the history books with names. It's the primal stuff—Egyptian pyramids, cave paintings, [pulling down a postcard and reading the back:] the Cycladic period [2700 BC]. I love old icons, fetishes, totems . . . I like Bryan Hunt's work. Nancy Holt. Brancusi's endless column . . ."
The technique used to build ships is making these little gold fish painted in 18 carat gold leaf. Con Ed wields numbers on metal plates but Peggy and I can't come up with anyone else who works in metal this way. "I love welding. I love the technique. I like how the rust changes them. I put them outside [on a roof outside her kitchen window] to see what the rust'll do. You get a sense of which ones work. On some, paint peels off from the sun but others are very durable." In her various experiments she's used fish oil-based paint as well as industrial paints. "At first I tried to paint in vulgar, bright colors. Clement Greenberg ordering the paint removed from David Smith's sculptures really irked me so I rebelled and painted really bright, anti-formalist."
What she accomplishes in these pieces and what is delightful about them is the way they merge the formalism and piety of medieval icons with the stark and joyous, brilliant contrasts of Japanese woodblock prints. Her images are tremendously amusing in this disparity but, at the same time, this cave-drawing rawness and stripped down stateliness is powerful and affecting and remains.
"It's important to have an oeuvre and see the developments but I think it's superfluous for the artist to be the identity rather than the piece. The artist should step aside once the piece is made and the piece should speak."
These three artists have had their work exhibited in various group shows but they are not currently affiliated with any gallery.
(Say, November, 1986)