Peter Frank Los Angeles 2006
By Peter Frank This is the message that underlies Arthur Sarkissian’s oeuvre. In Sarkissian’s paintings what-is-known meets what-is-felt within the bounds of the picture plane. What is “felt” – embodied in Sarkissian’s painterly gestures and rich coloration – maintains its integrity, and what is “known” – concretized in the images Sarkissian finds in mass media and transfers to the heart of his artworks – continues to evince its source in widely disseminated formats such as newspapers and books. But despite this obvious polarity, Sarkissian effects a remarkably easy and unstrained flow between the felt and the known, between raw brushstroke and transferred image. Each element becomes not just a foil, but a partner, for the other. A passage lifted (not literally, as in collage, but photographically, through silkscreen) from an art history textbook or illuminated manuscript or magazine still “reports” its information, but becomes at the same time a factor in a larger composition, enmeshed in painterly incident. Meanwhile, without losing the passion invested in it by Sarkissian’s hand, such painterly incident is ordered into a certain rational structure, one that echoes the lexical coherence that photographic imagery promulgates.
Sarkissian’s paintings are at once wholes and sums of parts, and they “talk” to us in several visual languages at once. Such a polyglot, polysemic art is hardly unique to Sarkissian. We see his style anticipated by Robert Rauschenberg, and before him Kurt Schwitters. We even see its textures and practices, as well as philosophical positions, reflected in the work of such disparate predecessors as Warhol, Cornell, Miro, Malevich, and, of course, Picasso. Among other things, Sarkissian demonstrates that the “collage aesthetic” – the simultaneously disjunctive and conjunctive qualities that uniquely define modern composition – remains one of 20th century art’s most significant and enduring legacies. Indeed, this collage aesthetic provides the perceptual crucible in which the dialectic described above is forged, and it defines the particular visual world in which Sarkissian finds his expression.
Above all, Sarkissian’s is an art of transition, a demonstration of the flow of human experience from the felt to the known, from the intuited to the studied, and back again. What is felt is itself important, and so is what is known – and we must note Sarkissian’s preoccupation with architectural structures, art-historical artifacts, and the visual record of various histories, in particular that of the Armenian people. From one vantage, Sarkissian’s oeuvre can certainly be seen as an examination of the relationship between his cultural heritages, Caucasian and European. It is not the particulars of this relationship, cultural or sociological, that provide the true substance of Sarkissian’s art, however, but its very nature as a relationship, that is, as a moment of transition. Does this ongoing “moment” take place in real time and space, across seas and centuries? Certainly. But more importantly, it takes place metaphysically in Sarkissian’s mind and heart, as well as in those of his fellow Armenians (and for that matter, Georgians, Azeris, and even Russians).
Europe may give way to Asia in the Caucasus, but what Sarkissian paints is Europe and Asia giving way to one another in his soul. Many levels of dialectical opposition thus pertain in Sarkissian’s painting. How it is conceived and how it is fabricated, how it looks and how it “reads,” what it contains and what it means, who it speaks for and how it speaks for him and/or them – all these polarities and more determine the work’s compelling vitality. Elegant and raw, chaotic and lucid, expansive and deliberate, the art of Arthur Sarkissian does not so much resolve a universe of opposites as flourish in its balance.Los Angeles, June 2006