Dreamweaver: Art Rosenbaum

A Retrospective of the Local Renaissance Man's Work

originally published November 8, 2006

Researching an article about Art Rosenbaum is perhaps more than a semi-professional journalist should attempt. It’s not his intricately self-effacing analyses of his paintings, nor is it his repeated habit of quoting and giving credit to other artists - some of whom I’ve never heard of - nor is it the long pauses that are followed by a chunk of information so thick that a thick writer can’t get it all down before the next chunk comes his way.

It’s more the fact that he has done so much stuff over his 50-plus-year career as a visual artist, musician, art professor, muralist, folk festival organizer and musical ethnographer that condensing it all into one cohesive article makes the task rival the effort it takes to compose an Art Rosenbaum painting.

And who but Art Rosenbaum would even want to attempt that?

The only one I can think of would be Dennis Harper, curator of exhibitions at the Georgia Museum of Art and a fine painter in his own right. Harper, with some help from curator of paintings Paul Manoguerra and Rosenbaum himself, has arranged a barrage of works in the three largest galleries of the museum. "Weaving His Art on Golden Looms: Paintings and Drawings by Art Rosenbaum," a retrospective almost two years in the planning, takes viewers on a bouncy journey through Rosenbaum’s landscape of figures, their stories and dreams.

Eschewing chronology, the exhibition somehow holds together nicely. “We tried to borrow a lot of Art’s early works,” says Harper. “Rather than being too broad, the exhibition shows how consistent he’s been over the years. I was surprised to see so much of what he does now occurring in his early-'60s works.”

Harper began his raid on Rosenbaum’s studios - one on UGA’s Cedar Street, the other next to the artist’s home in the Forest Heights subdivision - in early 2005, but also borrowed from institutions such as the Morris Museum in Augusta, the Columbus (GA) Museum and the still-standing New Orleans Museum of Art (no relation). His friendship with the artist - dating back to 1989, when Harper began his MFA studies at UGA - was both a help and a hindrance. “I had to make some tough calls, things I knew Art wanted in the show but might have upset the balance,” remembers Harper. “Luckily, he was easy to work with.”

Hundreds, okay, probably thousands, of former students and colleagues can attest to that statement. Over his 30-year stint as professor at UGA’s Lamar Dodd School of Art, Rosenbaum taught drawing and painting classes and a materials course, among other things, eventually holding the chair for the school’s Drawing and Painting department. The students flocked to him. He never was the stereotypical tenured academic, doing just enough to stay on board and keep his free studio; the administrative duties accumulated over the years and kept him on campus when he could have been rubbing elbows with pals like Philip Guston and Pete Seeger at some art happening in Soho.

How did he manage to dodge the fate of Frank Ruzicka, the former head of the School of Art who postponed a promising painting career for academia and all its unavoidable politics? After praising Ruzicka’s few surviving works and then making a joke about doing anything to gain tenure, Rosenbaum grows serious. “I loved teaching,” says Rosenbaum. “I wouldn’t trade those 30 years here for anything.”

Long pause. I check my pen; it is ready.

“The CAA [College Art Association] defines you as artist/ teacher - the 'artist' coming first - which gives us authenticity as artists who devote time to teaching. I suppose I used the musical projects and all the school duties imposed on me as a respite from painting rather than a barrier from painting.”

The museum exhibition doesn’t display evidence of many respites. Like Kurt Vonnegut’s best novels, the retrospective careens through time without breaking the thread of stylistic consistency, though it is a treat to view Rosenbaum’s 1960s and '70s works that seem influenced by Philip Pearlstein and California artists like Richard Diebenkorn and Nathan Oliveira.

Like our own interior and exterior worlds, the paintings have become thicker, more populated with people and cluttered with stuff, though Rosenbaum’s clutter orchestrates itself into symphonies that make visual, if not always literal, sense. Throughout it all ring the stories, some obvious, others that form in the imaginations of viewers as they stand before canvases larger than the vehicles that brought them there. Does "Rakestraw’s Dream" (1990), describe an actual dream or a parallel, apocalyptic world where people gesture dramatically with their hands and nearly everyone carries a musical instrument? Why doesn’t the embarrassed woman, surrounded by idle men in "Hopetown House" (2002), find some clothes? Speaking of clothes, why don’t mine sport such dramatic creases and folds?

And the penises! Pointing in every direction, some modestly draped over legs, others as big as your forearm. Rarely has the Georgia Museum of Art displayed so much nudity, and there’s bound to be some whispering, if not outright indignation. With no pun intended, does Rosenbaum expect a hard time over the predominance of phalluses? He recounts a few incidents over the years where people, some in power, have objected to the nudity; yet he welcomes such discourse. “The museum is a good venue for such issues,” he says. “Like everyone, I’m trying to figure out the male/ female thing. There’s always something else going on outside the window. I like to juxtapose the public and private worlds.

“I use nudes in a studio setting as a sort of nod to studio convention. It’s expressive and beautiful - it’s us.”

Harper downplays the inherent sexuality of the works. “He uses figures as compositional elements,” he says, “the same way an abstract artist might use and manipulate non-representational forms.”

While others might utilize Rosenbaum’s nude figures, often appearing as loving pairs, to get all sanctimonious, art students can use them as a reminder that the human form doesn’t exist separately from its surroundings. It can be as fluid as a river, as dramatic as a sunset or as lyrical as a folk song. An art academic who delves into the human condition shying away from nudity would be as absurd as a town like Athens not having an Art Rosenbaum mural on public display. But, know what? Athens doesn't have one.

The one in UGA’s Center for the Humanities doesn’t count. Have you seen it? First, you have to find it; then you have to make sure no one is holding a meeting in there. Then you have to twist your neck and contort your body in the tiny room to take the whole thing in.

The "History of Wine-making" study hanging at the Globe since the legendary bar’s inception has gotten lot of exposure - to crowds as well as cigarette smoke - but it’s only a study. The final product, displayed at Chateau Elan in Braselton, is wonderful. Have you seen it?

Dothan, Alabama has an Art Rosenbaum mural. Depicting DeSoto’s arrival in the area, it is in clear view to all visitors to that pulsing artistic hub. Have you seen it? Tendai Johnson, a Zimbabwe-born artist and teacher who now lives in Washington, DC, assisted Rosenbaum on that project, during which he became acquainted with Rosenbaum’s unorthodox methods. “We were driving early in the morning to start painting,” recounts Johnson. “And Art suddenly pulls over to the side of the road.” Rosenbaum declared they were making a stop at the art supply store. “I looked around,” says Johnson, “and there was no building in sight! Just a lot of barren woods and dirt.” Johnson got out and tried to keep up with an artist on a mission. “[Art] grabbed a small shovel and container… and eagerly went to work on finding good Alabama red soil.

“By the time I realized what he was doing, we were back in the car, and Art broke into an old Irish tune as we headed to the site.”

I hope that he wasn’t accompanying himself on banjo while driving. Rosenbaum completely loses himself when he’s playing the instrument that is the subject of one of my favorite jokes:

Question: How can you tell banjo tunes apart?

Answer: They have different names.

Rosenbaum refutes that slanderous claim by infusing each tune he plays with a passionate impersonation of the song’s narrator and some bad-ass finger-pickin’. Banjo aficionados from as far away as Germany know about the “Rosenbaum method” of playing.

However, the musical side of Art Rosenbaum deserves its own article; so does his unwavering support of lesser-known folk musicians from all corners of the United States. As for the museum show, Harper says it’s payback time. “If anybody deserved [a retrospective at GMOA)], it’s Art. He’s done so much to promote unsung people, both musicians and visual artists. It’s not like he’s been anonymous, but he deserves the same attention as those he’s promoted.”

Greg Benson

"Weaving His Art on Golden Looms" continues at the Georgia Museum of Art through Jan, 7, 2007. Call 706-542-GMOA or see www.uga.edu/gamuseum for more info.