Tag Archives: Print

Jan Groover UntitledJan Groover, Untitled, 2003
Ink jet print
Gift of Jeanne Press and Richard S. Press ’60, P’ 90, P’08, P’12

Jan Groover (1943-2012) began taking photographs with her 35mm camera in the 1960s. Though her early triptychs focused on the exteriority of suburban life, she gained major recognition when she turned her camera towards domestic interiors, most notably her own kitchen sink. In Groover’s kitchen sink photographs, seemingly banal, domestic objects (forks, bell peppers, vases, cake tins) are recast, in close-ups, as outlines, shadows, colors, and volumes in indeterminate space. Her photography is surprisingly surrealist and abstract, imaginative, even, despite its placement within the still life genre. And, perhaps because of her training as a painter, her images have an almost painterly quality.

Groover’s work, though often underappreciated, emerged just as photography was gaining acceptance in the art world, and, according to Times critic Andy Grundberg, her photograph on the cover of Artforum in 1978 acted as “a signal that photography had arrived.”[1] In 1987, her work was presented in a solo exhibition at MoMA—a rarity for female photographers at the time. Groover’s work has often been likened to that of Edward Weston, Paul Strand, Paul Outerbridge, and Alfred Stieglitz because of her use of light and shadow. Like those photographers, she was deeply invested in a formalist ideology. She is often cited as saying, “formalism is everything.”[2] Despite this interest in pictorial composition, her inquiries into the constructed rather than documentarian qualities of photography are more along the lines of those posed by her contemporaries Tina Barney (who produced the film Jan Groover: Tilting at Space), Cindy Sherman, and Richard Prince.

In Untitled (2003), the objects create colorful shapes that indicate volume, but proclaim no relationship to their surroundings. The black background could be a wall or a void, but its lack of depth forces a reckoning with the objects placed in the foreground of this still life. Groover pays homage to the painted still life through her use of the crushed velvet surface underneath the objects and the radiant pear, but the vivid colors seem more reminiscent of an eerie, luminous Technicolor than either a still life painting or a realistic photograph. The bright yellow felt stands in stark contrast to the velvet, placing the viewer in a world both atavistic and anachronistic, and somehow also atemporal.

Instead of documenting the world around her, Groover turned inward to forge her own world through her photographs, using distinctly domestic objects to create floating landscapes nearly bereft of feminine connotation.


– Reya Sehgal, Curatorial Assistant


[1] Andy Grundberg, “Photography View; Taming Unruly Reality,” The New York Times, March 15, 1987,

[2] Randy Kennedy, “Jan Groover, Postmodern Photographer, Dies at 68,” The New York Times, January 11, 2012,

Honore DaumierHonoré Daumier, Voyage a travers les populations empressées, c. 1834

Gift of Joseph Shapiro

Given the recent Charlie Hebdo shootings and the conversations they have spurred about satire and creative freedom, it seems appropriate to turn to one of the early masters of French satire, Honoré Daumier, for our spotlight series.

Daumier’s career as a published caricaturist began after the revolution of 1830, when, under Louis-Philippe (fondly known as The Citizen King for his supposed simplicity), freedom of the press was established in France. This gave rise to Charles Philipon’s journal La Caricature, which published both social and overtly political cartoons, some of which found enemies in the monarchy.

Though freedom of expression had been formally established, contradictions were rife under the Citizen King’s rule. Daumier’s drawings were actually frequently censored. One particularly iconic print, Gargantua—a cartoon of Louis-Philippe as the eponymous, gold-eating character in Rabelais’ obscene novel—landed him six months in jail for treason, despite the fact that the image was not published.[1] Louis-Philippe, in fact, became a common character in Daumier’s oeuvre, often imaged as an exploitative misanthrope with a pear-shaped head. Due to Louis-Philippe’s imposition of the September Laws in 1835, which curtailed the freedom of the press to discuss the constitutional monarchy, Daumier was forced to tame his cartoons, turning to the realm of social satire. Daumier became known for his “expressive heads,” the sculptural faces of men that populated many of his prints.[2] The heads were often modeled in clay and then drawn from the model, an interesting method for an artist known as a cartoonist and, later, painter rather than a sculptor.

While his comically exaggerated faces and sculpted bodies read, to many, as charming, accessible social commentary—looking at the images now, the satire seems hardly horrifying enough to offend—Voyage a travers les populations empressées (seen above) presents no discernible human faces, only that of a malicious horse looking back at the corpses littering the landscape. This print, which was featured in La Caricature, lacks the refinement of Daumier’s crisp, detailed portraits, and feels particularly critical, and disturbing, because of this lack. Though no records exist of this print being censored, it may be one of Daumier’s most bleak and biting caricatures. The figure on the horse seems, at first glance, unidentifiable, but some contend that the figure is the infamously pear-shaped Louis-Philippe. With this reading, the inscription, “Voyage a travers les populations empressées,” suggests that the Citizen King is traveling through a once eager population, now slain. Though the scenery is not particularly indicative of place, the bodies scattered throughout the barren countryside may refer to the workers killed in the Canut revolts of 1831 and 1834—worker revolts in Lyon that were suppressed by Louis-Philippe’s anti-republican rule. In Daumier’s print, Louis-Philippe does not even look at the casualties of his rule, but continues, slumped, through this valley of death. Here, Daumier plays the “expert moralist,” condemning the brutality of the Citizen King’s rule.


— Reya Sehgal, Curatorial Assistant


[1] Elizabeth C. Childs, “Big Trouble: Daumier, Gargantua, and the Censorship of Political Caricature,” Art Journal 51, no. 1 (Spring 1992): 26-37.

[2] Bruce Laughton, “Daumier’s Expressive Heads,” RACAR: Canadian Art Review 14, no. ½ (1987): 135-142.

[3] Elisabeth Luther Cary, Honoré Daumier: a Collection of His Social and Political Caricatures, Together With an Introductory Essay On His Art (London, 1907): 25.

Snowy Landscape

Ando Hiroshige, Snowy Landscape, c. 1840
Tinted woodcut
Gift of Professor Charles W. Brown

In honor of winter storm Juno—which unleashed 19.1 inches of snow on the city of Providence—the Bell Gallery is pleased to share a beautiful, bucolic image of winter in Ando Hiroshige’s Snowy Landscape.

Ando Hiroshige (also known as Utagawa Hiroshige, 1797-1858) was a Japanese artist of the Edo period. This woodblock print, in the ukiyo-e style, is somewhat atypical of the period; instead of the scenes and portraits of kabuki actors and women of pleasure (and leisure) that ordinarily populated ukiyo-e prints, Snowy Landscape depicts a scene of romantic serenity. In fact, Hiroshige is largely known for his scenic imagery, with human figures occasionally inhabiting but not dominating the frame. Hiroshige is said to have been heavily influenced by Hokusai, an Edo artist whose bold natural scenes brought him enormous popularity in the West; both artists inspired the growing trend of Japonisme in the nineteenth century.

— Reya Sehgal, Curatorial Assistant

La Main Ouverte
e Corbusier
La Main Ouverte, 1955
Color lithograph


Le Corbusier (née Charles-Edouard Jeanneret) is most commonly known as an architectural thinker and urban planner responsible for authoring seminal treatises on design. Le Corbusier was one of the founding members of CIAM (Congrès International d’Architecture Moderne), an influential organization that codified the standards of modern architecture and urban planning, most notably in the Athens Charter. His most famous architectural works include the Villa Savoye, Unité d’Habitation, and the Chapelle Notre Dame du Haut in Ronchamp.

In addition to his life as an architect, urban planner, furniture designer, and writer, Le Corbusier was also a visual artist. His paintings and works on paper morphed in style throughout his life, many inspired, in turn, by Cubism, Surrealism, and Purism—the latter exhibiting his interest in geometric and volumetric understanding and experimentation. His later works tended to be more formally expressive, often abandoning visible relationships to objects and using bolder, more animated colors, as seen in his lithograph La Main Ouverte. Several of his later paintings and drawings served as studies for elements eventually realized in architectural projects. (His strongest works, said art critic Hilton Kramer, are those where “he was working in a pictorial realm that closely approximated the constructivist interests of his architectural designs.”[1]) La Main Ouverte is one of these pieces.

Le Corbusier developed a monumental proposal for La Main Ouverte (The Open Hand) after convening with Jawaharlal Nehru, independent India’s first Prime Minister. In 1950, Le Corbusier was commissioned to build a new city for the state of Punjab, which had lost its capitol (Lahore) to Pakistan during the 1947 Partition. The new city of Chandigarh was meant to create a new vision for India, and a high modernist architect with egalitarian views like Le Corbusier seemed like the right man for the job. Le Corbusier created the urban plan for Chandigarh, complete with distinct sectors that included markets and green space, effectively keeping neighborhoods from merging into overwhelming shopping districts or overpopulated public spaces. As part of Chandigarh’s capitol complex—with the massive Secretariat and court buildings—Le Corbusier proposed the Open Hand Monument, which included a public assembly space and a symbol of optimism for the new nation. In his own words:

The Open Hand is the only political act of my life,” said Le Corbusier—though many would disagree, asserting that his controversial urban plans and codified architectural systems were both utopically egalitarian and dystopically anti-urban.

The idea for La Main Ouverte may have been a part of Le Corbusier’s symbolic oeuvre since the 1930s, having originated during a “[flash] of unexpected insight” in Paris.[2] The iteration pictured above comes significantly later in Le Corbusier’s career and, given the abstracted images of sky and sun in the background as well as a platform underneath the hand symbol, is likely a sketch for Chandigarh’s Open Hand Monument.


Free Open Hand
mage by Design Observer

Though the Open Hand Monument was proposed in 1954, it remained unbuilt until 1972, and even then did not achieve the contemplative atmosphere Le Corbusier had envisioned. The built monument, complete with a public amphitheater was virtually unused by Chandigarh’s residents, largely due to high levels of policing which barred groups from entering the space. Recently, however, groups of Chandigarh’s citizens have been fighting to activate the space, notably Humlog, a health activism organization. In 2010, the government officially lifted the ban on gatherings at the site, giving the public access to this publicly-owned space from 10:30­­–3:30 daily.[3]

The iconic Open Hand serves as the official logo of both the Fondation Corbusier and the City of Chandigarh.


– Reya Sehgal, Curatorial Assistant


[1] Hilton Kramer, “Looking at Le Corbusier the Painter,” New York Times January 29, 1972, p. 25.

[2] Jan Birksted, Le Corbusier and the Occult (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2009), 57.

[3] Ashish Nangia, “The Town That Corbusier Built,” Design Observer, August 16, 2010,


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Daniel Hopfer, Death and the Devil Surprising a Worldly Woman, c.1520 Gift of Leo Wallerstein


This print by German artist Daniel Hopfer explores both vanity and death, which were common subjects in the sixteenth century. Personifications of death and the devil performing the Totentanz (the dance of death) creep up behind an unsuspecting woman and her attendant. The aristocratic woman stands before her dressing table looking into a hand mirror, and perhaps catches a glimpse of her fate in the reflection. The intricately hatched lines juxtapose the heavy folds of the woman’s dress and the scaly skin of the dragon-faced devil. A smaller demon stands upon the devil’s head menacingly brandishing a spear, while another hovers over the women’s heads. The figure of death is presented as a decrepit old man holding a skull and an hourglass, objects associated with time, to remind the viewer of the transience of life and material pleasures. The image’s moralizing message emphasizes that money and social status are ultimately meaningless at the time of death and encourages a more virtuous life instead. In the late sixteenth century, this type of images, known as memento mori (Latin for “remember you will die”) became very popular.

Hopfer (1470-1536) is generally considered to be the first to use etching in the history of printmaking, a technique he may have drawn from his job etching decoration onto armor. He worked in Augsburg, Germany, which is reflected in his signature consisting of his initials and a decorative pinecone resembling the imperial city’s coat of arms. A contemporary of Albrecht Dürer, Hopfer was known for his use of gothic and Italian style across a variety of themes, from biblical illustration, historical events to portraiture and everyday scenes.

– Victoria Kung ’14, Curatorial Intern

White Horse in Fog, 1979

Doug Prince, White Horse in Fog, 1979
Gelatin silver print
David Winton Bell Gallery | Gift of James Barron


Inspired by the equine imagery in Paul Ramirez Jonas’s “The Commons”, currently on view in the Bell Gallery’s Alumni Exhibition, we delved into the collections for more equestrian inspired pieces. We were thrilled to find this multi-negative photograph, “White Horse in Fog”, taken by Doug Prince in the fall of 1979 while he was teaching at the Rhode Island School of Design.

The setting of the photograph is unclear, nearly entirely obscured by darkness. The brightly illuminated and completely white horse appears surreal in its truncated posture and unknown environment. The powerful contrast in lighting values falsely implies that the photograph was taken in the dark, perhaps in the dead of night. Prince told us the story of how the photograph was actually taken:

I drove Lee Witkin up to Addison House, in Danbury, New Hampshire, where he was editing his book, 10th Anniversary Salute. While Lee was inside working with the editor, I took my camera and walked around the farm where I found a white horse in a field.  I made a series of photos using my on-camera flash bulbs, which isolated the horse from the landscape. This also denied the delicate fall colors of the foggy landscape in the background…

Coincidentally enough, there is a photograph of Prince taking the photo.

While I was photographing, Lee came out and took a picture of me taking a photograph of the horse. When the flash of his camera went off, the horse turned his head to see where that light was coming from and I was able to capture the contrapposto posture that you see in this photograph. Later that year, going over contact sheets, I found an image of a cloud that I photographed over Moonstone Beach, RI.

white horse witkin, 1979

Doug Prince taking “White Horse in Fog, 1979” by Lee Witkin

Prince practiced this multi-negative method for about four decades. He told us that the process allowed for “new possible realities” and that this image making lent itself to an easy transition into working digitally.

I’ve come to appreciate my monitor as a viewfinder.  The digital work environment is very different from the world of film and darkroom, but the creative process and vision has been rather consistent.

Prince is currently a professor at the New Hampshire Institute of Art.

View “White Horse in Fog” in the Bell Gallery’s digital collections database here.

– Liz Crawford, Curatorial Assistant

Frank Stella
Marriage of Reason and Squalor, 1967
Gift of Lawrence Rubin

Frank Stella’s print Marriage of Reason and Squalor is part of Black Series I, a portfolio of 9 lithographs published by Gemini G.E.L. and based on earlier paintings with the same titles.  The companion painting for this work, The Marriage of Reason and Squalor, II (1959) is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, NY.

Stella’s early work denies illusionistic space, emphasizing flatness and the materiality of the canvas or paper instead. The lines in these prints are done free hand in metallic gray-black ink; compared to his paintings, the lines are slightly clearer, making the geometric designs extremely dynamic. The image is presented in the lower left corner of the paper, associating the lines of the print with the paper itself and so emphasizing the materiality of the paper as object. The juxtaposition of the stark geometric lines with its off center location further creates a kind of optical illusion with its unsettling asymmetry and imbalance.

These widely recognized prints exemplify Stella’s early style. Inspired by Jasper Johns, the parallel lines and patterns present the entire painting to the viewer at once. Stella’s famous line, “What you see is what you see,” encapsulates his concept of painting as both image and object. Beginning in 1960 with his Aluminum Paintings and Copper Paintings, Stella started experimenting with shaped canvases and reflective surfaces, leading up to the vibrant sculptures and prints he creates today.

-Victoria Kung ’14, Curatorial Intern

Winter- Hollar

Wenceslaus Hollar, Winter, 1643
Etching, 10 1/4 x 7 1/8
David Winton Bell Gallery, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Simmen

Wenceslaus Hollar, Winter, 1643

Winter is one of the most recognized works of Bohemian engraver Wencesclaus Hollar (1607­–1677). It is the final image in a series of etchings portraying each of the four seasons as embodied by a female figure. In Winter, the woman is almost entirely covered by layers of furs and warm fabrics, staving off seasonal frigid temperatures. She protects her furs by lifting them off the ground, which also brazenly exposes her ankle, and points her toe, emphasizing the text lining the bottom of the plate: “The cold, not cruelty makes her weare/In Winter, furrs and Wild beasts haire/For a smoother skinn at night/Embraceth her with more delight”

Together—the direct, masked gaze of the female figure, the raised furs exposing dainty, laced ankles, the burning chimneys, and the provocative text—allude to sexual intrigue.

This work was commissioned by Hollar’s patron, the Earl of Arundel, as a symbol of his aristocratic status. Hollar produced thousand of plates on a wide variety of subjects including natural history, mythology, architecture, portraiture, and cartography. He became interested in English society after escaping religious persecution in Catholic Bohemia (modern day Czech Republic), and after traveling extensively in Europe, he settled in London. His skill is widely revered especially because of his poor eyesight.[1]

You can get a sense of his remarkable talent by viewing this image in zoomable format here on our online collections database.

-Liz Crawford, Curatorial Assistant

[1] Dr. Anne Thackray, “‘Thy Shadows Will Outlast the Stone’: Wenceslaus Hollar and the Art of the Book.” (Toronto, Ontario: 2006).



Ian Alden Russell, Curator, David Winton Bell Gallery

Alexander Lembersky, “We Propose” (1988), silkscreen. (B95 97.48)

Late last week, I was preparing for a class visit by Stefan Gunn’s printing making and graphic arts students in the Brown Visual Art Department. Stefan was interested in inspiring his students with strong examples of formal imagery and typographic experimentation in the medium of print, and after a brief consultation of the Bell Gallery’s collections, we decided that the Bell Gallery’s lesser known collection of recent Soviet posters would be a unique body of works to show.

In this collection there is a total of approximately 280 posters from the Soviet Union produced between the late 1970s and late 1980s, with many strong examples of large-scale silkscreen prints. The subjects of the posters range from political issues to arts and cultural marketing to campaigns for social issues, and taken together constituted a remarkable show at the Bell Gallery in 1988 entitled “The Contemporary Soviet Poster.”

The example above is a silkscreen print by Alexander Lembersky – entitled “We Propose.” In the image, we see a bold, monochrome bomb being cut in two by a two-man saw created by the flags of the United States of America and the Soviet Union. Lembersky’s print is one of a discreet group within this poster collection that features anti-nuclear propaganda. A bold statement in favor of nuclear disarmament, Lembersky’s poster utilizes the structures and styles of formalist and constructivist propaganda inservice of a distinctly anti-Cold War message – an aspiration for a trans-national partnership between the United States and the Soviet Union in the deescalation of the nuclear arms race.

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