Baltimore Collects: George Ciscle

by Peter Bruun

Baltimore Collects: George Ciscle presented selections from his art collection, curated by Peter Bruun at Villa Julie College Gallery (Stevenson University) October, 1997.

In addition to having been the founding director of The Contemporary, George has been an artist, a public school teacher, and a private art dealer (he ran the George Ciscle Gallery from 1985 to 1989). He conceived of The Contemporary shortly after closing his own gallery and since its inception, the museum has attracted international renown with such exhibitions as Mining the Museum and Going for Baroque. George left The Contemporary last year (1996). Subsequently, he has been involved with a number of projects, including curating a retrospective exhibition on Elizabeth Talford Scott for the Maryland Institute College of Art. Steve Ziger, architect of the gallery, was the exhibition’s installation designer.

When I first approached George Ciscle about exhibiting his art collection, I never expected to be in the position of curator. I imagined he and I would discuss the collection, reach agreement about its character, and decide together what to exhibit. Right away, however, he said he wanted me to curate the show. I agreed to do so, but still did not consider the significance of my personal perspective. Only after the selection process, upon reflecting on the artwork I chose to display, did the importance of my point of view become clear.

In the exhibition, my biases affect how the collection is perceived. For example, as a painter myself, I tend to downplay George's interest in collecting sculpture; a viewer might think George less attracted to three-dimensional work than is the case. Furthermore, George and I do not see individual pieces the same way. He views the Samuel Wallace vase as best left standing on its own; I see the piece relating to the other ceramics on display for its anthropomorphic qualities.

My selections are not the only thing which affect how the collection is perceived; as installation designer, Steve Ziger has taken my choices and bent them to match his own subjective conception, I did not foresee his placing Michel Nedjar's untitled painting depicting a goat next to John Englehart's "Portrait of the Devil - a gesture with clear symbolic implications.

Art works are transformed when relocated to the gallery. In his home, George displays Toshiko Takaezu's piece amongst an eclectic group of ceramics in a glass cabinet. Taken as a whole, the pieces resonate as stones might in a rock garden-cach object playing a role in the totality of expression. Remove Takaezu's piece from the cabinet, bring it to the gallery, and it takes on a different life.

Pieces from the collection could be presented in any number of ways. Both lone Hancy's and Garry Mitchell's art is influenced by Italian Renaissance paintings; display their work alongside a fifteenth century Florentine painting and the connection is revealed. In this exhibition, Ed Nadeau's "T30 Middle Division" stands in relationship to other works as a fantastical landscape devoid of religious overtones; reference to Christian symbolism is easily missed without placing the painting amongst others by Nadeau ("T30 Middle Division," like so many of his paintings, refers to the Resurrection).

Perhaps no piece better illustrates the influence context has on meaning than the Duane Michals photograph on display. George brought the piece when it was exhibited in Paris as part of "The Nature of Desire" series: "At the time, two of my artists (in the George Ciscle Gallery) and one friend had AIDS. The whole irony of this nature of desire causing this nature of death was always on my mind. When I saw the series, that was all I kept thinking of these young men who were all living with a time clock. This one piece in particular to me...with the bird, this owl, it was so eerie to me–its foretelling of what was ahead at the time."

Shortly after George purchased the piece, Duane Michals called the Paris gallery and asked that the photograph be removed; he no longer wanted it included in the series. Subsequently, Michals altered the text and relocated the photograph in his next series, "Now Becoming Then." The photograph is there presented as part of a wistful fantasy rather than as an erotically charged scene shadowed by death- meaning is shifted. Remove the image from both series, as the photograph is when seen in this exhibition, and meaning becomes all the more fugitive.

In allowing me to curate the exhibition and Steve Ziger to be the installation designer, George has invited a reinterpretation of his collection. His decision reflects his desire to activate latent possibilities within the collection; to contextualize the art and draw out meanings otherwise unseen. In the case of this exhibition, the spin is primarily mine.

Early gestures often imply later developments: George's purchase of Maurice Levis’ "Chatteau de Josschle" (which he bought while still in high school) sheds light on what was to become his collecting sensibility. The etching has little lasting artistic merit, but the fairy tale mood in it can be seen writ large throughout much of the collection.

George's collecting eye arguably reached maturity with the purchase of Rouault's "Pierrot" in 1978. Many later additions to the collection can be seen to have affinities with it: Duane Michals and Norris Embry also depict individuals who appear in a state of reverie; Ruth Pettus, John Englehart, lone Haney, and Sally Kearsley share an interest in solitary figures; Keith Martin's work, John Gill's "Ewer No. 30," and Charles Springman's "Widow's Lipsi" break up space in similar ways. Michel Nedjar in particular strikes me as closely related to Rouault- both artists outline figures with a heavy black line; both use color in a manner reminiscent of stained-glass windows, and both isolate figures in unexplained spaces.

An underlying theme in the collection is the ordinary becoming the extraordinary. Keith Martin's "Chariot," Charles Springman's "Widow's Lipsi," and Ed Nadeau's "130 Middle Division" are all imbued with surreality despite their being based on mundane subjects. Likewise, abstract works such as Keith Martin's collages and Garry Mitchell's untitled oil on paper resonate with other worldly qualities.

Abstraction, though most evident in Garry Mitchell's painting, can be found throughout the collection. Colorful shapes in "Pierrot," "Portrait of the Devil," "Chariot," and many other pieces take on a life separate from the image represented. The striking pale brush stroke in Ruth Pettus' painting suggests an arcane presence, as does the black form in Springman's photograph. Gerald Hawkes (who made "GC" as a gift) took the piece beyond mere representation. "He pushed it," says George. "He made the initials and then chose to make it into a puzzle. You have to do some looking to discover what the shapes refer to."

Whereas the above are examples of representation done with abstraction, the reverse is seen with ceramics in the collection; sculpturally abstract form comes alive with figurative implications. According to George, when he first exhibited Chris Staley's soda-fired porcelain in his gallery, "It stood at the entrance like a sentry." Likewise, John Gill's "Ewer No. 30" seems paradoxically both clownish and somber in a way reminiscent of the Rouault.

Ceramicists are usually shunted off to a craft category of their own, separate from "high" art - not so in George's collection. Indeed, what is interesting about the artists in the collection is that one would not have expected all of them to sit so well together. Duane Michals is a highly sophisticated photographer who addresses a range of complex narratives in his work, John Englehart, a self-taught artist, is absolutely naive in his approach; Rouault is from another era altogether. Nevertheless, in bringing this mix of artists into his home, George finds a way to make the art shine.

As a collector, George recognizes the role he plays in shaping how art is to be seen. "I sometimes see myself as a mediator, doing interventions into things, stirring things up, bringing them to the surface." Artists have acknowledged his responsible regard for art in a variety of ways. By comically portraying George as an installation designing duck, Doug Baldwin directly pays him homage, as does Gerald Hawkes in making "GC." In some cases, as with Sally Kearsley's two untitled oil stick drawings and Keith Martin's "Landscape with Rocks," gifts are fairly major pieces. In other instances, such as with the various works marking George's time at The Contemporary, appreciations are little more than mementos.

Nevertheless, even these tokens achieve higher sta tus when included as part of the overall art collection and fit thematically. The "Catfish Dreamin’" maquette and "Dreamstone" (from Alison Saar's Catfish Dreamin' exhibition) bring to mind the enchanted atmosphere prevalent in the collection. Paul Etienne Lincoln's "Aqua Ignisfatuus" (given to George by the artist following his exhibition at the Conservatory- the last show George curated as director of The Contemporary) is born of a belief in the magical quality of everyday elements. And what could be more fanciful than Baldwin's "St. Stan's Installation"?

In considering the Baldwin piece, it is interesting to note George once studied with artist Isamu Noguchi. Perhaps best known for his sculptural installations, Noguchi claimed, "It is the sculptor who orders and animates space, gives it meaning."

Noguchi's observation begs the question, "Is George Ciscle-or anyone else who orders and animates space —an artist?" I don't think the question is easily answered. George does not equate what he does with being an artist, but he acknowledges parallels. "I think some of the channeling of my creative energy is in collecting. It's not just in discovering an artist who is unknown; it's making a selection knowing it will be in the company of other art. It draws out a certain content." Likewise, as curator for this exhibition, I am aware of making choices with an eye toward expressing a particular meaning, but is that being an artist? Is Steve Ziger being an artist when he places Ruth Pettus’ painting next to Duane Michals' photograph in a suggestive way?

Meaning does not reside exclusively in an art object; for better or worse, people who handle art after it leaves the artist's studio have a say. George, in juxtaposing Keith Martin's 1968 "TRAKS with his untitled collage from 1980, implies a purposeful relationship between the pieces when it is doubtful one was originally intended. Arguably, each piece relates more closely to the artist's 1950 painting "Landscape with Rocks"; both collages make use of the painting's high horizon line. Nevertheless, the connection between the two collages is compelling enough to be preserved in this exhibition - who knows what the artist would have to say about this pairing?

But does it really matter what he would say? Is the obvious affinity between the two collages so strong as to mitigate any denial of a connection by the artist? Are affinities alone worth our attention, or must there be some evidence of original intent on the part of the artist? How could one ever be sure of what that intent is? Artists, after all, are not always the best judges of their own work. Just how do we determine what is meaningful and what is not?

The uncomfortable truth is we can never really know. Meaning, neither self-evident nor concrete, is malleable. George realizes this and embraces an ongoing interpretive process (witness his insistence on my curatorship of this exhibition instead of his own which I would have preferred). He comments: "I get upset with people who impart their perception in a way that does not leave room for any other way of seeing a work of art. It's best to explore your insights but at the same time still question them, still leave the door open for future discovery. That's the key."

As a collector, George walks this difficult line between knowing and questioning. As curator, I have tried to do the same.

Peter Bruun

Peter Bruun is an artist, educator, curator, and community activist in the arts. Bruun received a BA in Art History from Williams College in 1985 and went on to receive an MFA in 1989 from (MICA). He remained in Maryland until 2019, where he pursued curatorial and community activism with initiatives such as the New Day Campaign and Art on Purpose, and continued his studio practice with such projects as Autumn Leaves and Beyond Beautiful: One Thousand Love Letters.  In 2019, he moved to Maine, where he continues to work as an artist.

New Gallery at Villa Julie

The Baltimore Sun, John Dorsey, October 21, 1997