May 2023
Ellen Berkenblit
Maneskiners (detail), 2023, oil on linen, 76 x 51 inches. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
“I am a very physical painter. I count what my body does physically as an essential tool—as crucial as paint.”
—Ellen Berkenblit
Dan Golden speaks with the artist about her process, the enigmatic power of words, and a new exhibition of large-scale works at Anton Kern Gallery in New York.
Dan Golden: Congratulations on your new exhibition, Norton, at Anton Kern. The show looks fantastic. Would you please provide a brief introduction to the work?
Ellen Berkenblit: Hi Dan—thank you! Norton is a group of paintings and works on paper made during the eight months leading up to the show. I painted the large paintings in my now former studio in Brooklyn and all the work on paper in my new home north of the city.
Ellen Berkenblit, Norton (installation view), Anton Kern Gallery, New York, April 21—May 26, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
DG: The show balances large-scale paintings and gouache works—how do you view the interplay between the two mediums?
EB: There is a shift in my psyche that happens depending on the medium. I paint with oils on linen and with gouache on paper. The paintings on linen are usually larger than the work on paper; there are different rates in drying time between oil and gouache—these factors alone produce different sensory inputs that affect infinite numbers of choices as I’m working. I find that mysterious and exciting. The works are all, no matter the medium, coming from the same place, an “inner chamber” with equal emphasis. Hanging them together in one place feels natural to me. I hope their interplay will be as natural and disarming for the viewer as it is for me.
Ellen Berkenblit, Norton (installation view), Anton Kern Gallery, New York, April 21—May 26, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
DG: Can you discuss the importance of scale and physicality to your process and work?
EB: I am a very physical painter. I count what my body does physically as an essential tool—as crucial as paint. My arms and wrists work a certain way based on flesh and blood capabilities as well as instructions from my psyche and gut. When I’m painting a very large painting, there is a lot of activity—walking toward the canvas, climbing up and down a ladder, and walking away. It’s aerobic. I get revved up and also tired.
When I work on paper, I’m standing and hovering—the scale asks for more wrist than arm. I view the canvas or paper from many angles and distances when working. The figures disappear when I’m very close. Sometimes, the odd scale that can result from this process is not intentional but unavoidable. It can make the figures unrecognizable for a time—as if they are going in and out of focus.
Brushstroke, color, and paint as a material can call out and have equal weight with recognizable figures. I love when people look at my work from all sorts of distances— getting up very close, moving away—so that they may experience the painting in many different ways and as many different things. The figure can disappear for a while; there doesn’t have to be any narrative or explanation - just pure and mysterious paint language.
Ellen Berkenblit, Norton (installation view), Anton Kern Gallery, New York, April 21—May 26, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
Ellen Berkenblit, Norton (installation view), Anton Kern Gallery, New York, April 21—May 26, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
DG: I love your titles: Walking on Finch Road, The Golden Locket Comedy, Planet Archie, Alfred for President, etc. How do you come up with them?
EB: The words I use and the associations they evoke add dimension to the work. They can brighten a section of green, soften a line, or break the tension of something veering toward the austere. Words and letters conjure these thoughts in me, and the titles are, at least to me, small poems that are a sound that becomes an addition to the visual. And sometimes, the titles evoke a few things at once for me. Norton—a reference to a motorcycle my brother had in the 70s, is a distillation of a few things. It comes from a place in my heart that contains a love for my brother, a sense of time long ago, and Norton from the honeymooners. No one would know that (unless they read this), so it becomes a form of Rosebud too.
Alfred for President, 2022, oil on linen, 76 x 89 inches. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
DG: You’ve developed such a distinct, impactful visual language. I’m curious to learn if you have any specific artistic references or whether everything develops organically/unconsciously.
EB: All sights, smells, tastes, etc., are loaded with signals that touch one’s psyche. I’ve never thought about nodding to something—I love drawing in all its forms.
DG: I’m interested to learn what a typical day is like for you in the studio.
EB: Every day I wake up, have coffee, spend an hour doing nothing specific or exciting, and then go to the studio for the rest of the day. I have some basic foods—snacks, and coffee in the studio, so I don’t leave until I’m ready to clean up for the day, usually about 7 pm, give or take. I used to be a night owl, but I’m now more of a late-morning bird.
Beauregard, 2022, oil on canvas, 90 x 131 inches. Image courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery.
DG: What is inspiring you right now?
EB: Books, movies, music, and art are always entirely inspiring, and equally inspiring are day-to-day things—the shape of my two cats and the pleasures and anxieties of life on earth.
DG: What are you working on now/what’s coming up next?
EB: I’m always painting—always working on several pieces at once. I’ll show new work in the Vielmetter gallery booth with Elizabeth Neel and LaVaughan Jenkins during the Armory show this September. On May 18th, Exhibition A will launch a new print called And Also Walking Along Finch Road, a hand-finished edition of 25 done with gouache and archival pigment on Hahnemuhle hemp paper, based on a drawing called Walking Along Finch Road from my show at Kern.
Ellen Berkenblit portrait by Izzy Leung.
Ellen Berkenblit
Norton
Anton Kern Gallery
New York
April 21—May 26, 2023