KEITH HARING (1958-1990)

Untitled brings us Keith Haring at the absolute pinnacle of his creative prowess. Painted in 1982, the artist’s annus mirabilis, this is a monumental self-portrait teeming with the artistic attributes that bought Haring both critical and commercial revere. Humorous in nature and executed with exquisite draftsmanship, we see the artist’s ability to synthesize historical inspiration while seemingly predicting the future of cultural discourse. Held in a single private collection since it was acquired from the artist’s estate, this is an exceedingly rare opportunity to acquire a work so central to the artist’s oeuvre. Sumi ink works on paper are held in the permanent collections of The Met, the Museum of Modern Art, Buffalo AKG, and the Brooklyn Museum, among many others.

Coming to renown in the early 1980s by swiftly executing satirical drawings on blank poster sites in New York City’s subway system, Haring’s constant battle to evade law enforcement is the subject matter for the present work. In an almost uniquely autobiographical narrative, we see the artist himself ecstatically running away from a recently completed subway drawing, most likely from an ‘off-scene’ cop. Within the inset painting, we see the artist’s full visual lexicon. The central ‘X’ man is a common indicator of self-portraiture. Serpentine squiggly lines hark to Haring’s studies of Aboriginal and native art as well as Egyptian hieroglyphics. Dogs had first appeared in Haring’s subway drawings; he brilliantly subverted their historical associations with obedience into an emblem of rebellion with their fierce, annotated barks. The inclusion of two in the present work is perhaps an additional slight to the incoming police. Finally, crowing the scene, is exactly what this unwelcome enforcement is trying to abolish - flying and dancing figures showcase the euphoria of New York’s gay scene of the late 70s and early 80s.
Away from the painting-within-a-painting, we are then enthralled to see the artist himself triumphantly fleeing. With his hands over his eyes—a recurring theme in Haring’s depictions of himself—he escapes the scene excitedly. Animated lines around his face and limbs allude to his joyful, swift exit. Intentional drip marks emphasize the still-drying masterpiece in which he successfully left his mark on the city for all to see. In fact, our escaping protagonist is seemingly leaping out of the entire picture plane. Looking back to his past with reverie, this poignant composition is Haring’s remembrance of a liberated youth. It causes us to question how we reflect upon our own origins and our creative pursuits.

Having recently debuted at Tony Shafrazi Gallery with resounding admiration, Haring’s star was quickly rising. Following his creative beginnings executing artworks swiftly in public, drawing was always Haring’s primary intention. Works such as Untitled were not created in precedent to a canvas. Rather, large-scale works on paper, as with the subway drawings, were executed with considerable performative power and in conceptual recognition of his humble beginnings. They presented a considerable challenge, both physically and conceptually. One can follow the exceptional command of line for which Haring became so admired; like a late Picasso drawing, his brush seems to hardly lift off the page, even on this monumental sheet.

Paper was also important to Haring as it maintained sincerity with his earlier practice. In the wake of his success, he came under pressure from gallerists to conform to more commercially viable mediums. Sticking with paper allowed him to remain resolute with street art - much the same reason he often opted for vinyl tarp and metal panels rather than linen canvases.
In addition to his phenomenal technical prowess, Haring was a also master of subject and humor. This is what allowed his works to so eloquently synthesize the past, while remaining relevant far into the future. Untitled is first and foremost a monument to Contemporary street art, however, through its intentional flatness of plane and satirical tone, we see much conceptual common ground with Pop. Haring’s abilities were in fact greatly appreciated by his forebears, including the master, Roy Lichtenstein. As stated at the opening of Haring’s Galleria Salvatore Ala show in Milan, 1984 “Keith composes in an amazing way. I mean, it’s as if he dashes the painting off—which he does in a way—but it takes enormous skill to make works that become whole paintings. They’re not just arbitrary writings. He really has a terrific eye! And he doesn’t go back and correct—this is in itself amazing—and his compositions are of a very high level” (R. Lichtenstein quoted in J. Gruen, Keith Haring. The Authorized Biography, New York, 1991, p. 124).

Moving to the future, the humor present in such a work, particularly within its graphic content, is what cemented Haring’s ongoing cultural relevance. Keith’s picture-word system has acted as predecessor to today’s pictographic and emoji-driven lexicon. Smiley faces, hands over eyes, dogs, hearts, globes and other ideograms ring surprisingly familiar to the miniature graphics that we send on our smartphones today. After all, the desire for a universal system of communication is something that our digital age, Keith Haring’s ideograms, and ancient hieroglyphics all have in common. By making reference to historical communication and influencing the next generation’s, Haring has taken us full circle.

Haring wrote in his journal, “My contribution to the world is my ability to draw. I will draw as much as I can for as many people as I can for as long as I can. Drawing is still basically the same as it has been since prehistoric times. It brings together man and the world. It lives through magic” (K. Haring, Keith Haring Journals, New York, 2010, p. 102). Untitled delivers this magic, with its emotional plenitude and technical skill. Like Basquiat, Haring’s work distills the punk, DIY ethos that surrounded him in New York. Yet, perhaps more than his friend, Haring was dedicated to accessibility and to the service to his community, all the while remaining dedicated to his art and his public following, with drawing being his way of communicating across lines of difference. In the present work we are blessed not only with Haring’s magnificent draftsmanship, but also his own self-reflections on that process of communication—a portrait within a portrait and a memory within a painting.