Scenes from the Soul: Francesco Clemente, the Upper East Side Art World / by Sam Abelow

 

Francesco Clemente watercolor, installed at Lévy Gorvy Dayan Gallery. Photographed by myself.

 

Painting defies death and affirms life.

And so does hitting the scene. It feels great.

In the studio, I look like a bum. My clothes are ragged, my shoes are 5 years old, and my face is worn. When I hit the scene, I get to wear my freshest apparel, stuff that I covet.

Francesco Clemente titled his NYC fall banger solo exhibition at Lévy Gorvy Dayan, “Summer Love in the Fall”. A bouquet of pink flowers posturing as a phallic royale graced the preview on the ‘Gram.

It was the painting “Honey” that had caught my attention.

I had painted the same theme during my summer painting sessions. I never wrote of those sessions. They were improvised, accomplished at a blistering pace, nearly effortless (except for the bodily stiffness that ensues afterwards, which is only contravened against with “yoga”-like exercises.) 

I first discovered the theme in mystical imaginations I had in 2019, and never let go of it. My songs “Seeing Strange Things,” “Flight to Paradise,” and others, unreleased, taken down etc. reflected on it. 

The original source for this material was a line in David Gordon White’s “The Alchemical Body: Siddha Traditions in Medieval India”, which mentions the “Soma” as mythological told to come from a “Moon Tree.” But, my mystical experiences led me towards the image of honey. And with a melodic rap viral dance hitting two million views on the ‘Gram, I decided to paint my newest Soma Mystic: he was saucy.

I’ll come back to this later in this essay. But I want to finish talking about the October social jam session in the gallery first.

Clemente At the Uptown Mansion

Clemente painted a lot of mystical self portraits, and also trippy ambiguously-gendered, bald-headed, alien-like beings in various tantric visions. They’re delicately painted, with confidence and subtle love. His technique is flawless and the color palette is mature, timeless, and often monochromatic.

Upstairs, the room was buzzing. Wes Anderson walked through the crowd like a tree amongst a marsh. The crowded room overshadowed an array of monochromatic frescos. My colleague Kendra was just arriving a bit late because of shoddy NYC subways. I step aside on the staircase to allow an aging Mary Boone space as she ascends.

In the foyer of the building I ran into Julie Hillman (a collaborator on my father’s architectural work). We had a lively discussion, which included a mention about Joel Mesler – completely buttering him up (I think the kids now say “glazing”?), describing him be one of the nicest people — and that's a truth too!"

Back upstairs, Kendra and I view the standout watercolor by Clemente. I saw Matt Dillon – who has recently segued into painting – and introduced myself to him. I mentioned that we have a mutual friend in Sam Bornstein and we discuss his use of color and texture.

Dillon dashed off, and I approached legendary Bill Murray. He was quiet, relaxed.

I asked, “Is this painting more like LSD or psilocybin?”

Bill Murray stepped back, took a solid look and said, “For sure LSD.”

My Studio

My paintings have not been inspired by psychedelic substances, but rather mystical meditations on themes that I uncover in the midst of lengthy studies – both in academic and religious texts, found in the chassidic tradition (such as the Tanya; which cites the Zohar frequently).

After my Soma Mystic (Saucy) painting was accomplished (July 18), I proceeded to the next large scale canvas and completed my Your Eyes Water (Ecstasy) painting (July 22).

I felt that the visions, studies, contemplations, drawings from the past years were ripe for expression; the sand, ocean, trees, breath, feet in the earth, and sun on my chest, all energized the stirring of my soul and the dance of my brush.

I wrote in my journal: 

I want to cry in the material world. Because it’s not soft enough for my body. I crave for the world to be like the paradise prophesied in the land of milk & honey. 

Conversing with Clemente

Kendra was laughing after I spoke to Bill Murray.

I said, “I do it just for the rip. Like why not?”

She explained to me what she sees in Clemente, “I see a lot of ..

Kendra had to go to a psychoanalyst's event. Kendra had to leave early for a gathering of psychoanalysts.

I asked for her take on the Clemente exhibit: “I’m thinking, as I’ve written about: meditation, psychedelics, and psychosis.” And that they all occupy a very similar space in the mind. That in these states of consciousness, the brain functions in a way that wouldn’t be conducive to everyday life, it forgets and leaves behind the otherwise necessary preoccupation with survival. But, in these unique states, we return to primary process and parts of the brain that are typically not speaking to one another come

“Right,” I said, “And that state of mind – which isn’t adaptive – is typical for the artist.”

“Only a few of them actually survive way; you have to be Clemente,” remarked Kendra.

In the main gallery, I approach Francesco Clemente, who is conducting the room: speaking Italian with two prospective buyers, and then calling over the gallerist for attentive follow-ups; schmoozing with a bleach blonde punk rocker in this early 70s (maybe someone in the scene since Celmente’s origins in the NYC scene in the 1980s?); I wait for my turn.

“May I ask you,” I said facing the monk-like Italian artist, “about the painting titled ‘Honey’?”

“The one downstairs?”

“Yes. I surmise that you engage in mystical activity to inspire a painting like that. I also do mystical practices.” 

Francesco Clemente smiled at me with glowing eyes.

I witnessed a subtle joy, that the artist – who has journeyed into mystic for many years – was pleased to meet someone of mutual understanding.

I continued, “I am wondering if the honey, for you, is at all connected to the fabled Soma of the East, also speculated to be a part of the Elyusian mysteries.”

“I would have to say that it is,” said Clemente. “Are you a painter?”

“I am. And I paint from my mystical experiences. However, I never saw in the literature that Soma was connected to Honey – only to the Moon Tree, for example.”

“As an artist, my profession is to translate my visions into artworks. I don’t feel beholden to historical ideas; the myths and ancient ideas are not static. Rather, they are active now, in me.”

“Yes!” I said, “they animate and interrelate.”

Clemente had a clear, collected and gentle aura.

“May I say,” I continued, “That, in my own work I also meditated on Soma, or ecstasy and experienced it as a honey. In my vision, I saw the honey emerging from abstracted shapes…”

Clemente said, “If two of us see the same thing, then we’re not crazy.”

Then, he seemed to muse, looking off at the ceiling briefly, before catching someone’s eye, where he swiftly moved over towards.