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The Ford Madox Ford Society

Biala: Provincetown Summers

28/8/2018

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​Provincetown Art Association and Museum presents Biala: Provincetown Summers: selected paintings and drawings. This historic exhibition is the first to focus entirely on the paintings and drawings by Janice Biala (1903-2000), which were created or inspired by her summers in Provincetown and on Cape Cod. The exhibition opened with a reception on Friday, August 10 at 8pm and runs through September 30 at Provincetown Art Association and Museum (460 Commercial Street, Provincetown, 508.487.1750 ext.17 / www.paam.org)
 
Organized and curated by Jason Andrew, the exhibition features twenty-seven paintings and twenty-three works on paper ranging in date from 1924 to 1985. Highlights include the earliest painting by the artist titled The Violin (c.1923-23) painted as an homage to her mentor and friend, Edwin Dickinson; Portrait of a Writer (Ford Madox Ford) (1938), who she met in 1930 and remained at his side until his death in 1939; The Beach (1958), a masterwork from the artist's most gestural period; a group of whimsical drawings of her grandnephew's first steps in Provincetown Bay; and Pilgrim Lake (1985), a pensive and contemplative painting that sublimely captures a layering of water, dunes, and the sky above. Works are on loan from the Estate of Janice Biala (courtesy Tibor de Nagy Gallery, New York), as well as several major loans from private collections, The Art Collection of the Town of Provincetown, and the Provincetown Art Association and Museum.

Mr. Andrew gave a gallery talk on Tuesday, August 21 at 6pm as part of the Fredi Schiff Levin Lectures.

An online catalogue with essay by curator Jason Andrew is available here or by visiting www.janicebiala.org
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Biala: sketching in the dunes at Newcomb Hollow, Wellfleet, c. 1940. Courtesy Tworkov Family Archives, New York
​“I envy you going to Provincetown for the summer. If only I had two lives—I’d spend one by the sea and the other traveling the world.”

These were the words of an artist who, at the time of this declaration, had already lived two lives: one, painting in France during the 1930s with her companion the English novelist Ford Madox Ford, and the second, as one of only a few women to gain critical acclaim during the male dominated era of New York School of Abstract Expressionism.
 
Biala (1903-2000) was a feisty and articulate painter whose career spanned eight decades and two art capitals: New York City and Paris. A Polish èmigrèe, born Schenehaia Tworkovska in 1903, she arrived in New York from her native Biala in 1913 with her older brother Jacob (who would later become the noted Abstract Expressionist Jack Tworkov). Opinionated and tough, the young brunette with a soft Eastern European face was a free thinker of the highest order. She had a passion for life that fueled a rather aggressive social independence. She was a true bohemian.
 
Provincetown loomed large in the life of both Biala and Tworkov having first hitchhiked their way to study with Charles Hawthorne in the summer of 1923. However, their intellectual attraction toward modernism had them rebelling against Hawthorne’s ridged traditional plein air approach. While Jack sought out the artist Karl Knaths, Biala sought out another highly respected and revered painter, Edwin Dickinson. It was through Dickinson that she received her earliest and most informed art training. Because of Dickinson, Biala said, she “found her true way.”
 
Although that first year spent in Provincetown would be the only time Biala would reside on the Cape with any duration, it would prove to be most critical in defining her path and sensibility. It was soon thereafter at the suggestion of William Zorach that she changed her name. “I decided to change my name,” she wrote, “My name is now Biala.”
 
The Cape was the place Biala returned to after a decade in France during the 1930s at the side of the English novelist Ford Madox Ford. Ford told Ezra Pound that Biala was “rather modern,” and introduced her to all the artists working at the cutting edge of modernism including Brancusi, Matisse, Picasso and Gertrude Stein. Searching for a place to heal following Ford’s death and her heroic escape from the growing threat of Hitler’s regime, Biala spent the summer of 1940 with the Dickinsons in Truro. It was there that she plotted to re-establish herself in America while vowing to return to France.
 
Biala believed that “all art is sensual before it is anything else. The art of painting is for the eye first and last..." It was this statement that set her apart during the rise of Abstract Expressionism. Although she counted among her closest friends Willem de Kooning, she never fully embraced pure abstraction, as the attention to subject was paramount in her work.
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Biala (1903-2000), The Beach (1958), Oil on canvas, 49 x 32 1/2 in. (124.5 x 82.6 cm) Collection of Art Enterprises, Ltd., Chicago, courtesy McCormick Gallery, Chicago, IL
She exhibited extensively in the leading galleries of New York and Paris, and following the end of World War II, she boarded one of the first passenger boats to France in 1947. Despite the bond she had with Paris she never felt bound by ties of nationality. “I always had the feeling that I belong where my easel is,” Biala said, “I never have the feeling of nationality or roots. In the first place, I’m an uprooted person. I’m Jewish. I was born in a country where it was better not to be Jewish. Wherever you go, you’re in a sense a foreigner. I always felt that wherever my easel was, that was my nationality.”
 
As she settled into her full life in Paris, Biala became the person every American artist in France would come to see. These included Norman Blum, Sam Francis, Shirley Jaffee, Bill Jenkins, Milton Resnick, critic Harold Rosenberg and the occasional run in with Joan Mitchell. And though the sea and the dunes of Provincetown and the Cape may have been miles away, they were only a step and a brush away when she was in her studio.
 
Biala’s paintings retained an intimacy rooted in the Old World. A sensibility that began with memories of her childhood in a Polish village, broadened by the community of immigrant artists that she discovered in downtown New York, focused by the very delicate hand of Edwin Dickinson, and lastly shaped by a calculated assimilation of French painters like Pierre Bonnard, Henri Matisse and George Braque.
 
Provincetown and the Cape were an enduring source of inspiration as the sea and the dunes were among her favorite subjects, which included the bridges and architecture of Paris, the canals and facades of Venice, and the bullfights of Spain.
 
And so she returned at intervals to traditional themes of interiors, still-life, portraiture and landscape but did so with abstract flare, and directness. As critic Michael Brenson noted Biala was “a blend of intimacy and exile.”
 
An online catalogue with essay by curator Jason Andrew is available here or by visiting www.janicebiala.org
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Biala (1903-2000) Arbre et la Mer: Provincetown, 1967 Oil on canvas, 13 3/4 x 13 3/4 in. (34.3 x 34.3 cm)
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Biala at the shore, Truro, 1967 Courtesy Tworkov Family Archives, New York
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Review: 'Biala: Vision and Memory'

8/4/2014

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'Biala: Vision and Memory', 12 September – 26 October 2013, Godwin-Ternbach Museum, Queens College, CUNY, New York.

Martin Stannard, University of Leicester
Picture'Portrait of a Writer (Ford Madox Ford),' 1938. Oil on board.
Last September I travelled to New York to meet Hermine Ford and Helen Tworkov, daughters of Jack Tworkov, Janice Biala's brother. Hermine and Helen are the executors of Biala's estate and were to be at the opening of probably the largest retrospective of their aunt's paintings in recent years. Curated by Diane Kelder in collaboration with Amy H. Winter, the Director and Curator of the Godwin-Ternbach, this show proved to be a revelation. 'I met Biala in 1980', Kelder writes in her excellent catalogue, 'and was struck by the force of her personality [...].' That force is immediately apparent in the paintings, although it is the force of multiple personalities, tracing her various styles over the years and complemented by other exhibits, notably the darkly penetrating  1924 portrait of her as a young woman by Edwin Dickinson. It is quite likely that she was in love with Dickinson, a married man, when they were both part of the Provincetown art colony and he her mentor. Biala stares out at us, beautifully melancholy and self-contained, on the brink of a series of unhappy relationships before she met Ford in 1930. In the catalogue, on the facing page of the portrait's reproduction, Kelder has cleverly placed Biala's 1925 black-and-white self-portrait which suggests that at that time she saw no conventional beauty in her own reflection, just unblinking intelligence and determination.

Picture'Le Duo (Two Musicians),' 1945. Oil on canvas.
Most of the work in this exhibition of course dates from after Ford’s death because she lived for another seventy years. In the correspondence with her brother while she was co-habiting with Ford 1930-1939, one sees her struggle with pure abstraction. (Jack was an early member of the New York School alongside Mark Rothko, Willem de Kooning et al.) And while her work never becomes entirely abstract, one can witness its steady gravitation from a representational impressionism towards symbolic and dreamlike canvases in which recognizable objects seem to float in blocked spaces of pale and dark pigment. One moves, as it were, from Cézanne and Utrillo to Chagall, although never with any sense of dependence on these masters. Acknowledgement, yes, but these are unique and arresting paintings in their own right, their sometimes child-like execution a deliberate engagement with the expression of a damaged innocence. There is always a certain bleakness about their celebration of landscape, cityscape, or even a vase of flowers. She bought de Kooning’s work when no-one else would but she didn’t want to paint like him. In the background of Biala’s Le Duo (1945, Two Musicians), his Abstract Still Life (c. 1938) hangs in pride of place but in a picture echoing a traditional European composition, and in a style which Kelder rightly describes as ‘semi-cubist’ – but only ‘semi’. The central figures – Biala’s later husband, Daniel Brustlein, and de Kooning’s wife Elaine – are quite recognizable at cello and piano respectively. It is a canvas about integrated interior space in which all objects are art objects, and all interlock harmoniously. It is about ‘home’, something particularly precious to Biala who had both known the terrors of poverty and exile, and embraced exile in Paris and Provence as protection from the stultifying gendered expectations of her parents’ home on New York’s Lower East Side.

This, then, is a life’s work, the great work of a great life, documenting years of struggle. Biala seems often to have returned to an architectural motif: the Parisian façade of windows and shutters, cock-eyed yet somehow regular in peeling walls. Kelder mentions that one of Biala’s early successes was the sale of Spring Rue de Seine (1936) to Duncan Phillips (the picture now hangs in the Phillips Collection, Washington, D.C.). It was the street on which she and Ford had lived. The shutters open onto vulnerable domestic space as in a stage set or after an explosion, yet there is nothing alienating about this exposure. It is hot. The windows are thrown back. Paris is welcomed in. Later work using the same subject seems cooler, suggesting one interior space regarding another with the glass in between. In Paris Façade (c. 1983) the shutters and windows appear like books on library shelves; in The Flower Pots (1985) we stand behind a female figure (Biala herself?) looking through a modern, sealed window, and out onto the old Paris of ramshackle shuttering. One can make too much of this kind of thing but the awkward negotiation between intimacy and privacy does seem to have been important to her, not least in her love for Ford and her unwillingness to speak about their life together. It was a grand passion, and she defended his reputation to the last. But it was private. No-one else’s business. Biala was neither sentimental nor confessional in her life or her art. But it seems that, despite a contented marriage with Brustlein, she missed Ford all her life because he had transformed her from the somewhat messed-up creature of Dickinson’s portrait into the mature woman and artist she became, laughing with Ford in the sunshine at Villa Paul in that famous 1934 photograph.
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'Peinture Abstraite,' 1962. Oil on canvas.
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'Blue Interior with Man and Dog,' 1979. Oil on canvas.
All images © Estate of Janice Biala, New York
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