Marc's "Lucky Corner" |
"I may paint flat, but I don't think flat."
Ralph Fasanella
The Art World is capricious.
Ralph Fasanella
The Art World is capricious.
Ralph Fasanella was a painter of
canvases he did not want hung in galleries or private drawing rooms,
which may be why so many ended up in just such places.
What the artist wants, the artist
rarely gets, although Fasanella's story had a happier ending than
most.
The irony is hard to escape when Leslie
Umberger, curator of Folk and Self-Taught Art, Smithsonian American
Art Museum writes, “Fasanella's large, colorful paintings reflect
the struggles of a tumultuous era. They were not meant to be rarified
works of fine art, but rather a practical means of conveying messages
about right and wrong, raising consciousness, and inspiring
solidarity among his working class peers.”
Umberger wrote the above in her
monograph for the Smithsonian's 2014 exposition of Fasanella's work.
“Rarified” air no matter how down-home the presentation.
She noted that Fasanella, “used art
as a weapon in an ongoing battle for social justice.”
Gallery show or not, the painter would have been pleased his canvases had raised such a discussion in a place so removed from the source of their inspiration.
Gallery show or not, the painter would have been pleased his canvases had raised such a discussion in a place so removed from the source of their inspiration.
Bronx Born
Ralph Fasanella was born in the Bronx
on April 20, 1914 and raised
in Manhattan's West Village. His education did not go beyond the
eighth grade. He worked when possible to help his family during the
Depression and did time in a juvenile detention center over a bit of
petty thievery.
As Al Pacino once said, “I don't need
bodyguards. I grew up in the South Bronx.”
Fasanella's immigrant parents, Ginevra
– who worked at the Triangle Shirtwaist factory – and “Joe”
(Giuseppe), split over his mother's affair with an anarchist
organizer or her strident radicalism generally or some combination of
the two.
Young Fasanella went radical himself in
the 1930s, signing on with the Young Communist League and eventually
joining the Abraham Lincoln Brigades to fight in Spain in favor of
the ill-fated Spanish Republic.
According to the Abraham Lincoln Brigade
Archives, Raffaele Fasanello joined the Communist Party in 1935. He
sailed for Spain on the Ile de France on Feb. 20, 1937, and arrived in
Iberia 11 days later. He served in a “train regiment” and
deserted on a British freighter by way of Oran, Algeria, finally
getting home in July 1938 aboard The Huntress.
His union work included stints with the
International Brotherhood of Teamsters, the Bookkeepers and
Stenographers Union and the militantly leftist United Electrical,
Radio, and Machine Workers of America – the “UE” – among
others.
As the Red scare took hold of American
life in the mid-1940s, Fasanella was blacklisted and finding work
became difficult. His health also took a hit. To combat a pain in his
hands, Ralph began sketching.
Writes Umberger: “He took to
painting, believing from the time he began that art was an extension
of his activism – not an activity of upper class leisure or
intellectualism. As an added benefit, he could distill the memories
of his life through painting and attempt to strike a balance between
the dichotomies of tradition and change.”
Which is to say a dialectic between a
fondness for certain old ways, and a vision of progress that might
destroy them, roiled inside the artist.
Umberger observed that Fasanella was
open to a diverse number of settings for his paintings. “He was
more comfortable putting them on view in union halls and meeting
rooms, knowing that this was where his target audience would really
see them.”
Labor As Central Experience
In 1985, Nick Salvatore, associate
professor, New York State School of Industrial and Labor Relations,
wrote an essay, “Ralph Fasanella: Worker, Activist, Artist,” in
which he observed, “What structures his paintings, what connects
the political and cultural images in his art, and what, not
insignificantly separates Fasanella from those who would speak of the
disappearance of the working class is precisely his understanding of
labor as the central experience for workers and their communities.”
Which is to say he knew the fact of
work was a primary feature of most people's lives.
When granted the Vito Marcantonio Award
during a 1997 conference on “The Lost World of Italian Radicalism,”
convened by an earlier iteration of the Vito Marcantonio Forum,
Fasanella told “The New York Times” that, “You don't have the
right to be neurotic if you're a worker. You got to step up to the
plate every day.”
Fasanella took as long as 20 years to develop some paintings.
Before he crafted the 18 works making up his "Bread and Roses" cycle, he spent three turns of the calendar in Lawrence, Mass., walking the streets where the famed labor action unfolded, hanging around coffee shops, reading voraciously on union history.
He researched his paintings as a writer
would a book, viewing them as touchstones for storytelling rather
than single moments frozen in frame.
Expressions such as “primitive” or
“childlike quality” have been used to describe a body of work
usually quite serious in focus.
“Somebody once said I was primitive. How can I be primitive in an industrial society?” Fasanella said to the “Christian Science Monitor” in 1989.
“Somebody once said I was primitive. How can I be primitive in an industrial society?” Fasanella said to the “Christian Science Monitor” in 1989.
After a hardscrabble existence pumping
gas in the Bronx, which he ennobled through his purposeful artistic
pursuit, Fasanella the painter enjoyed a breakout decade in the
1970s. A suddenly interested media got it right in presenting him as
the socially engaged New York artist he was.
Fasanella's work became prized and the
paintings he intended for public consumption, for imparting messages
of community and solidarity among working-class people, were being
absorbed into the private collections of not working-class people.
Thanks to an effort at buying them back
with the union movement's help, a goodly portion of Fasanella's
ouevre is available today for universal enjoyment.
The campaign was called “Public Domain” and it featured a UE official, Ron Carver, who made tracking down the paintings a personal mission.
The campaign was called “Public Domain” and it featured a UE official, Ron Carver, who made tracking down the paintings a personal mission.
Making It Big
When a “Bread and Roses” edition
fetched a price Fasanella couldn't refuse, the painter gave Carver a
year to match it. The project had an advisory board spangled with the
likes of author Studs Terkel, former New York mayor John Lindsay,
folk singer Pete Seeger, actors Ed Asner and Ruby Dee, and enough
union leaders to send the Chamber of Commerce running for the hills.
Notable among the recuperations are an
installment from the “Bread and Roses” series in Lawrence
(Heritage Park Visitors Center) and “Subway Riders,” which is
ensconced in a protective casing at the MTA Lexington Ave./53rd
Street station.
Like a William Morris or a Charles
Dickens lecturing to workingmen's associations in Victoria's England,
Fasanella followed his art with the word it was meant to spread.
He told the “Christian Science Monitor” that the America he lived in was one where “generosity and fellow-feeling are often overshadowed by acquisitiveness and greed.”
He told the “Christian Science Monitor” that the America he lived in was one where “generosity and fellow-feeling are often overshadowed by acquisitiveness and greed.”
Wrote Salvatore, “His paintings remain an eloquent testimony to the political and cultural vitality of working-class life, even in an era of homogenization.”
Art critic Alfred Frankenstein wrote in
the Coe Kerr Gallery notes for a 1974 Fasanella show that, “A new
master is added to the list of modern Americans. When the history of
these times comes to be written, if those who write it have sense
enough to search out its visual image, the paintings of Fasanella
will take a major place.”
A Marc'd Man
The painter considered Vito Marcantonio
to be one of his personal heroes along with labor firebrand John L.
Lewis, Martin Luther King Jr., Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Fiorello La
Guardia, and Longshoremen's organizer Harry Bridges.
“These heroes,” he said, “stayed
in my life because without heroes that have integrity and a pair of
balls, I would never have made it this far.”
Marcantonio, Fasanella told Washington
University researchers, “was a fighter. A little short guy and he'd
get up and talk. He had a way with working people and they loved him
because he had a sense of humor. Every now and then he'd throw out a
word in Italian, he'd throw out a word in Jewish. He understood the
the Irish politician. If anyone was hated at that time in New York
City, it was Tammany Hall.”
Fasanella produced “The Lucky
Corner,” (pictured at top) capturing the street-bound nature of Marc's political life
and “Death of a Hero,” (impossible to find online) which depicted the grief of East Harlem at
his funeral.
A lifelong communist, he ran for the
Yorkville city council seat on the American Labor Party ticket in
1949, the year Marc ran for Mayor of Gotham, pulling in 9 percent
of the vote.
He named his only son after
Marcantonio.
Fasanella was a part of the life and
times of Vito Marcantonio. He turned his skill to generating
evocative images of the world in which the radical congressman
labored; blessings to those who would later care.
A complete treatment of Fasanella's life can be found in Author Paul D'Ambrosio's "Ralph Fasanella in America."
A complete treatment of Fasanella's life can be found in Author Paul D'Ambrosio's "Ralph Fasanella in America."
Adore Fasanella and his work--an amazing artist and person. He reminds me so much of my father Pete Pascale--the same speech pattern and manner and the same dedication to ideals--they were born on the same day Sept. 2nd and both died in 1997
ReplyDeleteLuLu LoLo Pascale
There is a definitive biography on Fasanella that I wrote in 2001. Here's the link: https://www.amazon.com/Ralph-Fasanellas-America-Paul-DAmbrosio/dp/0917334264
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading Paul. I linked to your book in the text. Regards, Stephen Siciliano
ReplyDelete