Hanging Undershirt 1977

Editor: Avigdor Arikha’s 1977 painting, "Hanging Undershirt," is just that, oil paint depicting a plain white undershirt. It's quite intimate, like a discarded layer after undressing. How do you interpret a painting of such a commonplace object? Curator: The everyday, precisely because of its ordinariness, becomes significant under Arikha’s gaze. This piece challenges us to consider the institutional framework of art itself: what qualifies an object, especially something so quotidian as an undershirt, to be worthy of representation, let alone to hang within gallery walls? Editor: So, it’s less about the shirt itself and more about...what we consider worthy of art? Curator: Exactly. Think about the shift in the art world during the late 20th century. Museums began reassessing their roles, pushing beyond traditional subjects. By focusing on such a humble subject, Arikha mirrors that reassessment, inviting us to consider how power structures within the art world define 'art.' Editor: That makes sense. The late 70s were a time of questioning established norms. Did the piece receive much attention at the time? Curator: Interestingly, the 'everyday' as a subject was gaining traction, though still relatively novel for painting. Reception would have likely been varied – some dismissing it as too simple, others recognizing the socio-political commentary embedded in its apparent simplicity. Now, of course, the conversation around elevating mundane subjects is more prevalent. Editor: So, today the work might carry a stronger message, given our contemporary context? Curator: Perhaps. It also prompts us to analyze art beyond aesthetics. What political narratives do we find woven into artistic imagery, intentionally or otherwise? It all stems from asking these key questions about power structures. Editor: That's a really interesting perspective. I didn’t expect so much social context in an undershirt! Thanks. Curator: My pleasure! Considering these historical contexts really shapes our viewing experience, doesn't it?