The Oxford Series
The definitive writing on the Oxford series is and always will be Beth Ann Fennelly’s essay, Dear Viewer of My Naked Body: on Robert Townsend and the Oxford 12. Beth Ann shares her thoughts on her own experience as one of the subjects of the series, on the human form, motherhood, aging, and her beloved community of Oxford. If you haven’t read it already, I’d recommend you take the time to read Beth Ann’s essay before reading this post.
Writing about the Oxford 12 (series title courtesy of Beth Ann) is something I should’ve done a while ago. I actually did write a couple paragraphs which appeared briefly on my website last year, but took it down as I felt I needed to write a longer piece. So, if you only have time for the short version, here’s the original piece. If you’d like the fuller story, keep reading.
I started considering what would become the Oxford series a few years ago, though I had no idea about Oxford at the time. I knew I wanted to paint forward-facing, larger than life nudes. I knew I wanted the viewer to be faced with the reality of what people really look like, and their innate value, rather than some conventional or predictable, youthful ideal. I wanted to find a way to express my own existential questions about humanity, about being here. We’re here, and then we’re not. What are we supposed to do with our short time on this planet? How should we think about ourselves and others. Isn’t there actually beauty in “imperfections”? In wrinkles? In sunspots, scars, and cellulite? Aren’t all these the very things that reflect our humanity? Isn’t the human spirit all about the fight we go through as we attempt to make sense of our time here? I believe this human spirit, this fight, is the trait most worth celebrating. So, I started with the idea that nudes are “the most honest look at the most important subject.” That line kept going through my head, and I was hooked.
A friend landed in Mississippi, a state I’d never visited, and rarely even thought of. Another friend of a friend lived in the same town, Oxford. Before I knew it, I was caught up in something much bigger than myself, in a very small place. This is how the series begins.
So, the Oxford 12 series started as a tiny bit of angst perhaps four or five years ago. I’d been having a great time painting old toys, lollipops and donuts, rusty cars, and for about five years, the Helen series. I loved all of it and still do. Sometimes you don’t quite know why you’re interested in painting something, similar to being attracted to someone, until later down the road. As the years passed, I’ve realized I was always interested in painting joyful subjects as a way to keep my own spirits up, as well as sharing joy with others. Whether in a bad mood or good one, painting Helen is always a good choice. And I still love painting everything with this same spirit. Personally, I think of paintings more as philosophical statements than whatever subject or style might be portrayed. The subject on the surface always expresses an emotional intent or concept about the human experience, even with something as simple as a lollipop.
That said, my own personality tends to be less naturally joyful, and although I love the idea of focusing on joyful subjects and potentially lifting other’s spirits, my brain always has questions and concerns about our experience of just being here. Since no one can be me but me, and no one can be you but you, I can’t help but ask a myriad of questions.
What are we doing here and what should we do with our short time?
How should we think about ourselves and others?
How should the pursuit of our own interests (jobs, families and friends, hobbies) relate to the concerns of others?
How often do we see things as they really are? What biases do we carry, whether we know it or not?
Is our thought of the perfect/good/ideal life in line with what would be best?
These questions have always been with me, as they are with all of us. But creatively, I noticed a striking of a small match inside me, a desire not only to think about these questions, but to express them in my work. I had no idea how I might manifest this desire, so I paid little attention at first. I started thinking that however I might express these ideas in my work, it was going to have a different tone. And this is why I think of these ideas as notes on a piano. There are no correct keys or notes. There is no key on a piano which should always be played, nor one that should never be played. As humans, we experience joy, love, empathy, confusion, sadness, disappointment, etc. They all come and go, and together, they play the song of our individual lives.
Why, exactly, did I start thinking about nudes? Well, I knew which questions and thoughts I wanted to express, but I was clueless as to the manner. However, I noticed two things when I was painting Helen and Roy. First, they were unconventional models, and people were really connecting with what they represented. Models, especially those working with a middle-aged male artist, like myself, are often young women. But Helen and Roy were middle aged. And they were normal people, the type of people we might all aspire to be like, or connect with. They didn’t come from the cover of a magazine and weren’t famous. As I was entering middle-age at the time I started painting Helen and Roy, this resonated with me, the thought of enjoying life past the typically celebrated stages of youth. Second, and this was less expected, I started noticing a deeper connection when I was painting skin, than when I would paint clothes, cars, or backgrounds. It didn’t matter if it was a face, a hand or a knee. Painting is generally a form of a magic trick, but I found I was experiencing the trick myself, even as I applied the paint. I started thinking about this phenomenon, about how we are hard-wired to feel emotions when we see a person, in a different way than seeing a table or chair.
This idea, that seeing skin elicits an emotional connection brought about a new question…what if I painted nothing but skin? Would I feel that sense of emotional connection the whole time I was painting, by default? This caused me to start thinking about what that emotion was about, to which the answer of empathy quickly arose. So, at first, this concept was strictly theoretic, and was not about nudes, but humanity. I thought of it immediately as a potential Humanity series.
I felt unsure, at first, if I would actually pursue this concept for a series, though I found the concept itself incredibly interesting. In the art world, it’s typical for any artist to be known for a specific style, subject, etc. The idea of painting nudes would be a major departure from all of my previous work. That said, I’d been wanting to express a set of ideas I hadn’t expressed before, so a new direction made sense. I was aware that people might not recognize the potential work as being mine, however, and I had to think about whether that was a concern. As I continued to think about this potential contrast between my previous work and possible future work, I discovered the idea that I felt brought them all together. Everything I had been painting and wanted to paint was intended as a celebration of life. They were simply going to have different tones, and that was exciting.
As I felt more confident in my interest in the Humanity series, I started thinking about the logistics. How would I actually want to paint people? What lighting and location? Which people? Most importantly, how would I express the very concept itself? By this time, I realized my interest in the series would be the idea of human value. Nudes were simply going to be the vehicle for expressing the idea. I started thinking about how we are either carrying these vessels around for a short time, or these vessels are carrying us around for a short time, depending on how one might think about it, and that we are faced with the question of what to do with that reality. Here’s a few things I knew either right away or in very short order.
I wanted to paint men and women, different races, body types, and various adult ages.
I had no interest in youth, meaning people in their twenties, as they were already celebrated in our culture. I wanted to focus on those of an age that is disregarded, those who’ve disappeared as they became middle-aged.
I wanted to portray people in bright light, because I wanted to show people as they really are, as honest representations. Quite often, nudes are portrayed in diffused light, as diffused light hides all perceived blemishes or flaws - wrinkles, scars, birthmarks, cellulite. Rather than flaws or imperfections, I saw these as signs of a life well-lived.
I wanted all of the paintings to be larger than life. Details are only possible with scale and I wanted these to be realistic and detailed paintings. Also, scale gives power to the model, negating the traditional role of the viewer as the holder of power.
I wanted all of the models to be forward facing, with straightforward standing poses. The purpose of these poses was to create a cohesive look amongst the individual models, as well as to show each model as they really are, rather than attempting to accentuate a specific line. I wanted to show people simply as people, rather than as objects of conventional ideas of beauty.
Along the way, I started researching the role of nudes in art history. In classical art, nudes were portrayed as some version of an ideal, of man and woman being like gods. Later, they were portrayed more as objects of sexual desire. Neither of these ideas interested me for this project.
I’d decided I’d want to portray the models in direct sunlight, as well as straightforward poses, which I started thinking of as a mirror effect. By painting people forward facing, and life-size or larger, any potential viewer would be facing the image as that of a mirror, and would therefore be in a greater position to see their mutual humanity.
But how does one get direct sunlight and privacy at the same time? The idea of a tent-like structure, with white walls and no roof, allowing both privacy and sunlight, occurred to me.
I realized that I would also want a female assistant to make sure everyone would feel comfortable. My friend, Alison, is an incredibly warm person, and I thought she would do a wonderful job as my assistant, which she has. By the time I got around to asking her if she’d be interested in helping, however, she and her husband, Dave, had decided to move to Oxford, Mississippi. As I have a list of a hundred ideas for paintings and series, and felt Alison would’ve been the right assistant for this project, I started thinking I may just move on to some other idea.
A few months later, Dave and Alison sent me photos from their new home, at the end of a road on a nice piece of land. This looked like a place one might set up a tent structure and have privacy, and without the distracting noise of a city.
The last piece of the logistics puzzle was finding models. Since I’d not been to Oxford, I had no idea how I might go about finding people to work with. I talk frequently with my friend, Candacy, who lives in New York. On one of our calls, I mentioned that I felt I was close to embarking on this new series and nearly all the necessary pieces seemed to be in place. I merely needed to find models. Candacy mentioned she also had a friend who lived in Oxford, and offered to reach out to him on my behalf.
In short order, I was talking on the phone with Candacy’s friend, John T. We discussed the project a bit and he offered to bring some Oxfordians together to meet me when I arrived in town. A couple weeks later, on what I recall was my first night in town (though maybe it was the second), Dave, Alison and I arrived at John T and his wife, Blair’s, house. A small group of incredibly interesting and smart people were gathered, and they kindly allowed me to share my story. To tell the truth, I was pretty intimidated and therefore, nervous. But they were all lovely people.
Fast forward three days, and eight people had volunteered. By the next week, by which time I’d flown back to Phoenix, gathered my camera and tripod, and flown back to Memphis, two more had volunteered. The lovely folks at John T and Blair’s party had spread the word a bit, which then spread a bit more, and people were calling me with interest.
The specific way that people were volunteering, and the stories they were sharing, quickly told me I had fallen into the exact situation I was hoping for. It’s funny how trying to put pieces together for something, and having to just trust the process at times, can also find a bit of good luck that one simply couldn’t have planned. One potential model, Terry, asked me if I would work with people with scars. People have scars (all of us, really), and I wanted to work with people, so yes, I would work with people with scars. I was amazed by his courage.
Another model, I later learned, had reached out to his friend, whom he’d heard had volunteered to pose. They discussed the desire to be vulnerable, and the next day, he arrived for his session. This still baffles and impresses me to no end. Vulnerable? Who on earth would want to be vulnerable? Wouldn’t we want the opposite? Doesn’t being guarded sound much better? Being guarded does protect us, absolutely, so to me, it makes perfect sense. We all need to feel safe. But vulnerability opens our hearts. It allows us to feel confident and to trust. It allows others to love us as we are. Vulnerability takes tremendous courage.
As it happened, the timing of my second visit, the one when the Oxford models posed for the series, coincided with a visit from Alison’s friend, Vicki, who lives in Phoenix. I’d known Vicki for several years, as I’d visit with her and her husband, Todd, at Dave and Alison’s parties in Phoenix. I found both Vicki and Todd to be warm, open, and fun people who were easy to be around, and I always enjoyed seeing them. Alison had mentioned that she was considering posing for the series herself, and now mentioned that Vicki might be interested as well. Alison told me that Vicki had been fighting breast cancer for the previous year. I had always thought of Vicki in the context of her friendship with Alison. In the event they both wanted to pose, I thought it could be quite lovely to portray them in that context, as women supporting each other.
One by one, I found it an honor to work with each model and hear a bit of their story. Stories were the whole point of the series. As we all worked together, Alison and I started discussing how nice it might be to be able to share interviews with the models at some point. If that would happen, I felt it would have to be down the road a bit, as I was a bit overwhelmed by the whole experience, by the model’s courage and the task ahead of painting them.
When I returned home, I downloaded the images from my camera to my computer, and didn’t look at them again for six months. I couldn’t. I felt if I looked at them, I’d want to start planning the paintings and ordering canvases. But I had already signed on for several projects, and within a couple months, I was working on other paintings for Art Miami for December. By the following February, however, a full nine months since my Oxford visits, the waiting was really getting to me. I cleared my schedule and started painting. In the next six months, a few of the paintings were done.
I’m a planner, and this includes my painting process. That said, I’m also informed by the work while I’m creating it. The Oxford paintings do not include props and no backgrounds, as I didn’t want the viewer to have “an out”. I wanted the viewer to be forced with looking only at the models and nothing else, so each painting has a white background. However, as I started painting them, I realized I wanted each of the paintings to have a bright colored frame, the colors fitting some aspect of the painting or person. Beth Ann had bright pink nail polish, and she has red hair, so I quickly saw a fluorescent pink frame for her painting. As the image of Vicki and Alison is about friendship and also warm and light in spirit, they would have a bright yellow frame. At the time of writing this, the others are awaiting frames, and I don’t consider them quite finished until they receive them. The bright color plays off the white background, so it’s a different piece of art with and without the frame.
One thing I haven’t mentioned here is how I fell in love with Oxford and Mississippi the moment I arrived, but they both knocked me out. The people, food, architecture, and charm swept me away. I wrote about it in a previous post. And it’s wonderful to be writing this post from my cottage in Plein Air in Taylor, MS, today, as I get ready to visit friends in the Delta.
As I started the Humanity series, I had no intention of making it about Oxford, MS. I couldn’t have, having never been here. Plus, it was all too much to process. I had contemplated continuing the series in Los Angeles and even France. However, as I began painting the series, and visited Oxford a few more times, I became increasingly connected to the community. I made friends. One of the models, Beth Ann Fennelly, reached out to me with a few thoughts, having seen images of her finished painting. She started feeling that she might want to write about her experience as one of the models. She also delicately but directly told me that she thought I should make the series about Oxford. These models were all living in one town, and this town was special. Many of the models also knew each other. I completely agreed, and I’m so glad Beth Ann took the initiative to share this idea. The Humanity series became the Oxford 12.
In the past few weeks, the Oxford 12 series has had its first public showing, at two venues. The University of Mississippi Museum created an exhibition, Finding Divinity, which is up now. Two of the Oxford 12 are installed in juxtaposition with the museum’s Greek and Roman Collection, posing the question of how the human subject has been portrayed over the millennia.
Two weeks ago, Wonderbird Spirits, in Taylor, MS, hosted an Oxford 12 event. Two additional paintings were on display on this very special and moving evening. This was the first time that people had the chance to visit with some of the models and ask questions of the group. It was also the first time many of the models had met each other. It was amazing to watch the power of these models together.
The University of Mississippi Museum and I have been creating video interviews with many of the Oxford 12 models, and they offer profound insights into their experiences. These will be available on my website in the next couple weeks.
I’m currently about half-way through the series, and I’m excited about where it will be going. It’s been an honor to work with each of the models and I’m grateful to them as well as to the Oxford community that has embraced me.