Diebenkorn

Richard Diebenkorn
Berkeley no. 1
1953
oil on canvas
Phillips Collection, Washington DC

 

Richard Diebenkorn
Berkeley no. 12
1954
oil on canvas
Phillips Collection, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Berkeley no. 54
1955
oil on canvas
Buffalo AKG Art Museum, New York

Richard Diebenkorn
Flowers
1957
oil on canvas
Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California

Richard Diebenkorn
Girl Looking at Landscape
1957
oil on canvas
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Richard Diebenkorn
Woman by a Window
1957
oil on canvas
Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona

Richard Diebenkorn
Woman in a Window
1957
oil on canvas
Buffalo AKG Art Museum, New York

Richard Diebenkorn
Girl with Plant
1960
oil on canvas
Phillips Collection, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Interior with View of Buildings
1962
oil on canvas
Cincinnati Art Museum, Ohio

Richard Diebenkorn
View of Oakland
1962
oil on canvas
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Landscape
1963
drawing
San Jose Museum of Art, California

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 6
1968
oil on canvas
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 27
1970
oil on canvas
Brooklyn Museum

Richard Diebenkorn
Untitled (Ocean Park)
1971
gouache and watercolor on paper
Phillips Collection, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 64
1973
oil on canvas
Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 66
1973
oil on canvas
Buffalo AKG Art Museum, New York

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 86
1975
oil on canvas
Saint Louis Art Museum

Richard Diebenkorn
Ocean Park no. 125
1980
oil on canvas
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Richard Diebenkorn
Untitled
1980
acrylic on paper
Walker Art Center, Minneapolis

Richard Diebenkorn
Untitled
1980
oil on paper
Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Hans Namuth
Richard Diebenkorn
1982
C-print
National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC

Richard Diebenkorn
Blue
1984
color woodblock print
New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut

The Melancholy Assistant

I had an assistant but he was melancholy,

so melancholy it interfered with his duties.

He was to open my letters, which were few,

and answer those that required answers,

leaving a space at the bottom for my signature. 

And under my signature, his own initials,

in which formality, at the outset, he took great pride.

When the phone rang, he was to say

his employer was at the moment occupied,

and offer to convey a message.

After several months, he came to me.

Master, he said (which was his name for me),

I have become useless to you, you must turn me out.

And I saw that he had packed his bags

and was prepared to go, though it was night

and the snow was falling. My heart went out to him.

Well, I said, if you cannot perform these few duties,

what can you do? And he pointed to his eyes,

which were full of tears. I can weep, he said. 

then you must weep for me, I told him,

as Christ wept for mankind.

Still he was hesitant. 

Your life is enviable, he said:

what must I think of when I cry?

And I told him of the emptiness of my days,

and of time, which was running out, 

and of the meaninglessness of my achievement,

and as I spoke I had the odd sensation

of once more feeling something

for another human being – 

He stood completely still.

I had lit a small fire in the fireplace;

I remember hearing the contented murmurs of the dying logs –

Master, he said, you have given

meaning to my suffering.

It was a strange moment.

The whole exchange seemed both deeply fraudulent

and profoundly true, as though such words as emptiness and meaninglessness

had stimulated some remembered emotion

which now attached itself to this occasion and person. 

His face was radiant. His tears glinted

red and gold in the firelight. 

Then he was gone. 

Outside the snow was falling,

the landscape changing into a series

of bland generalizations

marked here and there with enigmatic

shapes where the snow had drifted.

The street was white, the various trees were white –

Changes of the surface, but is that not really

all we ever see?

– Louise Glück (2014)