In Black and White

Great photos by John Cohen at Singer, and quirky scratchboards by Jason Needham at Zip 37.

Simon Zalkind, the director of the Singer Gallery, does such a good job that I often forget that the Mizel Center for Arts and Culture, where the Singer is housed, isn't an art museum, but rather a community center. This was brought home big-time last week when I saw a number of Angelo di Benedetto abstract roundels piled up carelessly against the wall in the main lobby -- something that wouldn't happen in even the worst-run art museum.

The modernist pieces are made of copper, and there are eighteen total, a number that represents life in Judaism. The roundels were originally installed on three exterior walls that enclosed a courtyard. But the courtyard was filled in with an addition in the early '90s, and right before construction, the di Benedettos were taken down and reinstalled in the main lobby and the theater lobby next to it. It was a shame that the courtyard was lost (and the pieces looked so gorgeous hanging there), but at least the people in charge at the time knew not to get rid of the di Benedettos.

So what are some of them doing sitting on the floor now?

Franz Kline portrait by John Cohen, black-and-white 
Franz Kline portrait by John Cohen, black-and-white photo.
One of "Three Large Clowns," by Jason Needham, 
scratchboard drawing.
One of "Three Large Clowns," by Jason Needham, scratchboard drawing.


5{ eye: Photographs by John Cohen
Through August 28, Mizel Center for Arts and Culture, 350 South Dahlia Street, 303-316-6360

Scratchboards by Jason Needham
Through August 28, Zip 37, 3644 Navajo Street, 303-477-4525

Well, it turns out that a staff member who's also an amateur interior decorator is reworking the theater lobby, and she doesn't like the roundels. She even went the extra mile by coming up with the idea of splitting up the group and selling some of them off! Thankfully, that's no longer under consideration. The current plan is to either put them in storage or find some other place to hang them, which is the better idea of the two. But I have to say, I'm sure that if Joanne Kauvar were still director at the Mizel, nonsense of this sort would never have gotten this far.

More in line with what I expect from the Mizel Center is the show in the Singer Gallery, there is no eye: Photographs by John Cohen. I'm sorry I put off seeing it until the end of its run, because now there are only a few days left for you to do so. I waited because I'd never heard of Cohen, so I didn't know how good he was.

Luckily for me -- and the rest of us -- Singer director Zalkind did know who Cohen was. "I first became aware of John Cohen when I was a teenager and was involved in what today is called the folk-music revival of the early 1960s," he says of the man who is best known as a musician and a musicologist, having co-founded the pioneering folk group the New Lost City Ramblers.

Cohen was born in New York in 1932 and attended Yale University in the early 1950s, where he studied with painter Josef Albers (the show includes a photo of Albers instructing a group of students) and photographer Herbert Matter. In 1957, Cohen moved back to New York; he formed the New Lost City Ramblers the following year with Mike Seeger and Tom Paley, and toured nationally with the group over the next decade.

During that same period, Cohen found himself at the center of many of the cultural earthquakes that rocked New York in the '50s and early '60s. Abstract-expressionist art and pop art were developing, new directions in jazz were being explored, Beat poetry was on the rise, and folk music was being revived. In key moment after key moment, Cohen was present with his camera.

In his photographs, Cohen reveals several stylistic influences, including the pictorialists of the turn of the last century and the street photographers of the mid-twentieth century. Despite such a range of aesthetic sources, the photos have a unity and an individual stylistic signature, with everything interrelated.

The show has been divided up into sections: A short survey of Cohen's different types of work is followed by areas devoted to each of his subjects. In one part are portraits of folk musicians; in another are images of vanguard visual artists; in another, the Beats are displayed; and so on.

Some of these photos will be instantly recognizable to viewers, as they've become famous over the years. There's the 1962 shot of Bob Dylan smoking a cigarette, and the 1964 image of Roscoe Holcomb, a backwoods banjo player whom Cohen discovered and promoted. Cohen met Holcomb in Kentucky, where the folk musician had gone to record the indigenous music of the Appalachians. His photos from Kentucky have an exotic look, not unlike the ones he took on an earlier trip to Peru.

Back home in New York, Cohen photographed many of the most important visual artists of the day, including Franz Kline, Jack Tworkov, Philip Guston, James Brooks, Red Grooms, Lucas Samaras and several others. A lot of these photos were taken at the legendary Cedar Bar, arguably the hothouse for vanguard art in the 1950s. In these pictures, the place looks a lot more upscale than its rough-and-tumble reputation would suggest.

The photographs of famous people are surely an important draw, and they give there is no eye an added dimension. If you do go to the Mizel, be sure to check out those Angelo di Benedetto bas-reliefs scattered around the lobby before they get shoved into a closet, where they'll wait for more enlightened leadership to bring them out again.

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