Mariella Gattini

“We live in a society that doesn’t like to think,” says Marvin Kitman. I happen to agree with him. Today I read a headline from TIME magazine that said, “They Survived the Las Vegas Shooting but They Don’t Want More Gun Control.” As if by not thinking about something, that something is going to go away….

Marvin Kitman is a syndicated TV critic and author, who appears in the documentary Art Bastard, directed by Victor Kanefsky and produced by Chris T. Concannon, about the life of Robert Cenedella, a true artist and renegade. Cenedella’s main proposal is: “…if you compromise with your art, why be an artist?”

Cenedella’s figurative work is a vehement act of rebellion against the abstract and minimalist movements of the 60’s that, among others, include his contemporaries Rothko, Pollock, and Warhol. In fact, he did a painting in Rothko’s style and wrote the word “Bullshit” on it.

He studied art at The Art Students League of New York—where he has been teaching since 1988—under the guidance of George Grosz. Grosz, a German artist, has been highly unrecognized, according to Cenedella—some have even described him as a loser, which brought tears to Cenedella’s eyes. Grosz passed away short after he left New York for Germany. They found him at the bottom of a staircase.

Grosz’s lack of recognition made Cenedella think that in the art world “mediocrity [is] deciding the fate of the genius.” He thinks there is more integrity in Wall Street than there is in the art world.

His figurative, journalistic, whimsical, colorful work speaks to me and my sense of humor. He is deeply sarcastic: “My art is very serious, but makes people laugh,” and he adds, “I don’t consider myself a political artist [;] I’m an artist who does a lot of political stuff.” Also, “I have a moral obligation to paint what I feel is correct.” In the ups and downs of his career he has gone through depression several times, and every time that he comes back to life he says: “I still have my art.” He certainly does, only that now his art is also ours—it’s easy to embrace.

In his 1985 piece titled Third Movement, he establishes Hitler as the conductor of the orchestra, and little by little we discover that many in the audience also share the same mustache and hair style—hilarious! He states, “I throw the ‘commentary’ at no extra charge.” He charges for the color and the composition; the “commentary” is for free.

This wonderful painter walks the streets of New York City like I have done, many times. Those walks inspired the story in the novel I’m working on. One of the main characters is a painter, who started his career in the New York of the 70’s. He is actually one of those abstract, minimalist artists, who came out of those collectives and became prosperous and celebrated. He went with the flow and, for that reason, he became famous. Paradoxically, he went through the same predicaments as Cenedella, and fame did not make much of a difference in the quality of his life. The moment we meet him he’s questioning his entire life and the meaning of his work, which has been the center of his universe.

There are many unrecognized artists out there, working hard at their craft right now, who should know that, no matter what, what they do does matter, because the end result of an entire life devoted to art is not the individual products that may or may not be recognized. At the end, what matters is the work itself, the struggle, the road of uncertainty and pain, a body of work that can lead all of us toward a better understanding of who we are, and the infinite possibilities in our minds. It can also be a true inspiration to do good.

Cenedella’s whimsical, comical caricatures are, more than anything else, inspirational. He had the guts to say no to what was in vogue during the 60’s—an art dictated by galleries and museums. He went against the grain, and paid the price, but never relented. And for that he has a double merit: he believed in being genuine, true to himself, and generous in his delivery, and as a result he is still working on a legacy of quality and honesty.

Cenedella and my minimalist painter have something else in common—both represent the best we can find in the art world of all times anywhere in the world: true talent, hard work, and a big, generous heart. They are the kind of inspiration that pushes us to use our mind and think, whether we like it or not.