May 1–September 11, 2022

Philip Guston Now

Across 50 years, the paintings of Philip Guston (1913–1980) shifted from figuration to abstraction and back again. Yet a persistent concern haunted each of his stylistic transformations: Guston never stopped questioning the place of the painter in the world. What did it mean to witness injustice outside his studio? What might paint render newly visible inside it?

This major exhibition—organized by the MFA; the National Gallery of Art, Washington; the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; and Tate Modern, London—foregrounds the artist’s lifelong commitment to raising difficult, even unanswerable questions. The selection of 73 paintings and 27 drawings from public and private collections features well-known works as well as others that have rarely been seen. Highlights include paintings from the 1930s that have never been on public view; a reunion of paintings from Guston’s groundbreaking Marlborough Gallery show in 1970; a striking array of small panel paintings made from 1968 to 1972; and a powerful selection of large, often apocalyptic paintings of the later 1970s that form the artist’s last major statement.

Animated by contradictions, Guston’s works are deeply ambiguous, defined equally by what he called the “brutality of the world” and by the palpable joy he took in the process of painting itself. Many of them address challenging themes, including white supremacy, racism, anti-Semitism, and violence, in part through their imagery. The exhibition features multiple paintings of hooded Ku Klux Klansmen, truncated body parts, and enigmatic scenes of struggle. These images and their meanings can appear unmistakable, indeterminate, and everything in between. Taken together, Guston’s works challenge us to grapple with the lived experience we each bring to this museum, and to this city, today.

A Message from the Curators

In the wake of the tragic murder of George Floyd, the four museums planning this exhibition—originally scheduled to open in June 2020—decided to postpone the project. Many took issue with this decision, which was intended to give the organizers time to reframe the show in light of what one press release called the “urgencies of the moment.” Those urgencies figure within a long history, and they persist within an ever-shifting present. We are showing Guston’s work now in a different way than originally planned, yet we also aspire to more far-reaching and lasting change—taking a true, and hard, look at the building in which this art hangs, and the ways in which we care for our visitors. We also know we have not gotten everything “right.” The work of this exhibition is ongoing, much like Guston’s open-ended paintings themselves. Humbly and respectfully—with these paintings as our guide—we invite you to look, and reckon, alongside us.

—The Curatorial Team for “Philip Guston Now”

Megan Bernard
Ethan Lasser
Kate Nesin
Terence Washington

Linde Family Wing for Contemporary Art, Level 2

Image Gallery

Two cartoonish figures--mostly limbs--sit in bed. In the hand of one, a bundle of paintbrushes.

A chaotic mass of people with weapons and animals fighting one another.

detail of cartoon man lying in bed smoking a cigarette with a plate of food on top of the bed and shoes stacked on top of each other in the background

A dark spot shaped like a head floats in a blue-gray space.

Pink and read buildings stacked in front of one another float in a pink expanse.

An abstract shape that resembles a book floats in a white space alongside several dark marks resembling charcoal sticks.

A cartoon head with one large eye lies face down on the ground. Two spiders loom in the distance.

A pink hand points to a stack of shoes, limbs, and abstracted shapes.

A mass of green, orange, pink, red, and blue floats in the middle of a blue-and-pink expanse.

Hands holding rounded shields push against one another.

A dark pink structure rises from a horizon and hangs over a darkened sky.

A window with an open curtain looks out on a city skyline. Picture frames surround the window on a wall.

A cartoonish pair of shoes dangles over a white ladder, which is propped up against a blue wall.

An intense red sky looms over a dark landscape with abstracted shapes on the horizon.

Philip Guston, Couple in Bed, 1977

Oil on canvas. The Art Institute of Chicago, through prior bequest of Frances W. Pick, and memorial gift from her daughter, Mary P. Hines, 1989.435. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Image courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Philip Guston, Gladiators, 1940

Oil and pencil on canvas. The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Edward R. Broida, 2005. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Digital Image © The Museum of Modern Art/Licensed by SCALA / Art Resource, NY.

Philip Guston, Painting, Smoking, Eating, 1973

Oil on canvas. Collection of the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, Head I, 1965

Oil on canvas. Tate Modern. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Photo: © Tate.

Philip Guston, Untitled, 1980

Acrylic and ink on illustration board. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, City, 1969

Oil on canvas. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, Book and Charcoal Sticks, 1968

Charcoal on paper. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, Web, 1975

Oil on canvas. The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Edward R. Broida, 2005. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Digital Image © The Museum of Modern Art/Licensed by SCALA / Art Resource, NY.

Philip Guston, Tower, 1970

Oil on canvas. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Reproduced with Permission.

Philip Guston, Dial, 1956

Oil on linen. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; purchase 56.44. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, Aegean, 1978

Oil on canvas. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Philip Guston, Black Sea, 1977

Oil on canvas. Tate Modern. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Photo: © Tate.

Philip Guston, Open Window, 1969

Oil on panel. Private Collection. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Reproduced with permission.

Philip Guston, The Ladder, 1978

Oil on canvas. National Gallery of Art, Washington, Gift of Edward R. Broida, 2005.142.17. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington.

Philip Guston, The Deluge, 1969

Oil on canvas. Bequest of Musa Guston. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. © The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth.

Emotional Preparedness for “Philip Guston Now”

The content of this exhibition is challenging. Mental health and trauma specialist Ginger Klee offers an invitation to emotionally prepare for the experience and supplies anti-racist resources for further learning.

Read More about Emotional Preparedness

The content of this exhibition is challenging. The Museum offers these words in a spirit of care and invitation.

It is human to shy away from or ignore what makes us uncomfortable, but we unintentionally cause harm by participating in this practice. You have an opportunity to lean into the discomfort of anti-racist work on an experiential level as you view art that portrays America’s past and present racial tensions. You have every right to feel your feelings throughout this exhibition, whether you are navigating it as a person of color or not. I encourage those who have experienced oppression, and allies, to name your feelings, sit with them, and learn from them. And identify your boundaries and how far you can push yourself.

The more you learn about yourself and other people’s identities and histories, the more you can appreciate who you are and understand other people. Yet this process can also provoke periods of grief, sadness, guilt, and anger due to the injustices that victims of oppression continue to fight. It’s difficult to manage the guilt one can feel in not doing enough, not fighting enough, or not learning enough. My advice to you on this complex journey is to embrace that guilt and the journey, which we often forget to do because we can be so desperate to get to that destination. With intersectional identities—no matter how many you may have or how many you want to be an ally or accomplice to—there is always more to learn. That’s the beauty of it, and the exhausting part of it. We don’t want to forget the foundation of these identities or where we come from, yet they are all constantly evolving and changing with society and cultural norms. They change with us, and even good change is uncomfortable. In fact, if you aren’t uncomfortable on this journey, you likely aren’t learning from it, at least not as much as you could be.

A term I think encompasses these ideas well is cultural humility, which emphasizes that understanding various identities and cultures is “a dynamic and lifelong process focusing on self-reflection and personal critique, while also acknowledging your own biases. It recognizes the shifting nature of intersecting identities and encourages ongoing curiosity rather than an endpoint,” as stated by Dr. Shamaila Khan. That’s why there will always be more learning to do. If we could all do our best to embrace that, we could all be better for it—better in our own understanding of ourselves, and also of each other.

Though I encourage you to lean into the discomfort of this work and remind you that we all have more learning to do, we also must prioritize rest and identify how far we can push ourselves. It’s important to take care of and love yourself. Part of this fight for equality, equity, and justice is self-love and care. Rest is productive. Rest is resistance. This is why community and support are so important in this fight and journey. Community can give us the space and time to rest.

—Ginger Klee, MS, LMFT, LPCC, consultant to the “Philip Guston Now” curatorial team