Johns' Canvases May Be Gray, But They Don't Get Old

“He’s got to be OCD. Otherwise, what’s with the numbers and the whole gray thing?” The woman speaking was standing in front of 0–9, an oversized canvas filled with gridded, repeating numbers in Jasper Johns’ new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, “Jasper Johns: Gray”.

The minimalist title of the exhibition says it all. The show marks the first collection focussing on the artist’s works entirely in varying shades of gray from the mid-1950s up to 2007.

The exhibition begins with False Start, the only canvas in color—and bright primary colors at that. Next to this obvious outcast of the group is its black-and-white counterpart, Jubilee. Here, color is only suggested—the word “orange” stands out in white text against a flash of asphalt gray. The pair is an introduction to contrasts, a key element in such an extensive show with so few different colors.

Johns is mainly known for his flags, alphabets, targets, and numbers, and the show uses these familiar motifs as an introduction to a new color palette. By the time the numbers give way to more abstract canvases, including one small painting in which a literal bite is taken out of the waxy encaustic, the subtlety of the large squares of gray is more easily digested.

What emerges from the narrowing of Johns’ palette is an interest in the materials and the artist’s connection to the creative process. The exhibit shows Johns’ willingness to experiment with different materials—paint, pencil, charcoal, and clay are all present, as well as silverware, rulers, flashlights, and string.

A particular highlight of the show is a small group of ink-on-plastic pieces—an unusual medium for Johns which he enjoyed because, as he is quoted on the wall text, “it is difficult to tell from the finished drawing what gestures were used to produce it.” Another high point is Study for Skin I, in which Johns covers his arm, face, or hands with charcoal and presses them against the paper. In each work, the presence of Johns’ hand- or body-prints reminds the viewer that despite all of the carefully measured grids and patterns, these are organic creations. In that way, it is a deeply personal show.

“There’s a lot of angst,” one visitor noted. But while all of that monochrome could feel a bit gloomy, the collection of gray canvases succeeds in showing the variety of emotion it is possible to express with a potentially drab color. Pieces are variably dark, thoughtful, suspicious, and playful.

Aspects of the exhibit itself, as opposed to the works of art, were surprisingly less well-considered. The two opening pieces were off-center under the exhibit title for no apparent reason, and the pure size of the exhibit—nine rooms in all—grated a bit considering the narrow color spectrum covering the walls.

Surprising, too, was the unceremonious end of the show, which opened directly into the museum store as if to say, “Now that you’ve seen the show, buy the book!” It came as a bit of a commercial shock at the end of a collection so carefully introspective. However, the line of tiny replica postcards—from a distance, all largely indistinguishable rectangles of gray—did reintroduce the question: How can so much gray really be that interesting?

But it was. By the end of the show, “gray” encompasses an entire color palette, not just a single hue of paint. Though it takes a bit of getting used to, “Jasper Johns: Gray” highlights the creative possibility of an artist when color is stripped away.