JOSÉ LERMA

Traditionally, painted portraits served to identify and memorialise kings, queens, and otherelite members of society. Profile views, prevalent on the ancient Roman coins that inspiredPiero, were thought to provide the most accurate likeness. Renaissance portrait painters likePiero not only sought to capture the outward appearance of their subjects, but also theirstatus and character. It was not until the era of photography that portraits becomedemocratised; that is, it was no longer a costly luxury to have one’s portrait made. Todayphotographic ‘selfies’ are among the most common images people encounter on a dailybasis.

Portraiture—and who has historically been represented in the genre—is an abiding concernof Lerma’s. Both his early site-responsive installations and recent studio-based paintingsprobe the power dynamics of portraits through the ages. For example, his 2010 series offine-line airbrush paintings of 17th- and 18th-century bankers and royals resemble giantballpoint pen doodles, thereby deflating the importance conferred by their official portraits.His floor-spanning depictions of these same personages on rugs further upends theirdominance by having viewers look down at and walk on their faces. In the more recent ‘Repaintings’ series, Lerma—who was born in Spain and raised in Puerto Rico—copies rareexamples of Hispanic subjects in European and American paintings at the Art Institute ofChicago. Similarly, his series Background People, painted enlargements of marginal figuresfrom Western paintings, reverse typical hierarchies of representation.

Lerma’s current portrait paintings frustrate the desire to recognise a particularperson—through distinctive facial features and/or character traits—in a depiction referredto as a ‘portrait.’ Each work is titled after the first name of the sitter, a mode of address thatsuggests some level of familiarity and even intimacy between artist and subject. Indeed,many of the titular individuals are Lerma’s neighbours and friends in San Juan and Chicago,where he splits his time. Though based on specific people, the portraits are simplified to thepoint that likeness becomes indeterminate. Varying hairstyles distinguish one person fromthe next, but their blank visages allow the viewer to project imagined identities onto each.As resemblance recedes, paint itself comes to the forefront. Of course, the very abundanceof paint, projecting outward from the canvas, further establishes its position of prominence.In place of metaphorical, psychological depth in the faces portrayed, we find literal depth inthe thickness of paint. For Lerma, the portrait is the vehicle for the paint as much as theother way around.

The sculptural quality of the paint contrasts with the flatness of the images, which echo Popart in their cartoonish simplification. Lerma’s particular paint recipe not only has a highviscosity but also a rubbery, matte finish. Unlike oil paint, which is well-suited to renderingthe translucency of human flesh, Lerma’s thickened acrylic recalls toys, dolls or plasticine.The schematic faces and artificial materiality further thwart the development of characterpsychology. Contrary to the traditional aim to breathe life into painted figures, Lermaimposes an uncanny stillness and quiet on his by congealing them in the sludge of paint.

In addition to portraits, the paintings also contain landscapes. Viewed independently of theimage, the peaks and valleys of paint appear topographical. The accretion of material wherebrushstrokes meet is like the mountainous ridges formed by tectonic plates. Lerma hasfittingly described himself as a “landscape painter” since his work always emerges from hissurroundings—in this case, the people around him in Puerto Rico, where he paints outsidein an abandoned tennis court.

In the larger works, ranging from six to eight feet tall, Lerma uses a commercial broom tocreate gigantic brushstrokes. The effect is of a small study that has been enlarged. Shiftingscale is another way to dismantle hierarchies and bestow importance on the marginalised.Blown up, seemingly casual sketches of local acquaintances assume the magnitude ofaristocratic portraits. The ambiguous scale also destabilises the viewer’s sense of their ownsize, allowing them to imagine they are indeed looking at a tiny sketch but through the eyesof a child.

Thus further paradoxes emerge: specific and general, figurative and abstract,three-dimensional and flat, organic and synthetic, living and unmoving, portrait andlandscape, small and big. Though seemingly placid, Lerma’s portraits shuttle between thesepoles and subtly disrupt our assumptions about what we see so that we may return to anopen, curious, childlike state of mind.

— Antonia Pocock, independent scholar

Antonia Pocock, Ph.D., is a scholar of modern and contemporary art and adjunct instructorof art history at Marymount Manhattan College in New York. Her most recentpublications include an article on Fluxus artist and musician Ben Patterson in Nka: Journalof Contemporary African Art (May 2022) and an essay on the reclusive multimedia artistBettina Grossman in the catalogue Bettina (Paris: Atelier EXB, 2022). She is currentlyworking on her first book, a study of New York Pop art and Chicago Imagism.