A Seasoned Eye: Alex Katz Explains His Idea of Painting Eternity

On a recent warm morning, my colleague Naeem Douglas and I visited Alex Katz in his downtown New York City studio, just days before he decamped to Maine for the summer. Katz was up on a rolling ladder painting when we first arrived, and he finished applying a dark brown coat of paint before climbing down to say hello. A stack of wooden frames awaiting canvas rested against the wall nearby. There was a palpable, almost feverish energy around the work that needed to be done. (Asked about his current routine, Katz replied that it was just “paint and sleep” with a laugh. He turns 97 this month.) On the occasion of a group of his monumental Seasons paintings going on view in MoMA’s atrium this summer, we spoke about making art for eight decades; his idea of eternity; a favorite line from his friend, the poet Frank O’Hara, which he took as inspiration; and what makes a painting a “dog” or a thing of indescribable elegance. He needs his paintings, Katz explained, to have “the feeling I have when I see things.” As Naeem and I emerged from the studio onto a busy sidewalk, we looked up at some trees in full bloom, trying to figure out which had been the model for the artist’s Winter painting at MoMA. I realized we were already trying to have a little more of Katz’s seasoned eye.

This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.

Because of your idea of time, I’m interested in how you might define or think about seasons.

Every three months, everything looks different. I’m trying to get at that. I don’t want the painting to be like a static image of reality, like some Roman art or Renaissance paintings. They’re terrific paintings, but they’re very static in time. The sensation in my big paintings; a lot of them are painted with a big brush in one stroke, the whole thing. And that has a certain energy, that gesture. That coincides with the seeing. It sort of locks into it. If you’re doing a thinner line, it wouldn’t have the feeling of energy or the feeling I have when I see things. So, that part of it is crucial.

Do you use different brush sizes for different seasons?

All of the paintings at the Modern, they all were made with a six-inch brush. When you get more skilled, you can use a bigger brush for smaller things.

I love that, using a bigger brush for smaller things. And are all the Season paintings actual places?

Well, let’s see. Autumn 5 [2022] developed from some trees outside the house in autumn.

In Maine?

No. In New York City. Every morning I walk around the block, and I’m walking past these trees with these colored leaves, and I say, “Gee, they’re terrific.” So, I took a camera and photographed it and developed it, and it ended up with this painting. Winter Tree 1 is a tree on this block. You can see the tree!

It’s working. Can you talk a little bit about the size and scale of these works?

Well, the large painting is to take the landscape away from the holes in the wall. They’re great paintings, but they’re basically holes in the wall. And wrap that painting around you. If you’re in front of some of these big paintings, they’re around you, they’re environmental.

I love that idea of a painting wrapping around you.

Yeah. And I need a certain amount of size for that.

And you’ve also talked about painting spreading around you.

Yeah. You’re inside the painting.

I’m curious about other large paintings at MoMA that are immersive experiences, like Claude Monet’s Water Lilies.

I think some of the water lily paintings are better than others. The ones with the trees aren’t so hot.

You prefer the ones that have no horizon?

Yeah. No trees. The trees are painted like cotton candy, and it kills the pictures. But they have a feeling of not ending, which I always liked. And there are some earlier ones in Chicago that are totally fantastic. I do think Monet has painted more masterpieces than anyone. If he’s in front of a good motif, he’ll knock out seven, and if the motif isn’t so good, he’ll make six dogs.

[Laughter] What is your ideal thing that you would like someone to experience when they’re standing in front of one of those really large paintings?

Well, you never know what people think. And people see a different painting: an art student sees a painting; a 20-year-old painter, they’re seeing a different painting; the museum person sees it; a writer sees it. People are getting used to my paintings, in a way, so they’re a little more sympathetic to them, and take them seriously. So the experience, the public is varied. Right now, I have a very big public and a lot of young people seem to be interested in the work. And the whole thing is very strange and problematic. It’s connected to the energy of the country.

Oh, interesting.

Because it’s a stylistic thing, how does the painting relate to where people are? And the taste or the culture of a country is a huge drive. And as an artist, you try to hook onto it. You don’t control it, the dealer doesn’t, museums don’t, writers don’t. They think they do. They don’t. It’s how you relate to the current fashion, is what it is.

Does that energize you?

Well, I think you want to make something new. And so, you’re involved in the world of fashion just like that. I think the old modernist idea was that you can only work from the immediate past. You carry no baggage. It doesn’t adequately give you the opportunities to deal with experiences outside of that. My favorite artwork is the Nefertiti sculpture, by Thutmose [1345 B.C.E.].

And why is that your favorite?

I like the elegance of his styling, and I love the energy of his line. He draws on little slabs of limestone, and has other people make it, I think. And the energy of the line is fantastic. And then the modeling is like Raphael, you can’t believe a human being did it, And I mean, he is more important to me than the guy who invented abstraction.

Are there any other artists in the farther past of history?

Well, you go through different cultures. I like the Japanese printmaker [Kitagawa] Utamaro, because he dealt with the bohemian world very successfully. And he has a driving line, not a lot of substance but a great deal of style.

And how did you discover these artists?

Just by accident. You’re open to it, is what it is. My mother was a translator in World War II. She brought home a Nefertiti [reproduction] from a gift shop, and had it on her dresser. And I looked at it, I looked at it and it went bow pow! It has such an elegance, like 1930s movies. Nefertiti could fit into a 1930s movie.

Do you see cinema as an influence?

Well, I think movies affect your vision. And I think to deny they exist is ridiculous. They affect your vision, the way you think, and think about things. And photography too. Celluloid images are as much of an influence on art as Mondrian.

Alex Katz: Seasons is on view at MoMA July 4–September 8, 2024.