The depicted:
David Levine (1926–2009) was one of the greatest caricaturists of the 20th century. Working in a style influenced by early British illustrators, Levine was a mainstay in the pages of The New York Review of Books. But Levine was more than a caricaturist—he was also an excellent book and magazine illustrator whose work covered a wide range of subjects.
Jack Levine (1915–2010) was a painter best known for his satires of modern life, political corruption, and biblical narratives.
The painting nicely illustrates the traditional conflict between “High” and “Low.”
In the art world, large-scale painting on canvas is generally held in higher regard than small-format black-and-white drawings. This is due, on the one hand, to the stronger visual impact of large works: they fill the space, dominate exhibitions, and convey a physical presence that drawings rarely achieve. On the other hand, painting has historically been associated with greater prestige—it is considered more elaborate, materially valuable, and closer to the tradition of “high art.” Drawings, by contrast, are often seen as private, intimate, or merely preparatory works.
This attitude is reflected (or rather caricatured) in the image: the painter Jack Levine (“High,” hence positioned at the top) dominates in purely quantitative terms—with a huge canvas, piles of painting supplies, and an expansive, theatrical action. The caricaturist David Levine, by contrast (“Low,” hence at the bottom), crouches modestly on the floor, content with his sketchbook, pen and ink, and a small watercolor set.
Note the many subtle details:
Four people in the picture are looking to the left: the model, the painter, the painted lady, and the drawn lady. The caricaturist, on the other hand, is the only one looking in the opposite direction: he is the deviant, the one who sees everything from the other side, who approaches things differently than the “official” artists.
The painter, although elevated and prominent, is also in acute danger of falling: if he leans just one inch further back on his ladder, he will topple over. The caricaturist, by contrast, sits firm and unshakable—nothing can knock him down; he knows exactly what he is doing.
The caricaturist wears a red shirt and light purple trousers—precisely the two colors framing the model: a purple cloth and a red curtain. Could this hint at a special relationship between the model and the caricaturist?
The painter’s green coat, on the other hand, is echoed nowhere else. The orange paint drips downward into a container, which holds a paint roller whose handle points exactly where the paint belongs: into the hair of the lady in the drawing.
And doesn’t it look as if the painted lady is pointing at the caricaturist from above with her ringed finger, while the drawn lady blows a kiss to him?
Questions:
1. Was there a personal connection between the artist Jack Rickard and the depicted Jack & David Levine beyond the fact that all three were artists and lived in New York?
2. What was the relationship between David and Jack Levine? Despite sharing a surname, they were not brothers and, as far as is known, not related. Why did Rickard choose to depict those two in particular—simply because of their identical last name and because of the appealing contrast that one painted in large-scale oil and the other worked in small-scale black and white drawing?
3. Does the red-haired lady represent a real person? A muse? A lover? An acquaintance Rickard chose to immortalize in this way?
4. Has this painting ever been published, or is it purely private in nature, perhaps a gift or homage among colleagues or friends?
