Submerged Narratives: Art and Memory in July

Freedom Regained, by Julio Panisello-Huguet, July 2024

Out of the embers of a July that combusted with such joy in its last week for all the reasons,
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Out of the embers of a July that combusted with such joy in its last week for all the reasons, here are our thoughts on the theme that dominated our painting focus last month: figures submerged beneath the water's surface.

​While wandering through an estate sale before the month started, we spotted a framed poster featuring a photograph by Michael Childers taken in 1978, titled "The Hockney Swimmer." The image seemed to reenact a David Hockney painting of one of his pools and swimmers, featuring a figure in that delicate, weightless suspension between the shimmering surface of the water and the pool's playful floor painted by Hockney himself.

​We learned that Michael Childers, a founding photographer for Andy Warhol's Interview magazine, captured the unknown swimmer in David Hockney's kidney-shaped pool located in his Hollywood Hills home. The photograph was taken the same year Hockney purchased the property in 1978. Hockney lived and painted in this home for many decades and continues to own it, even though he relocated to Normandy, France, in 2019.

Hockney's Pool in the Hollywood Hills and Childers Photograph

The photograph sparked the idea of depicting people submerged in water for our July collection. The relentless summer heat, driving us to seek the cool embrace of pools and beaches, made the subject both fitting and evocative, as if it intended to mirror as well the month’s need for relief from all types of oppressive heat, not just thermometer-based.

​The poster brought back memories from our November 2018 collection, "Pool Lovers," in which we paid homage to Hockney's enigmatic 1972 painting "Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures)" by using the photograph that Hockney used as a reference for the painting.

Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures), Painted by Hockney in 1972

Hockney reenacted his own painting after he destroyed the first iteration.

The image tells the story of a tragic breakup: "a vivid testament to a once-in-a-lifetime love," as described by Christie’s. The scene draws inspiration from Western paintings of human figures bathing in a pastoral setting, where the bather (or diver in this case) is a metaphor for the integration of humanity and nature in a place symbolizing beauty and harmony: Arcadia, according to Christopher Knight. A place beyond the reach of suffering from the outside world. This Arcadia was also the conceptual context of our figures underwater.

​Hockney’s iconic painting made the news in 2018 when it sold for $90.3 million at a Christie's auction, setting a record for the highest price ever paid for a work by a living artist at that time. Inspired by this momentous event, we created a collection reenacting Hockney's photograph in our own stylistic way.

Pool Lovers, by Julio Panisello-Huguet, November 2018

When we studied the painting in 2018, the intrigue behind those two figures captivated us. Little did we know that the recent poster's discovery six years later would provide fresh insight into our initial questions. Hockney's "Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures)" featured a portrait of painter Peter Schlesinger, who used to be Hockney's muse and former lover. Schlesinger is standing at the edge of the pool, fully clothed. Interestingly, Schlesinger later became the romantic partner of Michael Childers, the photographer of The Hockney Swimmer poster that captured our attention at that estate sale. Could that swimmer in Childers photo also be Peter Schlesinger?

Hockney's scene is set against the backdrop of southern France, near Saint-Tropez, which was the only vague reference to the location we could find online. On a visit to the south of France, Chloé discovered the precise location used by Hockney in his composition.

​The house is located at La Garde-Freinet, just 13 miles from Saint-Tropez. Chloé even sent photographs (taken by someone else) of the precise vantage point of the painting and a book illustrating that Hockney used one photograph of Peter Schlesinger to make the initial composition.

House in La Garde-Freinet, which view was used by Hockney in his 1972 painting.

We couldn't find any references to the diver's figure in the 1972 painting or any photographic reference that Hockney used to compose it. In fact, Hockney destroyed the initial painting after he composed it using photographs and visited the actual location to reenact the scene, with in situ figures this time, so he could start the painting again.

David Hockney decorating his pool in the Hollywood Hills in 1978

Chasing such a twisty trail of clues outside our palette always adds excitement to the painting process, making the experience much more exciting.

But the conceptual layers for choosing the subject of underwater figures in July did not end there. The theme rekindled memories of teenage summers spent in pools and the sea. Whenever immersed in water up to our neck, there was that instinctive urge to dive beneath the surface and pretend to vanish. From an adult perspective, these small acts of escapism during childhood and teenage years appear as brief attempts to experience freedom and independence during a period marked by unending reliance and constant micromanagement by the adults around us, whose roles seem exclusively to make decisions for us.

As we grow older and our memories begin to contextualize our youth, like paging a story in the proper order, we remember the moments when we would leap gently up in the air, unannounced, building a tiny momentum, like the initial climb in a rollercoaster ride, just to drop and cut through the water's surface with gravity's help. As we submerged, we would release all the air from our lungs, allowing our weight to draw us downward like anchors while the water's resistance tugged at our hair, pulling it in the opposite direction of our descent. We would glide down until our bodies clunked on the floor of the pool or sea, which wasn't too far from the surface, immersing ourselves in a stillness that felt eternal, though it lasted only seconds.

Surrender, by Mark Heine

The subject of figures underwater we used this month reflected this escapist existentialism: a break from the burning world, a departure from reality, a plunge into a silent corner, our Arcadia, a world away from the searing, unending cycle of the rotisserie we've been skewered on.
At the mid-month opening of the "Art for a Safe and Healthy California" benefit exhibition at Gagosian in Beverly Hills, where the gallery partnered with Jane Fonda to support an initiative to protect neighborhoods from toxic oil drilling, we were captivated by a sculpture by Karon Davis. The artwork, "Unda Da Sea," repurposes elements reminiscent of summer art camps where the rules of assembling materials are unscripted: glass eyes, plaster bandages, shells, sand, and a plastic scarf encircling the neck. The bust is encased in a transparent cube with a tint of blue, giving the impression of being submerged.

"Unda Da Sea," by Karon Davis

The diorama depicts the seafloor as made of sand and shells, and the hair of the severed head is dragged upward, echoing the memory of our hair being pulled against the density of the water when falling down to the pool or sea floor. The plastic scarf, pointing perhaps to the reason for the decapitation, either by severance or asphyxia, serves as a dire reminder of the deadly pollution that contaminates our oceans. This sculpture tapped directly into the subject of our paintings from July as if encouraging our process.

The theme was a great challenge in terms of painting. People appear deformed and warped underwater, their proportions determined by other physical rules, where gravity and likenesses challenge our preconceived notions of what human figures should look like. Especially remarkable was the lack of hard edges and how everything melts into thick sfumato. Desaturated and cooler than in life above water, the flesh tones blend with the water's hue. Painting a person underwater felt akin to turning a portrait upside down, tricking the brain into engaging its more analytical right side. Consequently, we had to abandon our traditional knowledge of figure painting, which was inapplicable here. The results, however, were incredibly satisfying and unexpected.

As if this weren't enough, an image of a dear friend's newborn popped on our phone as we were writing this, sharing the joyful news of their baby's arrival. It was a poetic moment to reflect on the month's concept, a new layer within the fold, a metaphor for emerging from the depths of oceanic waters, gasping for fresh air on the other side. We found the oxygen we needed to regain hope and reengage with life. It could not have been more serendipitous to the month’s tectonic whiplash.

After completing our underwater figure paintings this month, we are viewing the Olympics through a fresh lens, gaining a newfound appreciation for the grace and elegance of the human form in a Neptunian stage. The thought of escaping into the water and witnessing the subtle interplay of light and shade below has been enlightening. Depicting the fractal distortion of the body and embracing the fluidity and transformation of its submersion has prepared us to enjoy the Olympic spectacle on a whole new level.

Daniel Wiffen (Ireland) at the Paris La Defense Arena in Nanterre, west of Paris, on July 30, 2024. (Photo by Oli SCARFF / AFP) (Photo by OLI SCARFF/AFP via Getty Images)

From swimming to diving to painting, we all seek liberation and escape in our own unique ways. The discovery of the Hockney-inspired poster and Davis's sculpture beautifully illustrate how unconnected dots and chance encounters can magically alchemize our creative journey and turn it into gold.

​We adore and rely on painting as a form of escape. It requires metaphorically releasing all oxygen and sinking into that quiet, safe space at the bottom of everything, undisturbed and unnoticed. The process becomes profoundly joyful and fulfilling when you paint with such focus, attitude, and emotional vantage point. Whether in the water or at our easels, here's to new beginnings, the magic of chance, and the boundless potential of creative portals.