From Publishers Weekly
Steinberg's high-concept graphic art—epitomized by his oft-imitated cartoon map in which a Manhattan distended with self-importance shoves the continents of North America and Asia to the margins—is enchantingly showcased in this lavishly illustrated retrospective of his work for the
New Yorker. Smith, a curator at the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar and author of
Edward Steichen: The Early Years, surveys six decades of Steinberg's pieces, including all 89 New Yorker covers (in full color), cartoons, wartime sketches from overseas, evocative (but never literal-minded) illustrations for articles, and unpublished items from the artist's portfolio. The material is arranged thematically, examining such recurring motifs as cats, pedestals and rubber-stamped figures and documenting the turn to visual metaphor in Steinberg's later work, where symbolic graphic representations of sound, abstract relationships and existential conundrums replace the usual scenario-with-verbal-punch line cartoon setup. Smith's pithy biographical essay situates Steinberg as a self-conscious modernist who helped develop a distinctive
New Yorker visual style, one with "a wry, informal wit... attuned to the jittery optimism of the Atomic Age." Steinberg's cartoons usually made readers think before they laughed, and so will this splendid memorial to a 20th-century artistic landmark.
(Apr.)
Everybody knows that the only reason (OK, not the
only reason) most people read the
New Yorker is the cartoons. Fortunately, the most famous
New Yorker cartoonist, Saul Steinberg (1914-99), was so frequently published on the magazine's cover that exclusive admirers could be forgiven for seldom plucking an issue from the newsstand or plumbing its contents. Smith's generous selection from all of Steinberg's
New Yorker work shows such connoisseurs what they missed: black-ink drawings, sparingly shaded, that are as droll as the carefully colored line works on the covers. Steinberg, who said he drew cartoons for readers, used captions only in his earliest
New Yorker work; later, he compositionally integrated words. He expected his fanciers' knowledge of the world and people, particularly New Yorkers, to enable them to see the humor in his work. Besides providing an excellent appreciative essay, Smith groups the plates and figures thematically and reprises all the Steinberg covers in chronological order at the end of the book.
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