The Panic Is On

The Panic is On, pen & ink, 1990s, unpublished
(No relation to the Nick Travis 1955 LP cover)

Tenement K

Today we introduce a new limited edition fine art print called TENEMENT K, whose residents are bawdy, musical, criminal, and/or exhibitionistic. Doesn't matter if you're rowdy, serpentine, or headless—the landlord will rent you a room. If you were a mutant miscreant, you'd be home by now.

The previously unpublished and uncirculated work, which dates from the 1940s, is owned by a private collector who allowed us to have the work professionally photographed for print reproduction. Although the work is untitled, we have provisionally named it Tenement K to differentiate it from other untitled Jim Flora works.

Only forty (40) prints of Tenement K were produced for this edition. Each archival-quality 22" x 17" print is hand-numbered in the lower right and authenticated on the reverse with the stamped seal of Jim Flora Art (a Flora family enterprise). The provisional title does not appear in the print markings.

The launch price is $175.00 each (+ shipping and handling). Prices will increase as the edition sells down. Full print specs are included on the Tenement K page at JimFlora.com.

traffic snarls

Miserable pedestrian—what part of "beep" don't you understand?

Untitled, unfinished tempera on board (detail), 1950s. Purpose unknown.

Well-Fed at Last

These two tempera with pencil illustrations, differently titled yet seemingly related, were discovered in a mid-1960s Flora sketchpad pages apart. Both have a completed look, yet no discernible (or documented) purpose. Well-Fed At Last is signed, which indicates the artist considered the work finished and fit to behold. The alligator has a vicious or peeved demeanor. He has no love.

 

Local Government or the Commuter is unsigned, but has the added element of a homo sapien entree (moments before the dessert menu). Absent a context, the title appears to make no sense. Oddly, the alligator, who appears more satisfied than his above cousin, has one mismatched foot. His satisfaction no doubt derives from his happy meal.

 

 

rush hour

Commercial spot illustration, 1961, magazine and subject unknown. Pen & ink, watercolor and Liquid Paper on artist board with printer's markings. Time-traveler Buster Keaton found himself in a similar predicament in the legendary Twilight Zone episode "Once Upon a Time," which aired the same year.

road rage (1958)

The miserable family road trip. Commercial spot illustration, 1958, magazine and subject unknown. Pen & ink and watercolor on artist board. Three additional thematically unrelated spot illos were arrayed on the board.

costing you an arm & a leg

Another pencil draft from the 1955 sketchbook we've been featuring the past few weeks. The purpose of this stand-alone drawing is unknown. Other sketches on the same and adjacent pages feature rough panels for a cartoon ad about Proctor toasters; none of those drawings depict a loss of limbs.

pecking order

Our title, not Flora's. Draft from sketchbook ca. 1955, purpose unknown. Adjacent pages feature rough illustrations of management skills, probably intended for a topical magazine assignment.

the business of baseball

Hot Stove League entry: illustration (one of several) from "The Big Leagues Are Killing Baseball," LOOK magazine, April 15, 1958. The above image is an original painting. Many of Flora's early commercial illustrations exist only as printed reproductions, the original art either kept by the magazines or thrown out. When I interviewed Flora in 1998, I asked him about the whereabouts of his commercial originals. "They would reproduce it," I queried, "but they wouldn’t think to give it back to the artist?" Flora replied, "Yes, they would—if the artist wanted it. But most artists didn’t even think of getting it back in those days. I didn’t, mostly."

Flora began reclaiming his periodical illustrations in the late 1950s, and dozens (if not hundreds) exist in the family archives from such publications as Life, Fortune, Look, and the New York Times Magazine.

Bonus baby: this draft figure from a sketchbook looks familiar ...

Little Rock Getaway (pre-launch)

This will be our next limited edition fine art print. Little Rock Getaway is an undated Flora tempera that reflects his mid- to late-1960s color schemes and contours. It will be released soon in an edition of 25. Floraphiles can pre-order via the linked title.

Red Mike hunts the scissor boy

Detail from title page, Charlie Yup and His Snip-Snap Boys, Flora's third children's book, 1959. That's Charlie, snipping away at right; the villain with the lasso is Red Mike.

In the book, Red Mike is ... red. However, as with many illustrated books of the period, color pages alternated with black and white to make printing more economical. A number of Flora's kiddie books reflect this trend.

Le Sacre du Printemps

Flora created the Columbia Records new release monthly Coda in early 1943 and illustrated most issues thru 1945 (after which the journal morphed into Disc Digest). The March 1944 issue is one of Flora's most satisfying on an artistic level. The cover (above) illustrates a Columbia Masterworks four-disc album (price: $4.50) of Igor Stravinsky conducting his own Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring), described in Coda as "a ballet based on the paganistic rituals of prehistoric Russia." The 1913 work's tumultuous history (it sparked riots) is chronicled in the release notes.

Many of the interior illos of this Coda issue were reproduced in our third anthology, The Sweetly Diabolic Art of Jim Flora.

decapitation = success

Spot illustration, Research & Engineering magazine, April 1956, showcasing the secret to corporate achievement: sever your rival's head. The sword-wielding executive regiment works most effectively when your competitor is a sawtoothed reptile. In the above illustration the exec-suite platoon seems to have arrived after the fact, as evidenced by the detached noggin and "+" in place of eyeballs, which in cartoons usually signify death.

Murderpie

Flora woodcut print reproduced in Murderpie, a chapbook written by Robert Lowry, published by their struggling Little Man Press, Cincinnati, 1939. Many Little Man publications featured bizarre, meticulous cuts by Flora, but none of the original blocks are known to exist. This is one of the few extant signed LMP-era prints.

From Lowry's text:

I WILL HAVE TO BAM THEM NOW, he said.

He began to push them down with his two hands. He pushed them all down to the floor. He pushed them down with his two hands. Some little squashy ones he shook. He shook big greasy ones with moonbeam smiles. His little knife was gone because no one was left to care whether anyone was alive or anything. The whole room was packed full of bones and shanks and broken wishbones. And some of the blood and gore was trying to get away out of the door. He closed up everything.

The Stationmaster's Daughter

The full title of this undated (early- to mid-1940s) work is The Rape of the Stationmaster's Daughter, a tempera on paper, titled in pencil on the reverse. It was reproduced in our second Flora anthology, The Curiously Sinister Art of Jim Flora, and its anatomically absurd actors were adapted by designer Laura Lindgren for the cover. In 2008 we issued a fine art print.

A customer purchased a print last month and expressed admiration at the quality of both the work and the replica. But truth to tell, our Stationmaster print has not sold well. I suspect the subject matter creeps people out. It's sinister and diabolic—and goes beyond mere mischief. Who wants a cartoonish depiction of a sexual-assault-in-progress adorning the living room?

Yet this work will always be special to me. At the time Barbara Economon and I compiled our first book, The Mischievous Art of Jim Flora, in 2004, we had seen very little of Flora's early fine art. He was primarily known for his album covers and commercial music iconography, topical magazine illustrations, and children's books. What fine art of Flora's we had seen consisted mostly of his large, late-period maritime canvases, which did not capture our interest.

When I was first shown (by Flora's family) his fine art collection in storage on a rainy Saturday in October 2005, one of the first works pulled from a jammed portfolio was Stationmaster. I ogled it with amazement. It was gorgeous, even as it was disturbing. It was a depiction of evil, yet it had a magical quality, transporting me to another world, revealing the deeper Flora artistic vision that had been a family heirloom to that point. I didn't see darkness in the tableau. The aged, pigment-soaked paper evoked the privately creative side of Flora during the 1940s. I never forgot that moment: the birth of an obsession.

We don't know if the work was based on a historical incident or simply reflects Flora exorcising his demons with a paint brush. Barbara's color-matched print faithfully captures the original, right down to the muddy backwash. You can almost feel the brushstrokes.

crimestoppers

Great detail (extracted at the Print & Pattern blog) from Flora's mid-1960s painting The Big Bank Robbery. We issued a limited edition fine art print of the work earlier this year.

The backstory on the work is unknown. It may be a generic bank hold-up, or based on a specific historic incident. No documentation from the artist is known to exist.

spooky doings

Perhaps the kid dropped his bag of trick-or-treat candy (and shed his costume) sprinting for safety. Illustration from introductory chapter of A Red Skel(e)ton in Your Closet, a 1965 anthology of "ghost stories gay and grim" selected for young readers by popular film & TV comedian Red Skelton. The book contains 21 interior illustrations which are uncredited, but Flora's trademarks are unmistakable. The artist was under contract to Harcourt, Brace at the time, and in all probability was prohibited from artist attribution for illustrations in children's books issued by other publishers (this volume was a Grosset & Dunlap title). The best of the Skel(e)ton illustrations were reproduced in our recent book, The Sweetly Diabolic Art of Jim Flora.

cow chaos

Tempera overlay, The Day the Cow Sneezed, 1957, courtesy the Dr. Irvin Kerlan Collection, University of Minnesota Children's Literature Research Center.

the old brawl game

The title and date of this 1960s commercial tempera illustration are unknown, as is the periodical for which it was assigned (possibly LIFE or LOOK magazine). The mise-en-scène depicts historic incidents and major league baseball players associated with Busch Stadium (a.k.a. Sportsman's Park), home of two St. Louis baseball teams: the luckless Browns (1902-53) and the perennially contending Cardinals (1920-66). The ballpark was replaced by Busch Memorial Stadium in 1966, an event which this illustration probably commemorates. (The Browns franchise moved east in 1954 to become the Baltimore Orioles.)

The detail above represents about one-third of the full 16-1/4" x 16-3/4" work, which is stored in the Flora family archives.

arts & Kraft

In an art class called "Soft Sculpture" at the University of Washington (Seattle), students were instructed to transform a favorite painting into food sculpture. SunShine McWane adapted Flora's untitled 1950-51 tempera we casually refer to as "Gunfight on the Roof" (original work below). The resulting mixed-media delicacy, entitled "Cheese City," was completed in January 2009.

The materials—ingredients, actually—used by McWane include cheese (cheddar, Swiss, Colby, jalapeño jack), acrylic paint, plastic (GI Joe figures), one wire twist-tie, and a Gummi Bear. The work is currently in SunShine's apartment, at room temperature, preserved with spray fixative. Its lifespan is uncertain.

The original painting was reproduced in The Curiously Sinister Art of Jim Flora and released as a limited edition fine art print in 2008.

Thanks to Jillian Sutton for introducing McWane to Flora's work and for alerting us to the cheesy replica.