Whether in graphite, ink wash, or ballpoint pen, the procession of images literally unfolds in a series of accordion-paged books: forests, rooftops, mountains, farmland, rivers, clouds, birds, monkeys, skulls, transcriptions of master paintings, and sculpture. There are also the abundant faces of family, friends, and students. Nemett, 77, taught thousands of drawing and painting students in his 50-year career at Maryland Institute College of Art. Sometimes the likeness appears and sometimes it doesn’t. Nemett seems unfazed by this. He knows that in fifty years, it won’t matter.
While you will come across the occasional performing musician or athlete, most often it’s the Beckett-like world of waiting that takes center stage. No artist since Hopper has captured the claustrophobic, crushing weight of boredom as perfectly as Nemett does in his drawing of a jury pool holding room.
In their aggregate, these sketchbooks constitute a maximalist document of Nemett’s life. And a sizable chunk of his life has been devoted to travel. So we see people reading in train stations, sleeping in airports and, of course, talking on the phone everywhere. For Nemett, there is no such thing as downtime. Even in museums, he is as likely to draw other visitors in their bulky winter coats or summer t-shirts and shorts, or the inert figure of a snoozing guard, as he is the masterpieces on the walls.
At a moment in our history when most folks are content to snap a photo with a cell phone camera, Nemett digs in to take a long, hard look. (For the record, the artist does not use a cell phone and has never sent a text.)
Whether recording a breathtaking Umbrian panorama or the fleshy ear of the guy asleep next to him on a plane, what connects all of these images is the depth of Nemett’s attention and compassion, and the rich, joyous marks with which he enables us to see as he does. It was Degas, after all, who famously said, “Drawing is not what one sees, but what one can make others see.”
