Genesis Tramaine SWEET JESUS!

When history tells the story of contemporary art—or of avant-garde movements, which have long been taken for contemporary art itself—it focuses on a series of acts of liberation.

Liberation from the academic model (Gustave Courbet and Realism), from the structure of our vision itself (Cubism), from the hand of the artist (delegating production to others), from representation, and even from inspiration, narration, etc. At the same time that the notion of the end of avant-garde movements has become accepted, it has also been possible for art to liberate itself repeatedly from the same constraints—returning to the starting point, and thus justifying all kinds of “returns” or renunciations, meaning that nothing can be assumed and everything is open to debate.

Depicting the lives of the saints is probably one of the very oldest liberations, far predating contemporary art. There has never been any discussion of returning to this practice, and while we sometimes attribute a mystical dimension to the experience of a particular painting (Rothko, Soulages), God seems to be completely absent from contemporary art: even iconoclastic approaches such as Andres Serrano’s seem to have vanished now.

Yet Genesis Tramaine, born in New York in 1983, defines herself today as “a devotional painter,” and specifically as “a queer devotional painter,” titling her 2018 exhibition in New York “God is Trans.” Through daily morning meditation and study, she explores the life of the saints, finding the inspiration and information that lead to her paintings. This calls to mind the Golden Legend, tales of the lives of 150 saints that were written by Jacques de Voragines between 1261 and 1266, inspiring artists from the Middle Ages on, especially Italian Renaissance painters. A former teacher who was trained as a mathematician, Tramaine is self-taught. “I've wanted to be an artist since I was a child. I took my prayers seriously, which means I began to develop a relationship with Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior about 7 years ago. I asked God if I could paint and pray, help and give, as an offering of service for the rest of my life. And the paintings began to mature. I committed to the relationship that painting offers spiritually, in Jesus’ name. ¹”

By offering her artistic version of the tales defining the life of each saint, she wants to establish an alternative truth. “I think it’s important that you paint a real narrative, an honest reflection. I don’t think [my saints] look like saints as they have been given to us...[those] were false narratives.”² One of the observations that Tramaine resists is the color of the saints’ skin in art history. “Also, it's important to remember that the black narrative, unfortunately, has often been given to the world through a lens that is not our own. So it makes sense that my work may seem to be out of context when comparing it with how we’ve traditionally been allowed to be seen or shown. I disagree with much of the imagery that's been fed to me. I literally draw and paint over it. It's wrong. So instead, I say ‘Use me, Lord, I’ll help them see the truth, because this is some bullshit.’”³

The storytelling that precedes Genesis Tramaine's work—information that is now considered essential to interpreting works of art—opens up the possibility of her paintings establishing a special relationship with viewers, offering a unique context for approaching her art. But this narrative shouldn’t obscure another unique feature: her stylistic approach, which, although it may be the creation of a divinely inspired autodidact, seems to have a serious relationship with the history of painting—precisely the kind of relationship that stimulated avant-garde movements. Critics have emphasized Tramaine’s stylistic closeness to graffiti, and she herself has explained that she was familiar with graffiti in her childhood: “I grew up seeing good graffiti and not so good graffiti as a Brooklyn kid.”⁴ Her paintings also reveal stylistic continuations relating to the work of George Condo, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and de Kooning, and, more generally, the ambition to give portrait painting a new vitality. She expresses this by classifying her artistic media into three groups: “Natural Resources” (water and salt), “Holy Spirit” (rhythm, sound, connection covenant—relationship with self) and “Womb Energy” (water, light, future memory—ancestral intuition).

The new paintings that she is presenting at Almine Rech in Paris (her first solo exhibition in Paris, and her fifth with the gallery, which has shown her work in New York, Aspen, Brussels, and London) mark an exciting development. The figures from “Parable of Nana” and “Evidence of Grace” (her two previous solo shows at Almine Rech, in London in 2020 and Brussels in 2021, respectively), sported dozens of eyes, as if this signified their curious, voracious exploration of the world. Frozen in silence, these serious and often sullen figures seemed to clench their teeth...they expressed their personality, their history, their feelings in a different way. The new pantheon of figures in “Sweet Jesus” (the title she has given her Paris show, which is loaded with meaning all on its own) have their mouths open and all their teeth displayed—often many more teeth than usual, echoing the plethora of eyes Tramaine painted previously. Her figures, it seems, have started to smile. To shout, perhaps; to sing—why not?; and to talk—most definitely.

“Saint Sarai” (2024) shows the wife of Abraham (Tramaine has chosen to use the Hebrew form of her name instead of Sarah), who seems to have many things to say. As Tramaine explains, “She is a remarkable story of how God answers your fears with love. She bears a child well into her old age.” “Nana Ate the Manna” (2004) brings back the figure of Nana, this time discoursing on a Bible verse (“Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat,’” John 6:31-51) and clearly ready for a lengthy debate. But the talky figures in these portraits may simply serve to attain another form of expression: “It’s a painted language. It surpasses our literal language,”⁵ Genesis Tramaine says.

— Eric Troncy, french art critic, curator, and the Director of the Consortium Museum in Dijon

<sup>1. James Ambrose, “In the Studio with Genesis Tramaine,” émergent magazine, February 2021.

2. Katie White, “The Big Interview: Genesis Tramaine,” Artnet, September 9, 2021.

3. Mahoro Seward, “The Painter Blending Gospel Spirituality and Abstract Portraiture,” i-D Magazine, April 1, 2020.

4. James Ambrose, ibid.

5. Katie White, ibid.</sup>

Ce que l’Histoire a retenu de l’art contemporain — en tous cas des avant-gardes, avec lesquelles longtemps il n’a fait qu’un — ce sont principalement les émancipations qui, au fond plus que quoi que ce soit d’autre, et avec leur chronologie, le caractérisent.

Émancipations du modèle académique (Gustave Courbet et le Réalisme), des règles structurelles même de notre vision (Cubisme), émancipation de la main de l’artiste (œuvres dont la production est déléguée), émancipation de la représentation, émancipation, même, de l’inspiration, ou de la narration, etc. Tandis que s’est imposée « par défaut » l’idée de la fin des avant-gardes, il a aussi été possible, pour l’art, de s’émanciper de ce dont il venait de s’émanciper, revenant en somme à la case départ, justifiant ainsi toutes sortes de « retours » ou de renoncements, enfin ne tenant jamais rien pour acquis.

Bien antérieure à l’art contemporain, raconter la vie des Saints est, dans cette litanie, probablement l’une des émancipations les plus anciennes – personne, jamais, n’a songé à y revenir, et si l’on prête parfois une dimension mystique à l’expérience de tel ou tel tableau (Rothko, Soulages) disons que Dieu jouit d’une paie absolue lorsqu’il s’agit d’art contemporain : même les propositions iconoclastes (Andres Serrano) ont semblé s’évanouir dans l’époque contemporaine.

Genesis Tramaine, née en 1983 à New York, se définit cependant aujourd’hui comme « a devotional painter » — plus précisément comme « a queer devotional painter », intitulant son exposition à New York en 2018 « God isTrans ». Elle explore notamment, par la méditation et la recherche quotidiennes et matinales, la vie des Saints, et trouve dans cette expérience l’inspiration et les informations qui conduisent à ses tableaux – un peu comme La Légende Dorée, écrite par Jacques de Voragines entre 1261 et 1266, et qui raconte la vie de 150 saints, inspira les artistes depuis le moyen age, et la peinture italienne de la Renaissance en particulier. Ex-enseignante, mathématicienne de formation, elle est autodidacte. “ I've wanted to be an artist since I was a child. I took my prayers seriously, which means I began to develop a relationship with Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior about 7 years ago. I asked God if I could paint and pray, help and give, as an offering of service for the rest of my life. And the paintings began to mature. I committed to the relationship that painting offers spiritually, in Jesus name. "¹

Elle forme l’ambition, en livrant sa version picturale des récits qui définissent la vie de tel ou tel Saint, établir une vérité alternative. “I think it’s important that you paint a real narrative, an honest reflection. I don’t think [my saints] look like saints as they have been given to us...[those] were false narratives.”² L’une des observations contre laquelle Tramaine se dresse est la couleur de la peau des Saints dans l’histoire de l’art. “Also, it's important to remember that the black narrative, unfortunately, has often been given to the world through a lens that is not our own. So it makes sense that my work may seem to be out of context when comparing it with how we’ve traditionally been allowed to be seen or shown. I disagree with much of the imagery that's been fed to me. I literally draw and paint over it. It's wrong. So instead, I say 'Use me, Lord, I’ll help them see the truth, because this is some bullshit.”³

Le storytelling qui précède l’œuvre de Genesis Tramaine — une donnée avec laquelle l’époque nous a conduit à appréhender désormais les œuvres d’art — ouvre dans la relation qu’entretiennent ses tableaux avec le spectateur les possibilités d’un lien spécial, et fabrique pour l’appréhension visuelle de ses tableaux un contexte original et singulier. Au risque qu’il finisse par obscurcir une autre singularité : celle, stylistique, de cette œuvre qui, pour autant qu’elle soit la création d’une autodidacte divinement inspirée, semble entretenir avec l’histoire de la peinture de sérieuses relations — des relations de l’ordre de celles qui animaient les avant-gardes. On a beaucoup infligé à Tramaine la proximité stylistique avec le graffiti, elle-même expliquant qu’elle y fut confrontée dans son enfance (« I grew up seeing good graffiti and not so good graffiti as a Brooklyn kid. »⁴) On voit aussi dans ses tableaux les prolongements stylistiques à l’œuvre chez Georges Condo, Jean-Michel Basquiat, chez De Kooning aussi et, de manière générale, l’ambition de donner à la peinture de portrait un autre souffle. Ce qu’elle fait tout d’abord en annonçant le recours à des mediums picturaux qu’elle classe en trois ensembles : « Natural Ressources » (l’eau et le sel), « Holy Spirit » (rhythm, sound, connection covenant (relationship with self) et « Womb Energy » (water, light, future memory (ancestral intuition).

L’ensemble de toiles nouvelles qu’elle présente à la galerie Almine Rech à Paris (sa première exposition personnelle à Paris, la cinquième avec Almine Rech, qui l’exposa à New York, Aspen, Bruxelles et Londres) marque une évolution réjouissante : les personnages de « Parable of Nana » et de « Evidence of Grace » (ses deux précédents solo shows avec la galerie, respectivement à Londres en 2020 et Bruxelles en 2021), étaient affublés de dizaines d’yeux, comme s’ils signifiaient leur exploration curieuse et vorace du monde. Figés dans le mutisme, ces personnages graves et souvent renfrognés semblaient serrer des dents… Ils exprimaient autrement leur personnalité, leur histoire, leurs sentiments. Le nouveau panthéon qui forme « Sweet Jesus » (le titre qu’elle a donné à son exposition parisienne, et qui à lui seul est tout un programme) est bouches ouvertes et toutes dents dehors – souvent bien plus de dents que de raison, qui font écho à bien plus que deux yeux par visage. Ses personnages, semble t’il, se sont mis à sourire. A vociférer, peut-être, à chanter, pourquoi pas, à parler, assurément.

« Saint Sarai » (2024) montre en effet la femme d’Abraham (Tramaine à choisi d’employer son nom hébreux plutôt que celui de « Sarah ») semble avoir bien des choses à dire (« She is a remarkable story of how God answers your fears with love. She bears a child well into her old age » explique Tramaine). « Nana ate the Manna’» (2004) montre à nouveau le personnage de Nana, cette fois-ci dissertant sur un verset de la Bible (« Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.”, Saint john 6:31-51.) et de toute évidence prête au palabres. Mais le babil des personnages de ses portraits est peut-être simplement un véhicule pour atteindre une autre forme d’expression : “It’s a painted language. It surpasses our literal language.” ⁵ Dit Genesis Tramaine.

— Eric Troncy, critique d'art français, commissaire d'exposition et directeur du musée du Consortium à Dijon

<sup>1. James Ambrose, “In the Studio with Genesis Tramaine,” émergent magazine, Février 2021.

2. Katie White, “The Big Interview: Genesis Tramaine,” Artnet, Septembre 2021.

3. Mahoro Seward, “The Painter Blending Gospel Spirituality and Abstract Portraiture,” i-D Magazine, Avril 2020.

4. James Ambrose, ibid.</sup>

^{5. Katie White, ibid.}