Post War and Contemporary Art

We are grateful for the research conducted by Susan Weininger, Professor Emerita, Roosevelt University.

Provenance:

The Artist

Mrs. Keeler, acquired directly from the Artist in 1951

Lot Essay:

Giraffe and Moon with Volcano (Giraffe and Volcano #2) depicts a giraffe reaching to touch a low-hanging crescent moon in an austere landscape. The animal stands near an erupting volcano in the left rear of the work and a small white stone in the right foreground. Abercrombie did many paintings of giraffes, the earliest dating to ca. 1938, close to the beginning of her career; the latest dates to 1958. In between she did at least 16 paintings in which a giraffe, or on one occasion, two giraffes, are the major subject (Two Giraffes [Giraffe Lovers], 1951, Private Collection).  Sometimes a giraffe appears in the background of a scene, such as the one in Search for Rest (1951, Dijkstra Collection), which resembles the subject in Giraffe and Moon with Volcano. The largest of the paintings in which the giraffe is the main subject is 6 x 8 inches and several are the very tiny images (1 ½ x 2 inches or smaller) that Abercrombie created to be made into brooches. Although some of these cannot be located today, the popularity of this subject is attested to by the wide variety of venues in which the artist sold them, including the Associated American Artists in Chicago, Katharine Kuh Gallery, the Renaissance Society of the University of Chicago, and the South Side (Hyde Park) outdoor Art Fair. 

While the giraffe in the present artwork is very similar to other known images, in which the giraffe stretches to meet the moon, with a leafless tree in the background, the volcano adds a new dimension to the composition.  Introducing such a volatile element is something Abercrombie did in other paintings, for example Owl and Tornado (1956, formerly Maurer Collection) in which an owl in the foreground is juxtaposed with a dark, looming tornado approaching in the background. The contrast between the animals (both serving as Abercrombie’s alter egos) and the explosive and dangerous impending natural disaster creates a surrealism often seen in the artist’s work. Abercrombie often invoked dreams to explain her paintings, and although there are no specific references to tornadoes or volcanoes in her writings, interviews, or letters, these do have a fantastic quality that is consistent with her other work.   

Why giraffes? Abercrombie famously said, “It is always myself that I paint” and even in her still life paintings and empty rooms, she is present. The repertoire of personal objects that recur in her paintings stand in for the artist herself. It is possible that the tall, long-necked Abercrombie may have found in the giraffe another stand in for herself. She adopted the owl and the cat, familiars of the witch, for compositions in which she wanted to emphasize those roles; she might have chosen to identify also with the giraffe, a less familiar creature but something of a unique outlier as she was herself. There are numerous self-portraits in which her neck is elongated (for example, Self Portrait in White Beret, 1935, Private Collection; Self Portrait of My Sister, 1941, Art Institute of Chicago; Self and Cat [Possums], 1953, formerly Maurer Collection). And in the many images of Abercrombie in a room or a landscape, her neck also appears unnaturally long (for example, A Game of Kings, 1947, location unknown; Strange Shadows [Shadows and Substance], 1950, Private Collection; Search for Rest, 1951, Dijkstra Collection; Gertrude and Christine, 1951, Private Collection). The moon, which Abercrombie also considered her personal property, is accessible to the long-necked giraffe by virtue of its height, something the artist would have loved to do herself. 

And, although it is difficult to say if Abercrombie was aware of this, her interest in giraffes coincided with the widely publicized arrival of two African giraffes in New York enroute to the San Diego Zoo, where they arrived in late 1938, around the same time Abercrombie began to paint these animals. This was an event of some moment, as giraffes were a rarity in the United States at this time; reportedly there were only five of the animals in the country in 1925.  Although Abercrombie did not generally reference current events in her work, the huge outpouring of publicity about the giraffes’ arrival may have stimulated her to inhabit this animal as another alter ego. This image of the giraffe reaching for the moon attests to her ownership in a simple, yet resonant way, and is typical of Abercrombie’s transformation of recognizable things of this world into evocative, meaningful, and mysterious art.