Thank You, Ivan

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Ivan Karp 1926-2012

Photo by Algis Kemezys, taken 1995; courtesy of the gallery

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SoHo in the Seventies and Eighties was the center of the art universe, and OK Harris on West Broadway was the center of the center. Actually, Ivan Karp, who sat at a desk in the back gallery, was the center of it all, the Higgs boson particle of the art world.

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Ivan was legendary for his accessibility. Artists walked in with their slides and he would actually take the time to look at them. I never had the courage to approach him.
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So you can imagine my surprise in 1994 when I got into my Union Square studio and heard this message on my answering machine:  “Hello, this is Ivan Karp [he pronounced it Oivan Kop]. I saw your work at the Small Works Show and I’d like to make a studio visit.”  I don’t remember the exact words—I should have, because I played the message dozens of times—but that was the gist.

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The Small Works show was an annual event that took place at New York University’s 80 Washington Square East Galleries, a sprawling exhibition that drew hundreds of artists from New York City and the region (at the time, the work had to be hand delivered).

Alba, 1994, encaustic, 10"x10"

 A different dealer, critic or curator juried it each year. I entered three 10-by-10-inch paintings, reductive compositions in encaustic, a medium I felt I was finally getting control of. The juror that year was Jacquie Littlejohn, who had a gallery on 57^th Street. Earlier in the day, when I was at my day job, I’d received a phone call from NYU congratulating me on having been selected for a Juror’s Award. I walked on air to the studio.

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But the message from Ivan sent me soaring. It turns out that Marilynn Gelfman Karp—sculptor, NYU faculty member, and former curator of the 80 Washington Square East Galleries, who just happened to be married to Ivan—had a tradition with him that continued even after she’d relinquished the gallery. They went together to preview the show, with Ivan casting an eye for new artists and new work.

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Ivan came to the studio on a Saturday Morning a few weeks later. I was listening for him to come down the hall, but it turns out I smelled his cigar before he knocked.

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I’d laid out a selection of breakfast food--coffee, tea, bagels, croissants, fruit—and beckoned. He chuckled and said by way of no-thanks, “You think dealers don’t eat breakfast before they leave home?”

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OK, then. I showed him my work. He looked. Asked questions. Puffed. Looked some more. At the end of a long silence he said, “I’m going to give you a show.” 

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My solo took place in January, 1996, and from that time I have felt like a relative of the gallery family, which includes Ethan Karp, Ivan's son; Suzanne Kreps, Rick Witter, Ana Menezes, Christine Adapon, and Amy Fishman. I went on to have another solo at the gallery in 2007, during which time I worked with Ethan, but Ivan continued to oversee it all. With Ivan it was not about age or gender, or who you knew but by how he responded to your work. Somewhere there’s a quote from him saying that if you’re beautiful or rich, you will have no trouble finding a place for yourself in the art world, otherwise you will have to depend on talent and hard work.

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I believe my career was helped immeasurably by Ivan’s interest in my work, and I'm sure my story can be repeated in some form or other by countless other artists who have been touched by his generosity.

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If you have a story about Ivan Karp please share it here. I will make sure the family sees what you write. But equally important, I’d like this post to honor, via all of our stories, the generosity of someone who had a legendary "eye" and a great deal of power and used them in a way that supported artists in a business that has lasted well over 40 years.
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The gallery plans a memorial service for Ivan in the fall. And, says gallery manager Suzanne Kreps, "The gallery will be continuing with vigor."  

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Read obituaries in Gallerist NY and The New York Times