“Those pieces were all about making sure that the black viewer had a reflection of himself in the work. White viewers have to look at someone else’s culture in those pieces and see very little of themselves in it. The less I do, the more of an artist I am.”
- DAVID HAMMONS
Ever the artist to keep his viewers on their toes, David Hammons’s tarp paintings touch on the artist’s willingness to critique the very institutions that have brought him success and the legacies that remain deeply embedded within art history. Executed in 2017, Untitled is a recent example from this series, which began in 2007 and remains ongoing. In these works, painterly canvases are shrouded in mystery behind tarps, blankets, swaths of fabric, or other materials Hammons finds on the street. In Untitled, energetic strokes of blues, pinks, greens, browns, and oranges peer out from the corners of the canvas. Yet, the full composition is blocked from view by the blue-green plastic tarp tied precariously together with a yellow string directly in the center of the viewer’s field of vision.
Historically speaking, in twentieth-century art, abstraction has been viewed as a container of a universal meaning, a promise of some transcendence; if a viewer only concentrates hard enough, there will be the reward of a moment of sudden, intuitive understanding. By affixing the tarp to the canvas, Hammons’s penchant for cerebral mind games shines through as he turns this long-held expectation on its head: he asks the viewer to search, knowing they will find nothing. Or at least, not the full picture. In doing so, Hammons places the gestural language of Abstract Expressionism within the conceptual framework of the readymade. Moreover, Hammons calls in other art historical precedents to add layers of nuance, such as the blending of boundaries between painting and sculpture seen in the work of Robert Rauschenberg, or the use of tarp and other quotidian found materials employed by Arte Povera artists such as Alberto Burri.
Untitled, and the tarp paintings as a unit, serve another function as well: that of institutional critique. By giving his audience a hint of something beautiful—the kind of abstract paintings that collectors of all stripes are quick to snatch up—only to keep that beauty from view, Hammons covertly articulates his longstanding antagonism towards the art world. As he said in an interview with Kellie Jones in 1986, one of the rare interviews he has given us as a man of perpetual mystery: “I can’t stand art actually. I’ve never, ever liked art, ever. I never took it in school… We used to cuss people out: people who bought our work, dealers, etc., because that part of being an artist was always a joke to us.” (David Hammons, quoted in interview with Kellie Jones,  Real Life, 16 (Autumn 1986)). Just as Hammons refrains from holding traditional gallery representation, the tarp paintings are another reminder that Hammons is an artist who makes and exhibits his work only on his terms.
"With their draped membranes often touching the floor, the works have a mighty, sculptural presence to go with their visual ravishment. Hammons's show is somehow about everything since Abstract Expressionism - his initial inspiration before he launched his long career as a conceptualist guerilla, surfacing now and then from jealously guarded obscurity with satirical japes, at once elegant and scorching, on themes of racial inequality. Now he has achieved a perfect synthesis of his political animus and his aesthetic avidity."
- The New Yorker (2011), exhibition review of David Hammons at Mnuchin Gallery