Image provided by Kevin Duffy
A collaborative painting by artists Charles Barbier and Clark Derbes, over a photo on canvas by photographer Brian Baiamonte.
In James Joyce’s novel Ulysses, Leopold Bloom muses that a good puzzle would be to try to cross Dublin without passing a pub. In Baton Rouge, an art lover might try to do the same without passing a piece of artwork by Charles Barbier. Across the city that was his home, in places public and private, indoors and out, on canvases and panels, interstate pillars, and the walls themselves, work by Barbier—who died in August—remains a colorful, thought-provoking, occasionally disturbing, ultimately joyous reminder of an iconic artist and of the generation of artists he inspired. A lifelong Louisianan born in Plaquemine, Barbier created exuberantly surreal canvases bursting with local landmarks, familiar faces, spirited strangers, religious symbolism, pop culture references, and in-jokes for artist friends in the know. Simultaneously crazy-weird and comprehensible, Barbier’s paintings present a mashup that will be instantly recognizable to anyone who calls Baton Rouge home. His was a world where lots of apparently unrelated things—football, alligators, UFOs, musicians, marching bands, Catholic iconography, environmental disaster, and his experiences as a Vietnam veteran—coexist in unlikely juxtaposition, while somehow seeming perfectly at home. A prolific painter of enormous range and a natural collaborator, Barbier’s most visible legacy comes in the form of large-scale mural artworks—the one deifying a dozen Louisiana blues artists on a wall on Government Street; the LSU footballers who scrimmage and soar on overpass pillars beneath the I-10 bridge; the “Heroes of Harding Field” mural commemorating WWII veterans at BREC’s Greenwood Community Park. Then there are literally dozens more projects that adorn walls at stores, restaurants, and other public places throughout the capital city. As Casey Phillips of The Walls Project, with which Barbier created several mural projects, puts it: “He was first of all a folk artist and an incredible creator. He channeled all the elements of the universe, while at the same time understanding the historical context of what he was doing.”
But no matter how large the pieces or prolific the body of work, where the Baton Rouge art community is concerned, it’s the absence of Charles Barbier the man that’s felt most keenly. For decades, rare was the exhibit that opened without “The Barbino” in attendance. In a post to the Facebook group “Charles Barbier: In Memoriam,” scores of artists and art lovers whose lives Barbier influenced have posted photos and tributes. Among them is a comment from a friend who wrote, “I always felt confident going to any art show alone, because I knew I’d always have Charles to talk to.” “He reveled in other people’s creativity,” wrote another. Dozens more posts testify to the humility, kindness, and generosity of spirit with which this self-taught artist harnessed raw talent together with keen powers of observation, displayed a talent for teaching and a genuine fascination with people, and enriched the lives of everyone around him.
That facility for bringing all of life’s experiences together on canvas also enabled Barbier to collaborate freely with other artists. One who collaborated with him for decades was Rusty Culotta, who first encountered Barbier as a student at Catholic High School, when Charles taught art there in 1986–’87. Although Barbier only taught in an official capacity for a couple of years, he never tired of helping young artists grow, pushing them to challenge themselves and to try new things. “Charles was always at the center of creating activities,” observed Culotta. “He was a student of everyone he worked with, and took something away from every painting he looked at. He had a spirit of play, so to him, collaborative art was just another game—one that artists got to play.”
Someone else feeling Barbier’s absence keenly is Malia Krolak, director of the LSU School of Art galleries on campus and in the Shaw Center for the Arts. “Charles was a great friend and so open to helping other artists out, especially emerging artists,” she said. “He was sort of like a documentarian for Baton Rouge. His work was the story of all the people he met, in an ongoing narrative from his viewpoint. It’s hard to believe when we look up he won’t be there. Except he will, because his work is everywhere. That makes me feel better. We’ll write him a love letter next fall.”
At the time of his death, Krolak and Barbier were planning a show featuring his recent work, scheduled for January 2019. “Since he died I moved the show to fall 2019,” Krolak noted, “because we want to round up work from all across the community, to make it more of a retrospective.” For the show, one idea had been to create a map identifying all of Barbier’s public works throughout Baton Rouge. Krolak said she’d still like to make the map happen before the fall retrospective. With such a map, presumably it would be possible, Leopold Bloom-style, to plot a path across Baton Rouge without ever passing a piece of art by Charles Barbier. The question is, why on earth would you ever want to?
A public group has formed on Facebook to commemorate Barbier. Look up “Charles Barbier: In Memoriam.”
During October, Charles Barbier will be profiled on LPB’s Art Rocks, the weekly showcase of visual and performing arts hosted by Country Roads publisher James Fox-Smith. Tune in Friday, October 26, at 8:30 pm or Saturday, October 27, at 5:30 pm across the LPB network. lpb.org/artrocks.
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