She enters the scene from the left. Her face anchors the image at the upper left like a staple fastening a stack of paper. The profile of her body creates a vertical column on the edge of the image that accentuates its vertical orientation. Her extended arm divides the upper and lower halves. Her hand dissolves into the objects behind her outward gesture, fading into soft edges and abstract shapes. Her breast suggests surgical augmentation, capped with a small triangular pink nipple. Indiscernible shapes and reflected light balance the weight on the opposite side of the photograph.
Is she a dancer peeking out at an audience before going on stage? Is she searching for someone after a performance? Will the bold makeup preserve her facial features under intense artificial light? Is she in a theater, a nightclub, or a private room? She appears to be the sole figure isolated in a mysterious space. We wonder: “Who is she?” One of David Levinthal’s strategies is to keep the viewer “uncertain, on edge” about the possibility that the objects he photographs could be stand-ins for the “real thing.”[1]
She is a 16-inch resin figure built from a model kit starring in what the artist has called his favorite image from the XXX series.[2] No contextual clues derive from the untitled image. However, the series’ title, combined with her nakedness, suggests adult entertainment. Perhaps she is a centerfold model, a stripper, or a sex worker. The photograph ushers viewers into a safe space to ask questions, engage in dialog, and create personal narratives. Ambiguity and uncertainty, hallmarks of Levinthal’s work, are an invitation to complete an idea, fill in the blank based on prior knowledge, and imagine.
The exhibition “Intimate Alchemy: David Levinthal’s XXX Polaroids” presents a selection of images from two series that have not been widely exhibited or published.[3] The Kinsey Institute has the only complete set of the XXX series (1999-2001), all of the model kit figures, hundreds of images from Netsuke, and a related private portfolio made for a collector (2006). The exhibition contains a selection of rare photographs made with a 20- x 24-inch Polaroid Polacolor ER Land camera, photographs made with an SX70 Polaroid camera (enhanced by a close-up attachment manufactured by Polaroid) as well as several model kit figures photographed for the XXX series. Toys, model kits, and netsukes had vastly different original purposes and historical contexts. None of the objects represented in this exhibition falls into the definition of toys as objects meant for children’s play. Despite the complex history of each, they converge into a cohesive category under Levinthal’s lens as miniatures.
The XXX series presents what appear to be life-size sculptural bodies, detailed facial features, muscle-toned limbs, voluptuous breasts with protruding nipples, pubic hair, and swaths of intense color against dark backgrounds. The XXX figures range between 16 and 18 inches in height. The model kits are nude or suggestively clad in stockings, high heels, thongs, leather, and chains. Some images capture a full-length figure, while others focus on specific body areas. Faces are visible in many of his XXX images, as they are in soft-core pornography.[4]
This essay considers the artist as a collector and a fine art photographer. Two steps in his process – the acquisition of female nude model kits and the use of an unusual camera, dubbed the Giant Polaroid – will be unfamiliar to most viewers. Neither phase was fast or easy, but the artist has described the journey as pleasurable rather than laborious.[5]
Levinthal’s subjects come directly from popular culture and often rely on objects produced for commercial consumption. Alex Zoppa and Robin Rosenfeld introduce him in their podcast interview as an artist who “… utilizes toy figures and structures as subject matter for the creation of a surrogate reality. Levinthal has endeavored to create a ‘fictional world’ that simultaneously calls into question our sense of truth and credibility.”[6] By blurring the lines between artificiality and reality, his photographs make room for contemplation. American merchants sold toys with elaborate settings that realized and expanded their existence. Richard Woodward acknowledges Disney’s brilliant creation of toy figures originating in films that provided settings and accessories to enhance worldbuilding.[7] Levinthal’s photographs offer a similar bridge between familiarity and fantasy.
The artist collected objects over his 50-year career. Some fall neatly into the toy category, like tin soldiers and Barbies. He acquired toys from the well-known Louis Marx and Company and shopped in toy stores in cities across the United States and Europe. While working on his Holocaust project, Levinthal explored Nuremberg, the toy capital of Germany; it is home to a toy museum and the world’s largest international toy fair, the Spielwarenmesse.[8]
Model planes, trains, ships, and cars peaked in popularity in the 1950s. Toy and hobby stores sold them, and newspapers and magazines advertised them. Revell, Aurora, and Airfix produced model kits of plastic pieces, glue, and paint with directions for assembly. Subjects extended beyond military planes and cars in the 1960s and 1970s to comic book characters, Sci-Fi monsters, and fantasy and mythic figures.[9] Some amateurs and hobbyists made “garage kits” in their studios for small niche markets.[10] Popular culture drove existing demands and created new markets for consumers. As manufacturing changed from injection molding to resin casting, heightened detail became possible. Resin casting is a complicated process that generally includes mold creation, mixing liquid resin and a curing agent, pouring or pushing putty into the mold, letting it cure, and pulling the hardened plastic from the mold. Each part cast individually is a piece of the model kit. Kobioshio’s 1/6th scale model kits, sold online by X-O Facto in 2006, came in eight parts. (Arms and legs were likely cast in four solid pieces, whereas the head and torso were cast into hollow halves of four parts). The dull gray or yellowish resin pieces are assembled with glue to bond the pieces permanently. Positions and surface details, such as clothing and shoes, are cast by the mold. The figures’ heads, legs, and arms do not have ball joints or flex, preventing manipulation from bending like Barbie dolls. The model kit figures in this exhibition demonstrate skillful mastery of the craft. The figures appear to be solid plastic with no visible seams.
These example from Levinthal’s collection illustrates a stark contrast between an assembled resin kit and the finished painted piece. Unlike toys, model kits were handled gently. Builders worked patiently to create miniatures, delighting in minute details. Many consumers found the building phase a pleasant pastime, like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Once assembled, model kits were mounted on circular or oval bases for display and admiration. Levinthal casually displayed the XXX figures in his home: “[W]hen I was a bachelor living in my loft, I had them all on Metro shelves.”[11] Metro shelves are industrial-strength wire shelving on wheels. The unit in David’s loft was 72 inches in height, 72 inches in length, and approximately 16 inches deep. The artist shared the same living and working spaces with figures. They were simply items that he was working with. Levinthal distinguished toys from model kits:
[T]oys are made to play with. These are created in order to be looked at and a lot of the eroticism comes from the whole construction of the figure. For example, one of the model makers created miniature dollar bills and stuck them into the undergarments of the dolls. The figures are very reminiscent of strip club dancers; there’s a sense of performing, except now they are not performing for a live audience but for the model maker.[12]
The purpose of model kits was to build and finish them with paint, hair, and any other accouterments the model makers wanted. Some model makers enhanced kits with details, like miniature money, that speak to playfulness and exteriority. Although Levinthal enjoyed researching and choosing the figures, he did not build any of the XXX model kits or paint them for his photographs. In other series, Levinthal took part in varying degrees of painting and building. For example, he painted toy soldiers in Hitler Moves East and the Desire figures; he painted and constructed all of the Modern Romance dioramas and created scenes within the Western series and Vietnam, as well as others.[13]
Levinthal developed a network in the toy and model kit communities. He visited Village Comics in New York City in search of fantasy, mythical figures as a motif for a commission from the luxury jeweler H. Stern.[14] Since Levinthal was a frequent shopper with a sizeable budget, he got to know the owner, who told Levinthal about a hobby show in New Jersey. Levinthal took a short bus ride to the expo to see displays of popular scale models, like cars and airplanes, as well as nude or semi-nude figures referred to as erotic. Levinthal regularly attended the biannual Hobby Show in New Jersey, where he purchased assembled model kits. If he saw an assembled figure not for sale, he arranged for a builder to construct a replica and bring it to the next show. The Hobby Show led him to expositions, comic and hobby stores, and antique shows. In a 2021 interview, he recalled going to an expo in Atlantic City to find objects for his Blackface series.
It just so happened that…a week or two later was the—this very, very large antique show in Atlantic City called Atlantique City… [with] dealers from all over the world having all kinds of things; you know, furniture, comic books, toy sets, just anything you can imagine. And they took over the convention center, which I think in the old days is where they had the Miss America contest, and it was enormous.[15]
During a trip to Santa Monica, Levinthal attended a model kit show where a figure caught his eye. Levinthal waited at an unattended booth for the owner to return. Here, he met David Whitford, a young model builder who worked in a hobby studio and painted background scenes for film studios. Since the figure that Levinthal was interested in had already been sold, Whitford proposed that Levinthal buy a model kit of the exact figure to obtain a replica. This was the beginning of an informal relationship between the artist and builder, who became the primary builder for Levinthal’s purchases of unassembled XXX model kits. Levinthal did not give instructions regarding the finished appearance, entrusting Whitford with complete creative control to choose paint color and hair. Some years later, he informed Levinthal about a model kit series recently released in Japan, which led to his acquisition of 13 kits in 2006.
Levinthal browsed through catalogs such as Phoenix Model Developments, which sold figures, furniture, historical décor, and erotic figures.[16] A list from Valley Plaza Hobbies in Carson City, Nev., features a range of Phoenix Miniatures from historical furnishings and figures to fantasy figures like Mermaids, Female Warriors, Snake Priestesses, and Girls in Bondage. Catalogs from Fantasy Kingdom, based in Milan, Italy, and Dolya Art, Inc., in Chicago, are among Levinthal’s papers at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art. They feature color images of model kits for $100. Another list from X-O Facto titled “Babe Kits” contains sparse descriptions organized by brands: Kobioshi, Atlier-It, Acme, Critical Mass, Needful Things, and T.R. Productions. Levinthal’s handwritten checkmarks next to “Altier Sexy Girl” 1/6th scale resin model kits suggest potential purchases.[17]
Although the market for model kits declined significantly after the 1950s, an audience continues to exist. Mainstream magazines, like The Toy Soldier Collector and Historical Figures, showcase leading manufacturers and smaller companies, review new products, and provide “how-to” instructions. Expos still occupy convention centers. For example, the Miniature Figure Collectors of America (MFCA) has an annual show in Philadelphia that Levinthal attends sometimes. Levinthal continues to acquire figures and dioramas. In 2024, he commissioned a western-themed diorama from Andrea Miniatures in Spain, who had produced custom dioramas for Levinthal’s Western, History, and Vietnam series.[18]
Scholars of miniatures agree that their size is alluring and inherently intimate. The model maker and photographer had tactile interactions with the kits that became figures. The builder touched and glued pieces to assemble, create, paint, and mount a small-scale model. Levinthal put the figures on display at home and carefully transported them to the 20 x 24 Studio, where he unwrapped and arranged them. Miniatures are ‘miniature’ instead of small only if relational to the life-sized world.[19] Jonathan Swift’s satirical prose Gulliver’s Travels (1726) embodies the impact made through comparison of size. Imaginary contact with miniature Lilliputians and giant Brobdingnagians introduces emotions in response to size difference. Gulliver is intrigued and amused by the Lilliputians but is fearful for his safety in the world of the giants. Initial contact with a Brobdingnagian inspires wonder in the giant who picked up Gulliver by pinching his sides to bring him close to his eyes.
Practice, patience, and skill were required to build model kits. The same was true of early forms of photography. Photography was invented in 1839, and seemed like magic. It was sometimes referred to as alchemy, a magical process that turned base metals into precious ones. The pioneering daguerreotype and calotype processes were cumbersome and not user-friendly enough for casual practice by the general public. The daguerreotype process created unique images, meaning that each exposure resulted in one photograph on a metal plate that recorded astonishing levels of detail. The invention led to a wave of interest called “daguerreotype mania.” The calotype, invented in the same year, was less appreciated because its paper negative produced an image that lacked clarity. Some critics derided calotypes as “fuzzygraphs.” In the 1860s, the wet collodion process replaced paper negatives with glass plates, combining the desirable aspects of both methods. They were able to create a detailed photographic image with glass plate negatives. The ability to make multiple prints from a negative was the foundation of 20th-century photography.
With the power to make digital images at our fingertips and in our pockets, we give little thought to the original inventions or the progression of overlapping, competing technologies now commonly referred to as “alternative processes.” Inventors worked to make photography accessible to more users, expanding the market and visual culture. Toward the end of the 19th century, half-tone printing made reproducing photographs in illustrated newspapers possible, increasing sales considerably. In 1888, the Kodak company introduced the Brownie camera, invented by Frank A. Brownell. For $25, customers received a single-lens wooden box camera pre-loaded with a roll of film with 100 exposures. To expose the film, the person held the camera near their torso, looked through a viewfinder to select a composition, exposed the film, and mailed it to the headquarters in Rochester, New York. For a fee of $10, they received their negatives, a set of prints, and a new roll of film. Early advertising highlighted the simplicity of making an image with the slogan, “You press the button, we do the rest.” Kodak marketed simple controls, affordable equipment, and rolled film and processing to amateurs, including women and “any schoolboy or girl.” Kodak gave the masses a cheaper, flexible photographic process.
The German Leica, invented in the 1920s, devised a range-finder focusing system that allowed a photographer to see what the camera’s lens saw to follow action and capture spontaneity on 35mm film. Processing film and making prints requires a dark room with chemicals, enlargers, and equipment to wash and dry prints. Kodak controlled the market for film and processing until a 1954 U.S. Supreme Court antitrust suit mandated that the company separate sales from processing. After this ruling, some drug stores had independent photofinishing labs to develop film and make prints. The technology to make color photographs was possible in the 1930s, but the 1961 launch of Kodachrome II marked the first successfully mass-marketed 35 mm film. It remained popular through the 1970s; customers typically waited seven to ten days for photofinishing. In 1965, the first Fotomat kiosks, which were distinguished by golden pyramidal roofs, offered 24-hour processing.[20] In the 1980s, supermarkets and pharmacies built mini-labs for processing that reduced the wait time for pictures to one hour. The public’s appetite for photography was voracious. The market demands drove competitors to develop camera and film technologies that would result in better quality, faster processing, and greater affordability.
In the 1940s, Dr. Edwin H. Land worked toward a one-step photographic process. In 1948, Polaroid’s SX70 camera fulfilled the inventor’s vision of one-step instant analog photography, eliminating the need to take film to a lab. Polaroid images developed ten minutes after exposure. This process existed alongside 35 mm photography through the rest of the 20th century. We can understand the appeal of Polaroid’s nearly instant results through our familiarity with the immediacy located of the Digital Age. Polaroids gave rapid results before digital photography.
Andy Warhol demonstrated the original 800-pound 20 x 24-inch Polaroid camera before a large crowd at a shareholder’s meeting in the Waldorf Astoria’s grand ballroom in 1978. The presentation was intended to demonstrate the high quality of 8 x 10 Polaroid II film to investors before its commercial launch. In 1977 and 1978, five lighter cameras weighing 235 pounds were sent to different cities. One was set up in a New York studio in lower Manhattan on Broadway. In the 1980s, Polaroid established a Visiting Artist Program and invited dozens of famous photographers to experiment with the camera in return for donating a print for the corporation’s collection.[21] Later, artists who rented the studio were given 30 free exposures and charged $25 for each additional print. David Levinthal regularly used the 20- x 24-inch Polaroid Polacolor ER Land camera in New York for eleven series between 1986 and 2001.
The 20 x 24 Polaroid is a large-format view camera. The rear standard enables two functions: seeing the composition and using film. The ground glass lets a photographer see the composition on its entire surface, typically 4- x 5 inches or 8- x 10 inches. The film holder, attached to the rear standard, is loaded with film protected by a dark slide. A photographer removes the protective dark slide, clicks a shutter to expose the film, and places the dark slide back into the film holder before removing the entire film holder from the camera. The 20 x 24 Polaroid ER Land Camera combines aspects of collapsible and transportable field cameras and rail cameras, the most common type of studio camera. A rail camera has front and rear standards – that can swing and tilt in any direction – mounted to a single rail fixed to the camera support. Like portable field cameras, the 20 x 24 Polaroid’s rear standard is mounted on a base. Like a rail camera, its front standard and lens mount can extend with bellows that fit along a rail, and then locked into position.
Technical Information about Large-Format Cameras
Levinthal extended the bellows to focus on subjects close to the camera. Barbara Hitchcock, an executive at Polaroid, briefly explained what happened after the exposure was made: “The shutter clicked, the strobes flashed, and the negative was exposed. Exiting from the camera’s back, the PolaColor film was hung on an easel. Sixty seconds later, the negative portion was peeled away and a brilliant color portrait was revealed.”[22] With Polaroids, there is no enlargement, and, like the daguerreotype, each exposure produces a unique print.
John Reuter, Polaroid’s senior photographer in 1978 and later Director of the 20 x 24 Studio,[23] set up the lights based on the scene. He described some of the challenges of working with the camera. In addition to its size and weight, Reuter describes more physical challenges:
It’s really more like a Panavision film camera in that it needs a crew … [and] a lot of staging. It can be very fussy. It’s mechanical. It’s subject to all kinds of physical challenges—how you pull [the sheets and negatives from the camera after exposure], what the humidity is in the room, how warm it is. People who try to do it on their own end up getting frustrated and give up.[24]
The 20 x 24 Polaroid camera and film were sensitive to humidity, temperature, and touch. These physical conditions impacted a session for photographers, no matter how familiar they were with the equipment and studio. After his first session, Levinthal found the results disappointing. The images were too toy-like. When the supplies inventory arrived, Reuter invited Levinthal to return for a full day with the camera. Levinthal remembered that Reuter changed the filtration, and the results were immediately stunning.[25]
Levinthal scheduled the studio time a day at a time by calling Reuter to see what dates were available. He wrapped six to seven figures in bubble wrap, then packed them in a hockey equipment bag, which he handled carefully on the short taxi ride to the 20 x 24 Studio.[26] Former Polaroid marketing executive Markus Mahla described the system as the “’most complex chemical process on the planet Earth…What Edwin Land has invented is still a wonder. The film is developing with that chemistry—all these elements, all the dyes, all the developers that go onto the two surfaces between negative and positive—and then this development process stops at the right moment. That’s pure magic.’”[27]
Not all works by masters are masterpieces. The artistic process requires experimentation and failure. Levinthal may have photographed the same scene four or five times before getting an exposure he was satisfied with. Minute changes can have a considerable impact. He described results after making a slight adjustment to the plane of focus in his most recent project, Vietnam: “I decided to raise the camera up and tilt it slightly so that I could get more view of the soldiers, and it transformed the image and made it more powerful.”[28] By changing the angle of the lens plane to the back of the camera, he altered the plane of focus. Polaroid’s analog instant photography system allowed the photographer to adjust objects, compositions, and lighting during a session. In the 20 x 24 Studio, Levinthal set up backgrounds and arranged figures in front of the camera. He addressed the alchemy that occurs in photography.
Setting up the … figures is just the beginning. The set itself is just the background. It is a scene. And it is within and from that scene that the images themselves are found. No matter how often one poses figures in the studio, there is always a difference between how the set is envisioned and how it comes to life.[29]
How does a photograph come to life? Precision, care, and craftsmanship are needed to create the illusion of a human figure from a model kit. A soft, flexible approach supports the artistic process. Levinthal experimented with the figures and the photographs in the 20 x 24 Studio. He allowed himself the freedom to embrace or change unexpected results and make adjustments. He first experimented with small figures, close-ups, and uncommon photographic emulsions in graduate school at Yale. With the 20 x 24 camera, he used an unfamiliar photographic process to transform familiar objects. The studio camera, film, focus, and depth of field produce different effects in the series made in the 20 x 24 Studio. Blurred images in Mein Kampf, Hockey, and Baseball imply motion. In other photographs, the focus conveys isolation, performance, and intimacy.
Levinthal and scholars who write about him emphasize the influence of popular culture, television, and movies. While true, reflections on his previous photographic series, contemporary controversies, art history, and his own sexual nature shape his work. His Porno series (1975-1976) contains the most sexually explicit work in his oeuvre. He made this work by placing “frames from an 8 mm pornographic film into an enlarger, exposing them onto reversal paper, and hand-coloring the developed prints.”[30] This content aligns more clearly with the contemporary understanding of XXX as a signifier. The Motion Picture Association used an X to indicate mature content in movies, such as violence, language, nudity, sex, and drug use, until 1990.[31] As adult filmmakers filched the non-trademarked X to indicate sexual content, the general public came to equate an X-rating with sex. Pornographic filmmakers used a double- or triple-X to promote heightened explicit sexual content.
The advertising adage “sex sells” often refers to using sexualized bodies to increase sales. In society and art, sex is controversial even when sexual activity is alluded to instead of overtly presented. The criminal indictment of the Cincinnati Contemporary Arts Center and Director Dennis Barrie for displaying Robert Mapplethorpe’s photographs (1990) is a notable late-20thth-century controversy that spread beyond the art world to the public. Congress responded. The National Endowment for the Arts (N.E.A) added a decency clause (Public Law 101-121) to grant recipient agreements. The clause focused on obscenity that included depictions of sadomasochism, homoeroticism, or individuals engaged in sex acts. The Communications Decency Act in 1996, overturned as unconstitutional the following year, aimed to ban sexual content from minors. In the 1990s, Levinthal risked scrutiny for his provocative exploration of sexuality, particularly by referencing sado-masochism-bondage-domination (SMBD) in Desire (1991-92) and XXX. Poses, expressions, costumes, and props drew on familiar soft-core pornography stereotypes from 1980s strip clubs and magazine centerfolds, such as Playboy and Penthouse. Levinthal acknowledged that the XXX “figures are very reminiscent of strip club dancers.”[32] Viewers enticed by the XXX title will not see sexually explicit hard-core images, a genre defined by male genitals.[33] However, not all scholars agree.[34] The title of Levinthal’s series creates an expectation that is not delivered.
Levinthal participates in the art world as an artist and viewer. He resides in New York City and is familiar with contemporary work and historical masterpieces. His knowledge of art history surfaces in interviews in his appreciation for classical and history paintings from periods like the Dutch Golden Age and 19th-century Neoclassical art, as well as 20th-century figures such as Roy Lichtenstein and Cindy Sherman. As a mature artist with over a decade of experience in the 20 x 24 Studio, Levinthal maximized the inherent shallow depth of field of the camera by using solid backgrounds that visually translate as deep space. The dark backgrounds push the figures close to the viewer’s space. Deep shadows contrast with the figures and luminous highlights. This replicates the 17th-century Italian Baroque master Caravaggio’s use of tenebrism, an intensified form of chiaroscuro (contrasted light and shadow that enhances the illusion of three-dimensionality). Carefully controlled lighting in Levinthal’s photographs and Caravaggio’s paintings lean toward theatricality. An example of this from Levinthal’s work is the image discussed in the introduction, in which lighting hints at performance.
Compare the framing of Levinthal’s photographs to some Impressionist paintings. Camille Pissarro and Gustave Caillebotte intentionally used the edge of their canvases to truncate figures, vehicles, and streets as though they were using a viewfinder to frame their subjects. This predates the photographic “snapshot” but shares its effect of implied movement and spontaneity, which appears in some of Levinthal’s 20 x 24 Polaroid series. Edgar Degas and Mary Cassatt used similar framing to depict partial figures during private moments, such as women bathing. Artificial lighting and dramatic angles echo Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s paintings of lurid Parisian nightlife. Like Impressionists, Levinthal delves into light, color, and temporality. Levinthal’s cropping in the XXX series renders a close, intimate view similar to what Degas and Cassatt achieved.
The photographic process distorts scale. Levinthal appreciates losing a sense of scale when small objects appear to take on larger proportions.[35] Art historian Stephanie Langin-Hooper proposed the framework of paradox and wonder to examine archeological miniatures. In her theory, miniature objects compress large-scale themes, like the cosmos, in an accessible, observable size that acknowledges objects’ relationship to an exterior world, thereby expressing the “push-pull tension between the closeness of intimacy and the distance of wonder.”[36] For Langin-Hooper, a figurine carries both emotions. In Levinthal’s work, these responses separate into two distinct material objects. The small-scale model kits emit intimacy, while the photographs evoke wonder. To understand the leap from physical object to photograph in Levinthal’s work, viewers need to lean in to see the surface detail of the model kits and physically step back to look at the photographs. In Levinthal’s work intimacy and intrigue are close up, while distance leads to wonder. Social scientists identify wonder as an emotion that compels one to be curious.[37] When viewers question whether the XXX model kits are human figures or inanimate objects, the exploration that leads to wonder begins.
The soft edge of this work starts with a gradual transition from clarity to blurred focus. It continues with an artistic process that transforms an object into two-dimensional fine art and results in blurring reality and fiction. The images poke the viewer to respond with curiosity at the change in size from figure to photograph, the 20 x 24 Polaroid ER Land camera, and the chemical process that results in rich saturated color on a matte surface. Levinthal’s 20 x 24 Polaroid series is a wunderkammer (a room of wonder or a cabinet of curiosities) in the histories of art and photographic technology. David Levinthal, celebrated globally as a fine art photographer, deserves to be recognized as a collector also. His artistic process begins with an ongoing quest to find miniatures amid an everchanging network of entrepreneurs, collectors, and craftsmen. The artist presents to his new worlds to his audience that help us reflect on our journey.
About the author. Jennifer Pearson Yamashiro has been a teaching professor at Miami University for seventeen years, during which time she served as director of the honors program at Miami Regionals for nine years. She earned a Ph.D. in art history at Indiana University and was the first full-time curator at The Kinsey Institute. Much of her research is on photography or the institute’s unique collections.
Send correspondence concerning this article to Miami University Regionals, 1601 University Blvd., Miami Regionals, Hamilton, OH 45011. Email: yamashjp@miamioh.edu
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The curators are indebted to the generosity of David Levinthal and his studio assistants, Erin Hudak and Ryan Oskin. The “Intimate Alchemy” curatorial team – Rebecca Fasman, Claude Cookman, and Jennifer Yamashiro – met with David Levinthal and his assistants on Zoom, on April 11, 2024. David, Erin, and Ryan provided continuous support images, information, and corrections throughout the process. I am particularly grateful to David Levinthal for our phone conversation on June 12, 2024.
ENDNOTES
[1] Woodward, Richard B. “Toy Stories: David Levinthal and the Uncertainty Principle.” David Levinthal: Work from 1976-1996. International Center for Photography (I.C.P) and D.A.P./Distributed Art Publishers, Inc. 1997, pp. 43-44.
[2] Ryan Oskin, from David Levinthal Studio, emailed Rebecca Fasman, Claude Cookman, and Jennifer Yamashiro before our Zoom meeting on April 11, 2024, and included David Levinthal’s favorite image from the XXX series.
[3] All dates in this essay are taken from “Selected Chronology,” War, Myth, Desire: David Levinthal. Rochester, N.Y.: George Eastman House, 2018, pp. 266–276. The XXX series was published in 2000. Exhibitions: “XXX,” Galerie Xippas, Paris, France (2000); “XXX,” Bernard Toale Gallery, Boston; Modernism Gallery, San Francisco; Galerie Rodolphe Janssen, Brussels, Belgium (2001); and “XXX,” Fay Gold Gallery, Atlanta: Paul Morris Gallery, New York; “XXX Sex Dolls,” Ricco Maresca Gallery, New York (2005). See “Exhibitions” on the artist’s website for an exhibition of the XXX series in 2015: “David Levinthal: XXX – Blanc et Noir” Mana Contemporary, Jersey City, NJ (2015). https://davidlevinthal.com/exhibitions/ (Accessed March 23, 2023).
[4] Woodward, p. 44. Woodward recognizes that Levinthal’s Blackface series includes faces, but he does not acknowledge the visibility of faces in the XXX series.
[5] David Levinthal and Jennifer Yamashiro, telephone conversation, June 12, 2024.
[6] Zoppa, Alex and Robyn Rosenfeld, “David Levinthal,” ARTLAWS podcast, April 15, 2022. https://www.buzzsprout.com/1662196/10447731%20Accessed%20April%2010. (Accessed April 10, 2024).
[7] Op. cit., Woodward, pp. 41-43.
[8] Smithsonian Archives of American Art, Oral History Interview conducted by Matthew Cronin, Jersey City, NJ, October 4-5, 2021. https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/interviews/oral-history-interview-david-levinthal-22099. Accessed July 31, 2024. interviews and publications, Levinthal mentions toy stores in New York, Palo Alto, CA; New Haven, CT; Aspen, CO; San Jose, CA; San Antonio, TX as well as toy stores in Nuremberg, Germany and Vienna, Austria. It is likely that he browsed and shopped when he traveled.
[9] “David Levinthal — Interviewed by Cecilia Andersson” in David Levinthal XXX, Paris: Galerie Xippas, 2000, p. 9. Levinthal explained: “The figures I use in my new series XXX are built from model kits. Again, when I was a child model kits were mostly cars and military planes. Now it runs the gamut of fantasy science fiction, to military and really quite explicit sexual figures.”
[10] Staton, Lee. “Garage Kit History from a Personal Viewpoint,” November 26, 2007. https://web.archive.org/web/20111119174745/http://wonderfest.com/gk-hist.htm. (Downloaded June 8, 2024). The Scale Figure Modelers Society was formed in Louisville, KY in 1889. The club first showed their models at the Louisville Plastic Kit & Toy Show in 1990. WonderFest, a biannual event in Japan, and other events followed.
[11] Op. cit., Smithsonian Oral History Interview, p. 45.
[12] Op. cit., Xippias, p. 10.
[13] David Levinthal and Jennifer Yamashiro, telephone conversation, June 12, 2024. David Levinthal and Erin Hudak reviewed and verified this information on August 7, 2024.
[14] Hostetler, Lisa. “The Art of David Levinthal: Photography, History, and the Modern American Psyche,” War, Myth, Desire, George Eastman Museum, 2019, pp. 33-34. The essay reproduces an image from the H. Stern commission on p. 34.
[15] Op. cit., Smithsonian Oral History Interview, p. 17.
[16] Phoenix Model Developments, Ltd, World of Miniatures, 9th ed, p.2. The sizes are 1/43 scale (compatible with British 0 Gauge railway models), 1/32 scale (compatible with Gauge 1 model railways), 75mm (1/24), and 80mm (popular for collectors of individual figures).
[17] David Levinthal papers, American Archives of Art, Box 2, Babes folder. The printed webpage of X-O Facto products was “updated on 2/11/06.” The date on the print copy is 3/9/06. The brand is available today on scalemates.com.
[18] David Levinthal and Jennifer Yamashiro, telephone conversation, June 12, 2024. David Levinthal and Erin Hudak reviewed and verified this information on August 7, 2024.
[19] Langin-Hooper, Stephanie M. “Making Wonder in Miniature: A New Approach to Theorizing the Affective Properties and Social Consequences of Small-Scale Artworks from Hellenistic Babylonia.” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 34. 1 (2024), p. 28. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0959774323000069. (Downloaded June 17, 2024)
[20] The first Fotomat opened in San Diego, California in 1965.
[21] David Levinthal and Jennifer Yamashiro, telephone conversation, June 12, 2024. David Levinthal recalled that Barbara Hitchcock visited his studio and selected prints for the Polaroid’s permanent collection.
[22] Quoted in Grove, Lloyd. “The Last of the Giants.” Ethan Cohen Gallery, July 26, 2023. https://www.ecfa.com/news/19-the-last-of-the-giants-airmail-by-lloyd-grove/ (Downloaded June 5, 2024).
[23] Ibid. The Polaroid Corporation filed for bankruptcy in 2001 and survived until its second bankruptcy in 2008. Edwin Land’s analog instant photography could not compete with the inexpensive digital camera in iPhone (2007). John Reuter and philanthropist Daniel Stern purchased a 20 x 24 camera and film after the bankruptcy. There are no plans to manufacture film for the 20 x 24 Polaroid once the supply runs out.
[24] Ibid.
[25] David Levinthal and Jennifer Yamashiro, telephone conversation, June 12, 2024. David Levinthal and Erin Hudak reviewed and approved this information on August 7, 2024.
[26] Ibid.
[27] Op. cit., Grove.
[28] Op. cit., Smithsonian Oral History Interview. p. 36.
[29] David Levinthal papers, 1967-2015, Box 1, Books Project folder, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution. A document labeled “Background” begins with a quote by Charles Hagen’s article published in The New York Times, as an introductory summary that also appears on https://art.state.gov/personnel/david_levinthal/
(Author’s note, the statement is not dated, but reference to the Wild West series indicates it was written after that series was completed).
[30] Op. cit., Hostetler, p. 12.
[31] In 1990, the Motion Picture Association dropped the X from their system and replaced it with “NC-17” (No children/Adults only, no person under 17) to ensure the only adults were admitted and make a clear break from pornography.
[32] Op. cit., Xippas, p. 10.
[33] Williams, Linda. Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the “Frenzy of the Visible.” Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1999, p.2-3. Williams’ original groundbreaking study on heterosexual moving images was first published in 1989. She acknowledged that “pornographic film’s sex originates from the male genitals” and that pornography is a genre with changing meanings and functions.
[34]Op. cit., Hostetler, p. 34. Hostetler regards XXX as hard-core on the basis that “their antecedents [are]in hard-core pornography, rather than erotica.”
[35] Op cit., Xippas, p. 11.
[36] Langin-Hooper, p. 35. Langin-Hooper’s investigation of ancient Mesopotamian miniatures draws theories in J. Hay’s Sensuous Surfaces: The Decorative Object in Early Modern China. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawaii Press, 2010.
[37] Brown, Brene. “Chapter Four: Places We Go When It’s Beyond Us.” Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience. New York, New York: Random House, 2021, pp. 76-91.
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