The Impressionists

Have you noticed that the art of impersonation has died? Sure, satirical programs like Saturday Night Live and MadTV build sketches around impressions of celebrities and politicians, so it cannot be said that the art form is entirely extinct. But whatever happened to folks like Rich Little, John Byner, David Frye, and Frank Gorshin, men whose entire acts consisted of dead-on mimicry of superstars like George Jessel, Eddie Cantor, and Martha Raye? (I sometimes wonder how much more I would have enjoyed these impressionists if I'd had any idea who the subjects of their parodies were. But I digress…)

These geniuses were the great impressionists, men of unfathomable skill in the art of apery. And although they are still remembered for their stage shows, what is not as well remembered is that many of these men were also impressionist painters, capable of rendering detail-perfect copies of the Great Masters.

Below, for example, is Rich Little's impression of Dejeuner Sur l'Herbe, Edouard Manet's masterpiece. The overall effect is uncanny, but note the subtle differences in tone from the original. These tonal shifts are Little's way of winking at the viewer, of telegraphing a playfulness ensconced in reverence much as nougat is ensconced in a Three Musketeers bar.


Next we see Frank Gorshin's impression of a self-portrait by Paul Cezanne. Study the background closely and you'll notice that Gorshin has incorporated the colors of his Riddler costume from the television show Batman. He did this in every painting; it is how curators today distinguish authentic Gorshins from forgeries.


Finally we consider a work by the last great impressionist, Andy Kaufman. Kaufman's stage work, as you no doubt recall, was marked by a post-modern sensibility; it provided a self-consciously self-conscious running commentary on itself, amusing to all but especially to those of us who were stoned. His painting is no different. His impression of the Raphael masterpiece The School of Athens, below, is in fact a reproduction of a work by Jackson Pollock.


What is Kaufman trying to say? No one really knows. But does it make you uncomfortable, causing you to laugh nervously? That's how you know it's an authentic Kaufman rather than a Kaufman impression impression. Or a Pollock, for that matter.