Born in Romania, Saul Steinberg (1914-1999) had one of the most remarkable careers of any American artists. Describing himself as simply a writer who drew, he was renowned for the covers and drawings that appeared in The New Yorker for nearly six decades. And he was equally acclaimed for his drawings, paintings, prints, collages and sculptures, which were exhibited in major international museums and galleries.
Through this vast body of work, Steinberg crafted a rich and humorous visual vocabulary, one that could easily have catapulted him to the hall of artistic fame, except that art critics did not quite know how to pigeon-hole him. Was he a cartoonist, an illustrator, a skilled practitioner of magazine and advertising art, or was he a versatile mainstream artist? Steinberg himself defined the problem: “I don’t quite belong to the art, cartoon or magazine world, so the art world doesn’t quite know where to place me.”
Today, the art world has sort of decided that Steinberg is best regarded as a modernist, ahead of his time, constantly crossing boundaries into uncharted visual territory in subject matter and style. Whichever way the world views him, there is no doubt one element singularly defines Steinberg’s multi-faceted output: his child-like passion. He often said that he aspired to draw like a child. His self-portrait, featuring his adult self holding hands with a life-size cutout of his six-year-old self, demonstrated his commitment to this idea.
Steinberg sought to maintain the childlike wonder and curiosity throughout his life, in peacetime and in war. He often remarked that he was his own best friend. Perhaps his survival of the war and his Jewish roots instilled in him a desire to live life on his own terms, embracing the authentic calling of his inner child which he pursued with passions and unwavering devotion.
Steinberg passed away in his New York City apartment in May 1999.
Selected Drawings of Saul Steinberg
This is one of Steinberg’s most iconic covers for The New Yorker. It appeared in 1976 and featured an enlarged map of his daily walking route. Steinberg would often leave his apartment, venture along 75th Street to Lexington Avenue, ascend to 76th Street, cross to the other side, and continue his loop back to his building. Through these walks, he observed the city’s intricate details and captured its essence in his work. While New York’s magnetism could be all-consuming, he also recognized its limitations; one could become so engrossed in the city that he might overlook the broader world. So for this cover, he did something unusual by juxtaposing the familiar landmarks of the city with the Hudson River, the vast expanse of the United States, and even the Pacific Ocean, culminating in China, Russia, and Japan on the distant horizon, shattering in one powerful stroke, the city’s self-absorption and revealing its interconnectedness with the wider world.
