In this newly reprinted book from 1998, William Boyd details the life and work of Nat Tate, an artist whose work became highly sought-after in the 1950s. One of the Abstract Expressionists in New York City, Tate could usually be found at his New York studio, at galleries, in conversation with Gore Vidal, Frank O'Hara, or Peggy Guggenheim, or drinking with Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, and others at the Cedar Tavern. In 1959 he visited Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque, who became his idol. Every one of his paintings sold almost immediately, most of them before the gallery openings even occurred. Then, unexpectedly, in January, 1960, at age thirty-one, he gathered as many of his works as he could find and incinerated them. At noon, four days later, he had coffee with Frank O'Hara and Todd Heuber, and at five o'clock that day, midway between the Statue of Liberty and the Jersey shore, he jumped off the back of the Staten Island Ferry and committed suicide.
This small book memorializing Nat Tate is William Boyd's homage to this forgotten artist. With the look and feel of a fine art monograph, this tiny book boasts heavy semi-gloss paper, wide margins, understated design, a great deal of white space, and many photographs of Nat Tate from childhood to his death, along with his friends, family, and associates. At a party to celebrate the publication of this memorial to Tate on April 1, 1998, several hundred artists, dealers, writers, and the glitterati of the New York gathered to hear publisher David Bowie read passages from the book. Another party was scheduled for the book's London release a week later. Then word leaked out: Nat Tate never existed. The book was a fiction created by Boyd, David Bowie, Gore Vidal, Picasso's biographer John Richardson, and David Lister, a journalist from the Independent in London. Lister could not wait to post his scoop, and the whole plan unraveled.
As Boyd explains in an article he wrote for Harper's Bazaar in April, 2011, "It wasn't planned this way. Nat Tate was created out of a desire to experiment--to see if something entirely fictitious could experience a life in the world as something wholly credible, real, and true." The plan fizzled, but, ironically, the "life" of Nat Tate has never really ended. Three TV documentaries have aired about Tate since 1998, and Boyd's "biography" has now been translated into French and German and j=has now been reprinted in the US and UK. Amazingly, an authenticated drawing by "Nat Tate" is now scheduled to be auctioned in London in the next few weeks.
As I was reading this book, knowing in advance that Nat Tate never existed, I found myself really wishing he had existed. I wanted him to achieve the posthumous success he never enjoyed in his lifetime. I could think of many wonderful artists, people I know and love, whose work is every bit as good as that of much more famous artists, but who have never made the publicity connection, or the connection to the right New York gallery, or who were not able to "play the game" of the famous and successful. It is for those people that I wanted Nat Tate to be remembered. Perhaps he will have another life with this short reprint. Mary Whipple