No one knows exactly when or where jazz arrived. In the early 1900s, this genre of music wasn’t known by that name.
Jazz was probably called barrelhouse or ragtime when Stuart Davis and his friends explored the African American bars of Newark, New Jersey, looking for the softly progressive scene. Since there were no jazz records in 1907, how did a group of high school students discover the music?
“We were hip to the jive,” said Davis, reflecting on those days.
And there you have him. The uniquely American timbre of jazz shaped both his lexicon and his art. And why wouldn’t it? The musicians Davis admired didn’t play just for the money. They played for the sheer fun of it.
Stuart Davis took his fun seriously
Davis left high school in 1909 to study with Robert Henri, a trailblazing art instructor who famously urged his students to choose subjects that reflected their own unvarnished experiences in New York City.
Several years later, he became one of the youngest artists featured in the 1913 International Exhibition of Modern Art—popularly known as the Armory Show. He submitted five canvases showcasing the “urban realism” style of the American Ashcan School.
The Armory Show was the greatest shock to me. Today it’s difficult to visualize the impact of this gigantic exhibition. Only isolated examples of European modernism had been seen before in America.
I responded immediately to Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Matisse. I didn’t wonder, “What in the hell is this?” I thought, “That’s it!” I resolved to become a modern artist. Eventually, I could paint a green tree red without batting an eye.
Stuart Davis, Archives of American Art interview, 1962
Following the Armory Show, Davis pivoted from urban realism to modernism. Wealthy American art collectors did not pivot with him. When the stock market crashed in 1929, he was left nearly penniless.
The Works Project Administration (WPA)
Help arrived in the form of a New Deal initiative known as the WPA Federal Art Project. This government program hired Davis to create murals for radio station WNYC and Radio City Music Hall.
Davis’s Mural for Studio B, WNYC, is a vibrant mix of flattened shapes that may (or may not) depict a music note, a saxophone, a clarinet, a radio antenna, and ether waves. Everything is drawn imaginatively, rather than realistically, to create a certain vibe.
A wall mural is seen over and over again. If it simply tells a story, such as who discovered the radio wave, then once learned, the spectator loses interest and has no reason to look at the mural again.
Stuart Davis, in his working notes for the Studio B mural, 1939
For Radio City’s mural, Davis created a tour de force of hypermasculinity called Men Without Women. He hated the title and had misgivings about the location. Still, it was a chance to showcase his work in public—even if it was in the men’s smoking lounge.
(R) Stuart Davis, Colors of Spring in the Harbor (1939)
When his government funding ended in 1939, Davis was free to choose his own subjects again. He immediately set out “to capture the beauty to be found in the everyday things in our environment.”
For him, this meant returning to the charming Massachusetts coastline he loved, a far cry from the rat-infested apartment near Seventh Avenue and 13th Street where he actively struggled with alcohol addiction.
The pivot to jazz
At this critical moment in his career, Davis looked to jazz for inspiration. He worked on The Mellow Pad, the pictorial equivalent of rhythm and syncopation, for six years.
I was learning things and doing things I hadn’t done before. I don’t like to use the word trouble, but if you want to be factual I did have a little trouble with it. The important thing is that I kept at it until all the trouble disappeared.
Stuart Davis, Archives of American Art interview, 1962
The Mellow Pad is a masterful orchestration of vibrant colors and sharp lines. In jazz terms, the high-key colors are his tone (the sound of his artistic voice) and the two-dimensional shapes are his harmonic structure (his unique compositional signature).
Historians typically interpret the title The Mellow Pad to mean a laid-back living space. Davis shrugged off the idea and rightly so.
The term “pad” has a sordid past
The word pad first emerged in 17th-century Britain as slang for a criminal hideout. It kept its shady reputation until the 1960s, when hippies used it to describe a chill environment free of illicit associations.
I believe Davis used the word the same way musicians do: a pad is a harmonic background consisting of sustained notes or chord progressions that bind instruments together and enrich the texture of a song.
When I digitally remove the background (the pad) from Davis’s painting, the remaining elements become discordant. They clash. They really do need something to hold them together. With the right pad, the lines and loops in the foreground appear to improvise and groove.
(right) A page from Davis’s working notes
Drawing from my own experience, I know how challenging it can be to find the right pad for a melody. Similarly, Davis struggled with it. He dubbed the upper left corner of the canvas “Hell’s Corner” because he reworked it so many times.
Despite various obstacles, Davis ultimately invented an all-over painting style that still feels fresh and alive. Today he is celebrated as one of the most innovative American modernists of his generation.
What would “The Mellow Pad” sound like?
Can a jazz band really transform the colors, lines, and layers of a Stuart Davis painting into live music? Here’s a rare opportunity to find out.
Simply click on this photo to hear Wynton Marsalis and The Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra perform their uptown version of Stuart Davis for the Masses: The Mellow Pad. (Sound up)
Postscript: If you happen to be in Austin…
See “Art in Every Corner: The Works Progress Administration” at the Blanton Museum of Art now thru September 27, 2026. Drawings and paintings by Stuart Davis and other notable WPA artists illuminate the lives of Americans during the Great Depression.