Charles Clough: Hallwalls, Pepfog, Clufffalo

Ann Seymour Pierce

March 17, 2025

Charles Clough was born in Buffalo, New York in 1951. He was free in his youth to explore his talents and interests. This curiosity resulted in a rich interior life. His interest in geology and automotive technology provided a basis in materiality, and design, especially part to whole relationships as they impact functionality. Scale models facilitated technological knowledge, which instrumentalized his world. He chose a “commercial art” program in a city-wide high school where he developed a distinctive illustration style and then went to the Foundation Art Program at Pratt Institute for the 1969-70 academic year.

His sense of “commercial artist” was then challenged by a deeper sense what a “fine artist’s” life meant. His sense of the imperative of gaining a college degree evaporated as his sense of “artist-hood” became his “structure of intentionality.”

At Pratt, Two-dimensional design teacher, Joseph Phillips, demonstrated what Clough came to understand as the “Four Keys to the Kingdom of Art:” 1. See art in museum and gallery exhibitions, 2. Exchange studio visits, 3. Read all imaginably art-related literature (Phillips’s identification of Artforum was especially prescient), and 4. Determine the subject and process of making one’s own art. Clough left Pratt after one year and returned to Buffalo to assist sculptor, Larry Griffis, Jr. at the Ashford Hollow Foundation’s Essex Art Center. At this point Clough began his journal and experimental painting and photography which he has continued throughout his career. On January 5, 1971 Clough decided that his life’s work would be as an artist.

Out of school Clough perused libraries and bookstores seeking a theoretical basis for making art: The Nature of Human Consciousness, Richard Ornstein, Philosophy in a New Key, and Feeling and Form, Susanne Langer, Man and His Symbols, Carl Jung, Art and Illusion, E.H. Gombrich, The Shape of Time, George Kubler, Beyond Modern Sculpture by Jack Burnham, Art as Experience, John Dewey, Art and Artist, Otto Rank. Further influences include, the philosophers, G.W.F.Hegel, Friedrich Nietzsche, William James, A.N. Whitehead, Ludwig Wittgenstein, J.P. Sartre, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Arthur Danto; and psychoanalysts, S. Freud, A. Freud, E. Erickson, Melanie Klein, D.W. Winnicott, Jean Piaget, Abraham Maslow, Hans Loewald, Heinz Kohut; anthropologists and literary critics, Margaret Mead, Claude Lévi-Strauss, Franz Boas, Mircea Eliade, Susan Sontag, Harold Bloom, Northrup Frye, Kenneth Burke, Lewis Hyde, Camille Paglia, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Sylvan Tomkins, amongst others.

During the academic period of 1971-72 Clough attended the Ontario College of Art in Toronto. He returned to live in Buffalo at the Essex Art Center and audited the classes of Robert T. Buck, Jr. director of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery and Hollis Frampton and Paul Sharits at Dr. Gerald O’Grady’s Media Studies at SUNY Buffalo.

Since leaving Pratt, Clough hitch-hiked to New York City periodically, to attend exhibitions and visit artists’ studios. He also read the bound periodicals of Artforum, Art in America, Art News, Arts Magazine and Studio International in the art libraries of SUNY Buffalo and Buffalo State College. Through interacting with the community of artists at the Essex Art Center, he met Robert Longo who was a student at Buffalo State College. In New York City Clough became familiar with Artists Space, and in Toronto, A Space, which were representatives of the alternative artists’ spaces movement. These organizations sprang from the “do it yourself” initiative of the hippie ethos and “The Whole Earth Catalog.” This was the earliest example of Clough’s dictum that, “you can do it too,” which would figure in his later participatory projects. Thus, with Longo, he founded Hallwalls within the Essex Art Center in 1974. The first exhibition at was “Working on Paper, Developing the Idea,” with works by 28 artists living in the Buffalo area including Les Krims and Paul Sharits.

In effect, Hallwalls was Clough’s instrument for self-education. His research by visiting exhibitions and reading corresponding reviews and theoretical essays led to meeting artists in their studios to curate exhibitions and arranging their visits and presentations. This knowledge focused Clough’s attention on the unfolding of contemporary art in relation to the aesthetic that he was forming for making his own work. Clough and Longo divided curatorial attention into painting and photography for Clough and sculpture and time-based media for Longo.

Hallwalls operation was enabled by its proximity to and relationships with the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Artpark in Lewiston, New York, the art departments at SUNY Buffalo and Buffalo State College, and Media Studies at SUNY Buffalo insofar as these organizations made western New York attractive to ambitious artists.

Historically the art of the 1960s included Post-painterly Abstraction, and Pop. While Clough considered figures such as Warhol and Rauschenberg too famous to pester, artists of Minimalism, Conceptualism with attendant Earth art, Body art, and documentary photography, and Structuralist Cinema, proved willing to share in the context of a younger artists’ audience. There also existed art being shown by Paula Cooper Gallery and Holly Solomon Gallery of an idiosyncratic nature that defied classification. Curating was Clough’s method of learning contemporary art. For example his three-part “Approaching Painting” (1976) show included works by, Part 1: Jennifer Bartlett, Bruce Boice, Sol LeWitt, Robert Mangold, Richard Tuttle, Part 2: Joel Fisher, Marcia Hafif, Frank Owen, Robert Petersen, Robert Ryman, Richard Serra, Michelle Stuart, Part 3: Lynda Benglis, Ron Gorchov, Bill Jensen, Marilyn Lenkowsky, Elizabeth Murray, Judy Pfaff, Jane Rosen, Barbara Schwartz and John Torreano. His “Artists Use Photography” (1976-77) exhibition included work by: Mac Adams, John Baldesarri, Jared Bark, Bill Beckley, James Collins, Robert Cumming, Jan Dibbets, Susan Eder, Carole Gallagher, Jack Goldstein, Douglas Huebler, Bruce Nauman, Liliana Porter, Marcia Resnick, Eve Sonneman, and Ger Van Elk.

By the spring of 1977 as Clough was beginning the process of not-for-profit incorporation of Hallwalls, Longo left Buffalo for New York City in pursuit of his art career. After establishing Hallwalls’s independence from the Ashford Hollow Foundation, Clough also left for New York in 1978.

Through Clough’s reading, curating, journaling and experimenting with paint and photography, he determined in 1976 that his “job description” would be, to make “the photographic epic of a painter as a film or a ghost,” or “Pepfog.” Through his intensive study of Marcel Duchamp’s work, he came to understand the entirety of an artist’s work as being crucial to the artist’s meaning, and that discrete paintings or photographs constituted a “frame” within the “cinema” which is the artist’s oeuvre. While Clough has been embraced by the art world as a painter, an underlying basis of photography and structure of cinema constitutes the completeness of his work.

Clough’s first solo exhibition was presented in SUNY at Buffalo’s student union in 1973 and his first New York City exhibition was at Artists Space in 1976 with Hallwalls artists, Longo, Cindy Sherman, Diane Bertolo, Nancy Dwyer and Michael Zwack.

Beginning with photos of his eyes “painted into walls,” Clough’s works evolved as cutout collages to enamel on canvas works painted with pads on the ends of sticks, known as “big fingers.” Curators and critics responded to Clough’s work in the 1980s and ‘90s:

Dr. Anthony Bannon wrote in the catalog for “The Painterly Photograph,” in 1980: “Charles Clough’s art is an art of renewal, an extension of replica objects into possibilities for still new replication. One’s assumptions of how things ought to be, such as predictable, tidy and categorical, are put asunder. Although the size, whimsy, color and youthful dare-doing of the work has its decorative pleasures, Clough’s work is not meant for casual attention. Conceptually, an everlasting quality of his effort is found in its consequences: that Clough goes a long way in the liberation of photography and painting from their cubbyholes. While creating a generation of commercial materials, Clough also makes homage to the very history of art from which he emerges. The range of his work, its incorporation of diverse image objects, structures and references, suggests a love affair with the whole of life and those things which life makes—its culture, whether mundane or lofty.”

Linda L. Cathcart, “Charles Clough: The Early Work,” in Charles Clough. Buffalo: The Buffalo Fine Arts Academy, 1983, pp. 7-12: “Charles Clough’s work is quite independent in method and visual result from that of his peers. Figurative in reference, decidedly expressionistic in technique, and utilizing scavenged images from art history as well as from current commercial sources, it does share certain qualities with other contemporary paintings. Yet, any of the categories applied to his contemporaries would fail to conjure up either a useful image or a feeling of what Charlie Clough’s work is all about. This is an artist who has a particularly original point of view about the meaning of art and who has gone about it in a unique way.”

Roberta Smith’s essay for the Artists Space/LACE, Exchange show in 1983, Los Angeles, California. 1983, “Charles Clough’s endeavor might be characterized as the problem of making paintings in the “age of mechanical reproduction,” in other words, of reconciling painting to the existence of photography…Clough’s work bespeaks an admiration of Rubens, De Kooning, Delacroix—all artists who worked “direct;” but, full of endless ironies and entendres, both visual and conceptual, it is anything but direct. In its disjunctive layering of time, scale, and technique, it continually reiterates how photography has altered the way we see and how painting, perversely adjustable, perseveres… he continually defines an ambiguous position to painting’s present and its past, grand tradition.”

Kate Linker’s Artforum review (April 1984) of Clough’s1984 exhibition at Pam Adler Gallery: “Clough seems to view this repository as a dense and embracing medium whose incessant motion on the individual sensibility activates the mechanics of response. His works are visual reactions, dialogues with the broad scan of pictorial culture. They indicate a paradoxical “Expressionism,” aware of its own fragility—one attuned to emotional values, but skeptical. In rallying his production with and against past traditions, Clough demonstrates an important exploration of the possibilities of painting in a period of nostalgia and disbelief.”

William Olander, “2 Painters: Charles Clough and Mimi Thompson,” at The New Museum, New York, N.Y., November 1987—January 1988 “Much attention has been paid in the last few years to the resurgence of abstract painting, either in its late modern form (the work of, for example, Elizabeth Murray, Sean Scully, and Gary Stephan) or its revivalist, postmodern development (the generation of artists, such as Peter Halley, Peter Schuyff, and Philip Taaffe). Too little attention, however, has been paid to yet another option: work which is skeptical of the first, suspending belief in the humanist tradition of modern painting, with its continuing faith; and self-consciously aware but uninterested personally in the second—sidestepping irony and appropriation in favor of something more “felt” if not more genuine. Key figures in the evolution of this curious dialectic include Jasper Johns, Joan Snyder, and Cy Twombly. More recent figures include Ross Bleckner, Carroll Dunham, and Deborah Kass. To the latter, I want to add Charles Clough and Mimi Thompson.

“Charles Clough is well known for the strange hybrids of painting and photography which he developed over the last decade. Indeed, if they had not been so curious and so hybrid—if one or the other of the photographic or painterly aspects had been more prominent—Clough could probably have counted on a secure place in the postmodern canon, either in the progressive arm, identified with appropriation, or the retro arm, associated with Neoexpressionism. But since the beginning, he has been unwilling to disentangle either himself or his work from the various issues, even though of late he has devoted himself almost exclusively to painting. This shift, however, has not clarified matters. On the contrary, it has only made the state of his art more complex and contradictory.

“From out of this amalgam, Clough has developed yet another hybrid—a painting which is simultaneously genuine and artificial, cultural and natural, full and empty, without resorting, overtly at least, to the ideological apparatuses of late modernism.”

Tricia Collins and Richard Milazzo on Clough’s exhibition at Scott Hanson Gallery in March 1990: “Charles Clough: Hot Paint and the Cold Shoulder”

“… Charlie gives you the raw, hot, splashy ontology of paint, or, at least, its semblance; but, on the other, he gives you the cold, indifferent, remote, impersonal epistemology, or rather epistemological effect, of the photograph, or rather, of the photo-mechanical ‘cause’ and causality of our Age, or’ at least, its semblance. Semblance upon semblance, expandable truth upon expandable truth, competing semblances, inexpandable appearances, equate to false difference, and the synthetic value of this false difference equates to a presiding groundlessness in Charlie’s work. Looking at one of Charlie’s paintings is like watching the struggle of first principles being played-out on a huge cinemascope movie screen. Or it is like experiencing the ontological and epistemological vectors of changing truths playing themselves out on a matrix of inexpendable falsehoods. (For ‘ontology’ read unruly desire, overwhelming sex, the unmitigated yearning of the Body, the boundless flesh or surface of things, in general, and painting, in particular; for ‘epistemology’ read the facticity of representation, the acute stillness of the mind, the endless closure of the knowing self, and the transference, displacement, and “ultimate distance” in relation to the Other, in general, and through photography, in particular.) It is hard to rely on anything in Charlie’s paintings, especially the difference he posits or asserts, and then negates, only to reassert again, between means and ends, proximity and distance, illusion and reality, pretension and grandiosity, code and experience, self and Other, “figure and ground, past and present, the image from an art book and [his] intention.” Everything is up for grabs.”

“With regard to such risks, what if it turns out, irony on ironies, that Charlie’s paintings are, after all, less mediated than all of that, or that the experience the paintings circumscribe is, indeed, somehow, unmediated in character? This is putting aside how the paintings are actually generated (which is to use a big mechanical thumb, rather than a brush), and then edited; and it is also to sidestep what Charlie’s intentions are, at least in part (which is to free expression from the boundaries of the individual ego so that it might radiate outward, beyond identity, beyond the identification process, and beyond the identical itself in human discourse and desire, to achieve a grandeur of a disparate Self, a disparate Other, and a disparate World). A big “thumb” that risks the lunatic antics of the cartoon world; a process of editing that is not unrelated to Madison Ave.’s manipulation of images and signs; a set of intentions that, rival the process of individuation itself. These are, nevertheless, the elements that would necessarily have to factor into an unmediated state of things. But, what if, despite such factors and considerations, it turns out that Charlie’s paintings refuse to enlist themselves among the austere fashions of the rational mind? What if their parenthesis does move beyond the valley of the periodic dolls? What if it is painting without a difference, without a sense of propriety, without a care in the world? Charlie would say “why not”? Supreme overflow. Undeconstructed affection for the way-things-are and the way-things-aren’t. Why not?”

Carter Ratcliff, “Redemptive Play,” Catalog essay, Charles Clough, Twenty-Year Retrospective, Roland Gibson Gallery, SUNY Potsdam, New York, 1991

“Clough is a painterly painter. He has lived and worked and shown his work in New York since the late 1970s. So he counts as a descendent of the action painters who sent tides of agitated paint through Manhattan galleries during the 1950s—Willem de Kooning, Franz Kline, Joan Mitchell and many more. In these revivalist times, it is necessary to point out that Clough offers no nostalgic homage to his forbears. He has reinvented action painting twice, once in the late 1970s and again in 1985. The second reinvention produced all but the earliest work in this show. His art is careening forward, yet Clough has not lost his stylistic origins. The eye that finds action paintings legible knows how to read the works on view here.

“…It was the Hallwalls ambition to reveal the mechanisms that fill our culture with estranged imagery. Or, as Clough has said, “figuring out how an image works seemed like something fun to do.” During these years, he made art by mixing photography and painting. Understanding each medium as a challenge to the other’s premises, Clough looked for ways to reconcile their differences. He played abstraction off against recognizable images, usually of eyes, genitals, fingers, toes—body parts that make highly charged contact with the world and with other bodies.

“If impersonality is an artist’s problem, an absolutely personal style is the obvious solution—obvious but not available. In even the most personal style, much is conventional. Much is culturally conditioned. Only in a daze induced by an ideal of pure subjectivity can an artist hope to make thoroughly personal art. This was clear to Clough, a Hallwalls veteran who had come to terms with Pop Art while still at school. He had long known that the choice is not between personal and impersonal art, but between kinds and degrees of impersonality. Though fingerpainting was satisfyingly uninhibited, he had contained its energies in tight patterns of production and reproduction. He had regulated the image by analyzing it. Then, in early 1985, he invented the big finger and reinvented action painting a second time. His art was no longer cool and detached. Clough had found a hot, immediate kind of impersonality.

“By displacing touch from his fingers to the tip of his new instrument, he put the painting process at a distance. Yet the big finger also kept him in immediate, sensual contact with the painted surface. This tool pointed the way past Clough’s media-critiques in the early ‘80s manner, past ironies about expressionist sincerity, past the traditional face-off between self and world. It led him to that region of memory where self and world are in flux. Meanings are provisional. Behavior is uninhibited. Many have noted that messing about with paint is in some ways an infantile activity. It recalls the days when one’s excretions were as fascinating as anything in the world. As adults discourage fascinations like these, the child’s attention begins to take approved paths. Acquiring a language, one learns to give things their usual names and to understand them in ways the world has already made familiar. Meanings stabilize and one forgets that learning about the world and language—and images—once felt like inventing these things for oneself. Clough’s brilliantly unstable images revive the excitement of that time, when the self is not yet entirely formed. Thus his revamped action painting, though recognizably Cloughian, has a peculiarly selfless quality.

“Early in his career, Clough had reason to be suspicious of mediums and tools. With analytical finesse, he played painting off against photography. The invention of the big finger signaled the sudden end of his suspicions, his realization that, with the right sort of tool, work becomes play. A tool’s effect need not be oppressive. It can liberate, and so can its products, especially if they are works of art.”

Clough’s work was represented in New York by Pam Adler Gallery in 1980 and subsequently by Jack Tilton Gallery, American Fine Arts/Colin DeLand, Scott Hanson Gallery, the Grand Salon and Tricia Collins Contemporary Art which closed in 1999. Throughout the 1980s and into the ‘90s approximately 600 of his works were collected by Dorothy and Herbert Vogel who donated them as part of their 4,000 works collection to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., which redistributed the works to a museum in each of the fifty United States of America.

After moving his studio seven times to various locations in New York City, Clough moved it to Westerly, Rhode Island in 1999. He discontinued using “big finger” painting tools and followed a ritualistic procedure for making twelve “Zodiac T-shirts” in 2000.

Following this pivotal phase, throughout the early aughts he made thousands of watercolors in response to the natural environment surrounding his studio.

In 2006 he transitioned into a brushed and layered technique that had its final form in 2010 when he made a single painting, “O My Goodness,” through a process of painting images related to world religions—one on top of the other, with sanding, polishing, and obsessively photographing each layer—such that he produced a fourteen-minute animation of the process, a book documenting it and a facsimile print of the finished work, which, for Clough constituted a new model for art distribution.

Sandra Firmin curated a forty-year retrospective of Clough’s work for the University at Buffalo Art Gallery that was presented in 2012. As Clough travelled back and forth from Rhode Island to Buffalo for planning the show, he conceived, “Clufffalo,” as a portmanteau of his internet URL and the city of his origin and the exhibition was titled, “The Way to Clufffalo.”

For Clough the public response to modern art, that “my kid could do that,” has been a personal challenge that he counters with, “you can do it too.” For centuries, artists have directed assistants in the realization of works. Duchamp introduced chance as compositional technique and Joseph Beuys proclaimed that “everyone is an artist.” Thus since 1975, Clough has presented public art-making events that offer public participation. “Clufffalo” represents the blending of Clough’s artistic intentions with those of the collaborators.

In October 2013 he moved his studio from Rhode Island to John and Shelly McKendry’s “Hi-Temp Fabrication” building in downtown Buffalo, and in June, 2015 he moved it to the Roycroft Campus, a National Historic Landmark, that commemorates the American Arts and Crafts Movement in East Aurora, New York, near Buffalo.

There were three types of Clufffalo paintings: Places, Seasons, and Numbers. Places were made in day-long events in a particular location in which the participants were free to apply any of the 20 colors supplied as they wished. Clufffalo: Hamburg (2014) was made in conjunction with the Erie County/Albright-Knox Public Art Initiative by 150 participants producing a mural for the Hamburg, New York Public Library, an “art history” book of documentation and a time-lapse video of the process. Clufffalo: Art Omi (2017) was made at Art Omi, the art center in Ghent, New York, by 132 participants, resulting in the mural which is in the collection of the New York State Museum, Albany, New York, and a book and video documenting the process.

Clufffalo: Roycroft (2021) was painted by 41 participants at the Roycroft, also with a book and video.

The Clufffalo “Public Painting Workshop” at the Roycroft, produced Clufffalo: Seasons which consisted of one painting (32 x 44 inches) per season created by as many participants as possible, at no cost, adding layers of paint as they wished in multiple sessions through the course of the season. At the end of the season Clough would grind and polish the painting to achieve the painting’s final appearance. He would then use the documentation to include the participants in an “art history” book. Clufffalo: Season continued from Autumn 2015 through Summer 2023, with two months lost to Covid. Clough’s plan was for the sale of the resulting paintings to support the project.

Cole Pawlowski responded:

The Clufffalo Public Painting Workshop is the beating heart of Charles Clough’s creative practice: vital to him and his community. Though the term “workshop” often implies a structured session where a teacher imparts knowledge unto their students through lectures or demonstrations, this is not that; rather, Clough purposefully rejects this teacher-student dichotomy in favor of an egalitarian relationship, regardless of age, or whether or not workshop participants would self-identify as artists. Clough’s role is more that of a conductor than an educator: he provides the conditions to catalyze creativity – a welcoming space for all, vast quantities of colorful paints and a multitude of tools for their application, and perhaps most importantly, the encouragement of a peer who believes deeply in everyone’s innate creative potential – and then he purposefully steps back without offering any instruction, allowing participants to express themselves in the most intuitive and uninhibited way possible, just like he does.

Clough’s tangible artworks– the physical manifestation of his ethos – serve as a monument to play. The work permeates joy and invokes our formative sensory experiences, when wonders abound and everything new was a grand discovery. Remarkably, Clough’s magical ability to bottle these energies of early life perception doesn’t feel forced or inauthentic; instead, it reads as the artist genuinely reconnecting with his intrinsic sense of awe. Clough invites the public into his studio to come “play with paint” so that they too might make their own discoveries, free to venture into the unknown with the same unrestrained, shameless experimentation children so revel in.

Clough demarcates his Public Painting Workshop by the seasons, such that a painting which begins on the first day of summer will be completed before the first day of fall, and so on. Participants are invited to add their own layer to the painting, directly on top of other participants’ work, creating a complex, multi-dimensional artwork embedded with the thoughtful creative efforts of sometimes dozens of people. Once the season has run its course, Clough finalizes the piece through polishing, grinding, or gouging its surface to bring out bits and pieces of all the buried layers, creating an integrated whole. Each 3-month period also yields an “art history” book produced by Clough, which includes images of each of the painting’s layers alongside the names and photographic portraits of the artists responsible for them. Additionally, to memorialize their time in the Workshop and simply fill the world with more art, Clough offers participants the chance to make a souvenir “takeaway” painting, which he also documents and includes in the book.

While paintings and books are the material consequences of this cooperative art-making venture, the Workshop serves multiple intangible purposes as well: it benefits the cultural infrastructure through increasing engagement in the arts, it validates the raw creative impulses of children and adults without judgement, and it serves as a vehicle for the conveyance of Clough’s politics. Clough’s penchant for art as a “collaborative rather than competitive endeavor” speaks to his aspirations for his local and global communities. Clough’s collectivist values are evidenced by his sharing of authorship in his “art history” books: no one person’s contribution is more important than the next; all participants are absolutely integral parts of the whole. Clough views combined effort and mutual support built on a foundation of love is an invaluable resource, critical to humanity’s future. A society in which folks feel safe to truly depend on one another requires great trust, empathy, and devotion. The Clufffalo Public Painting Workshop is a space for connection, recognition, and acceptance. It sings of optimism and celebrates the beauty of cooperation. Hope is Charles Clough’s legacy.

Clufffalo: Numbers were painted by Clough, alone, initially using “big finger” painting tools which transitioned into the “pour & blots” technique. The first 24 Numbers were painted at “Hi-Temp” in Buffalo before moving his studio to the Roycroft.

The John Simon Guggenheim Foundation recognized Clough’s work with its Fellowship in 2016 and in Autumn 2017 the Roycroft provided rooms in the tower of the Print Shop for Clough’s library and “sticks and stones” sculpture collection. Throughout his residency, which he referred to as the Clufffalo Institute at the Roycroft, Clough presented lectures (2015, 2017, twice in 2019, 2023, and 2024) and three “Chromafest” painting performances, and received The Mary and Gil Stott Award at Roycroft in 2022. More than a thousand people, from toddlers to nonagenarians, from around the world have participated in Clough’s collaborative events. He also developed “Gardens & Gates” in which cutout overlays modified under-paintings interactively with viewers and slotted-sculpture such as “Jaggy Smudge.”

When the Roycroft secured funding for the restoration of the tower, Clough’s residency at the Roycroft concluded.

Hallwalls, after presenting more than 6,500 events, representing the work of more than 9,000 artists, is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary this year.

Pepfog has resulted in some 7,000 paintings, a vast quantity of photos, and numerous movies despite the lack of gallery support for the past 25 years.

Clufffalo, is a lost utopia, represented by 1,156 paintings.

Clough also produced 120 publications including “Pepfog,” 2007, “Art Will,” 2021, and “The Political Value of Art is Beauty as a Symbol of Love,” 2022. More than 600 of Clough’s works are in the collections of more than 70 museums including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.