Artist William A. Newman

Nothing stops them, however, from facing life afresh. Newman charges on with humor and verve, taking everything as it comes, squeezing the juice out of every esthetic opportunity. There were two versions of Bill/Cock (1999), computer-morphed and reworked with brush and oil. Bill/Cock #1 is a profile with the red comb on the forehead, a ferocious cock's eye, the beak perky above the wattled chin. This head sits on top of a human neck and shoulders, and red lipsticked mouth has been added. It conveys a fierce humor, a kind of nobility and vintage Newman defiance. Bill/Cock #2 has a different mood, old-fashioned feminine. Here the artist's chin appears in total, below a scumbled and glazed rooster head; the image is somewhat similar to #1, but this time it's a three-quarter view from the oposite side.

As I moved around the gallery, each fusion drew my eye, melding different animals, until the repetition began to feel like muggling and grimacing. Just as ennui encroached, I was grabbed again. This time by Bill combined with a fish! This image is black and white. Freaky are the fish combos – they are intense, disturbing. But in all of Newman's new work, we hear life yelling.

William Newman at David Adamson

Art in America, April 2001

Joe Shannon

Most readers of this review are probably too young to remember Lon Chaney Jr. in the Wolf Man movies; at every full moon we would see close-ups of Chaney's metamorphosis into a crouching, snarling monster. I was immediately reminded of those horror films when I saw the video of William Newman transforming himself into various animals – Bill/Cock, Bill/Horse, Bill/Pig, Bill/Ox and more – you get the idea. Even though the Wolf Man gave me night frights when I was a kid, now I see in those episodes a sly and campy wit. Newman's new computer-generated images, Iris-printed onto canvas and painted over with many layers of glaze, sparkle with an illuminated wit and energy. If I hadn't seen Newman's video, I wouldn't have had a clue as to how he makes these remarkable photographs.

I have known Newman's work for years. He embraced with fervor the traditional lore of craft and technique. His subject matter was always edgy and defiant. Yet, along with Robert Hynes, there was a lot of Photo-Realist in him. A couple of decades ago he came down with multiple sclerosis, a disease that has robbed several skilled artists and musicians I know of their dexterity.