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Lee Krasner October 8, 2003 Lee Krasner is one of those under-appreciated artists that, even so, continually manage to amaze. Witness the current exhibition at Robert Miller entitled After Palingenesis that includes paintings spanning the last 15 years of the of the artist�s life. Given that period when a cooler (one might even say coldly emotionless) esthetic prevailed in the form of Pop, Minimalism, conceptual art, etc., Krasner remained true to her own sensibility. The key operative here is the word �Own� for a couple of reasons. In a quote from the press release Krasner says, �All my work seems to swing back to something I was involved with earlier�� The evidence of this statement is clearly seen in the work. Given the over intellectualization prevailing in the art world during that time, here were these magnificent, emotionally-charged, out of fashion yet arguably more engaging paintings. Despite what was au-courant, Krasner stuck to her guns and created some real kick-ass work that holds up today far better then nearly anything else receiving the focus then. The other aspect of �Own� is significant in regard to the tiresome exercise of analyzing Krasner in relation to her husband. Part and parcel of the Pollock tragedy was Krasner�s misfortune of having to continue on in the long shadow of his legacy. Separating the personal aspects, it must have been both liberating and frustrating for Krasner to create art in the years afterward. You see the liberation in the strength and quality of the paintings presented in this show. Freed of the influence and burdensome responsibilities that came with Pollock, Krasner�s work more than holds its own by any comparison. Although you may recognize a connection to Pollock in some paintings, Krasner�s uniqueness is never compromised. As to the frustration, while Pollock was alive Krasner completely sacrificed her career in the service of his. When she was finally able to truly focus on her own esthetic it was during a period in which the art world was hostile to this style of abstract painting. Given that, these pieces speak volumes regarding her commitment to her art and the lack of compromise. You recognize a defiant, muscular, toughness in this work that is nevertheless tempered by a quality of gentleness. These paintings incorporate a wide array of approach from exceedingly painterly to a mixing of mediums to a flat graphic handling. Throughout the work the composition, color and paint handling are consistently self-confident and powerful in their effect. The imagery in this work possesses a signature animated quality that is often enhanced by the color. In some instances it is presented in subdued earth tones such as in Between Two Appearances. In others the hues are brighter, though never artificial as with Crisis Moment. Indeed, a significant portion of Krasner�s genius is attributable to her use and application of color. The same holds true for the variety of paint handling; especially as elements of collage are skillfully incorporated into some of the pieces. Look at the detailed views of these paintings and notice how the surfaces often seem to be �woven� as much as they are painted. The forms reference nonspecific organic subject matter such as exotic flora - at least as a first impression. Given their animate qualities though, it is what Krasner accomplishes with visual rhythm and the spatial relationships that get at the heart and soul of this work. Part of this is presented in a dense swirl of forms in which foreground and background are barely distinguishable. In other pieces the forms are more reductive and yet the same quality of spatial ambiguity is created. For example, in Crisis Moment the forms seem to fairly explode across the picture plane which is equally true of the more graphic work. On the other hand in a painting like Comet the forms are a bit more static and offer a sense of place. Here the animation is implied through the color rather than the forms. What it all adds up to is painting that is emotionally as well as intellectually charged that provides a veritable feast for the eyes. As with most great abstract art, Krasner set up a few parameters for herself and then pushed against their limitations even as she made use of them. She was able to do this throughout a lifetime of art-making and to the very end her art never lost its vitality or the commitment to her esthetic. In fact, her work appears to have only gotten better and stronger through the years in contrast to her husband�s art. October 18, 2003 Fred Mitchell was one of the founding members of the Tanager gallery the very first artist cooperative gallery in existence back in the 50�s heyday of the 10th Street artists and the New York School. This exhibition presents a survey of his work from the period spanning the �40s thru the �60s. A first comprehensive glance at this show summons forth a notion that you�ve encountered a macro-abstract version of impressionism. Color is the subject matter for this work; to the extent that this is possible. Clearly Mitchell is an artist who loves color and understands very well how to apply it. Indeed, it is the color as well as the paint handling that defines the forms in this work; an intuitive enterprise resulting in what might be described as �atmosphere� of hues. Look at a piece like Zamptha and notice how the forms maintain a wispy, ephemeral quality. Their edges maintain a gently ragged quality just like clouds. Now look at the detailed view of this painting to see how thin and transparent the paint is. Despite this the forms are solidly expressive, drawing their strength and intensity from the opaqueness of the color. This portion of the work was created throughout the mid 50s to the early 60s and represents a signature style for the artist. Mitchell also applies color to adroitly break up the picture plane such as in Positano. Here the overt yellows, oranges, greens and bits of blue battle it out with a scattered pinkish-white for dominance of the foreground. Forty-seven years later it remains a draw, but the painting is still as lively and engaging as ever. On the other hand, Walking in Battery Park achieves a double sensibility that skillfully references the luminosity of stained glass plus the piece-work of collage. The over-all construction of the color and paint in this work is symphonic in its effect. It�s like moving across or through something that cannot be pinned down; not even in something as static as a painting. Something fluid is going on in most of this work that could not be achieved in the same way with recognizable subject matter. Yet at the same time, a strong sense of �place� is created. What it always thus? Not really, when you consider the paintings of the early 50s such as White, Black and Red. In this piece (incidentally the first painting he exhibited at Tanager), the forms are more static and the color is restricted to what the title describes. Gesture is present but not as a focal point such as in the work that is to follow. Also the paint is far denser; though not without some quality of transparency as a detailed view of it reveals. Within the context of the show this piece truly distinguishes itself from the other work. It looks like a cousin to one of Stewart Hitch�s paintings from around the early 1990s. A pair of smaller paintings, Untitled (from 1950) and Cielo-Montana) also provide a window to what Mitchell was up to before he found his stride in the color-gesture work. Mitchell�s work from the later portion of the 60s is primarily more structured and at times even a bit reductive (when compared within the framework of this show). The color and gesture remain but are confined by a semi-grid structure. Another consistency is the quality of the paint which remains thin and transparent. There is enough similarity to watercolor that you wonder if he ever worked in that medium. Sure enough, there is one included from 1967. Overall the exhibition provides both a comprehensive and concise review of this artist�s work over three decades. There is just enough here to provide a flavor from each period including a figurative painting Mitchell did as a very young man from 1941. The only problem with this show is the lighting, which is not broad enough to fully encompass the larger paintings. The result is that it becomes difficult to get an even view of those pieces. The upper portions tend to retain �hot spots� while the lower portions appear to be in a murky shadow. October 20, 2003 Denise Gale was the curator of the Big Abstract Show in this gallery back in June (which was subsequently reviewed here). Geoffrey Dorfman has recently had a book published, �Milton Resnick Out of the Picture� (to be reviewed soon; either here and/or elsewhere by Joe Walentini). His last show of monoprints in this gallery (March 2002) was reviewed on these pages. This exhibition is most interesting for the juxtaposition of two very different styles of painting in a �this versus that� presentation. In this corner: Raw brutal gesture and intense color. In that corner: Gray, monochromatic, reductive gesture. Such differences are what smack you in the eyes as a first impression. And yet, similarities are found as well as logic in combining these two artists in one room. Start with Denise Gale - almost because you�re compelled to. In other words, it�s hard to breeze right by and otherwise ignore all that intense paint facing you down from the walls. These are the kind of paintings that grab you by the shirt front and smack you across the face three or four times and then shove you back to catch your balance like some film-noir detective from a 40�s movie. However, once you get past their heavily wrought emotionalism (and, figuratively, straighten your tie) you see how intelligently these paintings are put together. Gale uses large gesture and broad swaths of color to construct her forms and then, like a sculptor with a chain saw, carves out chunks of space. They look like they are just on the edge of becoming figurative but never quite cross the line due in large part to the deep sense of perspective implied. These paintings also look deceptively easy to make just a matter of slapping some paint down. However, pulling off something as compelling, heroic and confidently intuitive as this takes years (and no small measure of talent) to develop. Look at Yellow with Black Cross, for example. Yes, you clearly read the yellow in the foreground but notice how the color in that form shimmers from within by virtue of the various yellow, gold and subtle green hues that construct it. What is additionally marvelous is how quickly and confidently those strokes of paint were placed on top of everything else going in the painting. You do not achieve this by thinking about it too much or letting paint intimidate you. And such a thing can never be replicated exactly even by the artist. Yet, it is just right, just uniquely perfect for this painting. Such an approach is consistently found throughout this work. Now turn to the other side of the room (and spectrum) and consider the paintings of Geoffrey Dorfman. It is immediately clear that Milton Resnick has had no small amount of influence on Dorfman. Two key indicators are the even-handed painterly quality as well as the monochromatic color. This work may appear to be overwhelmed by the assertive imagery, color and paint handling found in Gale�s paintings on the other side of the room. But don�t underestimate the power of the color gray. Its strength is found in its ability to absorb and otherwise �quiet� brighter hues. Dorfman does vary color within his palette of grays, as well as contrast, but the differences are subtle. In Widder�s Dump for example there is just a hint of violet plus an un-defined warmer tone woven into the surface handling. Compare this to Ghost in the Machine where the hues are cooler. In stark contrast to Gale, these paintings present a highly reductive esthetic. But in and of themselves they offer rich undulating surfaces in which bits and pieces of gesture are �captured� in the paint. In this they possess an ancient quality akin to fossilized remains or pre-historic cave paintings. Yet at the same time they express a completely modern abstract sensibility. Now, what of the similarities between these two, otherwise, dissimilar artists? First, both find their imagery through the satisfactory method of simply applying paint to canvas. It is inconceivable that either of them would work from pre-conceived ideas or drawings. Second, both focus on gesture as their subject matter. In Gale�s work this is aggressively applied where the imagery in some even hints at violence. With Dorfman gesture is more evenly spread across the picture plane to construct and �find� form. Finally, both artists address spatial concerns through gesture. In Gale�s paintings you seem to be able to look deep into the spaces around and behind the foreground forms. In the backgrounds is hinted a suggestion of far off places glimpsed but nevertheless, inaccessible. In Dorfman�s work the gesture constructs spatial depth that is shallower and uniformly more opaque. You get a sense of looking at these surfaces from a much greater distance (even as though miles away). Last take: notions of gender painting are completely rendered false by this show. For example, suppose you saw each artist�s work without knowing who created it and were asked to determine gender. The temptation would be to reverse the reality: A male made the brashly aggressive paintings, a female the gentler monochromatic work. This show throws all such notions and determinations away and leaves the viewer with just the paintings to speak for themselves. October 30, 2003 Melissa Meyer�s work was last reviewed on these pages in February 2002. That show in this gallery comprised large luminous watercolors on paper. At the end of our 2002 review a few questions remained open as a challenge to the artist. To whit: though the watercolors were beautiful and pleasantly agreeable what would happen if all that were upset? In other words suppose the range was pushed harder and some struggle were evident? Regardless of whether Meyer responded directly to that challenge the current exhibition indicates she has gone the more precarious route as represented by the thin washes of often brilliantly bright color. The paint handling in her earlier work on canvas was denser and did not come off as alive with fluid gesture as did the watercolors. However, with the new work that quality of gesture is all brought home in how she nimbly wields paint and color. The result is that these paintings attain a significantly higher level of elegance and engagement when compared with earlier work. Start with the color, which is the heart and soul of this work. It has been ratcheted up several notches of intensity with hues that are breathtaking in their variety and depth. Meyer�s particular genius with color is her complete confidence and ability in mixing very sweet hues with earthier tones and getting it just right. The color is never saccharin or muddy. Look at the detailed views to see the complexity involved in its creation. The thing is, you don�t create paintings like these without �blowing� several canvases on the way. These pieces hang on a mastery of technique reminiscent of Far Eastern painting. Within the picture plane Meyer successfully punches holes into space and otherwise defines her forms purely on the basis of color. Look at Quinn the Eskimo and notice how the various forms animate the canvas by working the picture plane as both foreground and background forms. The very next thing to consider is pure organic gesture, which, in addition to color, serves as Meyer�s subject matter. The squiggle, doodle and blob forms dance across the surface to the same visual music found in a Serena Bocchino painting, albeit much denser. Look at what happens in I Thought About You and Here Comes the Night where every square inch of the picture plane is filled with the looping bits of gesture. I Thought About You accommodates flatter denser forms layered underneath whereas Here Comes the Night serves up a wall of gesture that taps into a sensibility Jackson Pollock would recognize. Meyer manages her gesture by breaking it out as either quick linear forms or as thicker, more static, shapes. Because of this some of the paintings are dense with implied motion where others are relatively reductive. If in the last show the work was a bit too agreeable, here it remains agreeable but also presents a spectacularly wide array of approach. As with the color, the gesture is equally self-possessed. Again, look to the detail views to see this is accomplished, how the gesture conspires with the color in several layers to create a perfect balance. In comparison to the watercolors it is interesting to note that Meyer strives to break free of the grid, upon which the earlier work was far more dependent. The grid remains present as an influence but these paintings become more interesting the more they break free of it. Look at By Myself and you have to wonder how paintings like this are made given these materials. The answer in part has to do with the old joke of how you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice. But it�s more than that, more than even chalking it up as talent (of which Meyer clearly has a great deal). The core element is courage. Meyer bravely takes on a brutally unforgiving methodology - bright transparent paint on large canvases. With no apparent timidity she applies it in magnificent combinations of gesture and color. It might be one thing to see a handful of pieces that successfully accomplish this but she does so repeatedly in painting after painting. Its evident how cruelly easy it would be for any one of these of the pieces to go off the rails and crash in flames. It would be interesting to find out how many canvases end up doing just that in producing a body of work like this. October 30, 2003 Curiously this show is in the same building and two floors above the Melissa Meyer exhibition at Elizabeth Harris. Its curious because there are strong similarities between the two such as the presence of the grid, intense color, transparent paint and even, to some extent, the way that gesture is handled. But that�s about as close as it gets. Belag�s forms possess a decidedly architectural sensibility in their engagement of the grid. The forms block out the space to determine the spatial relationships. There is an urbane, somewhat stylized quality to this work that the artist uses to great advantage. What counters the overt rectilinear makeup of the forms is the surface handling and color. In a series of �Blue Window� paintings, which make up the better work in this show, the grid serves as a stage set so that color and contrast can be played against one another. The result is a dramatic rendering of the space and an upset of the grid�s imposition. The blob-like forms are streaked through with variations of hue and contrast. In other work such as Kimono, the orderliness of the grid dominates more and the surfaces attain a quality that is much like weathered wood. But again, color and contrast determine spatial relationships and bring the painting to life. Overall these paintings express aloofness that is similar to the work of James Nare. Although the gesture hits the field running it also feels a bit calculated. The paintings edge up to design and so come off as a bit cold. On this basis they can be approached from an entirely formal perspective. On the other hand they are possessed of emotional drama that is remote as though experienced in a dream. In other words there is intensity of feeling but it is detached and unreachable. This is particularly true of the �Blue Window� paintings. The feeling might be overwhelming nightmarish but for the sweeter hues and architectural elements. In the end the content of Belag�s paintings explore the relationship between raw emotion and cerebral order. Besides varying the interplay between these two extremes, color, contrast and surface handling fluctuate to provide each piece with a unique identity. Which extreme dominates? That depends on the individual paintings. The �Blue Window� work pushes the emotional factor harder whereas in pieces like Kimono and Grove the reverse is true. However, between the two the former are the more interesting because the emotional/cerebral relationship is more diverse. Also, from a formal stance the space is rendered more ambiguous, dramatic; even mysterious. October 30, 2003 This exhibition serves as a mini, mini-retrospective of di Suvero�s art. Perhaps the first thing to strike you is the diversity of scale. In the main gallery stands XV, a classic piece from di Suvero�s signature style in the 70s. It dominates the room, indeed just fits into the space. Now turn to the smaller gallery up front and fast-forward to 1990 where the far smaller and whimsical Hopesoup dominates that space. Finally, return back to the galley entrance to take in the works on paper you breezed passed on your way to the big ticket items. Included here are drawings ranging from the 70s right up through to this year. They comprise studies and plans for sculpture but serve as art pieces in their own right too. So what does it all add up to? Stay with the drawings to begin with. These are most revealing in that you clearly see the artist�s pre-occupation with gesture even in the earliest ones. It seems a curious disconnect at first when considering the very architectural, rather static, I-beam steel pieces from the 70s. It�s as though the drawings cut directly to the soul and intent of the sculpture. Obviously this is attributable to the materials; massive steel is incomparable to ink on paper in terms of gesture. But it�s amazing what di Suvero achieves in his drawings. Take Study for Baltimore for example. You can easily imagine the image as the sculpture it�s a study for. But in and of itself it holds up as a marvelously concise, dashed-off bit of gesture in the manner of a Chinese character rendering. This simple image is able to express so much. Now move to the dominating XV piece in the main gallery. True it doesn�t have the fluidity of the gesture on paper but a number of interesting factors conspire to create tension in this work. The size of this piece combined with the materials bumps up beautifully against the casual way they appear to be piled up. Then there are the different perspectives offered. When you first approach it, the piece is very symmetrical. But try a side view look and notice how quickly the symmetry disappears. Next, think about walking underneath it, which is intimidating in the same way a Richard Serra sculpture is. With impossibly large and heavy utilitarian materials di Suvero successfully achieved a sensibility that also comes off as light and airy. Finally, there is Hopesoup which possesses a light-hearted, Rube Goldberg sort of esthetic. In this di Suvero moved a long way from the rigidly straight lines imposed by the materials in his earlier work. The heavy metal remains but combines a few found objects with fashioned materials. This piece also contains moving parts which further separates it from the earlier static work. The end result is a piece that is more humanly scaled and blends elegance with a sense of humor. If you were to come across Hopesoup only knowing the sculpture from the 70s it might be a hard sell to believe that Mark di Suvero created this. Yet this piece hearkens back to his Park Place Gallery days (the cooperative artist gallery he was part of that eventually morphed into the Paula Cooper gallery) and retains a refreshing quality of improvisation. It serves as a perfect bridging piece between XV and the drawings. |
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