Monday, March 23, 2015

Bushwick Galleries – A Photo Essay

By Charles Kessler

There have been a lot of good shows in Bushwick lately. Here are one or two images each from some of my favorites, and links to more images and information.

Fred Valentine: Toward Grandfather Mountain (closed March 8th)
Studio 10 Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Fred Valentine, Studio 10 Gallery.
Fred Valentine, Untitled Abstract Picture #26, 2012, oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches.


Henry Khudyakov: Final Brain Storm (through May 8th)
Black & White Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Henry Khudyakov, Black & White Gallery.
Front and back of Henry Khudyakov, Avengers, 1985-1996, collage on canvas, 40 x 30 inches. (Image courtesy of the artist and Black & While Gallery / Project Space.)


Tim Kent: A World After Its Own Image (Closed March 18th)
Slag Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Tim Kent: A World After Its Own Image, Slag Gallery.
Closeup detail: Tim Kent, The City Upon A Hill, 2015, oil on linen, 80 x 120 inches.


Jack Davidson: love, mistake, promise, auto crackup, color, petal (through April 12th)
THEODORE:Art Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Jack Davidson, THEODORE:Art Gallery.


Philip Taaffe (through April 26th)
Luhring Augustine Gallery, 25 Knickerbocker Avenue
Installation view, Phillip Taaffe, Luhring Augustine Gallery.


James Fotopoulos: The Given (through March 23rd)
Microscope Gallery, 1329 Willoughby Avenue, #2B
Installation view,  James Fotopoulos, 75-minute video featuring Sophie Traub as the lead, Microscope Gallery.

Alex Paik & Debra Ramsay: Generative Processes
TSA Gallery, 1329 Willoughby Avenue #2A
Carl Belz wrote about this show here.
Installation view, Alex Paik & Debra Ramsay, TSA Gallery.


Outlet Gallery, 253 Wilson Avenue
Installation view. On the left: glass beads, thread and rope panel by Steven and William Ladd; and on the right: Jacquard woven cotton hanging by Phillip Stearns, Outlet Gallery.
Two views of Samantha Bittman, Untitled (028), 2015 acrylic on handwoven textile, 25 x 20 inches.


Robert StratiLayers (through April 19th)
Robert Henry Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Robert Strati, Layers, packing tape and wire, Robert Henry Gallery.


Tim Spelios and Matt Freedman: Once Upon A Broken Time (performances every Friday at 8pm and Sunday at 5pm through April 5th)
Studio 10, 56 Bogart
Tim Spelios (on drums), Matt Freedman (drawing and telling a story), Studio 10 Gallery.



BONUS:
Curated by Jason Andrew and organized by Norte Maar
1285 Avenue of the Americas Art Gallery (between 51st and 52nd Street, Manhattan). 

I included this large group exhibition because it is curated by a Bushwick organization, and many of the artists are associated with Bushwick galleries. 
Opening reception, between a place and candy - new works in pattern + repetition + motif. 
Installation view, Julia K. Gleich, Combinations - a study of infinite or countable discreet structures, 2015, video.
Installation view, Niki Lederer, Northside Gyre, 2015, found re-purposed plastic, machine screws, hex nuts, steel pipe, plywood and acrylic paint.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Small Shows Currently at the Met

By Charles Kessler

I love the Met for the small shows they do. These shows are hardly ever reviewed or even publicized, so you have to find out about them either on the Met's website, spot them on the list of current exhibitions given out at the entrance, or, best of all, happen upon them as you walk around the museum. Usually these shows focus on a major work loaned to the Met for a short period, augmented by work from the permanent collection. Some of the most memorable have been Rembrandt at Work, The Great Self-Portrait from Kenwood House, from a few years ago; Velázquez's Portrait of Duke Francesco I d’Este: A Masterpiece from the Galleria Estense, Modena; and last year’s Goya and the Altamira Family.

One such small show currently at the Met is Innovation and Spectacle: Chinese Ritual Bronzes (through March 22nd).
Second Floor, Asian Art, Gallery 207. 
It includes some of the rarest, best preserved, most dramatic, and fantastic (in all senses of the word) Chinese bronzes you'll ever see, including three fifth-century B. C. bronzes, lent by the Shanghai Museum, that have never been seen outside of China.
Ritual Wine Container in the Shape of a Buffalo, early fifth century B. C., Eastern Zhou dynasty, bronze (Shanghai Museum).
The relief patterns on the bronzes are stylized eyes, ears, snouts, fangs, wings, horns, etc. of animals such as tigers, buffalo, owls, birds, and dragons and other mythological animals. As you can see from this closeup detail (below), the technical virtuosity of the bronze relief is astounding, especially given how old they are.
Detail: Ritual Wine Container in the Shape of a Buffalo, early fifth century B. C., Eastern Zhou dynasty, bronze (Shanghai Museum).
The Met augmented the work from the Shanghai Museum with even older bronzes from their own outstanding collection.
Altar Set, Shang and Western Zhou dynasties, late 11th century B. C., bronze, table is 7 ⅛ x 35 ⅜ x 18 ¼ inches.
Spouted ritual wine vessel (guang), Shang dynasty, early Anyang period (ca. 1300–1050 b.c.), bronze, 13 inches wide.
The bronzes were used in ritual offerings of food and drink for ancestors, so while they have the vitality and animation of a real animal, they are also abstract, symbolic and timeless.

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Painting Music in the Age of Caravaggio (through April 5th).
Painting Music in the Age of Caravaggio, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2nd floor, gallery 624.
The subject of this small show, completely drawn from the Met's collection, is the status of music from the late 16th century through the 17th century in Italy. To this end, Caravaggio’s The Musicians is installed along with two other gorgeous paintings from the period that also have music as a subject: Valentin de Boulogne’s The Lute Player, 1626; and Laurent de La Hyre’s Allegory of Music, 1649. In addition, instruments like the ones depicted in the paintings are on display. Best of all, piped into the gallery is a recording of music from the period that was played on these instruments.
Caravaggio, The Musicians, 1595, oil on canvas, 36 x 46 ½ inches (52.81).
Music was experiencing its own renaissance during this time. There was a growing demand for professional musicians, especially solo singers; and opera as an art form was just emerging. It was also a time when many new musical instruments were invented. (If you want to learn more about these instruments, check here.) The music depicted in Caravaggio's The Musicians (it was originally legible) was chosen by his patron, Cardinal Francesco Maria del Monte, who was passionate about music.
Detail: Caravaggio,  The Musicians, 1595.
Caravaggio’s The Musicians, the focal point of the show, is an allegory about how music goes together with love (Cupid, sporting wings, is in the back left), and wine (Cupid is holding grapes). But even though there's a pagan god with wings and they're wearing classical drapery, this is not a typical High Renaissance allegory. Caravaggio's painting is more realistic, less idealized, than High Renaissance allegories. Caravaggio painted real musicians (including Caravaggio himself in the right background); and the scene includes music and instruments casually scattered about, and the drapery they're wearing is all bunched up. Also, the composition of the painting isn’t hierarchical in the High Renaissance manner; it isn’t ordered with higher ranking people given prominence. Instead it’s an all-over composition with everyone given similar attention. The god Cupid is, if anything, given less prominence.

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Another small show is Hans Hofmann: Selected Paintings (through July 5th). Like many of the other small shows, this is an opportunity to see work that's usually in storage. The Metropolitan Museum owns a lot of work by Hofmann – 15 paintings and 29 works on paper, but only one or two of them are usually on display.
Hans Hofmann: Selected Paintings, 2nd floor, gallery 918.
Four of the paintings in this show are from a series of nine paintings Hofmann made in 1965 as a tribute to his wife, Renate. This is work done at the peak of his mature phase. The masterful painting (below), for example, is pure joy. It just keeps coming at you with color, light and movement.
Hans Hofmann, Renate's Nantucket, 1965, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 inches (1996.440.4).
Hofmann was know for his teaching, and the main thing he taught was what he called "push/pull." To over-simplify, "push/pull" is a way of creating the sense of depth by using the natural properties of color instead of the traditional methods of perspective or tonal gradation (modeling volume) which Hofmann felt did not acknowledge the essential flatness of the painting surface. So, for example, warm colors (red, orange) tend to advance (push) and cool colors (blue, green) recede (pull). Hofmann acknowledged Cézanne's influence in this. In Search for the Real, Hofmann wrote "... Cézanne understood color as a force of push and pull. In his pictures he created an enormous sense of volume, breathing, pulsating, expanding, contracting through his use of colors."
Detail: Hans Hofmann, Renate's Nantucket, 1965.  (This detail is redder than the painting.)
And just like Cézanne, in order to simultaneously keep things flat and frontal (i.e."real"), everything is tied together, butted up to each other like a mosaic or puzzle. (See especially the right and top edge of the red/purple rectangle.)  

Hofmann was a master of riffs and had a large bag of tricks he used and taught. One of my favorites can be seen in the detail above. The red small brushwork at the top of the rectangle looks like it's going underneath and making the purple rectangle seem redder; and the blue on the left looks like it also floats underneath, making the red more purple. Among other things, this keeps the rectangle from becoming solid, opaque and clogged up. Instead, it breaths and glows.

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Warriors and Mothers: Epic Mbembe Art (through September 7th).
Installation view, Warriors and Mothers: Epic Mbembe Art, 1st floor, gallery 359.
This is a more typically curated show in that all the art is borrowed. But it’s not a large show, and it hasn't been publicized as far as I know, so, to that extent, it fits in with the other small shows.

These sculptures are almost three hundred years old, and because they were kept outside for most of that time, they are very eroded. They are the oldest wooden figures from Sub-Saharan Africa, and they're among the largest too (almost life-size).

Mbembe peoples, Seated Mother and Child, 17th-18th century, wood, 35 x 23 ½ x 29 inches (private collection).
The subjects of the sculptures are nurturing mothers and defending warriors – both protective, but in different ways. Originally the figures were painted and covered with ornaments, and their eyes were mirrors. They were positioned on either side of a carved drum made from enormous hollow logs. When the drum was played it could be heard from 12 miles away. Looking at these striking figures while listening to that great drum must have been a thrilling experience.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Oldies But Goodies in Chelsea

By Charles Kessler

Except for older art, and new art by older artists, I wasn't impressed with anything I saw in Chelsea last week. This is not a reflection on contemporary art in general, or Chelsea in particular, because these are the art and artists that have lasted and are of interest today. As I remember, there was a lot of bad art in the sixties and seventies too.

My favorite show was Edith Schloss, Still Life, Myths and Mountains, A Retrospective at Sundaram Tagore Gallery, 547 W. 27th Street (through March 28th).
Edith Schloss, Mont Amiata, 1965, watercolor on paper, 15 x 19 inches framed. 
Edith Schloss, Isola del Tino, 1966, oil on canvas, 19 3/4 x 23 2/3 inches.

Edith Schloss, Agon, 2000, oil on canvas, 27 1/2 x 23 2/3 inches.
It was curated by my friend Jason Andrew, the dynamic co-founder and director of Norte Maar; but that's not why I liked it so much. I liked it because I got to find out about an excellent artist who was unknown to me and to see a comprehensive selection of her art from her still lifes of the 1950s through to the mythological abstractions she painted until her death in 2011.

Schloss was under-recognized even though she was married to the photographer Rudy Burckhardt and was friends with many artists who played an important role in the post-war art world, including Will Barnet, Willem de Kooning, Rackstraw Downes, Alberto Giacometti, Mimi Gross, Robert Moskowitz, Philip Pearlstein, Robert Rauschenberg, Larry Rivers and Cy Twombly.

Which brings me to another reason why this is such a good show: art by these artists and others from her circle is on display with her work, placing Schloss's paintings in the context of her milieu. Moreover it's humble work by Schloss's friends, the kind given as gifts, traded or bought from the artist – work she might have been surrounded by. And for even further context, there's a glass case of letters, photographs, diaries and other memorabilia. (You can see a selection of Schloss's correspondence with many artists here.)

So why, in spite of doing good work and having important friends in the art world, was she not discovered? I can speculate on several possibilities. She was active at a time women's art was scorned; she made relatively small, delicate paintings when only large, macho paintings were prized; and in 1962 she separated from her husband and moved to Rome, so her work wasn't seen in the United States.


Here are the other OBGs:

Tony Smith at Matthew Marks Gallery, 523 W. 24th Street (until April 18th).
Installation view of three 1960s Tony Smith steel sculptures painted black.
Smith spent most of his career as an architect, and the way these sculptures define architectural space and mass is indicative of how it influenced his sculpture – it as if the work was made for this space.


Duane Michals The Portraitist at D. C. Moore Gallery, 535 W. 22nd Street (through March 21st).
Installation view: Duane Michals, The Portraitist at D. C. Moore Gallery.
Duane Michals, Johnny Cash, c. 1960s/2015, gelatin silver print with hand-applied text, 8 x 12 inches, edition 1/5. The two dates are when they were originally taken (in the 1960s), and when they were first printed (2014 and 2015).  
I remember learning about Michals's photographs in 1982 at my first job when I moved to New York. It was at a tiny store in Soho called Untitled that, like museum stores, sold postcards of art – but they got them from many different sources all over the world. I loved the job because it was a common stop for artists (although I never met Duane Michals), dancers (Pina Bausch was a highlight), and actors (I got to say "nee" to John Cleese – he kindly laughed). They carried a large selection of Michals's postcards, which were popular because they were of famous people in addition to being interesting as photos.

Michals tries to make each photograph unique to the person he's photographing, and that stimulates a great deal of invention in his photography. He also hand-writes his impressions of the person on the photograph (in the photo above he wrote: "Johnny Cash was hotter than a pepper sprout"). That can sometimes get cute, but it can also be profound.


Isamu Noguchi, Variations at PACE Gallery  508-510 W. 25th (through March 21st).
The PACE Gallery's typically poor website (easier to navigate now, but still bad) has only one reproduction, but fortunately I took a couple of decent installation photographs.

Installation view: Isamu Noguchi, left to right, sculpture made in 1958, 1970 and 1968

Installation view: Isamu Noguchi, a selection of his paper lamps. 
PACE produced this exhibition in collaboration with The Isamu Noguchi Foundation and Garden Museum in Long Island City. It's a big exhibition which, in the case of Noguchi, is a good thing since his work looks better in the context of his other works. Seen separately, his sculpture can seem over-refined and empty, but seen in quantity you get an idea of how playful the work is, and how inventive. 

Noguchi's sculptures work best in small rooms (like the one pictured above) where the work can play off of clean white walls. Unfortunately the work in this exhibition is mostly installed in large rooms and tend to get lost.



Nam June Paik at James Cohan Gallery, 533 W. 26th Street (through March 14th).
Nam June Paik, M200/Video Wall, 1991, 118 x 378 x 19 ½ inches (Cha Zoo Yong Photography Copyright POMA / fazi, inc.)
The title of the above video installation, M200/Video Wall, refers to the 200th anniversary of Mozart's death, and the soundtrack includes Mozart's music as well as John Cage's, and some pop tunes. Parts of this video (videos?) were quite moving, especially, not surprisingly, the parts with Mozart's music.

The center monitors often combine to form single images, while the outside monitors play other images. I tried to figure out what was happening on the smaller TV monitors along the outside but finally decided they acted like a decorative frame to the main images with no particular content as far as I could tell. The shear quantity of visual information seems like a chaotic visual attack, which I guess is the point.
Installation view: Nam June Paik, Beuys Voice, 1990 two channel color video on laser discs, antique television cabinets, felt, mixed media sculpture, 104 x 74 x 37 inches. 
This title refers to Paik's friend, the German Fluxus artist Joseph Beuys, and includes Beuys's signature gray fedora.
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I saw two other oldies in Chelsea, but I'm not a fan of either of them.

Louise Nevelson is at PACE Gallery, 534 W. 25th, (ended February 28th).
Louise Nevelson, Untitled , 1964. wood painted black, 100 x 132 x 19 inches. 
I find her wood assemblages and reliefs arbitrary and easy – all black, a grid ... can't miss. Compare Nevelson's work with Edith Schloss's, and you can easily predict which of the two would find acceptance in the sixties and seventies.

If you're interested in Nevelson, read Roberta Smith's review in the Times.

Sean Scully at Cheim & Read, 547 W. 25th Street (through April 4th).
Sean Scully, Landline Blue Brown, 2015, oil on aluminum, 98 ⅜ x 78 ¾ inches.
Scully is an oldie – if you count 70 as old. He's been doing basically the same painting for at least thirty years. He takes no chances with color – everything is close in value and usually dark. This work was slightly different in that it was painted with large, luscious, loose brushwork – you have to love it, but it's a shallow, cheap, kind of love. 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Cézanne's Portraits of Madame Cézanne at the Met

By Charles Kessler

Detail: Paul Cézanne, Portrait of the Artist, n.d., graphite on paper, 13 ½ x 11 ¼ inches (Metropolitan Museum Of Art).
Cézanne often painted the same subject over and over, including his wife, Hortense Fiquet. Given the large number of works Cézanne made of her, it's surprising that the Metropolitan Museum of Art's exhibition Madame Cézanne (until March 15th) is the first time that there has been an exhibition devoted to them. The show brings together 24 of the 29 portraits, made over a 20-year period, plus many drawings and watercolor studies.

Accompanying Madame Cézanne is a jewel of a side exhibition of other Cézanne drawings and watercolors from the Met's collection (including the self-portrait above).

The personality of the long-suffering Hortense seems to be the main topic of discussion in reviews (here and here for example) and in the exhibition catalog: "Her expression in the painted portraits has been variously described as remote, inscrutable, dismissive, and even surly." She may in fact have been all these things, but I don't think capturing her personality, or the personality of any other of his sitters for that matter, was Cézanne's concern, any more than capturing the personality of an apple or a landscape was.
Paul Cézanne, Portrait of Madame Cézanne, ca. 1886-87, oil on canvas, 18 ⅜ x 15 ⅜ inches (Philadelphia Museum of Art).
Everyone Cézanne painted, including himself, looks dour, probably because of the demands Cézanne placed on them. They were required to sit unmoving for many hours. He's quoted as complaining to Ambroise Vollard, his art dealer who he was painting: "You wretch! You've spoiled the pose. Do I have to tell you again you must sit like an apple? Does an apple move?"

Furthermore, I disagree with the common description of Cézanne's art as composed of massive, rounded, solid forms. I know about his famous advice for his friend the writer Émile Bernhard: “... deal with nature by means of the cylinder, the sphere and the cone … .” This is an oft repeated quote, and one of the few that's nonsense – or perhaps it was "do what I say, not what I do" type of advice. In any case, I defy anyone to find cylinders, spheres or cones in Cézanne's art.

Instead of massive, rounded and solid, I perceive Cézanne's work as elusive, evanescent, and unstable. (I discussed this in an earlier post.) Cézanne's compositions are always a little off – slightly (and sometimes not so slightly) out of balance. They can be asymmetrical, elongated, broken up, tipsy, uncentered; and forms fluctuate back and forth between inhabiting three-dimensional space and lying flat on the surface. This is what gives Cézanne's art energy and dynamism, and its expressive, if often disconcerting, power. The mind seeks harmony and balance, and when it's not there, there's tension. (These tensions were described by Erle Loran as early as the 1940’s; I don't know why they now seem to be disregarded.)

One of the most unstable portraits in the show is this one:
Paul Cézanne, Madame Cézanne in a Red Dress, 1888-90, oil on canvas, 45 ⅞ x 35 ¼ inches (Metropolitan Museum of Art). 
Madame Cézanne looks like she's ready to fall over, not so much because she's tilted precariously (although she's actually fairly vertical), but because she's not tied into the space compositionally. Instead she floats in a shifting, ambiguous space. The drapery and orange rectangular shape on the left form a frame pushing everything back, but her dress goes to the bottom edge, thrusting her bottom half forward. The wall behind her tilts in different directions, and she seems to be floating on her chair. Even her body doesn't stay still. Her left arm is lower than her right, and the two form a shifting play of curves with her torso. Her head and hair are also asymmetrical and jiggle around in space.

And Cézanne's forms aren't solid; I see them as colored light so gaseous it feels as though I could put my finger through them. (See close-up below.)
Detail of above: Paul Cézanne, Madame Cézanne in a Red Dress, 1888-90, oil on canvas, 45 ⅞ x 35 ¼ inches (Metropolitan Museum of Art). 
There is also tension in Cézanne's color which is ephemeral and seems to glow. This is because Cézanne typically employs simultaneous effects (also called simultaneous contrasts) – the phenomenon whereby colors, especially contrasting, or nearly contrasting, colors, appear to change depending on the colors they are near. This can be seen even in reproduction, as in the detail above. The blue shadows and highlights of Madame Cézanne's hands look blue/green because of the surrounding reds and oranges. And not only does the blue look greenish, but it's a glowing, brighter, more elusive color than can come out of a tube. The same is true of the yellow/orange. It glows because it's adjacent to blue, its near complement.

Simultaneous effects are especially strong under natural light, so it’s fortunate the Met installed this show in the Lehman wing.

I think Cézanne's more subtle asymmetries are more successful because they kind of creep up on you. What appears on first sight to be a solid, tight composition starts to become animated, wobble, and shift in and out of space. This little beauty is a good example – a small, stark, unusually simple and abstract portrait, but nevertheless elusive, glowing and subtly but ultimately disconcertingly unstable.
Paul Cézanne, Portrait of Madame Cézanne, ca.1877, oil on canvas, 10 ¼ x 12 ¼ inches (private collection).
The basic pose is pyramidal, which ordinarily is very stable except she's off-center, so that throws everything out of kilter. She's sitting on a stuffed chair that looks "massive, rounded and solid," but the right side dissolves into flat brushstrokes when it touches the unpainted edge on the right. The same goes for the stripes of her dress – they attach themselves to the unpainted strip on the bottom and are forced forward, flat onto the picture plane.

As you keep looking you'll find even more. The part in her hair is a little off-vertical, and her hair is bigger on the right than the left, and slightly higher. Her face sometimes looks turned a bit clockwise and other times looks frontal, and her right eye is slightly lower than her left. Also note that the red/green simultaneous effects on her face make her face glow and dissolve its solidity, weight and palpability. All these things animate and enliven the composition.

Here are some other works from the show.
Paul Cézanne, Madame Cézanne Sewing, ca. 1880, graphite on laid paper (Courtauld Institute of Art).
Paul Cézanne, Seated Woman (Madame Cézanne), ca 1902-4, graphite and watercolor on wove paper (Steinhardt Collection, NY).
Paul Cézanne, Madame Cézanne in a Yellow Chair, ca. 1888-90, oil on canvas (Art Institute of Chicago). 
Paul Cézanne, Madame Cézanne in a Yellow Chair, ca. 1888-90, oil on canvas (Foundation Beyeler, Basel).