StevenAlexanderStudio

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5.11.08

ANNE SEIDMAN at Schmidt/Dean

Untitled, 2008, 20" x 20", waterbased paint on wood panel

Painter Anne Seidman has a beautiful new show that just opened in Philadelphia at the Schmidt/Dean Gallery. The narrow intimate space of the gallery is perfectly suited to this group of very small scale, but high impact paintings. The perfectly spare installation isolates each piece, so the works read as small spots of concentrated color energy that draw the viewer in for close inspection. The paintings shown were done over the past three years, and reveal Seidman in the process of forging into exciting new territory. Although all the paintings are built out of many layers, ranging from juicy amalgamated color fields to loose geometric spacial divisions, the final stage or end product varies greatly from one piece to the next. We can see, imbedded in each surface, the intuitive organic painting process taking place – each action determining the direction of the next. Also evident is a sort of willful inventiveness, an experimental attitude that compels Seidman to avoid formulaic solutions, so each painting has the freshness of a new breakthrough. The most recent works in the show employ a new configuration that consists of interlocking color triangles that form an animated cluster which floats in dynamic relation to a painterly field, although always anchored to an edge. These pieces are distinctive in their departure from the rectangular open grid organization of her previous paintings, and seem to unleash a new potential for color complexity and movement in Seidmans work.

With all the talk (by those who actually think about such things) of a “resurgence” of abstract painting, one needs only to consider an artist like Seidman to realize the irrelevance of such considerations. These paintings do not participate in the ebb and flow of fashion, but rather are products of human sensibility in direct contact with the most fundamental aspects of culture, nature, history. Their power comes, not from the "strategies" they adopt, but from the intensity of the reality they embody.

S.A.

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5.8.08

ALANNA HEISS and P.S. 1 – A Tribute

Maybe this is old news, but it’s new to me -- a recent New York Magazine article reported that at the end of the year, Alanna Heiss will be leaving P.S. 1, at the insistence of the MoMA Board. This is a shocking absurdity, and will be a sad day for contemporary art. As Baldessari is quoted saying in the article, “Alanna is P.S. 1, and P.S. 1 is Alanna”. Without Alanna, the great P.S. 1, the renegade epitome of “alternative space”, may inevitably devolve into a caricature of itself, corporate bohemia, a relic or an artifice like the re-creation of Pollock’s studio floor in the MoMA retrospective. Hope I'm wrong. The eight year collaboration with MoMA notwithstanding, P.S. 1 is and was the antithesis of the behemoth corporate institution that is the Modern – and Alanna is and was the extraordinary mind and energy, the force of nature, that created it from the ground up.

It was my extreme good fortune to have worked for and with Alanna during the birth of P.S. 1, 1975 through 78 or so. I began working at the Clocktower in ’75 as an intern during grad school at Columbia, partly designing Artforum ads & other PR, but also working hands-on in every aspect of the operation. Alanna’s primary co-conspirators at the time were Linda Blumberg, program director, and the late Steve Reichard, the money manager and party organizer. Everything that happened there was “seat of the pants”, never any money, but always with the goals of innovation and accommodation to the art and artists’ needs. Alanna was a complete live wire, seemingly subsisting entirely on coffee and cigarettes. Her edge and determination and sense of humor defied or simply refused to acknowledge obstacles. In the daily meetings, she would riff on her latest ideas, we would discuss various alternatives and angles, and then we’d all scatter to find ways to pull them off. The atmosphere Alanna created was one of generosity and excitement – of endless possibilities.

Then came P.S. 1 – a once-grand school building, in a forgotten neighborhood in Queens, that was in such poor shape it seemed to be turning to dust. To Alanna, this was IT – the perfect embodiment of her vision – and then some. And here is Alanna’s genius – or one of her geniuses -- within a few short weeks, she had organized not only a crew to clean up the building, but a group of 78 major artists, including Serra, Nauman, Oppenheim, Acconci, Andre, on and on, to do site-specific pieces in the building. Each artist took a classroom or some other space, cleared some rubble, and made something happen. The historic “ROOMS” exhibition (June 1976) took place, accompanied by an outrageous gala opening party, less than a month after her acquisition of the building.

The first time I entered P.S. 1, maybe a week before the opening of the show, the place was a complete wreck, but crawling with artists – everybody was dirty and sweaty, pitching in to help each other, working hard to get it together. Gordon Matta-Clark was busy slicing through three floors of the building with a circular saw. Acconci, who had opted for the boiler room was covered with soot and having technical problems with his tape machine. Nonas and Grosvenor were wrestling with huge hunks of steel and tar-soaked wood. At the end of the day, everybody gathered in the auditorium for an amazing group photo. Everybody knew this was a major moment, not just the photo, the whole situation. P.S. 1 as a place, a context, an event – just blew everyone away. It was utterly unlike anything that had come before, or has come since.

In another fortunate circumstance for which I've always been grateful, Alanna asked me to edit and design the exhibition catalogue documenting this unprecedented show – which was a huge task and a great honor for me. While working on the catalogue in a makeshift office in a large corner room, long before the executive offices were moved from the Clocktower, I spent countless hours and days exploring every inch of the great building. Later, I had a wonderful studio for a year in the labyrinthine attic, but also continued to help out where I could -- coordinating some of the early programming, including memorable installations by Robert Barry and Elyn Zimmerman, and a Dan Graham performance piece. Within a very short time, beautiful formal exhibition galleries were created on the first floor, and P.S 1 cemented its position as the world's most versatile and innovative art center. But I don’t think it really occurred to anyone in those earliest days, except of course to Alanna, that P.S. 1 would still be around 32 years later.

Through all the changes that have taken place over the years, Alanna’s mission has remained amazingly true. When the merger with MoMA happened, along with my serious misgivings, I thought, well…at least now she won’t have to grub for money anymore. And in spite of the MoMA connection, the P.S. 1 programming has continued to be high quality and great fun, if no longer as revolutionary. It is sad though, that in the end, Alanna has had to give it up to the money and condescension of the suits and academics in midtown. Still, her vision, her accomplishments, and her ability to sustain have overwhelmed any possible expectation. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but when I regard the depth and complexity of her contribution – and what it took to make that happen year after year, words just don’t stack up. Thanks for everything Alanna.

S.A.

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5.5.08

THORNTON WILLIS

Countercluster, 2007, 24" x 18", oil on canvas

Just got a nice note from Thornton Willis, one of my favorite painters. I’ve had one of his announcement images on my studio wall for a long time, and I see his work every chance I get. It is the real deal – pretense factor zero – as direct as it gets. Each painting is a record of a moment in his perpetual shaping process – intuitively building spacial relationships out of clusters of triangular shapes. The color interactions are simple but intense, and the frequent use of a dark outline suspends and separates the colors somewhat like stained glass. The paint is applied quickly with plenty of revision and overlap and other incidents making the surfaces tactile and alive. The effect Willis achieves, both within each painting and in the larger body of his recent work, is of a state of constant flux – toward and away, in and out, around and through – pure pictorial dynamics, infused with the breath of life.

S.A.

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4.27.08

ROBERT IRWIN, Huxley and "Martspeak"

Varese Scrim, 1973 (Panza Collection)

There have been lots of engaging and refreshing discussions taking place as a result of Carol Diehl’s blog posts about “martspeak”, and Carol’s subsequent spotlight (including her excellent 1999 Art in America article) on the work of Robert Irwin as an embodiment of clarity. He has built a body of work over 40 years that operates in diametric opposition to a critical culture that corresponds to what Huxley called “the world of self-assertion, of overvalued words and idolatrously worshiped notions”.

My first encounter with Irwin’s work was in 1973 or 74 when he installed a scrim piece in a stairwell at the Fort Worth Modern Museum. The piece occupied one wall adjacent to the stairs, maybe 10 feet wide and 20 feet high, making a translucent ghost wall that was about 12 inches inside the actual wall. The effect of this piece was startling, and yes, in many ways life changing. It was my first realization of the possibility of an artwork that was not an object but a situation -- an experiential condition – something like a hallucinatory event. Of course hundreds of people walked right past the piece and didn’t even notice it. But once noticed, then truly experienced, it caused a kind of floating displacement that required a re-orientation of one’s position in space, and by doing so, called attention to the contingent nature of all perception.

One of the hallmarks of a classic hallucinogenic experience is a flood of revelatory perception accompanied by an almost total inability to articulate the specifics of those revelations. Language suddenly becomes cumbersome and overly complicated, but also completely lacking sufficient nuance or clarity to reflect the wholeness of the experience. It is the breaking down of the filtering process of language that makes such an experience possible, suggesting that “pure” experience, insofar as that is possible, resides somewhere beyond such sequential constructs.

To me, this is Irwin’s great and continuing contribution, finding ways to remove art from its connection to critical discourse or from language in general, and situating it in the realm of pure experience. I can’t think of another artist who has dealt with actual space, perception and the nature of aesthetic experience as deeply, consistently and clearly. What his work seems to require and invoke is a total suspension of the incessant linearity of reason -- a surrender to the presence of pure sensation.

Lying awake last night, I sort of half-dreamed this goofy scenario, an adaptation of one of those Zen master/student stories I must have read somewhere. The Zen Master of course is Irwin, and the student is a young curator or critic (let's just say Suzanne Hudson - the critic and curator who is now one of the notorious perpetrators of "martspeak"): The student comes to the master and says, ”Master, I understand your work is referencing the interrogation of perception informed by a transgressive problematization of real space, but please tell me – what is its MEANING?” At that, the Master, smiles and looks her in the eye, reaches out his hand, and gently wiggles her nose.

S.A.

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4.18.08

Early Spring in the Hinterlands

View from the studio, with Untitled, 2008, 5 1/2" x 11", acrylic on 2 canvases

In previous times it would not be unusual to still have a foot of snow on the ground in mid-April here in Eastern Pennsylvania. Today, it's almost 80 degrees -- eery. Still, no complaints about the first signs of turning the seasonal corner, bits of green in the grasses, alizarin buds on the maples, peepers in the wetlands, and of course the black flies (the underbelly of Spring). In a few weeks, the violet ridge across the valley will disappear behind a kinetic curtain of greens, not to return until October. The fresh warm air and clear light incite both a renewed energy to make progress on the new batch of paintings, and an inclination to sit like a lump on the back porch with a nice bottle of wine and just observe.

S.A.

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4.10.08

THOMAS NOZKOWSKI at Pace

Untitled (8-103), 2008, oil on linen on panel, 22" x 28"

Tom Nozkowski hits the bigtime with his first show at Pace in Chelsea. He's occupying both rooms of the 25th Street space, the first with a group of 22" x 28" paintings on linen, and the second with 22" x 30" framed pieces on paper. There are lots of paintings, maybe too many, but the uniformity of scale makes the show extremely tidy. Standing in the middle of the huge gallery space scanning around the walls, the configurations from that distance are wonderfully diverse and animated. But up close, these paintings really show their stuff, and in this sense their small scale works to their advantage. They are beautifully and carefully constructed images, surfaces made of layers of scraping, linear elements meticulously embedded in the fields, simple and slightly clunky arrangements of shapes. Each image feels both resolved and hard-won, a final moment in a deliberately laborious process; and the configurations are truly eccentric and inventive, many recalling Klee in their playfulness and tenuous balance. For all their "early 20th century abstraction" appearance, there is also a strange immediacy to many of the paintings, something more related to graffiti, found juxtapositions, urban incidents. Still, the paintings are resolutely old fashioned in spirit -- organic abstraction distilled from direct living experience -- and proud of it. Interestingly, when I entered the gallery, it was full of young uptown kids (on a field trip from a Bronx school), all with oversized jeans and sideways caps. It was great that they were visiting the show, but they were not just walking through. They were really excited about this work -- looking closely, discussing, laughing -- it was very cool.

S.A.

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4.10.08

HELEN MIRANDA WILSON at DC Moore

Closer To Gray, 2007, oil on panel, 12" x 12"

In Midtown at DC Moore, Helen Miranda Wilson is showing a group of very small panel paintings that employ horizontal stripes in a gorgeous color throwdown. The color arrays are built intuitively from the top down, and the stripes are painted precisely but allowing imperfections. Sometimes color revisions are evident, and the edges are softened by pulling one color into another with a blending brush. While this blending process seems pretty hokey, the effect is to cause a kind of breathing in the silky oil surfaces, releasing the image from hard-edge rigidity. One wall of panels are titled after nationalities (Italian, French, German, etc.) using color combinations that uncannily evoke the titles. Other works seem to key on personal experience for their instigation. These paintings are at once humble in stature and robust in effect -- endlessly changing color resonances in tiny handmade encapsulations.

S.A.

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4.5.08

JIM LEE Speaking at Marywood U.

Untitled (Rust 2 Slit), 2007, acrylic & flashe on linen over wood, 11.25 x 14.5 x 9.25 in.

Jim Lee makes paintings that operate with one foot in the realm of sculpture. His pieces are always executed with a conscious offhandedness that puts the emphasis on materiality, and he often installs the work so that it interacts in quirky ways with the characteristics of specific spaces. In some sense perpetuating the legacy of Palermo, and early Tuttle, Lee's works possess and exude a quiet awareness, and a sly charm that pulls the viewer into their casual nuances. The total effect and presence of each work is often startling, and quite elegant given the sum of the raw materials and diminutive scale.

Jim will be speaking at Marywood University as part of the Distinguished Visiting Artist Lecture Series on Monday April 7 at 3:30. The talk is free and open to the public. For more info email me.

S.A.

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4.1.08

ART BLOGGERS LINK UP

It was a very well attended get together of artists, writers, curators, filmmakers, gallerists, all engaged in one way or another in this thing called blogging. Organized by Joanne Mattera and Sharon Butler and hosted by George Billis at the Red Dot Art Fair, this event was an informal round-table discussion followed by a more formal panel discussion. Many topics were touched upon including the predictable technical aspects of the medium, as well as more interesting questions of ethics. As the discussion evolved, it inevitably led to the issue of art criticism, and the relationship between criticism and blogging.

On her excellent blog Artvent, Carol Diehl recently posted a number of hilariously ludicrous statements by critics and artists about work in the Whitney Biennial. These exerpts are a great catalyst for examining the contrast between current critic-speak and the art related writing found on many art blogs. Most of us at the bloggers meeting came of age in a time when art critics, in the wake of Greenberg, still had considerable influence; and the art journals were fairly readable, and seemingly more central to the prevailing critical dialogue. But as the breadth and diversity of art practice became more unwieldy, the prevailing critical dialogue became more fragmented, groping, and frankly, irrelevant to artmaking. The critics labeled this development "the end of art" -- but of course artists understood this really meant the end of criticism as a viable "force". Enter the free space of the blogosphere, and the opportunity for artists, writers, curators, enthusiasts to write about art in a form that is completely outside the tired established conventions of the profession of art criticism. It remains to be seen how this form will affect the larger art dialogue, but for the moment, it is a vital, highly diverse, and fast-growing global forum for frank observations and interesting ideas. Something that, with very few exceptions, cannot be said about conventional art criticism today. The bloggers who are donating their time, energy, intelligence and insight to a new vernacular form of information sharing and discourse are pioneering a completely new approach to engagement with and communication about art.

S.A.

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3.24.08

JOHN MILLEI: good question

Lancelot (for Walker Percy), 1991, 132" x 108", oil & acrylic on canvas

In his most recent blog post, Chris Ashley presents a group of images by painter John Millei, and the question: "Why isn't John Millei a Super Star?". Well I certainly have no answer, but it's a very good question. I've never seen Millei's work in person, but over the years, it has caught my eye on many occasions in various reproductions in journals. If you bang through his 230 images spanning about 20 years on the Ace Gallery website (also see Dennis Hollingsworth's blog for a great visit to Millei's studio), you'll see one ass-kicking painting after another -- gorgeous large scale works that explore different themes or configurations from year to year, but are absolutely consistent in their layered poeticism, their surprising and inventive approach to color and process, and their unflagging irony-free and adventurous commitment to the medium. Looking at Millei's body of work, the question of why an artist like, say Albert Oehlen, should be more highly regarded by the "market" than Millei is a tough and complex one. Is it partly due to the fact that Millei is an LA painter, not a German protege of Polke, et al (not in the in crowd)? Maybe in part it's the lack of irony (unhip) that's a problem, or much more likely, it has nothing to do with the work itself at all. The "forces" that control these criteria and determinations are indeed most mysterious. In any case, the paintings certainly warrant a close look, and I really appreciate Chris bringing this work to our attention.

S.A.

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3.22.08

Sydney Philen Yeager

Slide, 2006, 72" x 72" (4 panels), oil on canvas

It's so easy to lose touch with old friends as we all chug along in our lives. I just got a note from Austin painter Sydney Yeager whom I haven't seen in many years. During the 4 years I lived in Austin, Sydney was a valued friend and colleague, and a real touchstone of intensity and dialogue. Last time I saw her work, she was making big juicy oil paintings that employed various pattern motifs, and repetition of loaded images such as bowls, ropes, torsos. So it's been, I don't know, maybe 15 years, and her recent work is much more complex, and in many ways even more physically engaging. Now the whole painting is the image, and that image consists of endless color/material fragments in a perpetual state of undulation, with grid structures anchoring the ebb and flow. In addition to being a wonderful painter, Sydney teaches in Austin and in Italy, and is an artist of great generosity who's love of painting is infectious and pervasive.

S.A.

3.19.08

THE CRITIC SEES - part 1: JOHNS

Jasper Johns, Between the Clock and Bed, 1982

The plethora of reviews of the Johns "Gray" exhibition have presented an interesting microcosm of current art criticism in general. It's sometimes hard to tell that the various critics are talking about the same show. And it can be equally hard to say why we subject ourselves to reading this stuff at all. It can also be interesting to consider what it must have been like for Johns to work his whole professional life since that first Castelli show in the center of that criticism vortex. Fact is, for many critics, Johns' work is inseparable from the body of criticism it has generated. The reputation precedes and eclipses the work -- case in point -- Lance Esplund's unfortunate review in the NY Sun. Let me say that I've known Lance for a while, and had some very fun and interesting conversations with him, and he's a very decent guy. But really, one wonders why a person who apparently disdains contemporary art would want to be an art critic. The bulk of his review consists of grinding his axe against Johns as a standard bearer of the dreaded postmodernism, followed by unfavorable comparisons between the grays in Johns' work and what he (the reviewer) prefers to see in a painting. There is little doubt that this review was as good as written before he ever visited the show. A more professional and considered approach is offered by Jerry Saltz at ArtNet.com. One can sense that Saltz actually looked at the work, came to it fresh, and presented a thoughtful description, contextualization and analysis of the show and of Johns' larger contribution.

With paintings, there's almost always a disconnect between the critics' spin and what is actually there. But especially with Johns, the critical reputation is one thing, and the presence and resonance of his work (individually and as a body) is something else that happens one-to-one between the viewer and the objects. There is also a big difference between where Johns' work sits as a critical entity, and how his work has resonated and persisted in the minds of painters. One of the first shows I saw when I moved to NYC in 1975 was the cross-hatch paintings at Castelli uptown. That memory is still quite vivid. At a time when the broad critical consensus was that painting was at best irrelevant, Johns was making what I consider to be his greatest work, paintings that exist far beyond words, and hold their own against any painting from any time.

I recommend Joanne Mattera's sensitive and intelligent report on the "Gray" show from the vantage point of a painter.

THE CRITIC SEES - part 2: Make It Funky!

In the recent ArtCritical Review Panel discussion of the Chris Martin show, Robert Storr, after making a case for finding the joy in painting, ended with an aside about references to James Brown in the work of Chris Martin and Mark Bradford saying something to the effect of "In these dire times...we need less Foucault, and more funky chicken."

The beat's in the gut.

S.A.

3.15.08

JOANNE MATTERA

Mattera's Studio, NYC (lifted from her website)

I'm pretty sure anyone who is reading this is familiar with Joanne Mattera: painter, author, blogger, traveler, keen observer. For quite some time I have made a habit of checking in regularly with Joanne's blog, and my reason for writing this blurb is really to thank her for the quality of the information she makes available there. I am constantly amazed by the endless supply of energy she brings to the many facets of her endeavor, and by the generosity of her intentions on a daily basis. First off, I really enjoy her taste in paintings; and her blog is somewhat like an ongoing curatorial project, very intelligent, discerning and consistent. Her ability to zero in on paintings with integrity and depth is remarkable. Second, as a painter living 2 hours out of NYC with teaching & family responsibilities, I find it hard to get into the city every single month - let alone to Miami. But Mattera is somehow able to not only sustain the vitality of her painting career, but to be constantly on the go, reporting from ALL the fairs in Miami, and from San Francisco, and from Boston, and from Chelsea. I don't know how she does it, but I'm very appreciative of the vicarious experiences she offers.

Not to forget her paintings --- Mattera's recent show at OK Harris was an exquisite line of jewel-like encaustic panels. Titled the "Silk Road" series, these exotic beauties ooze sensuality in their lush surfaces and in their subtle undulating color. Each 12" panel features a different and distinct color situation created with horizontal & vertical glazes, masterfully woven like iridescent fabric.

Artists like Mattera are rare. What she does to feed her work and life: her ongoing research, observation, information sponging -- she willingly shares with us through considerable effort and time spent not painting. It is an attitude about community and the quality of life, about promoting an open flow of information in order to raise the bar of shared experience. Thanks, Joanne.

S.A.

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3.2.08

JOHN ZURIER: Night Paintings at Larry Becker

Night 23 & Night 20, 2007, each 30" x 20", distemper on linen

I've had the opportunity to see John Zurier's work on two other occasions -- last year at Peter Blum in Soho, and two years ago at the Whitney Biennial. Both of those shows presented difficult situations for this work. At the Whitney, the noise and chaos of the 3-ring circus that is the Biennial rendered Zurier's work almost invisible. Although, for anyone who did stop the whirlwind long enough to notice, his paintings were literally like an open window in a smoke-filled room. At the Blum show, the huge tomblike rectangular space of the gallery seemed to contain the group of paintings in a way that distanced the viewer, making the paintings read like a line-up of small color spots on three expansive walls. I mention these difficulties to emphasize the extreme vulnerability of Zurier's work. More than any other painter I know, Zurier takes painting out to the edge of nothingness, and then hangs out there, exploring the territory.

The new show at Larry Becker in Philadelphia puts Zurier's work in an optimum context for clarity. Becker chose to exhibit a group of new paintings that are unified by theme, palette and scale, making the entire installation in this wonderfully intimate space resonate as one piece, while also encouraging close examination of each painting. The show consists of 12 paintings, all but 2 are 30" x 20" (2 larger ones are 42" x 26"), painted on raw linen stretched over wood panel. They are done in distemper (dry pigment in a vehicle of water and rabbit skin glue), which makes the water soluble surfaces extremely fragile, a feature Zurier says he likes very much. Exploring various shades of deep blue, the paint is scraped on with a knife in many very thin layers, sometimes leaving small moments of raw linen showing through the field, then often scraped in horizontal bands as the last move. The colors vary from piece to piece but within a very focused range, from deep pthalo to a cooler almost ultramarine, to a dense cool black. Many pieces have a brighter pthalo or almost veridian line painted along the left edge, and many contain buried hints of sienna throughout the surface. The paintings pull the viewer in to a close examination of every nuance of surface, color and gesture; and they reward such scrutiny, eminating an understated elegant poeticism in every aspect of the painting.

In a statement accompanying the show, Zurier mentions a childhood attempt to make a painting of the open sky between two buildings, which is an interesting reference to the tremendous difficulty of his continuing endeavor. These are paintings of extreme delicacy, craft and awareness that aspire to a state of total inclusiveness. Certainly romantic in spirit and born of deep experience, they are also supremely humble, direct and true.

S.A.

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2.29.08

MATTHEW LANGLEY's Paintings

Celebrated Summer, 2006, oil on canvas, 60" x 50"

I just ran across the work of D.C. painter Matthew Langley on Douglas Witmer's weblog -- thanks Douglas. Langley builds luscious surfaces within a square grid structure, and uses computer generated pixellations to explore endless variations of color and configuration. I feel an affinity with this work, both in his approach to color and surface, and his interest in Cagean systems and chance operations. Through these strategies, Langley is arriving at vibrant and dynamic color situations, and sensuous, physical hand-made objects.

S.A.

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2.23.08

EVA LAKE's Richter Scale

Richter Scale, 2007, 12" x 528"

Portland painter, interviewer, blogger, and all-round art pro-activist, Eva Lake has created a truly wonderful piece called Richter Scale. It is comprised of 44 separate paintings, each 12" square, installed in a line. Each painting is made in oil, and employs a fairly simple color situation that is a blended array between two hues of extreme contrast with a horizontal seam across the middle of the panel. The top half and the bottom half modulate in opposite directions and meet in the center. Sounds pretty basic, but the effect far outweighs the ingredients. The center horizontal "fault line" becomes the site of a bombardment of high energy visual tension and release -- color at its expansive, anarchistic, psychedelic best -- vibrating and modulating unpredictably with utmost intensity across the wall and in the brain. As a metaphoric object and as a visual experience, Richter Scale is a glorious and ambitious assertion of the potency of painting.

S.A.

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2.8.08

VINCENT ROMANIELLO at Philadelphia Art Alliance

Untitled 739, 2007, 64" x 96"

Philadelphia painter and filmmaker, Vincent Romaniello is showing a group of striking and beautiful paintings at the Philadelphia Art Alliance Satellite Gallery. The show, titled "Deep", consists of large and small works, all with thick furrowed surfaces that were inspired by aerial views of landscapes, but really transcend their source. Vincent explained to me how these pieces are made, but I still can't quite grasp his process. It involves a thick layer of gesso that is raked with handmade tools in broad sweeping gestures across the entire surface, then dusted with dry pigment and/or charcoal dust. It's a quick, one-shot deal, as the gesso is only workable for a short time, and with each gesture what you get is what you get. I really enjoy that element of risk and chance that is built into these works. As products of a mindset and a process, these paintings recall zen gardens; and also relate to the ploughed fields of Vincent's Italian heritage. As objects, their raw physicality and simple elegance give them a commanding presence that is charged with a sort of earthy reverence. I couldn't help thinking of those Alberto Burri cracked clay slabs I saw in New York a few weeks ago. Vincent is fusing a deep connection to the earth with a fully integrated painting process, making works that are as much embodiments of a world view as they are aesthetic objects.

S.A.

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1.19.08

MARK BRADFORD at Sikkema Jenkins

Giant, 2007, 102" x 144"

Each time I've seen Mark Bradford's work I've been more amazed and convinced. The new pieces are again huge collage or decollage works that incorporate cartographic configurations like urban street layouts. But that's only the beginning. These things consist of layer upon layer of paper, images from billboard ads, packaging, other cultural detritus, apparently built up, torn off, sanded through; forming a mysterious organic anthropological amalgam. Each work presents itself as a sprawling, labor intensive, complex chunk of humanity. The obvious art-historical reference is Rauschenberg's Combines, and Bradford's work looks in many ways just as much in its own league as Rauschenberg's must have looked in the 50s. It flies in the face of prevailing cynicism regarding art's potential, and the possibility of addressing the world and the moment directly and earnestly without ironic deflection. This stuff is as real as it gets -- cultural excavation and virtuoso painting on a grand scale.

S.A.

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1.4.08

SCHNABEL'S CINEMA-SCOPE

While on a visit to Dallas, I had a chance to see The Diving Bell & the Butterfly, Julian Schnabel's most recent film. The experience was "magnified" by the fact that due to the packed house at the Angelika, I sat in the third row, looking up at the humongous screen and constantly pivoting my head to take in the whole frame -- not too unlike standing 3 feet away from one of Julian's paintings -- for two hours.

That notwithstanding, I thought the film was simply brilliant -- visually, aurally, psychologically -- it uses the medium with inventiveness, sensitivity, and a sort of raw daring that is almost nonexistent in American cinema. Every scene is infused with a dreamlike liquidity, and charged with a heightened visual and aural reality. In an amazing scene in which the main character gives his dying father a shave, the sound of the razor across the whiskers has physical presence as palpable as the psychological interplay of love and sadness between the two characters. The outdoor scenes have an atmosphere of shimmering, silvery, constantly shifting light that can only be described as painterly. And the dialogue and character interactions are direct, gripping, and utterly without cliche or pretense.

I'm not among those who resent Julian for his audacity or his success, and the kneejerk reaction, "what an asshole" at the mention of his name in many circles is now very tired. One thing you must say is that he always goes for it full tilt, and more often than not, he pulls something off that is at the very least arresting. Another thing I'd say is that beneath all the bravado, is a person who believes in art as a regenerative force in the world. Certainly that is a primary theme in this film, along with an examination of the expansiveness of imagination and the difficult process of translating it to physical form. Julian's ambition and appetite are, I think, almost too large for a medium as intimate and still as painting. The sort of inclusiveness he was going for via massive scale and blunt physicality may be more naturally and more deeply accessible in cinema. With this film, he has been able to achieve a scope, both in terms of narrative and form, that accommodates and complements the scale of his impulses. This was not an easy film to make. I could imagine someone like Antonioni having a go at it. But Schnabel's ability to re-invent the process to address a specific vision, to use a medium as complex and collaborative as film as a raw material rather than a set of conventions, is remarkable and refreshing.

S.A.