WME-IMG co-CEO Ari Emanuel was on hand for the London. He acquired a 1969 acrylic on canvas entitled “Blue Rational Irrationalism” from New York’s Garth Greenan Gallery by the late abstract artist Al Loving. Emanuel and Mark Shapiro, WME-IMG’s chief content officer who works closely with the Frieze team, both attended a breakfast at Tate Modern on Oct. 6. In an email that day, Shapiro told THR, “It has been an amazing week in London. Frieze puts on an incredible event.”
By the time Howardena Pindell made her seminal video Free, White and 21 in 1980, she had been developing her Formalist abstract paintings for ten years. In 1979, she helped stageprotests against an exhibition of Donald Newman’s exhibition at Artists Space entitled “Nigger Drawings.” That same year, she quit her position as associate curator in the Department of Prints and Illustrated Books at the Museum of Modern Art in New York and took a post teaching at Stony Brook University. Only months later, she was injured in a car accident that resulted in physical injury and temporary memory loss.
Organized by the Rose Art Museum, “Rosalyn Drexler: Who Does She Think She Is?” was the first full-career retrospective of the painter, playwright, novelist, and—briefly, in the 1950s—wrestler, who is now in her eighties. For the past 50-plus years, Drexler has been enlarging, collaging onto canvas, and overpainting film posters, pinups, and tabloid photos. Her earliest such pieces resonated with the Pop art of their time while anticipating, in their canny deconstruction of media imagery, the work of such Pictures Generation artists as Sarah Charlesworth.
OF THE MANY surprises that awaited visitors to this summer’s Rosalyn Drexler survey at Brandeis University’s Rose Art Museum in Waltham, Massachusetts, was a selection of three-dimensional work. Unlikely as it seems, this artist, known for many decades as a Pop painter whose canvases throng with violent, sensual imagery amid bright field of color, began her career working exclusively as a sculptor. Dating from 1958 to 1961, the sculptures on view were not the result of some ancillary detour branching off from painting but in fact represent an entire, autonomous body of work. Not only that, they offer insight into the beginning of Drexler’s artistic life.
There are many wonderful summer shows up right now in Chelsea, from group shows to solo exhibitions, sculpture to painting to mixed media; you certainly get a little taste of everything. While I enjoyed many exhibitions, there are three that left a strong impression on me: Annie Pearlman/Adrianne Rubenstein/Alyson Vega at White Columns, Skins: Body as Matter and Process at Garth Greenan Gallery and Intimisms at James Cohan Gallery.
If you're looking for a summer group show you can really sink your teeth into, Garth Greenan gallery's “Skins: Body as Matter and Process” is a good place to start. Curated by Alison Dillulio and featuring works by 10 heavy-hitting artists including Wilke, Lynda Benglis, Harmony Hammond, and more, the show reads the artists' material experimentation of the 1970s in light of the concurrent developments in second-wave feminism. The results on view in this exhibition (the last before the gallery makes its move to a much larger Chelsea location this fall) find the artists suggesting, dissecting, and otherwise flirting with the human form in their largely abstract works, creating a compelling and tightly curated snapshot of this influential period.
Garth Greenan Gallery is pleased to announce its expansion and relocation to the ground floor of 545 West 20th Street—a 5,000 square-foot space with 13-foot-high ceilings. Opening in Fall 2016 and designed by Stuart Basseches, the new location will more than double the gallery's current exhibition space, allowing it to mount more ambitious exhibitions and projects. In its inaugural season, the new gallery will feature solo-presentations by Roy McMakin, Nicholas Krushenick, Gladys Nilsson, Norbert Prangenberg, Art Green, and Howardena Pindell.
Richard Van Buren studied ceramics at Mexico City College. Later, he moved to San Francisco, where he studied at San Francisco State (1961-64). One of his teachers was the idiosyncratic artist Roy De Forest, who populated his canvases with dogs, and he was friends with Ron Nagle, who had an exhibition of his exquisite ceramics at Matthew Marks in the fall of 2015. While I have no idea if Van Buren and Nagle are still friends or not, something that Dave Hickey wrote about Nagle came to mind while walking around the exhibition, Richard Van Buren: Monet's Swamp, at Garth Greenan (May 19 - June 18, 2006).
Before she showed Pop paintings at the Whitney and the Guggenheim; before her madcap plays were performed at the Judson Poets' Theater and La MaMa; before she traveled the female wrestling circuit as Rosa Carlo, the Mexican Spitfire—before all that, Rosalyn Drexler was Rosalind Bronznick, a Jewish girl from the Bronx with a wimple of sprayed hair. In her teens, she studied piano and voice because her family wanted her to be a star like her uncle Chico Marx, but she never made it to Hollywood. Instead, she had walk-on parts in “Midtown hotels where distant relatives and businessmen dangled college money and felt her up.”
Nothing is older than our longing for the new. It's a paradox that modernism has wrestled with ever since Ezra Pound famously declared: ‘Make it new'—signalling the dawn of an era guided by ideals of infinite intellectual progress, constant artistic innovation and limitless technological expansion. Yet, we have also learned that history is made by those who oppose its trajectory. Ruptures are necessary to reorient ourselves in a world guided less by truth than by speculation, anxiety or the unknown. Now, in the age of the Anthropocene, we might need to rethink our relationship with the new and the next. The Marrakech Biennial 6, entitled ‘Not New Now', proposes just this kind of re-evaluation of our faith in perpetual progress.
Often lost in descriptions of the early days of New York's Women's Movement in art is how dynamic and euphoric the atmosphere was, how charismatic and compelling the personalities. Feminism exploded in the art world there around 1970, with a whirlwind of activism, protests, women-run galleries, journals, and fledgling styles.
It seemed inhospitable at first for a contemporary exhibition: Marrakech, after all, is a hot-blooded territory belonging to—at points politically, culturally, colonially—the Middle East, Africa, and the Mediterranean. Sheltered within red walls, the city's sixth biennial—“Quoi De Neuf Là,” casual French for “What's up?” and here interpreted as “Not New Now”—took place inside oases of olive groves (the Menara Pavilion); exquisite quarters (El Bahia Palace); elegant ruins (El Badii Palace); archaeological gems housed inside the historical Dar Si Saïd Museum, tucked away deep inside the byzantine medina; and the vaults of the Koutoubia Mosque.
Patrick Strzelec's recent exhibition featured a mature body of work evoking a variety of profound emotions - joy, sadness, fear, recognition, and foreboding. Composed of diverse materials, including plaster, aluminum, epoxy, steel, bronze, ceramic, wood, and detritus, the sculptures collapse recognizable and illogical forms. Strzelec uses postmodern strategies - appropriation, assemblage, and simulacra - but unlike many of his contemporaries, he crafts his work with his own hands. For over two decades, he has worked in numerous studios and foundries and taught sculpture at prestigious universities. These experiences have fostered his mastery of artistic processes like woodworking, welding, and casting, as demonstrated in this show.
The Rumble of Panic has undoubtedly taken this distinguished
Ensemble of mortals outdoors by the swimming pool, where
There was no Mrs. Robinson, only one-half of the duo,
That concocted this prodigious ballad for The Graduate.
Human Interest: Portraits from the Whitney's Collection offers new perspectives on one of art's oldest genres. Drawn entirely from the Museum's holdings, the more than one hundred works on view here reveal how artists have reinvented portraiture during the last sixty years. Bringing iconic works together with lesser-known examples and recent acquisitions in a range of mediums, the exhibition unfolds in five thematic sections on this floor, with additional sections opening on the seventh floor later this month.
Coming on the heels of a traveling retrospective of Paul Feeley's celebrated abstractions that recently closed at the Columbus Museum of Art, this solo exhibition presents seven of the artist's most vibrant paintings, along with several related works on paper. Mr. Feeley, who died at the age of 56 in 1966, based the motives for his paintings and drawings in the show on the small, six-pointed objects used in the ancient game of jacks.
The Studio Museum in Harlem has long played a critical role in fostering the careers of contemporary artists of African descent. Since 1968 the museum has been the leading place to explore the diverse set of concerns that informs art by African-American artists. The five 2016 spring exhibitions that opened last week—Rodney McMillian's Views of Main Street, Rashaad Newsome's This Is What I Want To See, Ebony G. Patterson's …when they grow up... and two collection shows, Palatable: Food and Contemporary Art and Surface Area: Selections from the Permanent Collection—continue the museum's mission to offer both a look at the legacy and future of black contemporary art.
Reasons to be cheerful if you're the artist Rosalyn Drexler:
1) You've been re-discovered — for what seems the umpteenth time — with a retrospective exhibition of your paintings, sculptures, and books currently at Brandeis University's Rose Art Museum, in Waltham, MA.
2) A Brooklyn publisher has brought one ofyour classic novels back into print, for a new generation of guys and girls in flannel shirts, scruffy beards, and retro glasses.
3) Though approaching your ninth decade, you still have all of your marbles, and then some.
When Rosalyn Drexler, 89, appeared at the opening of her retrospective at Brandeis University's Rose Gallery last month, it was easy to see how her person was reflected in her art. She was beautiful, edgy, full of humor. At the heart of Drexler's work is her life as a Jewish, Bronx-born wife and mother in the 1960s.
Paintings, sculptures, photographs, and works on paper by 37 contemporary artists will be exhibited in the galleries of the American Academy of Arts and Letters on historic Audubon Terrace (Broadway between 155 and 156 Streets) from Thursday, March 10 through Sunday, April 10, 2016. Exhibiting artists were chosen from a pool of nearly 200 nominees submitted by the members of the Academy, America's most prestigious honorary society of architects, artists, writers, and composers.
Patrick Strzelec's interests stretch beyond the limits imposed by a preferred medium. His practice highlights that he is an inquisitive maker. He demonstrates a unique vision where form is playfully considered. Both his drawings and sculptures give the impression of a spontaneous captured moment. In this feature we observe the progression of lines drawn on a flat surface to work in open space.
The sixth edition of Marrakech biennale has the bar set high. Curated by the Guggenheim's Reem Fadda, the biennale is a harmonious cross-pollination of contemporary and street art in a city renowned for it's rich history of arts and craftsmanship. You can't turn a corner in Marrakech without finding a carpenter hand-carving a table or a silversmith intricately working a patterned detail onto a sheet of metal. Art is intrinsically part of everyday culture in Morocco.
On Thursday, Independent inaugurates its seventh edition, this time in a new TriBeCa home, Spring Studios. Forty-four galleries from nine countries participate in the fair this year. And despite the fact that the fair's new space required a slimming down of its exhibitor list, they still managed to bring six new dealers into the fold for 2016. “Every year we try to have a certain amount of new galleries, to rotate in fresh perspectives,” said director Laura Mitterrand.
The curatorial concept of this year's biennial starts the premise of the designated title for the Biennale: Not New Now. It aims to provide for an intellectual framework that unites multiple arenas of art and cultures by looking at it from the particular location and history of the city of Marrakech. It builds on a longstanding history of Pan Afro-Arab unity, through critically investigating socio political projects, cultural partnerships, and art movements that have led to many shared artistic tendencies.
This Rosalyn Drexler work, with its subject matter and dramatic contrast, recalls Robert Longo's classic "Men in the Cities" photographs of men in suits, but was painted by the American artist over a decade earlier.
An historic, monographic exhibition, Who Does She Think She Is? is a long-overdue retrospective of Rosalyn Drexler's multidisciplinary practice. Showcasing Drexler's major paintings and collages as well as her captivating early sculptures, award winning plays and novels, and photographic and video documentation of the artist's wild and varied theatrical career, the exhibition is co-curated by Rose Curator-at-Large Katy Siegel and Curatorial Assistant Caitlin Julia Rubin.
Rosalyn Drexler's life and work appear allergic to the word dull. Over more than five decades, she has made paintings (politically electric Pop compositions incorporating collaged figures from movie poster and newspaper images isolated in bold, graphic space) and penned multiple plays, novels, and articles. She also has several Obies and a book adaptation of the film Rocky under her belt—not to mention a stint wrestling as Rosa Carlo, the Mexican Spitfire.
The Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University will present the historic, monographic exhibition Who Does She Think She Is?, a long-overdue retrospective of Rosalyn Drexler's multidisciplinary practice, February 12 - June 5, 2016. Showcasing Drexler's major paintings and collages as well as her captivating early sculptures, award-winning plays and novels, and photographic and video documentation of the flamboyant performance aspects of her life and work, the exhibition is co-curated by Rose Curator-at-Large Katy Siegel and Curatorial Assistant Caitlin Julia Rubin.
Getting recognition in the art world is difficult, but remaining relevant over the course of a lifetime is nearly impossible. Raphael Rubinstein is fascinated by old art magazines from the 1960s and 1970s, where he finds images of work by artists who were once widely admired but have fallen off the art world's radar. "I can't quite explain the strange allure of vintage art magazines, though I think it may have something to do with the satisfaction of knowing what people back then didn't: which artists were destined for fame, which critics would be proved embarrassingly wrong, etc.” he wrote in a recent essay.
Poet and critic (and A.i.A. contributing editor) Raphael Rubinstein's blog The Silo, conceived as a "personal, revisionist 'dictionary' of contemporary art," comes to life in this exhibition of works by 29 artists at Garth Greenan. (Rubinstein's blog currently includes 52 entries total.) There's a cabinet-of-curiosities feeling to this closely hung show, though the writer's engagement with conceptualism and formal experimentation emerge upon viewing.
The Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University will present the historic, monographic exhibition Who Does She Think She Is?, a long-overdue retrospective of Rosalyn Drexler's multidisciplinary practice, February 12 - June 5, 2016. Showcasing Drexler's major paintings and collages as well as her captivating early sculptures, award-winning plays and novels, and photographic and video documentation of the flamboyant performance aspects of her life and work, the exhibition is co-curated by Rose Curator-at-Large Katy Siegel and Curatorial Assistant Caitlin Julia Rubin. An opening reception will be held on Thursday, February 11, 2016 from 5-9pm.
For nearly five decades, the Studio Museum in Harlem has served as a cultural repository, reflecting the ruptures, shifts and spectrum of experiences for artists of African descent. Its current grouping of shows, culled mostly from the museum's permanent collection, echoes this landscape, looking backward and forward.
This year's most talked-about and game-changing institutional shows have revisited overlooked artists, cemented the positions of two of 20th-century art's profoundest painters, and brought overdue attention to one of Latin America's most important artists. They have also catapulted two emerging artists to the mainstream, harnessed the power of technology, and asked: What is American art today?
In “Politics and the English Language,” Orwell claimed that cliché and “stale imagery” not only marred writing, but the very capacity for clear thought. Yet the same things Orwell hated about clichés—their lack of specific meaning and wealth of unruly, associative ones—make them a rich subject for Alexis Smith. In the twelve mixed-media collages on view in this show—her first in New York in over a decade—Smith revamps midcentury American clichés about desire, patriotism, sex, and leisure, twisting them with satire to scrutinize their noxious undertones.
It has been another fabulous year for Art Basel Miami Beach with strong sales and a record number of visitors to the Miami Convention Centre event, as well as Untitled, Art Miami, NADA and Pulse. The fairs which opened early in the week saw the opening party held outside the Bass Museum despite some rather unusual turns of events including a stabbing at the main fair, which resulted in a visitor being hospitalised.
Drexler was part of the original wave of pop art that included Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein, but never achieved the same status as her male peers, partly because her work addressed political themes.
MIAMI BEACH — Artist Rosalyn Drexler was once immortalized in silkscreen by Andy Warhol as her wrestling persona “Rosa Carlo, the Mexican Spitfire,” yet Drexler's own powerful Pop Art has never received as much acclaim as Warhol's work and others of her generation. This week's edition of Art Basel Miami Beach features a punchy five-painting show that argues for her place in the cannon of 1960s Pop art.
Howardena Pindell, whose “Free, White and 21” (1980) will be shown on the first night of the program, said that her video piece, a response to race relations within the predominantly white feminist movements of the 1970s, remains important.
To legibly capture a television screen, a photographer must have both patience and a variety of technical tricks at her disposal, including a carefully calibrated shutter speed and an exposure time determined through trial and error. In addition to the motion of the video image, the analog photographer must also be sensitive to the friction betweenthe camera's straightforward light-capture process and the CRT monitor's beams of magnetized electrons, which light up pixels within the screen to present a steady image to the human eye, but whose glow registers quite differently to the camera.
Howardena Pindell made the collages in her first West Coast solo show at Honor Fraser using the simple medium of hole-punched painted paper. Colourful chads are affixed to thin wire or string armatures that form delicate grids on the surface of museum board backings.
Acclaimed novelist, Obie-winning playwright, former professional wrestler and pioneering Pop artist Rosalyn Drexler clearly doesn't need our accolades, but she's going to get them anyway. Her noirish mass media representations have always charmed by tapping into Italian neorealist film styles, crime dramas and a host of other 20th century representations from theatre and film.
Located in the Survey section of the fair, the Garth Greenan Gallery will showcase five canvases from the mid-1960s by Pop artist Rosalyn Drexler. Drexler's paintings are made by enlarging images from films, TV, newspapers and magazines and painting over them with acrylics. She is known for creating pieces that were more dreamlike and darker than her male counterparts.
Art aficionados gear up for December's Art Basel in Miami Beach, with an anticipated record breaking attendance and $3 billion worth of contemporary art on display.
Pathetic, just pathetic, to expect
Strangers to know your name I guess
Such is the price of fame
Drive by the Columbus Museum of Art on E. Broad Street in the central city, and you can catch a glimpse of Frank Stella's colorful La vecchia dell'orto through the large windows of the new wing. Those windows — called “ cinematic facades” by the architect — will also soon provide views of activities inside.
The Columbus Museum of Art has recreated a monumental work of art by Paul Feeley, decades after the original was destroyed. The museum collaborated with the artist's estate to refabricate the nine-part, 21ft-tall sculpture, which filled the atrium of New York's Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in 1968. It has been installed permanently on the Ohio museum's lawn to coincide with the completion of a $37.6m renovation on 25 October.
Curated by Phong Bui, both shows are proposed experiments to explore the various conditions that lead to the production of small paintings: how paintings' sizes are determined by artists' conscious and unconscious intentions, and how those sizes, in turn, affect their relation to viewers in the various spaces the artworks quietly occupy in contemporary visual culture.
This exhibition celebrates the pivotal role that women have played in contemporary American printmaking. In addition to pioneering artists like Helen Frankenthaler, Lee Krasner, Joan Mitchell, and Anni Albers who often worked in the print medium, women also founded some of the most important print studios in the United States. The printmaking process is an intensely collaborative one, between artist and printer.
The MFA has built an impressive collection of prints by American women and premieres the largest grouping to date in this stunning exhibition of more than 90 works. The vast majority of the prints are gifts of discerning art collectors Martha and Jim Sweeny of St. Petersburg or museum acquisitions made possible by funds from the couple.
“Humble” was one of the words that surfaced during a curator discussion on Friday October 9th at a press conference to launch the fourth edition of MoMA PS1's “Greater New York,” a quinquennial survey of artwork made in New York that has generated more than its fair share of controversy during past editions. It's a fitting word for a show that is often sober, understated, and uneven in a way typical for surveys of its scope.
MoMA PS1 presents the fourth iteration of its landmark exhibition series, begun as a collaboration with The Museum of Modern Art in 2000. Recurring every five years, the exhibition has traditionally showcased the work of emerging artists living and working in the New York metropolitan area. Greater New York arrives in a city and art community that has changed significantly since the first version of the survey.
International Pop, organized by the Walker Art Center, chronicles the global emergence of Pop in the 1960s and early 1970s. While previous exhibitions and prevailing scholarship have primarily focused on the dominance of Pop activity in New York and London during this time, this exhibition examines work from artists across the globe who were confronting many of the same radical developments, laying the foundation of the emergence of an art form that embraced figuration, media strategies, and mechanical processes with a new spirit of urgency and/or exuberance.
MoMA PS1 has assembled a sprawling exhibition featuring 157 New York artists and collectives that span generations and mediums, and includes more than 400 works, as well as performances and films. Before visitors enter the main museum building, they get an Afrocentric welcome. Flying out front is David Hammons‘s “African American Flag,” the New York artist's red, black and green interpretation of Old Glory.
Art advisor Maria Brito spends her days traveling the globe looking for emerging artists and designers. Below, her list of 15 emerging artists she's watching carefully.
Though she rose to prominence alongside her fellow Los Angeles ironists Chris Burden and Jack Goldstein, this is the first New York show in eleven years of Smith's mordant assemblages. Chief among her themes is the gap between the promise of the American Dream and its reality, which she dramatizes through juxtaposition. An album cover in which Elvis sports a ballpoint mustache is collaged onto a photograph of riflemen in balaclavas.
It has been two years since Patrick Strzelec had his first exhibition of sculptures in New York in more than a decade. In my review of that show, I called attention to the fact that “no two sculptures look alike.” Full of insouciance and confidence, and further buoyed by his mastery of different processes and materials, Strzelec shares his aesthetic attitude with the great American ceramic artist, George Ohr, the self-proclaimed “Mad Potter of Biloxi.”
Four years into its latest iteration under the management of Tony Karman, what is there to say about Chicago Expo? Let's start with the art, which was wide ranging and of consistent high quality. Naturally, Chicago galleries were present in force and brought along some of the more pleasant surprises.
Garth Greenan's booth may rate as the gutsiest move by a gallery at this year's EXPO. While most spaces are packed to the gills with stuff that's gonna look hella-good over that couch in your Gold Coast condo, Garth Greenan's oversized booth features only three paintings, and they're tiny at that. The works “On Display” and two untitled works by painter Victoria Gitman are delicate images of purses immaculately painted and surprisingly hold the space.
In its fourth edition, EXPO Chicago has shown considerable institutional growth, adding new programs and publications, and expanding from 125 galleries in 2012 to 140 from 16 countries in 2015. A surprise was the almost empty booth of New York Gallery Garth Greenan. What seemed to be a space to critique the art market was in fact the calm space needed for three wonderful and delicate works by Argentine artist Victoria Gitman who recently had a show at the Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM).
Honor Fraser Gallery is pleased to announce the first one-person exhibition of works by Howardena Pindell on the west coast. The exhibition will open with a reception for the artist on September 11, 2015 from 6-8pm.
In November 1971, Spelman College hosted the first public exhibition of the paintings and drawings of Howardena Pindell. Since then, Pindell has become a pioneering artist, writer, curator and teacher. Some 44 years later, the artist returns with Howardena Pindell, a solo exhibition of her intricately layered mixed-media paintings and works on paper.
Nearly four and a half decades after Spelman College hosted the first public exhibition of the paintings and drawings of Howardena Pindell, the New York artist returns to the school for a deep look back at her accomplished career.
It isn't touch that best helps us know the characteristics of space and its intervening forms, as some might suppose. A look at the immensely surprising paintings in Art Green: Certain Subjects gives us occasion to explore in surprising ways. With Green's book, we do this layer by layer, as if seeing a play in fast forward, through a part in the curtains, or paused mid-action through aperture.
Smith will cover the gallery walls with quotations from novelist and Hollywood screenwriter Raymond Chandler collaged with her own imagery. It will not be the first time she has used the words of authors in combination with her imagery. She has produced work related to Thomas Mann, Gertrude Stein, Walt Whitman, F. Scott Fitzgerald and John Dos Passos. Smith has been working on her minimal mixed media she refers to as “Chandlerisms” since 1978 and has collected nearly 300 phrases.
Despite superficial appearances, the best artists working in painting today are not approaching it as a reflexive, medium-specific extension of modernism. Instead, they are using painting as a frame, tool, or focal point by which to get at a number of pressing contemporary issues. This is a direct result of the new roles that painting has taken in a digital age.
Rosalyn Drexler, 88, has worn many hats. Born in 1926 and raised in East Harlem and the Bronx, she traveled around the country in the late 1950s as a wrestler: Rosa Carlo, the Mexican Spitfire, an odd incarnation documented by Warhol in a series of silkscreens, ‘‘Album of a Mat Queen,'' in 1962. Since then, Drexler has happily digressed. In the 1960s, she became a novelist and an Obie Award-winning playwright.
In opening his essay for the catalogue to “Rosalyn Drexler: Vulgar Lives,” critic and curator Robert Cozzolino aptly writes that the artist “has been discovered and rediscovered so many times that the art world should be checked for amnesia.” The show, mounted by Garth Greenan Gallery, which newly represents the 89-year-old Drexler, was the first solo of her paintings in New York since 2007, when PaceWildenstein staged a survey of her work from the 1960s.
“Women in Pop art” is a thing these days. And I'm not just talking about a few big show, such as the 2010-11 American touring exhibition “Seductive Subversion: Women Pop Artists 1958-1968” or the concurrent “Power Up: Female Pop Art” in Vienna. Individual artists including Evelyne Axell, Pauline Boty, Dorothy Iannone, and even Niki de Saint Phalle have lately been accorded critical attention as never before while also exerting influence on younger artists.
Sometimes being a transitional figure who exists between two important art movements can be a guarantee you will be neglected by history. That seems to have been the fate of Nicholas Krushenick whose major works during the 1960s, bridged the Abstract Impressionists and the Pop Art Movement. He labeled his work “Pop Abstraction.”
For art lovers, and certainly for the collectors now paying tens of millions of dollars per painting at auction, Pop art and its trademark images — Marilyns, Ben-Day dots, Coca-Cola bottles, lipsticked lips — have become 20th century classicism, as canonical as Cubism and as appealing as candy. But for many artists working outside the United States during Pop's birth in the early 1960s, the movement presented itself with all the charm of a steamroller.
Sometimes being a transitional figure who exists between two important art movements can be a guarantee that you will be neglected by history. That seems to have been the fate of Nicholas Krushenick whose major works during the 1960s bridged the Abstract Impressionists and the Pop Art Movement. He labeled his work “Pop Abstraction.”
Everybody loves an underdog. Especially if the underdog is the woman who wrote the novelization of Rocky (under the pseudonym Julia Sorel), is the author of five novels and is an Obie award winning playwright, and, wait for it, was once a championship female wrestler (under the name of Rosa Carlo “The Mexican Spitfire”).
Rosalyn Drexler, now in her eighties, has been a novelist, playwright, Emmy-winning comedy writer and, for a few months when she was in her twenties, a lady wrestler. Drexler has also been an artist. This show of paintings made between 1959 and 1991 focuses on themes that have preoccupied her in all of her endeavors: gender roles, relations between the sexes, crime, politics and power.
At Garth Greenan Gallery, Rosalyn Drexler presents the absurd and ominous in a comic-like manner in her most recent exhibition, Vulgar Lives, bringing together work that spans several decades. Her works border on violent and vulgar, highlighting central themes such as violence against women, racism, and social alienation. Her use of bright colors and whimsy juxtaposes these serious topics in an amusing way-a practice common among Pop artists. Drexler brings together reality and invention, which, according to her, is the human experience; she claims that “Vulgar Life is life itself.” It is uncouth and unrefined.
I wonder if the reason Rosalyn Drexler isn't better known is because she is so good at so many different things. We recognize such mastery in men, but rarely in women. Drexler is a novelist, whose books include I Am the Beautiful Stranger (1965) and the critically acclaimed To Smithereens (1972), based on her experience as a professional wrestler, Rosa Carlo, aka “The Mexican Spitfire” — a book that I reprinted in 2011. She has also received an Emmy Award for her screenwriting and several Obie Awards for her plays. Finally, Drexler is a painter whose work of the 1960s is central to Pop art.
There are well-known Pop artists — Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein come to mind — and well-known abstract expressionists — Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko to name a couple. But how many Pop abstraction artists can you name? Nicholas Krushenick combined elements of Pop and abstraction to create his own singular style, but wasn't fully recognized for his influence during his lifetime. With "Nicholas Krushenick: Electric Soup," the Tang Teaching Museum and Art Gallery give the artist his due with a major survey of his work from the 1950s through the 1990s.
Paintings, sculptures, photographs, and works on paper by 40 contemporary artists will be exhibited at the galleries of the American Academy of Arts and Letters on historic Audubon Terrace. Exhibiting artists were chosen from a pool of over 200 nominees submitted by the members of the Academy, America's most prestigious honorary society of architects, artists, writers, and composers.
Pérez Art Museum Miami presents a survey of the work of Victoria Gitman (b. 1972, Buenos Aires; lives in Hallandale, FL). Gitman creates astonishingly naturalistic oil paintings abounding with sensuality and conceptual sophistication. The exhibition features 19 works drawn from four phases in the artist's career, spanning 14 years of highly disciplined production. Set against shallow backgrounds of neutral color, Gitman's depictions of necklaces, beaded purses, and fur purses make a powerful impact that belies their small scale and banal subject matter.
Is there a way it can go faster?” Victoria Gitman peers at the monitor and impatiently taps the laptop's down arrow. On the screen, photos of purses scroll past in a rapid, jerky rhythm.
She's using a borrowed computer; at home, she says, she flies through these listings twice
as fast, watching the colors and shapes in the pictures blend together as they fly by.
A program of video-based works that used television technology to bring public attention to Black American identity, through intervention, documentation, and parody, as in Anthony Ramos's About Media, in which the artist uses his Portapak camera to turn a news crew's visit to his home into media critique. Co-programmed by Rebecca Cleman and presented by Rebecca Cleman and Chris Hill.
Pretty Raw takes the artist Helen Frankenthaler as a lens through which to refocus our vision of modernist art over the past 50 years. In this version, decoration, humor, femininity and masculinity, the everyday, pleasure, and authorial control take center stage. Artists from the 1950s through the present work in a range of mediums, finding personal, social and political meaning in sheer, gorgeous materiality.
New Acquisitions gathers together objects that have entered the Rose's collection in the last 18 months. Major historical works by artists including Howardena Pindell, Sam Gilliam and Melvin Edwards demonstrate the Rose's commitment to diversifying its holdings in 20th century painting and sculpture by acquiring important works by figures who until recently have been excluded from canonical accounts of art history due to race and gender-based discrimination. Curated by Rose Director Chris Bedford, this exhibition focuses on abstract painting and sculpture by African Americans with an emphasis on work made in the 1970s.
Robert Motherwell recounts that in 1951, Edna Wells Luetz, the newly appointed Chair of Hunter's Department of Art, reached out to the Museum of Modern Art's founding curator, Alfred Barr, in search of “a modern artist, and one who is articulate.” This marked the beginning of Hunter College's commitment to artists as teachers, and to hiring artists fully engaged in the questions of the art of their time. Barr recommended Motherwell, and at Motherwell's urging, Luetz would bring to Hunter a number of artists associated with the New York School.
Although he largely withdrew from the New York gallery exhibition scene by the late-1970s, Krushenick continued to paint, print, and draw prolifically until his death in 1999, creating a rich yet underappreciated body of work that has influenced a generation of younger painters. The first museum survey of Krushenick's work in several decades, this exhibition features work from the 1960s to the 1990s.
“The pure products of America go crazy,” wrote William Carlos Williams. And if such lost souls don't crash and burn, which they often do, their craziness is sometimes channeled into original artistic expression. Even then, those “pure products” might have a hard time getting along or fitting in. Nicholas Krushenick (1929-1999) made paintings that are simultaneously idiosyncratic and inevitable, melding Pop and abstraction seemingly before anyone else thought to do it—a fusion that has survived its original moment to seem more vital than ever.
Represent: 200 Years of African American Art highlights selections from the Museum's exceptional holdings of African American art and celebrates the publication of a catalogue examining the breadth of these noteworthy collections. With work by renowned artists such as Henry Ossawa Tanner, Horace Pippin, Jacob Lawrence, and Carrie Mae Weems, the exhibition showcases a range of subjects, styles, mediums, and traditions. Since the Museum's acquisition of Tanner's painting The Annunciation in 1899, its collections of African American art have grown significantly, especially during the last three decades.
"I'm an everyday person," she told the Paris Review. "I think in terms of just surviving the day on a personal level, rather than the solving of world problems. I just can't do that. Other people can do that on a grand scale. For me, because I know how hard people work, celebrating little victories is as important as a peace treaty being signed."
How happy I was to walk into Garth Greenan Gallery this past Saturday and find that the exhibition of large works on paper by Gladys Nilsson, which was supposed to have closed on December 6th, was still up. As Garth explained, “Roberta told me I should leave the show up until we closed for the holidays”. I had wanted to see the show all along, but family obligations limited my time for getting out and about over the fall season, and I had already missed a number of shows including, so I thought, this one.
It is always exhilarating when a respected artist saves the best for later in life. Such is the case with Gladys Nilsson, the deft and sardonic watercolorist of human entanglement and founding member of Chicago's rambunctious Hairy Who. Ms. Nilsson is now in her mid-70s, and her first New York gallery show in six years reveals that she is doing her strongest work yet.
For some reason, the medium of watercolor - you know, when pigments are suspended in a water-soluble vehicle - has, over time, attracted associations with art that is idyllic, naturalistic, traditional and - let's be real - a little bit boring. We'd suspect you'd rarely associate the slushy, translucent medium with the most radical crop of contemporary art.
Gladys Nilsson was born in Chicago in 1940 and grew up visiting the Art Institute of Chicago, which she then attended from 1958 to 1962. In the mid- to late sixties, she was a member of the Hyde Park-based art group the Hairy Who and created exuberant figurative paintings using both acrylic on Plexiglas and vibrant watercolors on paper. While at SAIC, Nilsson studied with the art historian Whitney Halstead, who taught his students to look beyond Western art and also beyond traditional realms of art to more vernacular sources.
There is something wonderfully incongruous and deeply disquieting about Gladys Nilsson's art, which is primarily done in the medium of watercolor. As she says in her conversation with Dan Nadel, which is included in the catalogue accompanying her most recent exhibition in New York (and her first) at Garth Greenan (October 23 - December 6, 2014):
The Albright-Knox Art Gallery is known around the world for its collection of abstract expressionist masterpieces, which serve as a peerless chronicle of an American movement concerned with acting out dark and messy inner dramas through the act of painting. After that dizzying period of unbridled catharsis, the art world gradually migrated toward more sober-minded forms of expression, like op art and minimalism. But the transition was neither neat nor immediate, nor did everyone suddenly give up abstract expressionism and jump straight into slimmed-down forms and conceptual coolness of later decades.
By the time of his death, Paul Feeley (American, 1910-1966) had achieved a level of recognition that far exceeded the twelve-year trajectory of his mature work. Honored during his lifetime by multiple solo exhibitions at the Tibor de Nagy Gallery and the Betty Parsons Gallery, and two years after his death by a full-bodied retrospective at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, Feeley produced idiosyncratic abstractions that are the timely subject of a major retrospective organized by the Albright-Knox Art Gallery.
At times it seems that everything ever written about the 1970s is concerned with demonstrating just how different that decade was from the one that preceded it. At the risk of prolonging this historical cliché, I'd like to note that a lot of 1960s art in the United States, from Color Field painting to Pop art to Minimalism, favored smooth, clean surfaces, while the art of the 1970s fell in love with rough textures, especially in the medium of painting.
It is important to look long and hard at the early paintings of Nicholas Krushenick as they appear on the walls of Garth Greenan Gallery 50-plus years after they were made. When they were painted, they helped deconstruct the notion that the great European traditions and their American successor in the New York School dictated how painting should look. This was no small feat.
Computer “graphical interfaces” have a cultural significance that is impossible to overstate. The window, the toolbar, the drop-down menu, the scroll bar: These ubiquitous mechanisms mediate our interactions with the digital—which is to say, an outsize portion of our work and play. (As others have noted, what Leo Steinberg called the flatbed picture plane—artwork as matrix of information, receptacle of data, vector in transmission—anticipated the computer desktop's mode of address.)
In 1962 the film critic Manny Farber published the provocative essay “White Elephant Art and Termite Art,” in which he distinguished two types of artists: the White Elephant artist, who tries to create masterpieces equal to the greatest artworks of the past, and the Termite, who engages in “a kind of squandering-beaverish endeavor” that “goes always forward, eating its own boundaries and, likely as not, leaves nothing in its path other than signs of eager, industrious, unkempt activity.”
Matthew Palladino's gallerist calls his new works paintings, but one wonders whether that label is given partly for simplicity's sake: They are paintings but also sculptural reliefs. They are illusionistic but also real. They are representational but are also shaped from actual objects. What's more, Palladino thinks of them in photographic terms and says that they are “like paintings that render themselves.”
Howardena Pindell has been making work steadily since the late 1960s, when she arrived in New York after receiving her M.F.A. at Yale. A founding member of the landmark feminist artists collective A.I.R. Gallery in 1972, she has taught at SUNY Stony Brook since 1979, all the while consistently producing bodies of work both complex and multifarious. Though she is well known and highly regarded in certain niches, Pindell has largely flown just beneath the radar of the greater art world's consciousness for the past 45 years.
Pindell, who just had an exhibition at Garth Greenan in New York, says her conscious intention was to explore the esthetic possibilities of the circle when she started on those works. Then she was startled by a childhood memory that came back to her. On a car ride through Kentucky in the 1950s, she and her father, who lived in Philadelphia, stopped at a root-beer stand and were served mugs with red circles on the bottom.
With more than 30 exhibitions to his credit, including four museum retrospectives, Norbert Prangenberg, who died at age 62 in June 2012, was seldom exhibited outside of his native Germany and Europe. Over a three-decade-long career, he engaged with diverse mediums and materials (oil paint, watercolor, clay, woodcut, linocut) and earned himself the reputation of being an artist's artist.
As much as Howardena Pindell's unstretched paintings and drawings — which were made between 1974 and 1980 — share something with the Pattern and Decoration movement, or with monochromatic abstraction, color field painting, all-over painting, fiber art, the counting work of Roman Opalka, and the spot paintings of Larry Poons, what elevates them above all of these aesthetic and stylistic connections is her subtle infusion of a deep and palpable rage.
It's been far too long since New York has seen these paintings from the seventies, on unstretched, irregularly sliced canvas. Pindell made them by overlaying multicolored paper chad on thickly coated backgrounds—one coral work is so copiously painted that it resembles stucco—and repeating the process to generate rich, topographical abstractions.
Norbert Prangenberg: The Last Works is on display at Garth Greenan Gallery in Chelsea. There are a lot of firsts in this exhibition of last works. It's the first series of sculptures Prangenberg made in America: at a residency at Rutgers's Mason Gross School of the Arts. It's Garth Greenan's first exhibition of Prangenberg's work.
Norbert Prangenberg, who died in 2012 at the age of 63, trained in metalworking, and in his 20s worked for a silversmith and then a glass designer. But when it came to making art, he was largely self-taught, as demonstrated by this winsome group of small, disheveled ceramic sculptures that he made the year he died of liver cancer. Nearly two dozen examples form the first New York show of his sculpture since 1986.
You never know when a work of art might become part of your DNA, the visceral memory of which you carry around with you, even if you seldom have occasion to think about it. The exhibition, Richard Van Buren: The 1970s, at Garth Greenan (November 26-January 4, 2013) reminded me of the first time I saw his sculptures in the mid-1970s. It was at a dance concert at Paula Cooper Gallery that I went to one evening with a friend. Little did I know that I would have to wait more than thirty years before I would see his work from this period again.
Big, bold, and vibrant, Paul Feeley's paintings are hard to miss. Rarely shown in the decades following his death in 1967, the artist's sculptures and abstract canvases were given a major exhibition at Matthew Marks Gallery in 2002. Now we have this smaller show, featuring nine large paintings made between 1957 and 1962.
For those who think they know the work of Paul Feeley (1910-1966), especially if they are basing it on the two exhibitions he has had in New York in the last decade, at Matthew Marks in 2002 and 2009, the current exhibition, Paul Feeley: 1957-1962, at Garth Greenan Gallery (September 5-October 12, 2013), will likely come as a surprise.
In drawing, a line need not become a contour or an image. In sculpture, this resistance to becoming is harder to pull off. For all their insistence on pure abstraction, Donald Judd makes boxes and Richard Serra makes steel fortresses. The problem is that this kind of sculpture smacks of signature shapes and branding, an efficient form of production.
Inside the Gary Snyder Gallery, a woman struck up a friendly conversation with another viewer about the current exhibition. They were strangers to each other by the connection seemed natural. Amid the sculptures on display in George Sugarman: Painted Wood, on view through June 15, one is inspired to chat precisely because the works themselves are also conversational.
Making a painting is like packing a suitcase; you want to include only what you need for your trip. For the excellent Mara Held that is a lot. Her easel-size abstractions are jammed with multilayered patterns — floral, watery, geological and gridded — and irradiated within by spacey colored lights. Visual punch is both complemented by and in tension with sensuous material qualities.
Despite the painter's subtlety, the reference to Far Eastern painting in Mara Held's latest work is evident. She particularly invokes Hiroshige's “36 Views of Mount Fuji” and the so-called Pure Land Buddhist painting with her use of fluctuating water and cloud imagery.
As one walks in the main space of the gallery, “Navigator” (2011) introduces the show's leitmotif: contrasted vertical/horizontal bands in palimpsest.
Because Ralph Humphrey is saddled anew with the unfortunate appellation “'70s painter” each time his work is rediscovered—as happens seemingly once a decade—the results of these excavations have typically been equivocal. Artists such as Elizabeth Murray, by contrast, have broken free of the faint praise built into that suspect moniker.
Humphrey entered the lists as the elusive obsession of Klaus Kertess (as he tells us in a Candide-like catalogue memoir) when the latter turned away from art history at Yale University to found the Bykert Gallery
If you've never stood in front of a painting by Ralph Humphrey (1932-1990), you can have very little idea of what his work is really about. Photographs, even the best of them, fail to convey the work's dense materiality, which derives from amplified surface textures, a quasipointillist method of layering color, and thick, sculptural supports. All of these were compellingly on display in a recent show at Gary Snyder, the first Humphrey exhibition in New York for 14 years.
In the early 1970s the African-American artist Al Loving (1935-2005) dismayed some of his admirers (and his dealer) when he abandoned his crisp geometric style of painting in an attempt, as he later told an interviewer, to find out “whether there is black art and what it looks like.” He turned to more relaxed, loquacious works made from torn strips of canvas stained with paint, pieced together using a sewing machine and hung on the wall like raggedy, rich-hued banners. Five examples, dating from 1973 to 1975, form the heart of this beautiful show.
The 1970s was a time when many artists were trying to deconstruct painting, both literally and conceptually. This show of vintage sewn and stained paintings demonstrated that Al Loving, who died in 2005, was not only one of the most radical painter-deconstructionists but also the one who most fully embraced the sensual potential of off-the-stretcher abstraction.
Ralph Humphrey's exhibition at Gary Snyder Gallery illustrated his unique contribution to American abstract painting. In contrast to the metaphysical aspirations of the Abstract Expressionist painters whom he admired when he arrived in New York in the late 1950s, Humphrey's territory was secular and nonspiritual. His own work was characterized by emotionality and raw materiality, qualities that he himself regarded as quintessentially American—if not the same kind of American as his famously tragic predecessors.
What Happens When Painting Is No Longer A Gateway?
If anyone wants an indication of the ever-widening chasm between the art world and the museums, look no further than the career of Ralph Humphrey (1932-1990), a painter whose works calls into question every marker of progress brought to bear on art. The current exhibition at Gary Snyder — his first New York show in fourteen years — brought to mind the refrain that has been repeated since the artist died, not yet sixty, more than twenty years ago: a museum really ought to do his retrospective.
It's too bad that New York museums don't devote more space to artists not sanctioned by the market or the academy; the art of the New York painter Ralph Humphrey (1932-90) could yield an excellent retrospective.
In the meantime, the first solo show of his work in New York in 14 years is a welcome sight. It reintroduces a painter who grew out of Abstract Expressionism (especially the hovering color clouds of Mark Rothko), pointed toward Minimalism and resolutely went his own way.
Until this exhibition I had never seen a work by Sven Lukin, an artist who began showing in New York in the early 1960s and was widely recognized at the time for his innovative painting-sculpture hybrids. He was one of five painters in The Shaped Canvas, the 1964 Guggenheim Museum exhibition curated by Lawrence Alloway, that helped define a key feature of 1960s abstraction.
For his first one-person exhibition in New York, Ron Johnson offers up a collection of paintings that project a keen and sometimes-referential theory of color, a very curious technique, and a place between non-representation and our collective subconscious of catalogued experiences that flow through the exhibition in unexpected ways.
I have been a Sven Lukin fan since 1970, when I first saw “Untitled” (1969) in one of the concourses running under the Empire State Plaza in Albany. Made for, and located in, a long recessed area — and playfully hovering between flatness and volume, the pictorial and the sculptural — Lukin's “Untitled,” a three-dimensional, green, orange and blue squiggle, is over 11 feet high and nearly 120 feet long.
It was at once fun and awe-inspiring to see how Audrey Flack deploys nearly every trick in the sculpture book to claim (mainly) bronze figurative tradition for women. This clean, well-installed exhibition included her wildly patinated bronzes, from small figures to giant heads, with references ranging from painted classical sculpture to Donatello (especially his Mary Magdalen), from the Art Deco designer Erté to Jean-Léon Gérôme.
This was New Zealand-born, New York-based Max Gimblett's first solo show in several years, and his first at this gallery. It included thirty-three paintings produced in the past nine years, canvases dense with associations that spanned the globe. They revealed, among other interests, the artist's familiarity with Japanese calligraphy, Jungian psychology, and the practice of Buddhism.
Sven Lukin's significant role in postwar American abstraction is becoming more and more widely recognized—or re-recognized. When he emerged in the early 1960s with his masterfully conceived and intricately constructed shaped canvases, Lukin, along with peers such as Charles Hinman and Richard Smith, was hailed for crucially expanding “hard-edge” abstraction, proposing a painted presence that metastasized into sculpture.
If you are going to chat with New York based artist Audrey Flack, she might ask you about the color of your lipstick, particularly if it is a shade of classic red as worn by iconic women, say Marilyn Monroe. In her early photorealist phase, this very girly prop shows up in likely and unlikely places, atop a dresser, near a mirror, revealing something of an obsession with the ill-fated movie star; but in the 1978 oil, "World War II (Vanitas)”, that very red is the color of a candle as well as a rose.
Max Gimblett was born in Auckland, New Zealand, in 1935. From 1962 to 1964, while living in Canada, he worked as a potter, an experience that has influenced his relationship to materials and process. In 1965, he moved to San Francisco, and began studying painting at the San Francisco Art Institute, and became friends with Phil Sims. It took Gimblett a decade to hit his stride.
Tadaaki Kuwayama's exhibition of chromatically rich and machine-finished works used a variety of strategies for presentation. Some objects were hung on the walls, while others were set on their edges along the floor.
The main display consisted of two partitioned installations: Untitled (1992/2012), featuring 22 red aluminum squares in shallow relief that extended across two adjacent walls, and Untitled (2012), eight rectangular titanium panels positioned vertically on the floor at alternating angles, which had the effect of disrupting their relationship with the long room in which they were installed.
Art movements rarely, if ever, emerge out of the void. If one looks closely enough, there are certain to be antecedents and influences that extend beyond the categorical packaging to which Modernism has been subjected over the decades of the previous century. One of the important early antecedents to Minimal art is Tadaaki Kuwayama, an artist who was not only close to Donald Judd and Dan Flavin, but was working in advance of them with reductive Minimal forms.
Who knew seashells and thermoplastic could combine to such effect? Van Buren is a peer and a friend of Lynda Benglis's, and both artists share an affection for molten forms. A cursory glance at this work can be confusing—the gaudy colors, the seemingly decorative shapes, those shells—and it's certainly an acquired taste.
At 79, an age when most artists are preparing career retrospectives, Tadaaki Kuwayama is still experimenting with media. On Thursday, a new exhibition of four site-specific pieces in titanium, aluminum, Mylar and Bakelite will open at Gary Snyder Gallery in Chelsea. This is Mr. Kuwayama's first time working in titanium, a metal that the minimalist artist, whose work is driven by color, form and material, said he has long been interested in.
Richard Van Buren began his career as a Minimalist back in the mid-1960s when this approach to art-making was becoming dominant in the lofts of SoHo and Tribeca, years before the galleries moved to West Chelsea. In the meantime, Van Buren left New York to live in Maine—the cold country—and in the process his manner of working radically shifted gears.
I would be surprised if there was a more exciting painting exhibition in a New York gallery this season than the concentrated four-decade survey of the paintings and works on paper of Nicholas Krushenick (1929-1999) at Gary Snyder. The artist was known for black-outlined abstract forms on flat grounds of hot color, sort of like Lichtenstein if the puckish Pop genius had gone abstract and rather nasty. So, not like Lichtenstein at all, really—though Krushenick endured the comparisons, admired him and they were friends.
How to explain the fact that Nicholas Krushenick's art has flown below the radar for so long, despite recurrent attempts to revive interest his work, and despite the fact that it not only is in itself excellent but self-evidently fills a niche that needs to be filled—namely that of the missing link between hard-edge abstraction and Pop art? Alas, he is that cursed thing, an artist's artist.
After Hurricane Irene prevented them from meeting at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art in Rockport, Maine, where a selection of his sculptures was on exhibition, Richard Van Buren and John Yau met in New York to discuss his work and his upcoming show at Gary Snyder Gallery (November 10 - December 17, 2011).
The Bronx-born Nicholas Krushenick (1929-99) triangulated an eccentric sweet spot of his own in the field of painting in the 1960s: an exuberant fusion of Pop, Surrealism and abstraction. This compact retrospective presents paintings and drawings from 1961 to 1998. Krushenick avoided explicit representation, but there is an often weird sense of narrative animation in his tautly frontal compositions of flat, primary-colored shapes defined by black cartoon lines.
Founder Gary Snyder and Co-founder and Director Garth Greenan are pleased to announce the opening of their new space, Gary Snyder Gallery, at 529 West 20th Street in New York's Chelsea Arts District. Opening on September 22, 2011, the gallery focuses on mid-twentieth century American art, with a particular emphasis on artists who emerged during the 1960s.
Featuring eleven radiantly colored, eccentrically shaped three-dimensional canvases mostly from the 1960s, this exhibition offered something of a retrospective for the Latvian-born, New York-based artist Sven Lukin. The works—hybrids—of canvas painting and relief sculpture—with their brash primary hues, reduced forms, and caricature-like, almost anthropomorphic curves, assume a position somewhere between Pop and Minimalism.
Peter Saul and Sven Lukin are lone wolves in extremis. Both were born in 1934, Saul in San Francisco, CA, and Lukin in Riga, Latvia. They belong to the generation of Pop and Minimalist artists that began gaining attention in the turbulent '60s. By any standard they have done everything wrong throughout their careers.