A Group Show
Figures Out Aesthetics of Human Form
By Mario
Naves
Abstract
painters like to bitch and moan about their lot in life. Abstract art,
they complain, was once the standard-bearer of high culture, but now it's
just another item on display in the dizzying contemporary art bazaar.
Still, I'm not so sure figurative painters don't have a harder time of
it. Abstraction, largely because it continues to be puzzling to a mass
public, still carries with it the faintest whiff of the outr'. Figurative
painters aren't so lucky: They're usually fobbed off as musty relics relying
on an obsolete aesthetic.
Sure,
there are plenty of painters, some of them well known, who have dedicated
themselves to a post-ironic, Pop-based permutation of figurative art.
They make a claim on a grand tradition, intending to set themselves above
it (and ending up below it, instead). But what I'm referring to, for lack
of a better adjective, are straight figurative painters: artists who relish
the complexity of the human body without recourse to been-there-done-that
cynicism, artists who seek out possibilities of form and emotion through
direct observation.
Go
Figure, a group exhibition of 26 painters and sculptors on display
at the George Billis Gallery, won't convince you that 'the fragility and
beauty that exists within the body' is an 'ideal' necessarily suited to
contemporary art. The majority of pieces are run-of-the-mill in their
competence; few of them are inspired. Then again, those few do make you
stop in mid-step and pay attention. Galleries, having consigned their
A-list artists to summer break, are currently featuring not-ready-for-prime-time
talent. Go Figure features a handful of painters who deserve to stick
around once the temperature heads south.
Whether
Marcus Cain is one of them, I'm not sure. His mixed-media works on paper
offer folksy ruminations on childhood and solitude. In Mr. Cain's cartoonish
scenarios, patterning engulfs every surface and object'flesh, hair, cake
and water. The narratives pictured'a boy praying, a child being measured
by a parent'are Rockwellian in character, inflected with sentiment and
clich'. The pieces are too squirrelly and arch to take seriously, but
too tender and true to dismiss altogether.
Tom
Gregg's Eden (1997) evokes childhood as well. Isn't that Dick and Jane,
rendered in pinkish-purple, running through that encompassing expanse
of floral wallpaper? The painting is less about memory than style: In
the foreground, there's a contrasting, handsomely executed still life
of apples, oranges, lemons and bananas. It's hard to know how to settle
the painting's conflicting impulses, but as a diversion, Eden isn't bad
at all.
Kurt
Solmssen's July (2000) is a bravura, though sturdy and stoic, example
of painterly realism. The depiction of a woman standing on a ladder picking
cherries recalls both Edward Hopper's arrangements of structure and light
and Fairfield Porter's paint handling. Jonathan Shahn's sculpture, Gesturing
Figure (1992), is a roughhewn, life-size nude male cobbled and carved
from wood. Notwithstanding his hardscrabble Expressionistic fervor, Mr.
Shahn is sensitive to the nuances of material and subject. The overlays
of paint are the kicker: They don't simply adorn the work, they enhance
its sculptural integrity'a tough feat to pull off.
As
for best in show, it's a toss-up. Eve Mansdorf's Kitchen (2004) confirms
my belief that she's one of the most natural paint handlers around. Flinty
yet agile, Ms. Mansdorf's brush works its nubbly magic within a framework
of curt and spiky lines. It's heartening that the domestic dramas portrayed
in her recent work have started to reveal a maturity more in line with
her painterly touch. Two women face a man who has his back to the viewer;
their expressions are close to impenetrable, though the tension is unmistakable.
Ms. Mansdorf hasn't altogether expunged her tendency toward theatricality,
but she has learned how to downplay and deepen it. Ms. Mansdorf loves
the figure as a means of exploring human experience. Maureen Mullarkey
loves the figure for its ability to absorb and refract the exigencies
of painting. An actual person may have posed for Batya (2003)'a portrait
of a topless woman in the studio holding a coffee cup'but in the picture,
her body has become an armature upon which color, contour and mass are
brought into contemplative equipoise. The subtle stylization of facial
features brings to mind the Fayum portraiture of ancient Egypt; the muffled
hands summon up the unbearable tenderness of Arshile Gorky's portrait
of his mother. The heartbreakingly subtle gradations of tone and touch
suggest that this is an artist who considers painting both a responsibility
and a joy. Ms. Mansdorf and Ms. Mullarkey have proven they're ready for
prime time. Go Figure: A Figurative Art Show is at the George Billis Gallery,
511 West 25th Street, until Aug. 13. Abstract Concrete I'd been hoping
to make it through the summer without having to encounter the all-but-ubiquitous
art of Sol LeWitt. Having little patience for 'boring enough to be interesting'
art'well, that's the way Donald Judd described Mr. LeWitt's brand of overly
cerebral, serial abstraction'I've managed to avoid the Met's rooftop garden
and PaceWildenstein's Chelsea outpost, both of which are showcasing different
aspects of the oeuvre (sculpture and wall drawings, respectively). I wasn't
so fortunate on a recent morning spent running errands. Cutting through
Madison Square Park, I came across some piles of concrete blocks'construction-site
leftovers from one civic project or another. Or so I thought. Mr. LeWitt's
Curved Wall with Towers and Circle with Towers (both 2005) aren't much
more than what the titles advertise: an abundance of concrete blocks dutifully
lined up in simple, schematic structures. As sculpture, they're non-events:
Mr. LeWitt's bland disregard for variety, vitality and invention forces
him to rely on brute physical fact alone to get by. More upsetting is
why the Madison Square Park Conservancy invited Mr. LeWitt to impose his
thick-as-a-brick aesthetic on what has become one of Manhattan's most
agreeable public spaces. I guess they must have been blinded by his art-world
cred. You'll find more pleasure by taking in the playground at the northeast
corner of the park, with its magnificent array of surrounding greenery.
Sometimes our lives are not blessed by art. Madison Square Park 2005:
Sol LeWitt is at Madison Square Park, Fifth and Madison avenues between
23rd and 26th streets, until Dec. 31.
You
may reach Mario Naves via email at: mnaves@observer.com .
This
column ran on page 16 in the 8/15/2005 edition of The New York Observer.
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