Summer Stock, Brooklyn NY/Brooklin/Blue Hill Maine

Summer is my favorite time of the year. I never weary of the warmer climes. It's also my favorite season to see art. The traditional summer group show’s relaxed ambiance, and pluralist ethos can provide a titillating taste of art fresh from the studio.

Ground Floor Gallery, Small Wonders

http://groundfloorbk.com/

This new addition to the Brooklyn gallery scene is located in Park Slope. The small, but well designed storefront exhibition space has an intimate appeal, and a nice window display area. The Slope may not be the artistic beehive of Bushwick, but Krista Saunders and Jill Benton have not let that dissuade them from putting up relevant exhibits that feature under-recognized artists who deserve a look.

The Small Wonders exhibit also features small prices, and I think some of the art here could command a higher value. That said GFG’s stated mission is to introduce new collectors to affordable art, an altruistic notion that might end up paying off for everyone.

Small Wonders was a curated open call, and so contains an eclectic variety of objects and images that coincidentally coalesce in a kind of fairy tale narrative. 

The four graffiti panels by Miles Wickham grab your attention immediately. Street artists do not always translate well in a white wall context, but these wonderfully vivid compacted verticals contain stacks of cryptic calligraphy that might have been created by some alien creature. They’re exotic signposts advertising a foreign realm of abstract notations. 

Commissioned works by Miles Wickham

 

Becky Yazdan’s succinctly compact compositions achieve a pleasing density, and could be seen as monoprints. 

http://www.beckyyazdan.com/paintings.html

Elissa Swanger’s blotchy yet sensitive chiaroscuro conveys a minor figurative drama that invites closer scrutiny. The mottled texture brings out a nice resist effect, and harkens back to Rouault. 

http://www.elissaswanger.com/

Flat Frontal at Schema Projects
http://schemaprojects.com/exhibition-FlatFrontal.html

This Bushwick gallery presents a vivid array of brightly chromatic and loosely geometric works, which emphasize references to fabric design and handmade patterns that might conjure up primitivistic sources.

Margrit Lewczuk’s curvilinear symmetries incorporate a playful, Matisse-like notion of design. Their clean simplicity invokes a pleasing purity of line and color.

http://www.margritlewczuk.com/

Meg Lipke’s rambunctiously enthusiastic colorations invoke jungle influenced batik.

http://meglipke.com/?page_id=27

http://drawingontheutopic.blogspot.com/2012/06/studio-visit-meg-lipke.html

 Lawrence Swan, aka “Lars” has installed one of his deceptively casual 3D pieces that establish an understated, yet compelling presence using a kind of off-hand/short hand expertise found in origami.

His budding, pinstriped flower unfolds, revealing a star-shaped stamen. This germane germination turns a mundane sheet of paper into a blooming blossom of artful modesty. 

 

Swan’s funky and fun collage is assembled from torn squares of art paper to which the artist applied washes of color. This lively banner evokes semaphore signals, or a Klee-like compendium of kaleidoscopic quilting.   

The artist’s gently folded black & white grid may harken unto (or vice versa) his wife Lori Ellison’s current paper pieces fabricated from crumpled up paper.

S.S. Champlain Presents: David Dixon “Temple Mount” (A God Named Pollock)

http://www.spenceprojects.com/

http://daviddixon.net/

Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t conceptual art supposed to be a bore (yawn)?

Not when David Dixon brings his droll and scintillating gift for story telling to the fore. The art world needs more minds like Dixon’s to throw at the pressing issues of the day; such as pissing on Jackson Pollock’s grave.

Indeed urination as an art medium may not be a new concept, but the artist does give new meaning to the term “streaming live”. Dixon’s novel tale is not so much a metaphor for Pollock’s painting style, as it is about misogyny and feminism.  

Apparently Pollock used to go outside his studio to pee on some small rocks and pebbles. After Pollock’s death, (and internment under a large macho boulder) Lee Krasner gathered all the pissy stones from Jack’s pissoir and used them for her much more modest gravesite. 

Was this a sly bit of ironic feminist commentary, or just a fond farewell gesture to the king of the chauvinist gesture?

The artist (Dixon) has not completely forsaken traditional media here, although he has upended it with this installation piece. Making a carefully reproduced 3D paper mache replica of the Pollock grave boulder (complete with bronze plaque), he somehow managed to affix the thing to the ceiling of the gallery, thereby enabling the viewer a bird’s eye view (albeit upside down).

This is a typical Dixon subterfuge. He delights in reorganizing our perception and conception of events and creations we thought we knew. Dixon’s suitably ingenious "Stand-up Philoso-comedy" critique of Courbet’s “A burial At Ornans” enters into the realm of poetry slam and performance (art?), and will leave you doubting the veracity of Jansen.

To top it all off (his head that is), the artist is currently working on a post-life piece, wherein his skull will be preserved in perpetuity. Since one of my favorite art installations is the Capuchin Crypt “bone bonanza”, I’d say he might be onto something.

"What you are now we used to be; what we are now you will be..."

 

Jeanne Tremel, Wood Paper Paint, Handworks Gallery, Blue Hill Maine

http://www.handworksgallery.org/pgs/schedule.html

http://jeannetremel.virb.com/

What took me so long you might ask. Just don’t want to be accused of favoritism. (well OK, she is my favorite)

But this does seem like a perfect opportunity to present my wife’s plein air art to the blogosphere. I also take some pride and joy in that I introduced Jeanne to painting outdoors up in Maine a few years ago. Initially she was slow to take it up, calling it the hardest thing she’d ever done as an artist.

Of course I find that hard to believe since Jeanne is one of those rare artists that have the golden touch. She was born a painter, with a nimble touch, and painterly insight.

The exhibit at Handworks prominently features Jeanne’s watercolor works on paper. Marcia Stremlau who owns the gallery, generously hung Jeanne’s work in a continuous line on the best wall.  We were very pleased.

Blue Hill is an affluent Downeast enclave with a long tradition of summer arts activities that Handworks has been a part of for many years. I like the way this exhibit combines more traditional crafts with fine art. Craft is a staple of the Maine art scene, and although it might be considered gauche in NYC, the interaction of utilitarian and decorative items with more purely visual art, refreshes my eye and reminds me that this area is about the relaxed pleasures of getting away from it all.

Jeanne’s impetus for plein air is based on an intimate relationship with the foreground, featuring rock and lichen that show off her predilection for quirky, detailed line, then nuanced washes are delicately blended into a diaphanous background region of sky and ocean. 

Bubbly Waves on a Foggy Day

watercolor on paper 12" x 9" 2012

She works almost exclusively with dry watercolors from a tray, which imbue the picture plane with a pale translucency appropriate to the elusive flux of climate, light, and tide.

The trick with interpretative plein air watercolors is to find an equilibrium that encompasses a range of effects, but is contained within a specific pictorial structure. Jeanne has a knack for finding just the right combination of ingredients that bring a distinct sense of time and place to her intricate compositions.

While her studio work with oil paint could be considered an exploration of the inner nature of psychic turmoil, the plein air etudes waft dreamily towards a cathartic sensation; akin to warm basalt ledges, bathed in misty sun, and caressed by frothy surf.

Cynthia Winings Gallery, Blue Hill Maine

http://www.cynthiawiningsgallery.com/

This ambitious new exhibition space is located in an historic old Maine saltbox, whose previous incarnation was Judith Leighton’s gallery, one of the grand old cranky dames of the Downeast art scene.

Ms Wining’s courageous undertaking to breathe new life into the old legacy is admirable. Winnings is a transplanted New York artist herself, and CWG follows the recent Bushwick movement of artist run galleries.

She is helped by the wonderful upstairs/downstairs exhibition space architecture involved. Abundant natural light filters nicely with the artificial. Thick wood beams lend a sturdiness to the open floor plan of this spacious barn-like structure.

The inaugural show features a mix of local and New York artists whose work, though at times influenced by Maine’s landscape, avoids the coyness that can inflect regional art. Winnings is taking a leap of faith here, the tried and true formula for many Downeast area galleries is not to rely exclusively on fine art that challenges the viewer too strenuously.

CWG may end up filling a void, but the question is will local summer collectors be enough to support an endeavor who’s only mission is to present innovative visual art? I hope so.

Heather Lyon "Protective Object" (series)

http://www.heatherlyon.com/new-work/

David Hornung "Evergreen"

http://davidhornung.com/paintings

Cynthia Winings "Constellation on the Horizon" 2013 Gouache and collage on paper, 6 x 6 inches

 

https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.winings?fref=ts

Ms. Winings

Duke Ellington’s Mount Harissa (Far East Suite)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGNS9flNwiU

This must be one of the Dukes’s most suave and scintillating recordings.
Billy Strayhorn’s collaboration makes everything go well, while the piano riff at the beginning and end encompass everything that makes American jazz great.

Bushwick/Ridgewood (Bush-Wood?); The Expanding “Arty”-verse.

Although the grandiose notion of galactic gallery sprawl might seem incongruous considering the typically diminutive dimensions of exhibition venues encountered in this nebulous region of Brooklyn and Queens, it still helps to have your navigation devises up and running before venturing out to those distant reaches.
The spread of outlying outposts of artist “art”ronauts to the furthest reaches of Wyckoff-space bodes well for the future of manned art exploration in the Bush-Wood quadrant of NY’s art cosmos.

Lorimoto, Friends With Benefits
http://www.lorimoto.com/522531/home/
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/411320567/lorimoto-gallerys-grand-opening-art-show
http://good-b.com/?p=12932

Lori, of Lorimoto

This brand new addition to the Bush-Wood ‘hood art scene extends the outer boundaries of the gallery map. The husband and wife team of artists Lori Kirkbride and Nao Matsumoto recently purchased the building, and have converted this former needle trade factory into their live-work-gallery dream combo.
The beautifully appointed ground floor exhibition space features LED lighting, original pressed tin walls and ceilings, along with traditional drywall, that nicely accommodate this inaugural group exhibition.  This is also a large square footage venue, which along with Debra Brown’s new Ten Eyck space may be bucking the trend of the familiar Bush-Wood cubbyhole.
The exhibit includes the more familiar names of accomplished artists Peter Fox, Cibele Vieira, and Rob De Oude, while introducing the art of the founder’s and other less known artists.
Judi Rosen’s “Clown Costume” is a striking piece that shifts perception between sculpture and costume design. A shamanistic impulse seems to inhabit the garment, and lends a potential of figurative movement.

Lori Kirkbride’s vivid pointillism instills her resin and polymer work with a psychedelic verve that swirls about with playful references to pompoms and retro textile patterns.
 

Regina Rex, FOUR PAINTINGS: Picture Window
http://reginarex.org/exhibition.asp?exID=520

If Lorimoto has a bright future, a darker shadow has been cast over the artists and galleries at 1717 Troutman. The owner of the building, described as a “monster” by a tenant in the know, seems hell bent on making life miserable for all his creative occupants. The old school, hard-ass mentality of some real estate owners renting to artists in Brooklyn is an unfortunate by-product of a dog-eat-dog marketplace, exacerbated by a fumbling city bureaucracy that can’t manage zoning issues or tax assessments in a coherent manner.
Crucial to the next phase of development and investment in the area is an ownership strategy for artists such as commercial real estate co-ops. Jules De Balincourt’s recent powwow concerning real estate issues was an important first step towards supporting a local constituency of creative professionals that might even develop clout (power in numbers).
In the meantime, Regina Rex (at 1717) has mounted an enticing exhibit that should motivate gallery goers inclined to see and be seen.
Could art really peer back at us? This is a conceit that spans many eras, most famously depicted in Velázquez’s masterpiece Las Meninas.
This exhibit is not so disquieting, yet you might find yourself feeling surrounded by paintings that implicate the viewer in some sly manner. After getting your bearings in this expansive space, the four large canvasses begin to orient in their own particular order.
Summer Wheat’s implacable depiction of a sex act asserts itself in an immediate fashion. Ms. Wheat invites us to indulge in her unabashedly exhibitionist wit. Is this glorious grotesquery masquerading as porno meant to stimulate a voyeuristic response, or is it just a hurriedly horny “casualist” gesture? The feet are some of the best post Picasso painting I’ve seen recently.

Hannah Barrett’s prim and proper (but mustached) queen of painting takes tea ensconced in an upholstered background that passes for a chair, but is really a throne to flatness. This haughty visage demands an audience, despite the ludicrous blue haired banality.

 

Becky Kinder dispenses with irony and embraces a kind of voluminous void. Her spooky figures resist our prying and would prefer to be left alone. There could be a reference to trauma or introversion, but the unadorned, pigmented outlines are oblivious to personality. They are the remains of departed moments, constructed as mementos to shadow and an elusive sensation of self. 

Linda Gallagher brings the most concrete aspect to the exhibit, and anchors the group with a more representational portrayal of theatrical portent. The eerie, oppressive interior could exist as a metaphor, but reeks of prison or high school in the here and now. A poignant narrative envelops the female figure. Has she suffered at the hands of the unseen, or does this symbolize the powerlessness of victim-hood?

The artist curators at RR have pulled off a difficult feat, displaying painting balancing gesture, narrative, and insight to achieve a restrained, coherent effect that succeeds in engaging the viewers gaze with a purposeful interaction of visual congruence.


Associated, Steven Charles, Things That Fell Out Of My Pocket
http://associatedgallery.tumblr.com/
http://www.gorkysgranddaughter.com/2013/06/steven-charles-at-associated-gallery.html
http://dadsex.bandcamp.com/

Returning to the shoebox exhibition format at Associated, Steven Charles has handpicked this show to avoid the overloaded look challenging poorly edited exhibitions. The intimate confines suit his unusual arrangement of offbeat objects.

Wrapping your head around these quirky, insouciant works entails embracing the moment. Don’t expect grandiose intellectual concept, Charles is much more interested in subverting our visual biases and aesthetic tastes by employing a ragtag assemblage of surprise media that sneak into consciousness without cognitive requirements.
It would be misconstruing the artist’s intent to label the work “untrained” or “outsider” even though he employs entreaties relating to that tradition. Instead, I find his work crossing boundaries in a fluid process that belies a sophisticated approach to an improvisational technique.   
Charles is wiling to trade charisma in exchange for an oddly gripping friendship with the viewer. You can trust this artist not to bullshit you with frills or small talk, and although there may be a decorative implication the work is far from pretty. His compulsive nature, and dumpster-diving art materiel, leads us to conclude invention is the mother of necessity for Charles. He insists we accept him on his own terms, but we are free to ruminate on the merits of his results.
What I find most rewarding about these eclectic compendiums is the seemingly easy way the artist has with his touch. There is not an once of preciousness about them, yet they exude well-tuned craft. In particular his use of orange felt as a ground indulges a playful, child-like notion of bold color, while his exceedingly repetitive, and close-up brushwork, details a candy cane-like sheet of rippled paint that conjures up a cheap shower curtain. This continual dichotomy of loose looking compositional elements, coupled with intensely focused edges, sets up an interesting tension between highly engineered patterns, and intuitive gestures that resist conventional semiotic interpretation. 

In the end, the resolve to avoid formal stasis wins the day, and these jazzy odes to uninhibited art making reflect the artist’s own musical practice;
experimental ambient audio collage electronic free improvisation live art post-punk punk rock sound-scape New York.

From Associated's web site

TCM pick of the week; A Tree Grows In Brooklyn

Directed by Eli Kazan
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ix3zZGC2jE

I finally got to watch Eli Kazan’s first film, which due to some mysterious licensing snafu has never been available on NetFlix.
What a shame. This wonderful piece of theater just adds to Kazan’s amazing canon and legacy.  That it’s his first effort in cinema makes it even more remarkable, but by that time Kazan was experienced in stage direction, and two years later would go on to found the Actors Studio.
There is no doubt that Kazan tops the list of American film directors (although closely followed by Billy Wilder), and “Tree” just confirms his genius with actors.
This immigrant story is right in his wheelhouse, as his own history coming to this country from Greece feeds the script with authentic sentiment. Working with child actors might seem easy, but getting believable performances from inexperienced players must require patience and a deep understanding of the craft. 
Relationships are what drive Kazan, and his ability to create tension and drama can reach Shakespearean heights.  

Bushwick, The Golden Age; reviews of Resurrection, Art Guerra, Katherine Powers

There’s been some commentary recently that Bushwick has become primed for takeover by the capitalist ruling class (or “The Man” as they would say in my day), and there are certainly indications that may be imminent. But I'm also glad to report that there still is enough youthfully exuberant, funky goofball art being made in the byways of Bushwick to support the notion that a bohemian left bank still thrives.
An important part of Bushwick’s appeal to me is that a bunch of post grad artists of varying interests can still manage to scrape along learning the hard lessons of an art making lifestyle. Those few lucky enough to get through the early struggles of an art career will learn the true meaning of dedication, and have poignant memories of Bushwick’s golden era.
There are elder statespeople in Bushwick that have provided a key role by instituting infrastructure to support a youth movement. Debra Brown, Jason Andrew, and Fred Valentine have pitched in with grass roots exhibition spaces that forego the traditional model of “representing” artists to show an ongoing selection of a wide range of age and experience.
Burr Dodd’s bold entrepreneurial endeavors have made his Temporary Storage exhibition and performance space, along with the Brooklyn Fire Proof Café, into a salon style beehive of artistic interaction.  
3rd Ward has evolved into “The College of Bushwick” with a variety of distinguished curricula including innovative courses such as “drink ‘n draw”.
But I find the real spirit of a freeform interchange of artists and exhibitions in Bushwick is encapsulated by the plethora of informal group shows and studio art seen before, during, and after Bushwick Open Studios. Although BOS is the annual nexus of activity, the premise of an art scene unencumbered by a big money collector base and over priced real estate permeates an atmosphere of potentiality.
In light of this lively ‘hood I’m including a brief synopsis of a few of the more groovy efforts I’ve seen recently: 

“Resurrection” put together by James Prez at Active Space.
https://www.facebook.com/james.prez.5

Making the best of Active Spaces’s fluorescent lighting that tends to bleach out the window-less and harsh white architecture, Resurrection managed to fill out and warm the room.
Although I’m not sure how the title related to this decidedly athletic looking group of largely 3D art pieces (perhaps the bare boned nature of some the sculpture by the likes of JP Larson, dug up and reborn?), but it doesn’t really matter. If you know James, then you know its all about eclectic, and this exhibit certainly fit that Prez aesthetic.
The space is anchored by Matt Miller’s crudely carved blocks of styrofoam that have been melted or otherwise mutated in what might have been a chemistry experiment gone awry. Slapped on paint just adds to the gee wiz bang of these manly art chunks. 

 Matt Miller

Miller’s smaller scale pieces then turn the table on bravado and display his sensitive side. The wavy grid mounted on top of a photographic image magnifies an intimate reference to portraiture. This distorting manipulation could connote an aged connection to relics long past, while suggesting bad reception on an old TV. 

Matt Miller

On the gentler side of the gender geneses Rachel Hayes’ rolls of delicately transparent fabric flow gracefully into the room, conjuring up Tibetan prayer flags fluttering towards a rarified realm.

Rachel Hayes

The clunky, yet intricate jumble of clothes hangers by Bridget Mullen teeters down to the floor making a Klee-like clatter, and good use of the assigned cubicle.

Bridget Mullen

Prez has enthusiastically assembled an iconoclastic conglomeration of objects with a physical panache, and little regard for typical curatorial reliance on the contrived thematic premise.
Kudos.
 

Art Guerra, "Slippery At Dusk" at Sugar.
http://sugarbushwick.com/home.html
http://www.artguerra.info/
http://www.guerrapaint.com/

At the deep end of the generational pool is the primordially elegant monochrome of Art Guerra. Ostensibly paintings, these glowery meditations on nocturnal quietude, could also cloak a reference to fashionably luscious eveningwear. The sparkly spirit of Liberace might be lurking beneath those obtuse monoliths.  

Art Guerra

Guerra is well known among pigment aficionados as the purveyor and professor of rare and precious colored powders and concentrates that may be assembled into actual artist paint. This esoteric practice has merged nicely into the substance of the artist’s method. Ironically enough, you won’t find brushstrokes in these formal and somewhat imperious compendiums of pigment. Guerra’s mysterious process incorporates glass beads to produce juicy, yet serene dimensions of chromatic purity that could extend inward towards fluid biology, or move forcefully into a concrete realm reminiscent of sculptural relief.   

Art Guerra

   
Apparently Gwendolyn Skaggs who’s the brainchild behind Sugar, likes to find unique ways to present the art she exhibits. In this case Guerra’s stretchers were propped up off the floor on small oak pedestals so that the works leaned against the wall. I liked the way that magnified the weighty mass of art.
A list of Guerra’s ingredients:
Canvas, acrylic, urethane, glass beads, tire rubber, interference and magic effect pigments, pigment dispersions.

Katherine Powers, Schmatte at Store Front.
schmatte (from the Polish szmata):
a Yiddish word meaning rag, old garment, an item of clothing in fashion and clothing-industry slang.
http://kbpowers.com/
http://storefrontbushwick.com/2013/04/patrick-berran-and-jack-henry-schmatte/

The clever moniker for Storefront’s backroom project space belies a marvelous radiance of freshness that emanates from Power’s light and airy collage. The plethora of interpretive references range from Rorschach-like symmetry, to a banner deconstruction of late Matisse cut outs. Actually assembled in 8 different plastic envelopes, this collage within 8 collages still unifies gracefully into an elusive totality not unlike the way clouds morph in the minds eye.
This is what Bushwick should be all about, giving credence to the finest of art that might otherwise remain unseen in a preoccupied art world that all to often lets unspoiled beauty go unnoticed.

Katherine Powers

  

Phillip Taffe, Recent Work Luhring Augustine

http://www.luhringaugustine.com/exhibitions/philip-taaffe


The temptation with Taffe is to surrender to his beguiling charms, and who wouldn’t succumb? Entering into this artist’s rarified realms is like a mission quest to view the original picture.  The canvas is his archetypal Garden of Eden populated by fanciful (and fancy) marks that hearken back to an archeological sensation, while providing a beatific abstract sheen.
Fortunately Taffe doesn’t take it for granted that his sinfully delicious mastery of decorative painting shouldn’t be challenged.  If you can get around Taffe’s insistent need to keep things clean and tidy, there is a prodigious level of compositional insight and suave integrity that saturates his picture plane.
One of the more bold pieces in the show, “Sardica II”, must have taken some intestinal fortitude to paint and exhibit. This is not a pliant picture; the twisted configurations that summon up supple serpentine tripe, writhe disconcertingly, while their molten core could melt down any minute. Yet the figure/ground relationship also refers to tapestry, and this daring magic carpet ride ends up rewarding the viewer who goes along for the trip.

Sardica II, 2013
Mixed media on canvas
55 1/2 X 80 inches

A standard take on Taffe is that he reinvents historical scripts and calligraphy by blending background washes with precision draftsmanship to achieve a flat field graphic interface. 
But when he relaxes his technical prowess a less inhibited flourish can be employed, as seen to wonderful effect in “Imaginary Landscape I”
This is my favorite artwork in the show, served up as an exquisitely loose concoction of instinctual biological forms. Diaphanous creatures from under the psyche/sea hover about, crowded together in a thoroughly random jumble. Possibly we are viewing their detailed nuance under a microscope, their origins obscured by a mist of dilute pigment that serves as an ethereal suspension.  

Imaginary Landscape I, 2013
Mixed media on canvas
37 1/2 x 37 5/8 inches

John Yau's comments in his essay on Hyperallergic suggest that Taffe’s work connects to a “tribal” imperative. Certainly Taffe’s informed references to cross cultural sources rooted in ancient language and symbols may conjure up associations to indigenous groups and spiritual practice, but I don’t think tribal fits here, at least in the sense of a communal dialogue.
Appealing to a truly tribal instinct would seem to impel a more urgent, rigorous pulsation and collective reverberation of primal ritual than we see in Taffe’s deliberate and entirely civil sensibility.
The artist tends to work on an immediate, schematic level of perceptual sight lines, so despite a labor-intensive process his intricate, stenciled motif can invoke “pretty” more than substantive. Inevitably my opinionated eye is lead toward floral arrangements and wallpaper.
The work could also be seen as succinct to a fault, and risk averse. There is little room for trial and error when employing such tight mark making. Then his pension for design can gift-wrap the visual delivery, and in a contemporary context may refer back to pattern painting in a predictable manner.
Ultimately though, this work contains an essential vitality that redeems his meticulous approach, celebrating painting as formal craft. Even if you might prefer representational imagery, or a more expressive gesture, Taffe has worked hard to earn your respect, and I believe he deserves it.

Imaginary Garden with Seed Clusters, 2013
Mixed media on canvas
97 7/8 x 61 7/8 inches 

Judith Simonian, Recent Work at Ed Thorpe

http://www.edwardthorpgallery.com/artists/sim/simonian_images.html
http://www.judithsimonian.com/index.html

I was glad to see Simonian’s casually attired paintings on display in Chelsea. Their relaxed fit suited my eye nicely after the formal rigor of Mr Taffe’s well coiffed wardrobe, and the general slick-a-tude of most big money galleries in the area.
Not that Simonian is fashion conscious; au contraire, her art originates from workman-like diligence, and dedication to her painterly identity. But the show is a departure from earlier work that focused on looser picture plane architecture.
This exhibit features compositions venturing into more ambitious territory including theatrical, and still life elements that combine less strictly representational schemes with a dream-like narrative.
These paintings seem like a natural extension of what the artist has witnessed, filtered through various sensations of mood and atmosphere, finally emerging as a quasi-fictional scenario.  
 

Judith Simonian, 2013, Extreme Ikebana, Acrylic on canvas, 64h x 84w in.

  Perhaps not particularly cognitively acute in their conceptual origins, the work relies primarily on a keen sense of time and place, coupled with an astute comprehension of pictorial texture. This is the artist’s strong suit; letting her native abilities coalesce into well-construed images that succeed on their own terms, wavering between the here and now, and less defined stratifications.
My favorite paintings in the show were the still-life pieces in the last room that got right to the point of what the joy of picture making is all about. Slippery fish glisten on layers of softly undulating tints of thinly applied pigment, slathered on with a deft touch. Convincing volumetric fleshiness provides a dead fish with a fresh nod to Chardin’s forte.

Judith Simonian, 2012, Big Catch Acrylic on canvas, 44h x 60w in.

But there is more to Simonian’s craft then just painting from lovely, though unprepossessing scenery. The larger scale canvases delve into a montage format that must have been tricky to paint, but Simonian manages to pull it off. This is a good example of how a mature painter with many years behind the brush can achieve a symbiosis of sorts. Although they might not be the most graceful of gestures, there is an engaging overall charisma resulting from a savvy grasp of painting fundamentals.
The montages use an effective picture-within-a-picture conceit, slippery dimensions of tight edged planes containing crisply painted ’scapes shuffle over a background of more diaphanous regions inhabited by less defined relationships. This contrast of context and content sets up a nice tension that could relate to moments theatrical or filmic drama. 

Judith Simonian, 2010, Sperlonga in Norway, Acrylic on canvas, 54h x 46w in.

Dream imagery also enters into the equation, not so much on a psychological level as much as sensory. Since dreams are the most primal creative act, a less literal narrative in the artist’s work lends an authentic feel to the ample interpretative possibilities found herein relating to non-waking inspiration.

Judith Simonian, 2013, Blue Feast, Acrylic on canvas, 61h x 72w in.

Simonian epitomizes the “painters painter” ethos, working for her own edification more than a market. Of course, we all aspire to exhibit in a space as beautiful as what Ed Thorpe provides, and we also hope to sell enough work to establish a niche.
But I’d imagine the most important reward for this artist and others lucky enough to have found a way to make art all their lives, is to continue the marvelous adventure any way we can.

Little Willie John - I'm Shakin & The Blasters perform Little Willie John's classic, "I'm Shakin" live, 1981

 Prepare to shake!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1Y5aCt5uwY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hB2kogSjyQU

George Bellows

Metropolitan Museum Art

Bellows’ all too short life span of 42 years was fortunately, put to good use. What must have been a gruesome death from a “neglected” attack of appendicitis, abruptly ended his workman-like output at the pinnacle of a prodigious career.
His early mentor Robert Henri provided impetus to become immersed in street life and find inspiration where least expected. In fact, the moniker “Ashcan School” was apparently based on a derogatory observation by a fellow artist commenting on a supposed scene in one of Bellows paintings of trash pickers.
He was painter’s painter, an athletic (he could have become a pro baseball player) and aesthetic prodigy whose art for the most part sustained a lean, yet lushly representational physique.
His early New York City-scapes offer youthful enthusiasm and energetic grit, and are some of his most unencumbered work, raw, yet highly perceptive and well composed. These everyday scenes of street life gain heightened sensation and portend dramatic implications.
The steamy confines of mid summer heat are felt as much as seen in compositions such as “Noon” and “42 Kids”.

   Noon
  March, 1908
  22in x 28in  

In particular the stark architecture of “Noon” prefigures Franz Kline, while “42 Kids” evokes a Dickens-sonian sense of oppressed humanity striving for release.   

42 Kids
August, 1907  42in x 60in

Although Bellows never visited Europe (I can only imagine what revelations a trip to Italy would have provided had he lived long enough to go) he studied the European masters intently. 
Early portraits such has “Paddy Flannigan” and “Frankie The Organ Boy” channel charged up, Caravaggio-esque distortions, subtly contorting the figurative gesture, as riveting stares emanate from jet black onyx eyes fixated with a pensive, animalistic tension.

Paddy Flannigan
  October, 1908
 30 1/4in x 25in 

 Frankie the Organ Boy
 July, 1907
48in x 34 1/4in

“Stag At Sharkey’s” has become a seminal piece of Americana, right up there with American Gothic, Whistler’s Mother, and Nighthawks. This theater of violent gesture and compacted action, personifies a roguish narrative intrinsic to the early 20th century identity of brutally exuberant, and rugged Yankee individualism. The spectacle of pugnacious ballet seen in “Club Night”, confronts us with a tight configuration of pugilists, muscular and torqued, battling as rutting stags might do in combat.

Stag at Sharkey's
 August, 1909
 36 1/4in x 48 1/4in 

Club Night
 August, 1907
 43in x 53in   

The epitome of Bellows cityscapes come to fruition in the excavation scenes centered around the construction of Penn Station. Set at dusk (or dawn?) they establish an enthralling semiotic structure. In “Pennsylvania Station Excavation” streaks of white-ish yellow cloud stain a cerulean washed sky, backlighting a darkened architectural massif.
The mid ground stage set is encrusted with snow; a speck of fire centers the compositional focus, while steam “bellows” from heavy machinery. This expansive spatial volume is littered with curious details invoking a Bruegalian winter tale. The implications for a dramatic storyline are brought together by a saturated chromatic eloquence; Shakespeare could have set a scene here.
Bellows manages to succinctly transcend the literal narrative by immersing his painting in a lusciously earthed, yet ethereal atmosphere. This is one of the most difficult of maneuvers in painting; to represent the intimate fluidly fleeting moment, while embracing a formal, structured resolution of enduring stature. 

  Pennsylvania Station Excavation
1909
31 1/4in x 38 1/4in  

 Excavation at Night
 December, 1908
34in x 44in 

Bellows did at times, seem infatuated by bucolic fantasies of the bourgeoisie gathering in city parks that fawn over gaily attired swells. This kind of ode to upper crust recreation was better left to Seurat.  
His later portraiture tended to lapse into a conventional “day job” look that may have been the result of commission-itis.  
I also found some of his daytime river scenes over illuminated, flattened out, and fixated on technically obtuse principles of perspective that distracted from, and denuded his natural tendencies toward a freer hand in his draftsmanship. 
Generally I think his darker palette worked more effectively, encouraging more expressive flair.
Although the anti war series of large paintings may at first come off as stiff, they gain credibility has eloquent propaganda posters. Heartfelt and compelling, for political art they sustain an authentic, if static, emotional outrage. 

The Barricade
October, 1918
49 1/8in x 83 1/4in 

Bellows true crowning achievement in landscape painting comes to the fore in Maine. The surf scenes from 1913-1914 are the epitome of their ilk. Rooted in Van Gogh and Courbet, they extend into a viscous notion of frothing sea; a deeply glowing gelatinous ocean from which all painterly instinct emerges.
Bellows total mastery of the seascape is apparent in “Churn & Break”. Crashing cobalt pale green waves illuminated by a steak of sun infused fog, subsume a rocky mass saturated by misty wind blown plumes of surf. Their graceful turmoil becomes an elementally elegant metaphor for the psychic interaction of creative intuition and perceptual awareness.    
While nature serves as the medium for these action paintings frozen in time, Bellows sweeping gestures of grandeur are drenched in pigment that becomes indistinguishable from the picture plane’s barometric flux.    

Churn and Break
October, 1913
Panel
18in x 22in

Monhegan Island, Maine
1913
Panel
18in x 22in

The late landscapes make me pine for what may have come next. Prosaically ornate, they become almost allegorical meditations on country life. Although Bellows reaches the height of his powers as draftsman, these works suggest an unprepossessing manner, similar to the way outsider art can turn a landscape into a muse about time and place without didactic intent.

Lombardy Poplar, House & Mountain (Spring Hills)
 October, 1920
18in x 22in 

There may be aspects to Bellows career that seem anachronistic. Europe was bursting with creative innovation, and abstract art was careening around the corner. Staid realists from the American academy could be viewed askance, backwater bumpkins without much flair.
In the final analysis, perhaps Bellows was a 19th century painter at heart, but there is no doubt that he was also the culmination of a grand tradition. The last gasp really, before the dawn of a new era of non-representational art that would reject the long, tedious road to mastering the craft of representational pictorial supremacy.