Archive | June, 2011

Art of the Book @ Cantor Art Center & SVMA

Art of the Book @ Cantor Art Center & SVMA

Moving Parts Press, "Codex Espanglinesis from Columbus to the Border Patrol", 1998

 

If you’ve grown accustomed to designing books or brochures or even birthday cards on a PC, you may not fully appreciate the fact that typography and book design were once the province of skilled tradesmen (and women) who wielded industrial hand tools with a pride of purpose that today has practically vanished. For a reminder of what limited-edition fine press publishing looked like in the pre-digital age, The Art of the Book in California: Five Contemporary Presses offers a lively, literary display of book objects – one whose artistry, while not entirely grounded in the realm of fine art, is hardly extinguished or forgotten. Ranging from the downright funny to the poetic, the 50 books on view have a sensual appeal that comes primarily from the sculptural heft imparted by digital design’s progenitor: hand-composed metal type. In an era when the printed word faces extinction, this show feels like an appropriate bit of advocacy in favor of the “book beautiful” in which text comes first. The exhibition is drawn entirely from the extraordinary holdings on art of the book in the Department of Special Collections at Stanford Libraries. It is organized by Guest Curator Peter Rutledge Koch in collaboration with Special Collection’s Roberto Trujillo and the Cantor’s Alison Roth.   In addition, the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art offers a concurrent show of original book art, Rebound, about which I’ll say more later. 

Foolscap Press, "Herakles and Eurystheusian 12-Step Program", 2009
The Cantor exhibition opens with large walls, resembling open books containing images of the printer/proprietors (Foolscap Press, Moving Parts Press, Ninja Press, Turkey Press, and Peter Koch Printer) in their studios. While their outputs differ substantially, their books all demonstrate typographic sophistication, sensitive selection of materials, artistic bindings, intriguing and cohesive design concepts and an acute awareness of printing traditions. But unlike most art museum exhibitions devoted to this subject, which concentrate on one of three areas – livres de peintres (or painters’ books), “book objects” or the landmark books of literary private presses – this show focuses primarily (but not exclusively) on typography while incorporating elements from other traditions. 
 
To put the hybrid nature of these works in perspective, it helps to know a little about their history. In Paris in the early 20th century, livres de peintres emerged as the most important development in the art of the book. In these works, distinguished painters and sculptors illustrated luxuriously produced editions of fine prints for an elite group of collectors. Unfettered by technical demands of printing, or the need to create graphic paraphrases for celebrated texts, artists like Henri Matisse helped forge an unparalleled freedom of expression on the page. (In the Bay Area, Arion Press continues that tradition with books that include illustrations by the likes of Jim Dine, Richard Diebenkorn and Robert Motherwell.)
 
Moving Parts Press, "Documentado/Undocumentado (Relia Box)", work in progress. Courtesy of Felicia Rice
A second genre is the “book object” consisting of avant-garde books or artists’ books. Initially they were constructed, deconstructed, mutilated or expanded into sculpture— or machine printed with cheap materials for larger audiences to question the very nature of the book. Primary vehicles during the Dada era for anti-art expressions, such books, from the 1960s to the present, have functioned as alternate modes of expression for artists with an interest in sequences. (The book, like film, is a time-based media.)
 
A third genre, “landmark books,” for want of another name, offers windows into different cultural eras from the time of Gutenberg forward. The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer (1561), published by William Morris’ Kelmscott Press, is a prime example, and it’s now on view in a concurrent show (Illustrated Title Pages: 1500-1900) also at the Cantor Art Center through October 16.  A scholar of medieval bookmaking and the founder of the Arts and Crafts movement in 19th century England, Morris envisioned an alternative to mass-produced goods of the Industrial Revolution in the “book beautiful.” He revived the hand-press technology and typographical style of the 15th century in books characterized by unified design, handmade papers, pristine clarity and elegant typography.
 
Turkey Press, "The Standard", 1977
The books in Five Contemporary Presses build on these traditions but at the same time expand upon them with the use of digital tools. Books by Carolee Campbell, founder of Ninja Press, are clearly some of this show’s highlights. Perhaps known more widely for her role in the TV soap opera, The Doctors, Campbell, like other printers in the exhibition, designs and prints all her books. Yet she is the only one to exclusively use handset metal type. The results are unique because her work extends into bookbinding, photography, and conceptual organization. In one of her book’s bindings, The Architextures1-7: "The Man of Music, she torched and patinated thin sheets of brass to encourage a variety of colors to bloom; equally eye-catching is her own photography, seen in the cyanotypes of languorous nudes in XXIV Short Love Poems (2002). Campbell’s 1995 book The Real World of Manuel Córdova, is housed in an accordion-style binding that may be unfolded and read in hand, stanza by stanza, or opened entirely to reveal all 43, 14-line stanzas. Fully extended, the book is a 15- foot river of a page. When placed in its paper enclosure, it reveals a reproduction of the 1665 map drawn by Athanasius Kircher, which first charted the world’s ocean currents. The book’s text, a poem by W.S. Merwin, relays the true story of a Peruvian who was abducted by Amazonian tribes and became a Shamanic healer. A hand-tinted rivulet meanders down the page, as a symbol to enhance the serpentine format of Merwin’s poem on Japanese persimmon paper. Open the book and it emits a sound to match: that of a cascading river, according to Koch, the guest curator.
 
Peter Koch Printers, "The Lost Journals of Sacajawea", 2010
Foolscap Press’ book Direction of the Road (2007) also appeals to the senses.Turn the book’s letterpress-printed “leaves” of Saint Armand paper, and out comes a rustling sound. The text, by Urusula K. Le Guin, reveals a story narrated from an oak tree’s viewpoint. The transparency of the paper on which it’s printed lends a ghostly illusion of leaves falling in the periphery of the text. It’s accompanied by Aaron Johnson’s woodcut, a distorted anamorphic image, which plays havoc with perspective and point of view. When his abstract swirl of a print is reflected onto a standing cylindrical mirror, the new perspective reveals a tree. The purpose of the book, according to Foolscap proprietors Lawrence G. Van Velzer and Peggy Gotthold, is to give readers time to reflect on their surroundings, which we indeed, do.
 
Velzer and Gotthold are both experienced puppeteers, and they include with their book, Herakles and the Eurystheusian Twelve-Step Program (2009), a video performance of their shadow puppets. In it, they recast the Greek myth of Hercules as a strongman dealing with anger management issues. Other Worlds: Journey to the Moon (2004) opens to an image of the moon engraved by Claude Mellan and includes a 17th century text by Cyrano de Bergerac that describes an imaginary flight written to resolve a dispute about the moon’s nature. It also includes etchings by Leslie Lerner depicting a surreal odyssey of the artist’s alter ego. Lerner’s narrative appears in his own series, My Life in France, and its parallel placement in Other Worlds functions as a dislocation to de Bergerac’s text.
 
Foolscap Press, "Other Worlds: Journey to the Moon, 2004
Dislocation also figures prominently in Codex Espangliensis: from Columbus to the Border Patrol (1998), a collaborative work by book artist Felicia Rice, artist Enrique Chagoya and writer/performance artist Guillermo Gómez-Peña.  Published by Rice’s Santa Cruz-based Moving Parts Press, it features Chagoya’s now-familiar cast of comic superheroes colliding with Colonial-era representations of New World natives, the Virgin of Guadalupe and other cultural and religious icons from both sides of the border. These fire-and-brimstone visual rants aim to subvert ethnocentric views towards Mexican Americans that affect policy-making.  It is the third book by in a series that establishes Chicano literature as a major inquiry for Rice’s press. She manages the MFA program in Digital Arts and New Media at UC Santa Cruz and likens the book’s structure to a living body. Type forms the “ligaments and musculature”. Its “skeletal structure” derives from Chagoya’s imagery, and a “living membrane”, with variations in text and color, was created with uneven fibers of handmade Mexican Amate paper and thin tissue. For Rice, the result is a “deeply embossed, richly textured surface that combines the conceptual and theoretical, the political and personal in a cohesive work that transcends its components.” 
Ninja Press, "Burn Down the Zendo", 2004

Documentado/Undocumented, a related collaboration with writer and performance artist Guillermo Gómez-Peña, is an accordion-folded, codex book with a text accompanied by a performance DVD. It includes contributions by filmmaker Gustavo Vasquez and art critic Jennifer Gonzalez, with soundscapes by Zachary Watkins. All of these elements are contained an aluminum trunk, a cabinet of curiosities lined with bright green feathers that also houses ritual objects, an altar, and Mexican wrestling masks.

Another unorthodox housing can be found in Sandra Liddell Reese’s book for Turkey Press, The Standard, (1997). It’s a portfolio box resembling a fake gold brick whose title refers to an enclosed poemwritten by her husband and partner Harry Reese.  To the box, Ms. Reese added an all-too-real Victor-brand rat trap, which along with hidden smelly, recycled materials and a concealed chunk of lead — inserted to simulate the weight of gold – functions as an apt metaphor for an infested political and financial culture.  Harry Reese, a professor of art, who directs the Book Arts program at UC Santa Barbara, has created lyrical monotypes for other Turkey Press books.  But he turned to digital processes to create the illusion that Philip K. Dick’s novel, The Man in the High Castle, is embedded within another book, the I Ching, which three of Dick’s characters use to guide their lives.  Among the other noteworthy Turkey Press books is RE (1994), by Kiki Smith, produced for the University Art Museum, UC Santa Barbara.  The text is derived from a translation of an Egyptian cosmology and printed on a delicate, transparent paper surrounded by repeated printed portraits and a sculptural skirt of Gampi silk tissue “It’s about repetition versus uniqueness,” says the artist. “Prints mimic what we are as humans: we are all the same and yet everyone is different.”
 
Ninja Press, XXIV, Short Love Poems, 2002
Repetition is used for its pictorial quality to fill a page in three Dada-like book objects by Peter Koch, who repeats a litany of “wordswords”.  The words, or swords, fill the page as a concrete poem spurred on by his own “temporary loss of faith in the word.” Elsewhere, in Diogenes: Defictions, he created a forgery of a hypothetical object discovered by an archaeologist.  As conceptually intriguing as these contemporary book artifacts are, it is Koch’s classic typography that shines in Point Lobos, 1987.  This portfolio of 15 poems by Robinson Jeffers, encased in black walnut, is a landmark in California printing. It demonstrates “allusive typography,” or typographical design alluding to the subject or historical period of a book. Koch’s typefonts date to the period that the poet Jeffers worked and all have an architectonic strength to match the book’s stark, high contrast photographs by Wolf von dem Bussche, representing the wind battered cypress and blackened bones of a place that Jeffers so revered.
 
Peter Koch Printers, "Diogenese Defictions (Detail)", 1994

Koch uses the term “photo-interventions” for his digital adaptations of historic images seen in The Lost Journals of Sacajewea, 2010. Sepia tinted, they suggest the ghostly distance of time and shadows of memory.  While Sacajewea’s name may be recognized due to the mythologizing lore of Western adventure, there is little known about this Native American woman, who traveled with the explorer team of Lewis and Clark in 1805.  Debra Magpie Earling, a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Reservation, who teaches at the University of Montana, lends both poetic voice and prophetic vision to Sacajewea as a pregnant seventeen year old traveling up the Missouri River.  The type is a digital variation selected by Koch for its “retrogressive old-style irregularity.” The binding, designed by Koch, is covered in smoked buffalo rawhide paper by  Amanda Degener and its spine contains trade beads and a small caliber cartridge case—all tactile symbols of encroachment on and the destruction of Native American lands.

Ninja Press, The Real World of Manuel Córdova. Courtesy Carolee Campbell

All five presses in The Art of the Book had their genesis in the book-arts renaissance that was primarily situated in the Bay Area during the 1970s; its history, as the catalogue demonstrates, is broad-based, ranging from letterpress printing in the Gold Rush to the latest digital advances. In Robert Bringhurst’s catalog essay, “What the Ink Sings to the Paper,” he cites a “watershed distinction between these five presses and the many that preceded them. Every printer in this show is deeply familiar with the meditative pleasures of handsetting metal type, but each has lived some decades in the digital age and felt the changes it is bringing.” They may veer into the genre of artists’ books, use digital processes, or expand the very nature of the book into performance and installation. At the same time, these versatile designer/printer/ proprietors use fine press techniques that lend unparalleled sensual appeal and clarity of design to their exquisite books.  It is a steadfast tradition documented by Special Col.  The hybrid books in The Art of the Book are fresh inflections of the “book beautiful” tradition that William Morris launched in reaction to the revolution of his own day: the Industrial Revolution. 

Rebound: A Survey of Contemporary California Artist’s Books @ Sonoma Valley Museum of  Art

Rebound is a potpourri of an exhibition with singular delights and unbound categories, ranging from fine press books with a hand-made appearance to one-of-a-kind book objects. In contrast to the Stanford exhibitions, most examples privilege the artist’s vision in their creation. The exhibition is a counterpoint to Sonoma’s concurrent traveling exhibition curated by Robert Flynn Johnson, Six Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm, by Britain’s great art star David Hockney. It focuses on the 39 etchings that accompanied a deluxe, limited edition of the fine press book of the same name published by Petersburg Press in 1970. In Hockney’s reach to evoke the dark magic of his first readings, he instilled a mood to placate any contemporary Goth. And there’s a bit of wit, too, to match the artist’s view that narratives of scary fairy tales are really quite outlandish. There is the enchantress, who is bit of a thorny old crone, and there is the man who tore himself apart, an unusual feat without a tweet. 

Dominic Di Mare, "Rendezvous", 2006, watercolor, ink, cutouts

 

In Rebound, first-time curator Simon Blattner has done well to include Hockney’s 1963 livre d’artiste entitled Rake’s Progress. Based, in part, on William Hogarth’s prints of the same title, it narrates intensely autobiographical events through Hockney’s quasi-primitive pop pictures as a cautionary tale without text. Other highlights include Chris Burden’s diaristic Coyote Stories (2005); Bettina Pauley’s sculptural book objects; Kali-fornia Dreamin (2006), by William Wiley with its 40 buttons printed by Magnolia Editions; and four unique artist books in pristine watercolor by Dominic Di Mare.

Di Mare’s Paris (2003), whose vellum-like pages evoke intricate, vertical stained glass windows, is a serial meditation in black and white on linear and geometric form.  In contrast, Rendezvous is far more spare.  Here a metamorphosis occurs in abstract figurative elements, which are meticulously formed by tiny dots. Di Mare’s books have an almost musical progression and in Trip (2006) there is an initial sweetness to the tempo that builds up to a crescendo.  Curator Simon Blattner offers a suggestion for viewing Di Mare’s books: “Muse to yourself how long this work might have taken to complete and how rigorous is the process. This could only have been done by and through the total concentration of an artist who knows that he can make time stand still.” Part of the enchantment of Di Mare’s books comes from the tiny geometric, peep holes that reveal enticing clues to the configurations on the next page.  An associated, multi-layered book object, Rendezvous (2010), reveals a similar kind of exquisite surgery.  The museum has mounted some books with second pages in view through their Plexiglas supports, a good solution to the age-old dilemma in presenting book exhibitions in which only one page is visible, and in the case of Di Mare’s books, we may test how true our expectations have been.  That desire to discover what is concealed is, in fact, part of the great intrigue of book exhibitions  

–SIGNE MAYFIELD

 

The Art of the Book in California: Five Contemporary Presses and Illustrated Title Pages: 1500-1900 @ Cantor Art Center through August 28, 2011

Rebound: A Survey of Contemporary California Artist’s Books and  Six Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm @ Sonoma Valley Museum of Art through August 28, 2011
 
About the Author
Independent Curator Signe Mayfield served as Curator at the Palo Alto Art Center from 1989 to 2011.  There, she mounted exhibitions featuring the art and collections of the San Francisco Bay Area, ranging from Nathan Oliveira: The Painter’s Bronzes to Windows to the Mind: Selected Books from Stanford Special Collections.

 

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Jim Melchert @ Gallery Paule Anglim

Jim Melchert @ Gallery Paule Anglim

"Misfits: 4-5-4", 2011, broken porcelain tile w/glaze and ink, 18 x 18 x 3/8"

Jim Melchert, one of the few ceramic sculptors who can be credibly called a conceptualist, demonstrates once again, the infinite possibilities for the shattered tile compositions he pioneered back in the ’80s. He makes them by drawing on porcelain squares, which he smashes and reassembles. The resulting wall-mounted compositions balance randomness and intent while illustrating, in the most literal way possible, the old “truth-to-materials” credo.  For Melchert, truth has to do with the nature of clay itself: you can smash hardened pieces to bits but no two will ever break alike. Clay’s essential variability – and unpredictability – is what guides his practice. 

Unlike his prior series, Phoenix Series III: Times and Places (2008 ), which opishly arrayed blue zebra stripes in a similar format, the 22 pieces in the current show, Misfits, are built on identical grids of circles shot-through with cracks. The cracks, which mirror geological fracturing, also mimic gestural line drawing. And while we know the difference, the association between the two lingers, sowing confusion about the true nature of the plastic activity. Melchert complicates this visual drama further by superimposing on the circles and crevasses biomorphic shapes drawn in ink and glaze; all are done in a palette of earth tones. The ink, which puddles and stains the underlying substrate, animates the forms, giving the tiles, which range in size from 18” x 18” to 24” x 24”, an impish, cartoon-like character.  

“Misfits: 3-3-3”, 2011, broken porcelain tile w/glaze and ink, 18” x 18” x 3/8”
In them we can see evidence of all the influences that have shaped Melchert during his 50-plus-year career: Cageian notions of chance, Minimalist ideas of repetition, the Abstract Expressionist allegiance to bodily gesture, and Far Eastern concepts of ego-less surrender and transcendence. As Melchert put it an article he wrote last year for Studio Potter: “Change comes about under all three Hindu gods of creation. Under Brahma it disturbs, but under Shiva it wreaks havoc long before things regain stability.” As for, Vishnu, he states, it’s all about “preserving and renewing.” In Misfits, Melchert unites these contradictory forces.
 
My only issue is with the installation. Where the artist previously amplified the power of his individual tiles by displaying them in grids, here he wraps them around walls in a solitary row, dispersing energy that could have been better harnessed in a more intimate setting or in a symbiotic aggregation.  No matter. Looking at this roomful of broken, reconstituted tile, I felt like I was privy to a Zen joke, and a very good one at that.
–DAVID M. ROTH 
 
Jim Melchert: “Misfits” @ Gallery Paule Anglim through July 16, 2011.
 
 
 
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Tony Berlant @ Brian Gross

Tony Berlant @ Brian Gross

“Lucky Shot”, 2011, 23 × 20”

For more than 50 years, the LA-based artist has transformed found and fabricated pieces of tin into “paintings” that seamlessly annex large tracts of art history while retaining a signature look: a crazy-quilt cut-up of snippets affixed to panels with small brads. In 2009, after a trip to Aix-en-Provence, Berlant added yet another dimension to an already complex technique: photography. Previously, the artist used tracings of photographs as visual guides for his compositions, but the photos themselves were never visible. They are now, and they compete for our attention, exponentially increasing the surface tension in pictures that are bolder, wackier, more abstract and spatially more complex than anything he’s shown to date.  

Using blurry, indistinct photographic swatches of landscape as grounds for his improvisations, Berlant has shed, at least for now, a defining feature of his oeuvre: a one dimensionality that is the unavoidable the byproduct of hammering tin onto wood. Where much of the action in Berlant’s work once resided on the surface, it’s now dispersed at varying depths, owing to differences in the size, shape and pictorial perspective of his source materials. His pictures are still collages.  But with their photographic backgrounds exposed, the painted tin that Berlant attaches to them seems to leap off the pictures as if extruded by an unseen force. The most memorable among them (Beside Myself, The High Spot, Some Other Place, Lucky Shot) evince a psychedelicized Post-Impressionist, Pop-inflected approach to abstraction. In the details of his pictures you can spot many familiar things – cars, airplanes, fish, flora and vestiges of commercial signage and packaging – but overall, the paintings look like nothing you’ve ever seen. Berlant remains, as always, sui generis.
 
Fast Forward”, 2011, 75 ½ × 32”
Running through several pieces is a strong current of Eastern mysticism.  In these long, vertical pictures whose shapes recall Chinese scroll paintings, Berlant, who knows a worthy found object when he sees it, employs a B&W photograph of his studio floor in three different guises. The most beguiling, Goddess, features that photo without any overlay of tin. We’ve heard of Christ on a tortilla and the Virgin Mary appearing on the sides of buildings. Well, in this blurry, photogram-like image, the same kind of Rorschach dynamic is in play. You can see warriors, temples, monsters and probably a lot of other things if you look hard enough. Alternately, in Fast Forward, Berlant partially overlays the image with dancing shapes to create a sort of animated Thangka painting. Tigertail, an allover painting, has white and gray pieces of tin completely obscuring the photo. The effect is akin to a snowy Asian landscape, except that there are no explicit references to topography, only shapes whose studded edges betray the artist’s hand and some faint tree-like imprints: machine-made artifacts of the process the artist uses to manufacture the raw material. 
 
When it comes to material invention, Berlant has always pushed the limits.  With these new works he raises the stakes on the game he invented. Piling up references to thousands of years of art history, from cave painting to Pop, they give back in direct proportion to what you, the viewer, give to them.
–DAVID M. ROTH
 
Tony Berlant: “New Works” @ Brian Gross Fine Art through July 1, 2011.
 

 

 

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Mark Emerson & Penny Olson @ JAYJAY

Mark Emerson & Penny Olson @ JAYJAY

Emerson: "Falling Down", 2010, polymer on canvas, 72 x 84"

Were he not so resolutely modernist in his approach to painting, Mark Emerson might be credibly linked to the Neo Geo clan. But the truth is that he is a formalist to the core whose influences run closer to early Frank Stella, Ellsworth Kelly and Bridget Riley than to, say, Jean Baudrillard, the French theorist who, in the ‘80s, pulled Peter Halley (and a lot of other people) onto the whole simulacrum bandwagon.  Significantly, Emerson was included in Neo-Mod, a traveling exhibition mounted by the Crocker Art Museum in 2004 that leaned heavily on design-influenced abstractionists to demonstrate how, among other things, mid-century styles persist.  Emerson’s innovation was to successfully fuse Op and Geometric Abstraction.

As such, his concerns are color, space, form, boundaries and rhythm – rhythm especially.  Since 1999, he’s included the word in the titles of six of his solo shows, and in this one, The Color of Rhythm, he dials up the tempos and the tonalities to a near-fever pitch.  Never mind that much of the art world considers geometric abstraction passé. Emerson’s been working this territory for many years, unfazed.  Early in the last decade, for example, he made trance-inducing color-field paintings built around shadowy, Op-ish lines that dissolved distinctions between foreground and background in ways that made your head buzz. (Think: Terry Riley’s In C.) These were followed by louder, more fragmented mash-ups of geometric patterns whose harsh juxtapositions recalled cinematic jump cuts, jarringly spliced, but never challenging the boundaries of the canvases. 
 
Emerson: "It’s Like This, 2010, polymer on canvas, 60 x 60"
The current works do.  In the three large canvases that dominate this show (Falling Down, Yeah, No Yeah and It’s Like This) you can see certain organizing devices at work – most notably oversized columns, squares and triangles — but they offer little guidance when it comes to navigating the labyrinthine spaces demarked by the endless subdivisions into which the artist parses these forms. Emerson begins each painting with a small sketch. These he translates to canvas by taping off segments and then rolling paint across the open spaces, occasionally distressing the surfaces with trowels and pieces of plastic that he pulls off the canvas while the paint is wet.  He repeats the process over and over, further subdividing each basic form until a geometry text’s worth of different shapes (rhomboids, parallelograms, trapezoids, polygons) fills the canvas. The result is an enticing visual chaos. Patterns emerge and then disappear. Paths appear fleetingly only to end abruptly. And pictorial depth, what little there is of it, comes from small color swatches that shine out as anchor points, beacons in a sea of interlocking and interpenetrating hard angles that run out to the edges of the canvas. This Cubist- and design-influenced game of thrust and parry makes for field paintings that appear to be overflowing their supports. 
 
In her minimalist photographs, Penny Olson presents something of a retro-modernist vision as well. The difference, however, has to do with her process. At first glance her pictures bring to mind color-saturated versions of Agnes Martin’s tightly drawn grids — or at least her unframed inkjet prints do; the ones Olson sandwiches between sheets of cast resin present a more luminous vision of the same source material, looking as if it had ripened in a Petri dish and then been set out in the sun. The actual sources for these images are straight digital photos of landscapes and flowers from which the artist extracts slivers measuring a scant 1 pixel x 1/240th of an inch. These she stacks vertically and horizontally to form grids that are, somewhat ironically, a bit like the plaid paintings Emerson made some years back.  
 
Olson: “00268h (sweet pea)”; “0113.6i (cerinthe)”; “0421.3f (PyramidCreek)”; “0232.6a (rose)”. All: 2011, archival pigment prints, dimensions approx 24 x 24 x 3/4”
 
That technology moves us both forward and backward is odd, but seems to be a fact of life. Almost from the time the photography was invented, artists, in an attempt to make mechanical reproduction appear painterly, have been altering their negatives every which way. And while digital photography has certainly made the task easier, the challenge of wresting meaning from fragments has never diminished.  A good example is Gerhard Richter’s monumental photo-based mural, Strontium, on view in the lobby of the de Young Museum.  Using deep sampling it attempts to depict the reality of atomic particles, but only succeeds in making it even more unfathomable. Olson, using a similar method, attempts to inject new meaning (and a similar sense of blurry wonderment) into digitally reconstructed photographs. She fills hers full of rich, nature-based associations that bridge the gap between high modernist practice and the fast-evolving digital future, one in which essences once described by carbon and water are now represented in bipolar terms: as ones and zeros.
–DAVID M. ROTH
# # #
 
Mark Emerson: “The Color of Rhythm” and Penny Olson: “Flowers and Water” @ JAYJAY through June 25, 2011.
Penny Olson’s photos are also on view at Chandra Cerrito Contemporary through July 23, 2011.
 
About the Author
David M. Roth is the editor and publishers of Squarecylinder.  He was previously a contributing editor to Artweek (1995-2009) and a regular contributor to Art Ltd.  A veteran journalist, and author of numerous catalog essays, his reporting on art and culture has appeared in American Craft, The Washington Post, National Geographic Traveler, Americas and Departures
 

 

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Tucker Nichols @ Gallery 16

Tucker Nichols @ Gallery 16

Untitled (bo1104), 201, enamel on chipboard, 15 x 11.5""

It is tempting to call Tucker Nichols’ work the product of an artful dodger, but there is nothing about his exhibition of drawings, paintings, collages and sculpture that dodges anything, even though a few of the 50 untitled works seem intended to look “dodgy” insofar as their material construction is concerned.  It is much better to say that his method (or better yet, his process) is squarely post-Kippenbergian, even though such a description sounds a bit crazy. For better or worse, the late Martin Kippenberger is the artist who has gained indisputable recognition for making a wide variety of seemingly unrelated kinds of work in an equally unrelated variety of styles, and that project seems to have put contemporary painting on its heels by calling the supposed need for a signature style into question. Now painters are as free as conceptual artists to execute works as parts of self-defined “projects,” and Nichols’ elaborate series of painterly projects sit squarely in this seemingly new mode of painterly operation.  His particular version of this kind of practice revolves around the making of forms that are simultaneously elegant, awkwardly humorous and deceptively simple. I’ll go even further and say that his work epitomizes the deceptively simple by slyly reinventing the very poetics of visual understatement in a moment when shrill and abundant plenitude characterize the burgeoning field of the visual arts.

At first pass, many of Nichols’ works appear to be unfinished attempts at making innocent renderings of everyday objects.  Look closer and you will see something else at play.  It is almost as if Nichols adopts one personality to start a given piece of work and then purposefully abandons both the personality and the work created by it so that a very different alter ego can come to the fore. That second personality is able to encounter the seemingly unfinished image as a found object, to which slight additions and or adjustments can be made to highlight a kind of absurd improbability.  Oftentimes, these adjustments take the forms of hand written words that seem related to everyday signage, as in a stretched banner that takes its title from Helevetica typography that spells out Standards of Excellence/ Kitchens of Style, or a smaller work on panel sporting the simply drawn phrase Roughly the Size of New Jersey. 

Untitled (mp1109), 2011, pencil on paper, 40 x 33.5”; Untitled (bo1113), 2011, flashe and pencil on paper, 18.5” x 14”

 

Other works are enlivened by the deft albeit understated use of spay paint in either metallic of florescent variation, sometimes applied to the sides rather than the faces of the panels that they use as supports.  And did I mention that most of the works are quite small?  Indeed, the vast majority of the works included in this exhibition are intimately scaled works on paper encased in modest frames that often times seem to have been recovered from thrift shops.  Others seem more stylish, but either way, they contribute to the works’ subtlety, which is to say that Nichols always manages to find a slightly off-center way of placing one of his slightly off-center drawings into a frame to create the tenuous and improbable balance that exerts so much subtle charm.  

Untitled (bu1109), 2011, spray paint and house paint on panel, 8 x 10 x 1.75”

One of Nichols’ favorite forms is a kind of gridded mesh that looks a bit like an empty fishnet that could have been drawn by Philip Guston.  These are usually executed as a set of intersecting black lines of ink, paint or charcoal, but they also seem quite casual, rather like half-conscious doodles that the artist discovers to be elegant calligraphy by a kind of happy accident. A good example is Untitled mp1109, executed on a fairly large sheet of clean white paper as if it were a schematic map of a cluster of suburban streets.  But look again and you will also see a study of proportional relationships worthy of Mondrian.  This visual double entendre is particularly evident in Untitled (mp1110) in which the artist uses spray paint and fluorescent color on a plywood panel to create a charming tension between common materials and sophisticated formal arrangements.

It is worth noting that several of the works in this exhibition are sculpture, usually made of stacks of improbable objects, such as a stone set atop a roll of florescent masking tape upon a small table.

These add an additional dimension to the overall exhibition, but I can’t help but see them as being a bit too close the work of David Ireland, another artist who specialized in making uncanny arrangements of simple objects.  And there is one large piece, which is a kind of mural made from digital enlargements of a small ink and watercolor work. It bespeaks a whole other way of working for Nichols, and although it asks him to sacrifice his elegant touch with water-based media on paper, it gives him a way of insinuating his work into public viewing spaces that might otherwise be indifferent to seductive visual intimacy.

–MARK VAN PROYEN

Tucker Nichols: “New Work” @ Gallery 16 through June 30, 2011.

About the Author
Mark Van Proyen is Chair of the Painting Department of the San Francisco Art Institute. He is a corresponding editor for Art in America, and his critical writings have appeared in many publications, including Art Criticism, Artweek and Art Issues.  He is currently working on a novel titled Theda’s Island, the story of which is set in the art world.

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Shahzia Sikander @ SFAI

Shahzia Sikander @ SFAI

"SpiNN", 2003, digital animation, 6 minutes 38 seconds

Shahzia Sikander has made her name in international art circles with drawings, watercolors and gouaches that derive their distinctive style and iconography from Indian and Persian miniatures. In these works and in her more recent digital animations, Sikander complicates the connection to historical sources by combining them with her own lived experience, largely shaped by Hindu and Muslim traditions. These core points of departure are then set in a provocative dialogue with contemporary Western culture.

In this age of uprisings in the Arab world and East-West tensions, Sikander’s art has deep resonance. Five captivating examples of her videos, complemented by some works on paper, are currently on exhibit at the San Francisco Art Institute, Walter and McBean Galleries.

Above all, Sikander aims to challenge boundaries and stereotypes imposed by gender, religion, time, and culture.  Having been born in Lahore, Pakistan (1969), educated in both her homeland (BFA, National College of Art, 1992) and the United States (MFA, Rhode Island School of Design, 1995), and now based in New York, she is in a prime position to probe beneath surfaces and destabilize categorizing attitudes. Her creativity has been duly recognized by the MacArthur Genius Award she received in 2006.

"Prolonged Exposure to Agitation", 2009, ink and gouache on prepared paper

Densely layered compositions, rooted in contrast and incongruity are the mainstays of Sikander’s art. It is a mode of layering, described by the artist as “the experience of space . . .[suggesting] a certain sense of meaning either manipulated or meaning being constructed.” Her layering also conveys a complexity rife with endless shifts in perception that call attention to difference even as it reveals similarities. On a deeper level, this complexity dismantles hierarchical assumptions and subverts the very notion of a singular, fixed identity or a simplistic reading of figures and forms. From this perspective, it bears witness to our ever-changing world, a global entity where nations and ethnicities interact and coalesce.

Prolonged Exposure to Agitation, a 2009 series (ink and gouache), includes a compelling work in which Sikander merges Persian miniature figuration with abstract formations having a biological semblance. The composition has two men facing each other, both squatting and smoking hookahs. The pipe tubes morph into flowing loops, reminiscent of the calligraphic swirls in Brice Marden’s paintings. But here the transparent red color of the linear network evokes an association with blood vessels. Sikander’s layering is amplified in her depiction of the terminal points of the tubes. They variously appear as the shaft and bowl at the end of a hookah; a puff of smoke; a French horn (a recurring motif in Sikander’s art); and a diagrammatic cross-section of a blood vessel. The cloud-like imagery surrounding the tubes can also be viewed diversely as pictorial abstractions, vaporous emissions from the pipe, and cell clusters—which, like the imagery Sikander has drawn, are thin-walled forms, compactly arranged with no intercellular spaces. Although anatomical affinities were not common in Sikander’s early iconography, they emerge in 2009 after she guest-curated an exhibition using objects from the permanent collection at the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum in New York City. The display included a German medical text with multilayered illustrations of the human anatomy.

"The Last Post", 2010, HD Video animation still
 

Also significant in the hookah painting is the skin color of the two men. Their facial profiles and postures reference men in Indian and Persian miniatures whose flesh is a brownish hue. Yet here, the bodies are a composite of rose, light and dark brown, olive, and black tones. The lack of a single, distinct skin color gives them a multiracial demeanor, a union that defies specificity. Added to this is the diaphanous white covering that envelopes the men’s legs. On the one hand, it has the likeness of the baggy, white pants of Arab tradition. On the other hand, it veers toward a socio-political context in which white, as a racial identity, is shown to encroach upon and/or provide protection for other races and cultures.

In Gossamer, a captivating video made in collaboration with the musician Du Yun (2010), Sikander vivifies issues of culture and identity. This work features the composer Du Yun performing in dual roles, as an Asian dancer wearing a bright red, kimono blouse and as an Americanized pop diva in gaudy, eccentric dress. At first, the focus is on the woman signified as Asian, who dances in very slow, seductive motion with exaggerated gestures. She stands in isolation before a black background, though we see her close-up and from various perspectives as the camera zooms in and circles around her. The next segment juxtaposes East and West by adding, in split-screen format, a hip-hop dancer who moves with sexy wiggles and shakes. Despite differences in their dance styles and cultural identities, the two representations are demonstratively sensual. Differences blur as commonality becomes apparent.

"The Last Post", 2010, HD video animation still

As the video progresses, the two women—actually the same person in two guises—appear separately and side-by-side. In one instance, they perform erratically, their bodies shown in off-balance, awkward, jagged positions as if they had fallen from grace. In another, they switch dance modes such that a hybrid of stereotypes emerges. By the end of the video, a dialogue between polarities is asserted as preconceptions are upended. However, the adoption of foreign cultural manifestations and the concomitant loss of one’s own identity can also be viewed as an indication of the uprooted existence experienced by expatriates and the dispossessed.  As revealed here and in most other works by Sikander, layered compositions, premised on ingrained and imposed characterizations, raise awareness of the complexities and possibilities of life in a world where individualizing identities co-exist, mutate and combine.

–SIDRA STICH

Shahazia Sikander: “The Exploding Company Man and Other Abstractions” @ San Francisco Art Institute, Walter and McBean Galleries through June 25, 2011.

Photos: Courtesy of the artist and Sikkema Jenkins& Co., New York.

About the Author

Sidra Stich received her PhD in art history from UC Berkeley She has been a university professor, Chief Curator at the Berkeley Art Museum, Distinguished Scholar at the Smithsonian Institution, Fellow at the Research Institute of the National Gallery, and Fellow at the American Academy in Berlin.  In addition to exhibition catalogue, she has written guidebooks on contemporary art and architecture in France, Britain & Ireland, London, Northern Italy, Paris, Spain, and San Francisco.  

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