Tag Archive | "Rena Bransten"

Linda Geary @ Rena Bransten

Tags: , ,

Linda Geary @ Rena Bransten


"Camouflage", 2010, oil on canvas, 90 x 80"

In the Bay Area, you’d be hard-pressed to find a more exuberant, more imaginative painter than Linda Geary. Using oil, watercolor and spray paint, Geary, over the past decade, has charted new frontiers in biomorphic abstraction. Her trademark has been boldly colored compositions built from looping, electrically charged lines set against pale washes festooned with confetti-and graffiti-like markings. At the root of her work is an obsession with collage, one of the compositional techniques on which Modernism was built, and whose persistence affirms the essential non-linear flow of human consciousness.  

Geary has always gone with that flow, and in that regard she operates in the same rarified space as Thomas Nozkowski, Joanne Greenbaum and Charline Von Heyl.
 
In the current show, Inside Out, the volatile shapes and lines that characterized her work in the past have now been tempered by the challenges the artist has newly set for herself: namely, making large-scale paintings from small collages. Geary, I should point out has not, at least until now, ever made actual collages; her specialty has always been the illusion of collage. This she achieves by painting patterns into taped-off segments whose hard edges replicate the effect of something extraneous affixed to the canvas. These elements, which in the past were often graphic or organic in nature, continue to be superimposed atop watery grounds punctuated by blasts of spray paint. Thus, part of the appeal of Geary’s paintings rests on the perceptual conundrum: are they or aren’t they collages?
 
"Adrenaline", 2010, oil on canvas, 60 x 48"
Now, for the first time, Geary is actually building them. The component parts come from discarded works on paper that she re-assembles at a small scale. These she uses as models for large-scale paintings, created with the same faux-collage technique as before. But there’s a twist: Several of the models are accompanied by “palette paintings”. Separate works on panels, they look at first like little more than color keys for the finished products, but when paired, as they are, against the collages they feel like small epiphanies.
 
In the four large canvases that are the show’s main event, bold, irregular geometric forms painted in bright and sometimes subdued colors bump up against each other at obtuse angles. They do so tentatively, like friendly combatants testing each other’s mettle. These intersecting and overlapping islands of color are tethered in space by pale rivulets, echoing Geary’s earlier works. But now, color dominates so fully that it’s tempting to say she has broken new ground. Geary has always been a spectacular colorist, but in works like Adrenaline, where she moves shades of red through a dozen or so modulations, and Camouflage, where mauve gets a similar workout, color really does become content – especially when offset by jarring juxtapositions of brilliant blue, which in this series is a reoccurring motif.
 
Collages #10, #45, #55, 2010, all 15 x 11"
 
If nothing else, the pictures in this show carry more psychological weight than what came before. Their crude, yet highly sophisticated geometries, unlikely color combinations and varying degrees of opacity seem to open more pictorial space, while at the same time emptying the pictures of the whimsy that once seemed to dominate. Geary’s not operating any less intuitively or any less spontaneously; it’s simply that her work seems to have assumed greater gravity.  File this show under: not-to-be-missed.
 
–DAVID M. ROTH
 
Linda Geary, Inside Out @ Rena Bransten Gallery through Dec. 4, 2010.

 

 

Posted in ReviewsComments (1)

Henry Wessel @ SFMOMA & Rena Bransten

Tags: , , , ,

Henry Wessel @ SFMOMA & Rena Bransten


“San Francisco”, 1973, vintage gelatin silver print, 12 x 7 7/8 inches

When the New Topographics exhibition appeared at the George Eastman House in 1975, it did not feel like a history-making event.  Ranging from bland to butt-ugly, the 168 images that comprised the show seemed destined for obscurity or worse.  That it upended the prevailing notions of fine art photography ranks as one of the greater ironies of art history, since few people saw the original show and even fewer saw its limited-run catalog.  Socially engaged photographers got it immediately.  Eager to engage with the actual circumstances of American life (as opposed to gilding its fading myths), they joined with a group of curators who wanted photography to be taken seriously as fine art.  The shift wasn’t sudden.  But the differences between old and new – when they came to light – couldn’t have been sharper.

Before New Topographics, American landscape photography meant Ansel Adams and the f/64 group.  After New Topographics, idealized visions of Half Dome and the California coast gave way to images of subdivisions, industrial parks, parking lots, strip malls, telephone wires, mobile home parks and factories. These the New Topographics artists rendered in a point-blank, documentary style so lacking in affect or subjectivity you could easily have mistaken their typological studies for the work of camera-wielding robots.  Walking through the re-creation of this show that is now on view at SFMOMA, it seems as if the photographers were challenging each other to see who could make the dullest, most abject pictures.

“Point Richmond, 1974”, vintage gelatin silver print

That their anti-aesthetic so completely dominates landscape photography today speaks to the triumph of banality, both in life and in art.  As Ed Rusha put it in 1972, in a remark that forecast photography’s role in postmodernist thinking, “Sometimes the ugliest things have the most potential.”  If that sounds like a grim assessment, take heart.  Of the nine photographers who appeared in the original show there was a dissenting voice.  It belonged to Henry Wessel.  Where his cohorts (Robert Adams, Baltz, the Bechers, Joe Deal, Frank Gohlke, Nicholas Nixon, John Schott and Stephen Shore) avoided interpretive acts that could be construed as demonstrating a subjective viewpoint, Wessel seemed to be tipping his hand at every turn.

Seven works in the SFMOMA exhibition and 12 prints in a concurrent show at the Rena Bransten Gallery demonstrate that Wessel could make bland pictures with the best of them; but his real forte was creating images that demonstrated a highly cultivated sense of the absurd; mixing the high irony of Walker Evans with the street-wise alacrity of Cartier Bresson.

 “Coronado, CA, 1976”, vintage gelatin silver print, 16 ¾ x 20 ½"; “East Bay, 1978”, vintage gelatin silver print, 10 1/2 x 15 1/2"

 

As such, his photos greet you with a nod and a wink. Albany, California (1973), a night shot of a tract house, parodies real estate photography, treating the home as if it were a celebrity, caught unaware by paparazzi.  In Tuscon (1974), tall weeds appear well on their way to consuming a house.  You can almost hear the photographer in the background shouting , “Score one for nature!” The ticky-tacky bungalow cantilevered into a hillside in Point Richmond, California (1974) feels like an optical trick.  It’s not, but you could take it as such if you didn’t know Bay Area topography.  New Mexico, with its minimalist rock garden and denuded tree, mocks the notion of a desert garden, while Las Vegas, a strip mall fronted by a sculpted figure balanced on a fingertip offers a precarious visual metaphor for unsustainable development.

“Las Vegas, 1973”, vintage gelatin silver print

Contrary to its title, New Topographics wasn’t about topography; it was about the “built environment”. Logically, such pictures should have included people since the environments pictured are man-made, but for the most part they don’t.  The sole exceptions are a few images from Stephen Shore.

Here again, Wessel broke with convention.  In the works on view at Rena Bransten, all from roughly the same period as the NP photos – the mid 1970s — we see a pictorial sensibility that had more in common with the previous decade’s street photographers than with the NP photographers.  Peopled or not, they beg more questions than they answer.  What, for example, is the man in a suit (who bears an uncanny resemblance to LBJ) doing on the beach at Crissy Field?  What is an airplane engine doing next to a swimming pool in Tuscon, Arizona, 1977?  And why is the house in San Francisco, 1972 enclosed in a cage, as if the inhabitants were lions in a zoo?  The “built environment” for Wessel was an alien place.

“San Francisco, 1972”, vintage gelatin silver print, 8 x 11 7/8 inches

No doubt, other NP photographers felt this, too.  But what they failed to express — and what Wessel showed in abundance — was humor.  His photo of a man walking on Coronado Beach makes the town in the background look like a distant planet.  In Waikiki, 1975, three shirtless men appear almost alien, too, strolling down a palm-studded street amidst high rises.  Then there’s his amazing shot of the East Bay hills shot from a BART train where the view is framed twice: once by a window and again through the space between an overpass and the 880 Freeway.

Making the quotidian look both strange and familiar was Wessel’s specialty.  His cohorts may have recorded the bald facts of our surroundings and elevated their impact through repetition.  Wessel didn’t need to.  His photos are self-contained stories that bring us face-to-face with our overbuilt, unsustainable existence.

–DAVID M. ROTH

Henry Wessel: Vintage Still Photographs @ Rena Bransten through August 21, 2010

New Topographics @ SFMOMA through October 3, 2010

Posted in ReviewsComments (1)

  •