It would be easy to lump Susanna Bluhm in among the legions of knowingly naïve young painters who work overtime to hide their sophistication behind curtains of droll irony and clever appropriation. Bluhm, while exhibiting the superficial characteristics of such artists, isn’t really one of them. A painter of resplendent abstract landscapes, she displays a naïf-like disregard of convention without playing the Postmodernist endgame of tossing together incompatible historical styles. Her spontaneous, unpretentious, off-kilter virtuosity – which is impossible to discern in these reproductions – reveals a sure-footed synthesis of many influences.
But what shines through isn’t any kind of homage; it’s the unique voice of a comic sensualist who revels in the act of manipulating pigment for the sheer thrill of it.