Wednesday, February 6, 2013

letter from bushwick

detail: Cape Breton Drawing, 2012, watercolor and gouache on rice paper, 27 x 27 inches

Jene Highstein
The Cape Breton Drawings, 2008 - 2012
ArtHelix
The Cape Breton Drawings, courtesy of Danese Gallery
 
It's such a pleasure when amid the long arch of an artist's development another
body of work -- one for which the artist 
is less known-- is revealed. Think Dan Flavin's watercolors, John McCracken's mandalas, even Chamberlain's foam rubber or twisted foils. Such works provide insights that broaden our experience of the artist, sometimes exponentially. Oh, those mystic truths.

For Jene Highstein, an artist renown for sculptural works that are resolutely physical -- often massive in scale -- his current exhibition of The Cape Breton Drawings, on view at ArtHelix in Bushwick, is a revelation.





The paintings are elastic and bright. Highstein's splashes and throw lines surge across rice paper mushrooming into squalls of pigment or explosive speckles, loops and switchbacks. They are filled with a transcendence that feels like it contains the whole of the dome of the sky and with it, the fleeting beauty of the sublime.

Organized by the artist and curator, Bonnie Rychlak, the works are installed without any of the conventional restraints, allowing them to flutter lightly with each passerby. 

 


For Highstein, whose sculptural works range from human scale to the Herculean, Nova Scotia's soaring, vaulted ceiling of sky and its eternal horizon has found a pilgrim soul.



courtesy Danese Gallery, Jene Highstein, New Sculpture: Towers and Elliptical Forms, 2011

Earlier this week, Jene and I spoke on the phone about bogs and inlets, Chinese brushes, magic and the undulating landscape of northeastern Canada. 

The fact that Cape Breton is far away, hard to get to, and lacks any real popular culture has made it something of a destination for nirvana-seeking New York artists. By the 1970s friends of Highstein's were already entrenched there, but he and his family only began visiting the area some 8 or 9 years ago. They were smitten. The town they settled in on the east coast has only twelve houses; the nearest village, some ten miles away, boasts a population of 750.


"It's extraordinarily beautiful there. The environment 
is so magical -- you forget New York City. We take 
amazing walks on the peninsula -- day long 
walks -- along the shore and the bogs and high 
above the sea. You see seals and otters, but 
you don't see people."
 




The Cape Breton Drawings have developed over time, more as a collaboration with nature than as aesthetic observation. Highstein absorbs the natural world around him, intuiting it and recalling it in his mind's eye when he is back in the studio. He noted that in Chinese landscape painting, artists don't paint on site -- they absorb the landscape and carry it with them -- painting it not only from memory but from a psychic, or perhaps spiritual, connection.

"I feel totally liberated in this practice. I paint on 
rice paper with Chinese brushes. They're made 
so well -- I feel like the brush acts as an 
intellectual extension of my thought. "


On the stunning clarity of the Cape Breton Drawings, Rychlak noted that the artist's process 
is one of "a channeling of the natural world" -- an apt
description of these nuanced
and meditative fields of color.

Highstein emerged in the late 1960s just as minimalism, 
the dominant language of the time, was at the cusp of its own reinvention. He torqued geometry, pulling form away from the classic structure of
minimalism. Organic ovoids, urns, columns and saftig, swollen cylinders emerged.

His materials are varied, but whether Highstein employs hand-troweled cement, hand- hammered stainless steel, carved wood or bricks of ice, 
one of the salient features of his sculpture is the treatment of surface. If there is an abiding sense of anthropomorphism in his work, it resides in the skin by which the works are contained. The surfaces seem to pulse and heave as if they are breathing or waking, resting or funneling inward.


Human Scale Black, reinforced concrete, 6 1/2' x 55' x 50', Guggenheim, Bilbao, Spain

Highstein has exhibited worldwide and has created major public works and installations across Europe and the United States. He's traveled and worked in China since the 1970s, near the South China Seas where they have, according to the artist, really good factories. A collaborative spirit has resulted in projects that range from experimental theater and dance to a mesmerizing ice construction created in Finland with the architect, Steven Holl.


"You have to remember -- my generation grew up collaborating. In the 1970s, the audience, the performers and the artists were 
all the same people." 

Jene Highstein and Lawrence Weiner collaboration, 2012, Bowery Poetry Club
Most recently, Highstein  
and Lawrence Weiner 
worked in concert to 
create a mural size print 
for the Elizabeth Murray 
Art Wall at The Bowery 

The print, which measures 
a whopping 12 x 16', is a one-off that merges  
Weiner's text-based art 
with Highstein's visual 
joie de vivre. Definitely 
a punchline with a twist.
 


 


Highstein and his wife have a farm in upstate New York, too, and there a parallel body of paintings is in development. The landscape is vast, filled with rolling hills, hardwood forests, and barns. "Grandma Moses country," he remarked. The sky is an open canopy, surrounded by woodlands.


"The skies are different there -- they move fast, 
but the clouds are big and puffy, like strange 
Tiepolos. And the woods are special -- very 
magical. All those vertical lines 
-- they make me think of Ucello"




Back in Bushwick, Bonnie Rychlak and I walk the gallery, examining the face of each painting. 

The qualities are mysterious and the longer you take them 
in, the more broad the scope of the paintings becomes.

Some are full and 
flecked with pools of irridescent color, 
others are spare -- like the face of the moon.

There's music in 
them -- or sound -- 
and a silent rhythm  
that seems to 
coalesce among 
the sky and reeds 
and water as
it spills out 
across the 
gallery.


 

  
You won't want to miss this show, 
on view at one of Bushwick's most forward thinking galleries,
Peter Hopkins' ArtHelix, 
through February 25th.







56 Bogart Street
Bushwick, Brooklyn
(Morgan stop on the L train)












Wednesday, January 9, 2013

my two cents

Here are some picks for a few of my favorite things in 2012 -- things I saw, things I wish I saw, things I wish I had had time to write about, and other things...in and around New York and the East End. A little late, but wrapping up 2012 took longer than I expected -- a nice surprise all around. And things are heating up on the East End...looking forward to events at the new Parrish and all things 2013.
  

 most made me want to paint: 
KELTIE FERRIS, [[[O]]][[[O]]], 2010 -- her show at Mitchell-Innes Nash up thru JAN 12


MATISSE, IN SEARCH OF TRUE PAINTING, at The Met, thru March 17



Every show I see at Halsey McKay makes me want to paint -- they find the most awesome artists. Here, a few highlights from their last 2012 show, Habeas Corpus:

Lisa Sanditz, Frito Lay Study, 2012



Ted Gahl, Village, 2012
 

Jeanette Mundt, I AM WORKING: WAVING BUT DROWNING, (with DVD projection), 2012
 


most fun:
POWERPLAY at Hayground School, Bridgehampton
 


 
organized by The City Firm
a Chelsea based art-advisory firm, 
POWERPLAY featured the work of 
28 artists whose use of recycled 
materials, invention and a 
communal spirit made way for 
the East End's coolest 
temporary sculpture farm. 

Let's hope they do it 
again next summer.


Hayground has always been amazing -- a true laboratory. Great summer event. Bravo.







biggest surprise: 
everything Scott Bluedorn does

























These are pix from a few shows at Scott's gallery
in Amagansett, Neoteric Fine Art -- cool and
young and a lot of fun. He's off to a fantastic start.





 best 2 for 2:
Two curatorial ventures on the East End by Mary Heilmann

wonderful summer show at Ille Arts in Amagansett
and...
  
Roy Fowler


InsideOutsiders, Mary Heilmann and Friends at The Fireplace Project in Springs



Rick Liss, Bus Lane, 2012








Claudia Spinelli, Untitled, 2012





















best sculpture:
Bevery Pepper at Marlborough Chelsea. What an amazing woman. Breathtaking.

Beverly Pepper, Curvea in Curvea, 2012, cor-ten steel



 Biennial favorites:

Nicole Eisenman, Untitled, 201, 45 monotypes


 
Vincent Fecteau, Untitled, 2011


Wu Tsang, Green Room, mixed media



most made me wish I lived in LA: 

CHRIS BURDEN's Metropolis II at LACMA

quintessential California (and beyond): Chris Burden




click below to see it in action, courtesy New York Times:





best blockbusters:
PICASSO BLACK AND WHITE, Guggenheim thru JAN 23
 the older you get the stronger the wind gets -- and it's always in your face.
Pablo Picasso 



MICKALENE THOMAS, ORIGIN OF THE UNIVERSE, a must see...at the Brooklyn Museum thru JAN 20



WADE GUYTON OS, Whitney Museum thru JAN 13 -- THIS Sunday!

 
connect the dots:


The new Islamic wing at the Met

Everything Mark Wilson does


Sharon Horvath, White Night, 2012 at The Drawing Room






Daniel Wiener's dizzying creations






Olafur Eliasson, Your thinking bridge, one of five installations in Dnepropetrovs, Ukraine, 2012







and there's so much more...


























Sunday, December 2, 2012

hybrids and homilies

detail: Forest Creature #1, 2012, graphite, oil on Yupo paper, 26 x 20 in

LUCY WINTON: CREATURES
Glenn Horowitz Bookseller

It's not often that I'm taken by surprise. It's not that I can't be impressed -- lots of things impress me. But true surprise is different. Picasso's Mosqueteros at Gagosian, 2009 -- that surprised me. New Zealand's Marmite shortage -- big surprise. An art fair in Atlantic City...um, somewhere between surprise and fatigue. Not that surprise in and of itself is key to art making -- not by a long shot. But after a long time of looking and thinking about art, being truly surprised is a little like falling in love. 

Enter Lucy Winton -- surprise, surprise, surprise.


Donkey Bull #2 (Love to Edwin Landseer), 2012, charcoal, graphite, airbrush, oil on vellum, 37 x 25 in

 
Now on view at Glenn Horowitz, Lucy Winton: Creatures, a small group of paintings on paper that are seductive, sentimental, cheeky and fresh. This is the real thing -- a must see.


Forest Creature #1, 2012, graphite, oil on Yupo paper, 26 x 20 in


Lucy Winton seems to do most of her thinking at the cusp of imagination, commingling the romance of animal consciousness with her own psyche, and there she pulls out quite a plum. Diving into the rabbit hole without a hint of irony, Winton dabbles in the unheimlich (Ger., uncanny) and in social taboos, absurdism and territories unknown from the past, future and present tenses.

Her paintings are intimate and luxurious, moody and gothic, and they bring to mind the likes of Poe, Lewis Carroll and Flannery O'Connor. For the artist, whose influences run the gamut from children's literature to Edwin Landseer and Jorg Immendorf, there is a special power in the creatures, places and things that populate her world, a parallel universe of visual non sequiturs filled with rich metaphors and a sweeping and poetic mindfulness. 


After War, Snow, 2011, charcoal, graphite, oil on vellum, 25 x 37 in

In After War, Snow, the artist snuggles with doe-eyed cattle that lounge among her fleshy brushwork and velvet fields of gray. Little mountains of snow fall on this softness like errant globs from another world, laying across the composition with little regard for reality. Her paint application here is subdued, evoking the Spartan curves and naturalism of Georgia O'Keefe.
 
And then -- without warning -- Winton fiercely effects a sort of painterly dismount in which she suddenly channels the hand of Frans Hals or John Singer Sargent and their swashbuckling strokes of pigment. She swirls over broad expanses, canoodling with her brushes among fleeing rabbits and bursting star shapes, tree trunks and stairways. 




Gliding her brush across swaths of Yupo paper, Winton advances into breathtaking passages of pure paint. Her brushwork is frisky and deliciously wicked, as if there's alchemy in each stroke. If you know the feel of a paint-saturated brush, you're right there with her -- skating across the icy translucence of this waxy white geography. 

Recently, Lucy Winton and I exchanged a few thoughts on content, context and the chimerical in her paintings:
  
Are there specific references to the snow in your work?


My snow is definitely a reference to Jorg Immendorf's Cafe Deutschland, The Wizard of Oz snowfall scene, and the calming -- even opiate -- feeling I get from that. I also grew up in very snowy Minnesota.



installation view with sculpture, L, Androclea and the Lion, 2012, papier mache, balsa wood, oil, 12 x 12 in, variable

There seem to be elements of Shamanism in your work, and a sort of luxurious communion with animal spirits.

I fantasize about communing with unreachable mammals...so when I paint me sneaking up on a deer or lion, I really get pleasure. That pleasure is spiritual."


Farm Whorl, 2012, graphite, charcoal, oil on vellum

Lurking within these dramas, it also seems there are the things of social taboos, repressed memory, dreams and the uncanny, or unheimlich, experiences, whether actual or intuited.

In Freud's 1919 landmark essay, The Uncanny, he talks about the uncanny experience as:  


"...that class of the frightening which leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar."
  
Winton's examination of the unheimlich is far less dark than Freud's, but the idea of a parallel universe where the unfamiliar is familiar again, is an irresistible connection.




But, I digress. Winton's images and the animal consciousness they evoke are spectacularly weird and wonderful. At the same time, they seem to come from our shared childhoods or deep inside some collective unconscious.


I lived in India for about six months a long time ago. I have definitely referenced one Brahman cow eye about 6 times -- same darn eye over and over.
 

Donkey Bull Parachutes #1, 2011, graphite, charcoal, airbrush on vellum
 

Your works seem to have a floating narrative that is familiar but fleeting. Are you inspired by specific works of literature?


Mostly I am inspired by children's book illustrations -- sometimes regardless of the narrative. One weird personality marker I have is that I am inappropriately religious, indecisively so...and from an atheist, humanist background. That can leak out in my work.



Forest Creature #3, 2012, graphite, oil on Yupo paper, 26 x 20 in

The idea that (on top of everything else) part of Lucy Winton's visual psychology is driven by wanton religiosity -- makes me like the work even more. 


other creatures is one of Winton's great creative strengths."

April Gornick, BOMB, Summer, 2012


Don't miss this beautiful show, on view at Glenn Horowitz through January 1.