Rita Mawuena Benissan’s royal umbrella is a standout at Mitchell-Innes and Nash Gallery’s summer group exhibition of work by artists who live in Ghana. At eight by ten feet, Benissan’s large, regal cover – traditionally employed to protect a king or queen and show authority – was crafted with help from professional chief umbrella makers and connects to a tradition of royal use. At the same time, the artist explains in a statement that she intends viewers to ask questions about how the umbrella might be used today – for royalty? A community? Viewers? Titled ‘The Damsen of Succession,’ damsen refers to the deep, attractive purple color, while the notion of succession prompts consideration of the object in new contexts. (On view through Aug 25th).
Rita Mawuena Benissan, The Damson of Succession, umbrella, fabric and wood, 100” diam. X 120” height, 2023.
A practical mentality dominates Eddie Martinez’s current two gallery solo show at Mitchell-Innes and Nash. Not finding a studio last summer, he painted in his yard. Finding inspiration in his daily drawings on family stationery, he scaled them up as eight-foot tall paintings. Titled ‘Love Letter,’ the second body of work would seem to refer to his wife’s name at the top of each painting though given the significance of drawing to his evocative abstract forms, he may have another muse in mind. (On view in Chelsea through Feb 24th).
Eddie Martinez, Love Letter #13, silkscreen ink, oil, spray paint and enamel on canvas, 96 x 75 inches, 2017.
Oversized wineglasses, cups, a fork and other objects litter worktables in Amanda Ross-Ho’s latest solo show at Chelsea’s Mitchell Innes & Nash, where the LA based artist spent August making paintings of clock faces (see the normal-sized glass holding goldfish crackers at middle right). Based on vintage paper clock surfaces that she purchased from eBay and used for note-taking, the clocks unmoor time (Ross-Ho recently lost her long-term studio) and the surreally enlarged elements from everyday life become inexplicably important. (On view through Oct 14th).
Amanda Ross-Ho, installation view of ‘My Pen is Huge’ at Mitchell-Innes & Nash, Sept 2017.
Mid-20th century American minimalist sculptors rebelled against the relationship of parts in Anthony Caro’s abstract sculptures; later in life, Caro was the one to break out, introducing Perspex into his sculptures when he was in his mid-80s. Here, a thick sheet of clear Perspex turns two pieces of rusted steel into characters in an untold story –a customer and a bank teller, or a prisoner and her visitor? (At Mitchell-Innes & Nash Gallery in Chelsea on the Upper East Side through Feb 4th).
Anthony Caro, Sackbut, steel and clear Perspex, steel rusted and waxed, 48 x 70 x 46 inches, 2011/2012.
Against the backdrop of rapid urban development in the Persian Gulf countries, the artist collective GCC examines the parallel trends toward the pursuit of happiness and health. Here, a woman practices a new age, healing therapy on her son. They stand in sand, a symbol of the landscape, inside a racing track reminiscent of the region’s many new urban walkways. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes and Nash through Nov 23rd).
GCC, installation view of Positive Pathways (+), at Mitchell-Innes & Nash, Oct 2016.
Evocative sculpture by New York artist Sarah Braman creates a nexus between mass produced furniture and the unique art object, coldly minimal forms and a potentially cozy bedroom, a mined metal and unexploited nature in the form of a gorgeous sunset. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes & Nash through April 16th).
Sarah Braman, In Bed (how do we sleep when the planet is melting?), steel bunk beds, mattress, glass, aluminum frame, storm door, acrylic sticker, hand-dyed bed sheets, acrylic and enamel paint, 2016.
Eddie Martinez continues to mine art history in increasingly abstract paintings now on view in Chelsea at Mitchell-Innes and Nash. Tapping into diverse sources of inspiration – from Basquiat’s jittery line to de Kooning’s boldly outlined bodily forms – Martinez creates strangely familiar paintings to ponder. (Through March 5th).
Eddie Martinez, Park Avenue Peace Out, oil, enamel, silkscreen ink and spray paint on canvas, 108 x 144 inches, 2015.
LA-based experimental film maker Pat O’Neill’s first New York solo gallery show includes film and sculptures like this surreal, suggestive assemblage. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes & Nash through Jan 23rd).
Pat O’Neill, Safer than Springtime, fiberglass, aluminum, steel, paint, 48 x 39 x 30 inches, 1964.
Brooklyn-based painter Keltie Ferris is known for abstract paintings that recall the city grid, so you’d think she’d relish LA’s road systems on her recent residency there. Instead, she turns her eye skyward in pieces like ‘oRiOn,’ a canvas that hints at a celestial hunter, outlined in vivid color and decorated in a shower of shooting stars. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes and Nash through Oct 17th).
Keltie Ferris, oRiOn, acrylic and oil on canvas, 72 x 60 inches, 2015.
British artist Paul Winstanley’s paintings of empty art studio spaces in colleges around the UK are improbable subject matter for such pleasingly still, light-infused minimal compositions. Come September, they’ll fill with bodies, activity and color but at the moment, the tranquility is a pleasure. (At Mitchell-Innes & Nash in Chelsea through July 19th).
Paul Winstanley, Art School 40, oil on panel, 56 5/8 x 37 3/4inches, 2015.
Canadian artist Brent Wadden’s hand-woven ‘paintings’ embrace imperfection, incorporating second-hand fibers and mismatched seams on large panels in enticing colors and dynamic patterns. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes and Nash through May 30th).
Brent Wadden, Tangerine Teal, hand woven fibers, wool, cotton and acrylic on canvas, 107 x 84 inches, 2105.
Marking the 20th anniversary of Nancy Graves’ death, a show at Mitchell-Innes & Nash of sculpture and paintings from the 80s based on maps of the ocean floor or the surface of the moon evidence a respect for nature and a drive to experiment with form. The exhibition also includes the camel sculptures that made her name in the late 60s/early 70s. (In Chelsea through March 7th).
Nancy Graves, installation view at Mitchell-Innes and Nash, Feb 2015.
Though it looks like an earthquake-destroyed parking garage or an uprooted step-pyramid, the preppy green and soothing beige color of this sculpture by Chicago-based artist Diane Simpson suggests unblinking calm. The title, Underskirt, gives the game away, bringing to mind a crinoline for a ‘Cubie’ from the Cubist-inspired 1913 alphabet book. (At Mitchell-Innes and Nash in Chelsea through Jan 24th).
Diane Simpson, Underskirt, oil stain and acrylic on MDF with cotton mesh, 44 x 69 x 7 inches, 1986.
Cars have given photographer Justine Kurland the freedom to travel the country shooting unforgettable photos on her road trips; her latest series is a gritty but beautifully shot homage of sorts to the mechanics who keep them going. (At Mitchell-Innes and Nash in Chelsea through October 11th).
Justine Kurland, For Abigail, inkjet print, 18 ½ x 24 inches, 2014.
Brooklyn’s McCarren Park – equally popular among Williamsburg hipsters and brawling youth – has been renovated to the tune of millions in recent years; New York artist Marc Glanzglass’ beautifully austere steel fence titled, ‘McCarren Fence,’ acknowledges the preciousness of the place as well as its divisions. (At Mitchell Innes & Nash in Chelsea through Feb 1st).
Chicago-based conceptual artist William Pope. L continues to consider how people separate themselves by race; in this wall of drawings, potentially offensive generalizations are neutralized by their opaqueness. (At Mitchell-Innes & Nash in Chelsea through Oct 26th).
William Pope. L, detail view of ‘Wall of Skin Set drawings,’ 2010 – 2013.
At over four feet tall, this huge earring may be designed for a giant…but what kind of giant would wear it, or the enormous black t-shirts sliced to ribbons and hung from the gallery walls? Amanda Ross-Ho blows up cheap fashions to attention-grabbing size, but her intention seems founded less criticism of the merchandise than in curiosity at what happens when banal products were presented as monumental. (At Chelsea’s Mitchell-Innes & Nash through May 18th).
Amanda Ross-Ho, Gone Tomorrow, aluminum and steel plated in gold and brass, 2013.
Sarah Braman, 'Good Morning (November),' camper chunk, plexiglas, steel and paint, 2011.
Sarah Braman’s trademark combinations of disparate materials in precarious arrangements achieve a new level of gravity with the incorporation of components from a cut-up camper. In her debut at Mitchell-Innes & Nash, hefty chunks of the vehicle act as both painting surface and gritty foil to the clean-cut cubes of gorgeous blue and purple Plexiglas to which they are sometimes conjoined. The resulting juxtapositions defy expectations as the funky, roughed-up trailer becomes impersonal, and the slick geometric elements charm with their transparent beauty.
In a sculpture near the gallery entrance, the back of the RV creates an archway with two Plexi boxes forming an L. Tinted the color of limousine windows, the latter are doodled with spray paint, recalling Sterling Ruby’s defaced pedestal pieces, but without the air of menace. If this treatment somewhat softens these cold, corporate forms, a lack of any trace of habitation within the camper does the opposite, making it makes seem less like a repository of past adventures, à la Mike Nelson’s airstream installation at 303 Gallery last spring, and more like one of Gordon Matta-Clark’s deconstructions of an abandoned place.
In a piece titled 8pm, a smaller fragment of the camper is sandwiched between two aquarium-like shapes, while a larger nearby structure in blue, pink and purple Plexi recalls an empty Damien Hirst shark tank crossed with an Anne Truitt. But it is in Braman’s misleadingly titled and exceedingly lively Coffin that viewers are finally offered the delayed gratification of imagining past lives. Here the Plexiglas takes something of a backseat to a segment of camper laid with a mirrored floor, creating a boudoir-like stage for memories.
Originally published in Time Out New York, issue 837, November 17-23, 2011.
