Category: Reviews

For ‘Flash Art’ Magazine

Like good art, a well-curated exhibition makes some suggestions and then allows viewers to draw their own conclusions. The selections in this 35-artist, intergenerational show were sometimes idiosyncratic but never dull. The earliest artwork was Gene Beery’s 1961 painting reading ‘Sorry, this painting is temporarily out of style – closed for updating…” Located in the reception area, it set the tone for a show that makes thoughtful comparisons between art by established and emerging artists without chasing the fashion of the day.

John Miller’s eerie mannequin also subverted fashion and, positioned near the gallery windows, attracted attention from the street. Its physical presence was echoed in Sam Samore’s two-way mirror piece composed of the “room, viewers, interiority, exteriority, etc.” Mirroring was everywhere, with a mirror in the shape of a Rorschach by Kelley Walker, tree roots on a mirror by Sam Durant and a Roy Lichtenstein mirror painting.

The only color photography came in the form of orchids by Sherrie Levine and a sandcastle photographed by Wolfgang Tillmans, while black and white photojournalism by Diane Arbus, William Gedney, and Peter Hujar took center stage. A mysterious nighttime view of a Disneyland castle by Arbus contrasted with Tillmans’ beach scene, and a photo of a body builder by Arbus was complimented by Gedney’s picture of Arbus taking these shots.

Seven large paintings, hung salon style on the back wall of the gallery’s cavernous space, were a visual highlight of the show. What at first looked like one of John Tremblay’s frisky abstract paintings turned out to be a yellow and black Infinite Dot painting by Yayoi Kusama, while a Trembly in muted tones hung above. Next to these, an enormous date painting by On Kawara contrasted the open-ended possibility of the Kusama and Tremblay with its blunt statement of a single date.

It’s not always evident what curator Bob Nickas was intending by his eclectic mix. He admits that he curates “…as if free-association was an accepted curatorial/art historical tool,” explaining, for example, that Sherrie Levine appears because she is foundational to contemporary art in general. Lisa Ruyter’s day-glo jets are included because she invigorates her painting by working from her photographs rather than her having any specific aesthetic affiliation to the art on the walls around her. But as an exploration “from the observatory” into the deep space of contemporary art, Nickas provides enough connections to suggest a bigger picture, while still keeping us gazing with curiosity.

For ‘Tema Celeste’ magazine

Jesse Bransford dares to go where image-conscious artists fear to tread. Other young artists, whose work also incorporates fractured architectural renderings, scenes from outer space, and fantastic creatures, share the space-age aesthetic evident in Bransford’s eight large drawings and wall mural. However, this artist’s attraction to systems of knowledge from around the world and personal fascination with the heavy-metal band Blue Öyster Cult (BÖC) compel him to investigate beyond the safety zone of fashionable subjects.

By incorporating various symbols from astronomy, world mythology, and science fiction in his drawings, the artist has developed a unique vocabulary. In one piece, a huge-eyed extraterrestrial stands on top of a funnel projecting the symbol of Heaven’s Gate, the cult whose members organized a mass suicide in California in 1997. Nearby are alien ships, planets, winged beasts, and a giant scarab. In another drawing, a man wearing a top hat and long beard stands in front of a celestial map as he operates an enormous telescope. To his right stands a creature that is half man, half fish, beyond which appears a question-mark shape associated with BÖC. A giant phallus, a man on a premodern flying machine, and clusters of planets recur in several drawings.

As long as human beings persist in asking fundamental questions—“Who are we? What are we doing here?”—science , technology, and mythology will continue to provide inadequate answers. In the meantime, Bransford’s accumulated findings make for some interesting imagery. Just as the artist is attracted to BÖC’s homemade cosmology for its “transhistorical and nonlinear” characteristics, he plunges into alchemical and astrological texts for answers to life’s mysteries. In addition to the zodiacal diagrams, random symbols, and space-age machinery, Bransford reproduces mutated creatures that are reminiscent of the twisted imagination of Hieronymus Bosch or the satirical engravings of Pieter Bruegel. Bransford’s references to iconographic systems from the past, brought into the twenty-first century and combined with symbols of mystical knowledge, produce sometimes apocalyptic and usually fantastical results. The Dungeons and Dragons edge that pops up now and again, as well as the artist’s allusions to heavy-metal imagery, will be like candy to some, poison to others. But when Bransford’s worlds collide, they produce a powerful commentary on the search for meaning in life.

For ‘Flash Art’ magazine
For the final show of the gallery’s 30th anniversary year, Ronald Feldman F.A. proved its vitality with an exhibition of videos by young artist Rico Gatson. Gatson, a standout in last summer’s popular ‘Freestyle’ group show in Harlem, delves into the Hollywood archives for his material. Using video editing software, he selects films as diverse as ‘Alien’, ‘King Kong’ and ‘Superfly’ and then subjects them to an editing process in which a quarter of the film screen is mirrored, resulting in an intense, kaleidoscopic effect. The show stopper is ‘Departure,’ in which Gatson condenses a scene from the movie ‘Alien’ into an intense series of pans and zooms featuring the determined but petrified protagonist as she exits the exploding ship. Another highlight, “Jungle, Jungle” presents two sequences of human sacrifice made in the 1933 classic film ‘King Kong.’ Gatson maintains a dual focus on the representation of African Americans in film, and on the many faces of fear. Whether the videos feature a giant, raging gorilla, or a gruesome alien, the result is a mini-lexicon of terror that forces viewers to confront their own fears – a task which is never more relevant than now.