Rosanna Bruno: Studio Visit.

I visited abstract painter Rosanna Bruno's studio in Long Island City a couple weeks ago. Not only did I find a CD collection that I wanted to pilfer, but I also found paintings that were as immediate as they were mystifying. Bruno's paintings are among some of the finest abstracts I've seen lately, along with the recent wonders of Amy Sillman and Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe.


Bruno's lines seem to trace the path of some unstoppable rhythm, every painting a new and complex song. Although de Kooning is an obvious influence, the painter I found myself thinking about most was Bonnard. Like the French master Bruno brings colors together that really shouldn't work and makes them sing their own strange, deep harmonies.


The initial incongruity of color is what tugs the viewer into Bruno's flow. Once in, the artist's command of both line and color constantly surprises and refuses to let go. The large paintings are especially physical in the way they interact with the body of the viewer. It was difficult to walk away from these paintings. They kept pulling me in, and I kept wanting more. It's a perfect, devastating balance.


A show of Bruno's smaller, more intimate paintings will be cutting an infectious groove at the John Davis Gallery in Hudson, NY from May 25th through June 18th.

Connected.

Today's article in the Times gave me a reason to endure the brutal city heat this summer: MoMA's CalArts film retrospective . Actually, I'd put up much worse to see any of the breakout films by the late Jack Goldstein. I wasn't familiar with his work until I read Jack Goldstein and the Cal Arts Mafia a couple years ago. For my money, it's one of the most insightful books out there about the making of art in the last 30 years.

I Repeat Myself When Under Stress. I Repeat Myself When Under Stress.

I posted this back in February around the time of all the Charlie Finch hubub. With all the recent discussions over at the Critical Edge at Arts Journal regarding the role of blogs in discussing the arts, I thought I'd repost it.

I'm grateful that this lively and entertaining conversation is taking place, but I stand by what I said 3 months ago: The influence portion of the debate is just catch-up and classification. As far as I'm concerned it is oh-so-very here already and there's not a lot to talk about. Of course, it is important to talk about how that power is used, and that's been the most fascinating part of the conversation.

Witness the fact that one of the curator's of the Whitney Biennial is obviously not only reading blogs, but she's also responding to them over at ArtFagCity. Also, there's an article in the NYTimes today about the online brouhaha concerning Stephin Merritt and Sasha Frere-Jones' reaction to him. The piece makes a point similar to the one I make below about the fact that, five years ago, these would have been private conversations amongst a small group of people. Not so much anymore. The future is, like, so yesterday.

From February . . .



There's been much discussion in artblogland over the last couple weeks about the importance and influence of blogs in the art world. Whatever. As far as I'm concerned, we're way past that conversation.

The influence is already there. It's just a matter of who is willing to exploit it. In the October 2005 issue of Art + Auction Sarah Douglas' disussed the issue of the increasing influence of art blogs in her "Dear Diary" column. Also, I've been receiving unsolicited (but very much welcome) invitations to private views and openings at A-list galleries. In other words, the money seems to be paying attention.

On the Smithsonian American Art Museum's blog, Eye Level, Kriston Capps noted that "Ultimately, I think artists will answer this question [re: the importance of blogs] by including (or not) hyperlinks in their resumes." To a certain extent I think he's right, but a variation of this is already happening. I've seen printouts of my own posts and those of other bloggers included in artist books at the front desks of many Chelsea and Williamsburg galleries.

Capps statement was in response to something that NYTimes critic Roberta Smith said when asked about blogs at a recent talk in DC. Capp reports, "But mark [Smith] up as a blog skeptic. He likened blogs to 'phone conversations,' as something 'stuck in the ether.'" I actually think that that's a pretty astute observation of what happens out here. However, I fail to see any negatives in either of Smith's classifications of the blogosphere.

Smith is correct in a narrow way in regard to blogs being like phone conversations. Being housed in a wire doesn't mean that phone conversations can't be really lively and smart, and the accessibility of blogs expands the possibility of how many people might be sharing that wire. The recent brouhaha about Charlie Finch is a good example of a conversation that would have been limited to party talk between a limited number of people a couple years ago. The other week that same discussion took place in front of thousands of people. And thanks to archives it's still out there, you know, in the ether.

Which, by the way, isn't a bad place to be stuck. There are a number of original voices stuck in the ether, and I've come to rely on them for insight, exhibition tips, and gossip. I'm still reading the Times, Modern Painters, October, Art Forum, Art + Auction, and I'm still visiting mainstream art websites. However, I'm also interested in what the artists have to say about their own art and others. I like hearing what goes on in the minds of collectors and gallerists. And I'm interested in hearing what other enthusiasts like me have to say about what they're seeing. These are voices that I might have only heard at a party or an opening before. In the end, art blogs provide me with more opportunities to get closer to the work. And that's all I really want. A blog's lack of permanence or official status is irrelevant to me. And increasingly, it seems as though it's irrelevant to a number of galleries and institutions.

Speaking of which, I'll be attending the press preview for the Whitney Biennial on Tuesday afternoon. Look for the pictures that night.

PS: For a quick lesson in how this has played out in other areas of the blogosphere check out Krixfort's brief history lesson.

PPS: Krixy digs deeper.

Empire of Dirt.

After seeing Nicole Eisenman's swath of a show on Saturday night, a breather was in order. Sunday afternoon, Nacho Labás' paintings at Outrageous Look in Williamsburg were just the palette cleansers I needed. While Eisenman's rumble celebrates paint, Labás ignores it. Both approaches make me happy, but Labás' work feels more like home.


Maybe it's the Pittsburgh in me, but I yearn for the rust. I can't help myself, and Labás delivers the decay and the beauty therein. The artist uses mixed media to create portraits of things falling apart. I have to say that the more abstract works are my favorite. The exhibition brings to mind the deserted and bleeding walls of industry in Pittsburgh or North Philly, while often referencing the oxidation paintings of Andy Warhol and William Anastasi.


I could stare at these controlled accidents for hours. While they accept the beauty of the present there's a sadness around what they've left behind, what they once were. That gives them a feeling of slow but palpable movement, like visual drones. Corrosion is both subtraction and addition. So, while there's a tension in these paintings that simulates dying buildings, in the end they mirror our own disappearing bodies. Hurt.

MAO Rules!

One more reason to love Modern Art Obsession (MAO).

For Those About To Rock . . .

We, of course, salute you. Jennifer Coates opens tomorrow night at Feigen. I saw this painting before it was finished when I did a studio visit with Coates back in February. Hell, it rocked then and it was only about three-quarters of the way there. It'll be great to see it off the milk crate and onto the wall.

Also, Nicole Eisenman opens at Koenig on Saturday night. And O boy, it looks like it's going to be good.

Broken.

There's a new new post on my Creative Time blog about Doug Aitken's Broken Screen Happening. It was in a spectacularly decaying building on the Lower East Side, the old Essex Street Retail Market. The line was down the block. Many of the beautiful ones were there (Let's call it the Hermes Effect.). Things happened. Paint peeled. Adam Green was pissed. Where has his love gone?

Philly Pop.

Just two shots of a Lichtenstein sculpture I ran into in Philly on Friday.

Great.

Scott Walker's last record, Tilt, came out over ten years ago and I'm still getting over it. I listened to it the other day and it continues to open up and confound in unexpected ways.

His new record, The Drift, is released today by 4AD.

Meticulously crafted from inception to execution, Walker's songs are fearless, challenging, and huge. Apparently, The Drift is another step into the deep. The Observer gives a clumsy (almost inept) telling of of the singer/songwriter's history, and then gets around to conveying the devestating effects of the new record. Momus not only thinks that The Drift is better than Tilt, he's actually in fear for your life upon the listening. Trust me when I tell you that in this instance, Momus is not playing the role of the unreliable narrator.

Fucking Luminous.

Zoe Strauss' I-95 show in south Philly under I-95. Sheer heart attack. Absolutely massive. It was everything I want art to be.

So Far, So Good.

Really, really good. I know I'm starting to sound like a Teletubby when it comes to Gray-Kapernekas ("Againagainagain!"), but they just don't seem to know the meaning of failure. On the way home from the preview tonight I thought of the phrase "aggressive beauty" to describe the quartet of Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe paintings. That wasn't quite right though. Don't get me wrong. This is stunning work, but it doesn't come at you. It's way too self-assured to need to do that. This is a beauty that simply stands its ground, come what may. These paintings are immediately striking, then they somehow recede only to turn around and betray something deeper. Watching closely they moved with me, or was I moving with them? Doesn't matter. Either way it's a fabulous trip. My abstract heart was all atwitter . . . again.

Bonus

Florin Hategan, detail from Target #1, 2005, Linocut, 36 x 48 inches
Just down the hall there was an opening at the International Print Center for a show selected and curated by Richard Tuttle. Obviously, we're in good hands here, and the excellent results are no surprise. Highlights were John Baldessari, Amy Worthen, Benjamin Edwards, and Florin Hategan. As a bonus to the bonus their was a nice array of prices for you collectors out there (I apologize for the temptation right here and now, Cesar.) But like I said, the quality: All top notch.

Bonus Knowledge

On the way home I noticed that the new Ashley Bickerton is opening on Saturday at Lehmann Maupin. I almost always like Bickerton's moves. Sheer pleasure. Take what you will from his work. Beauty? Check. Composition? Check. Mad art history references? Check. He is very much the man. Opens on Saturday.

Anti-Bonus
I stopped in at the opening for the new Thomas Helbig paintings at Bortolo Midayan. Wow. Really, really boring. Especially in contrast to the thrills at G-K and the IPCNY. Sometimes with shows like this, I'm saved by drawings that might be hanging around. Not the case here. I'll give the show another shot, but for now that's my verdict.

I Predict.

Not to go all Crystal Ball on you but sometimes it's just really easy. I predict, like Criswell, that the next few days will utterly RULE! Here's why.

Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe will be up at Gray-Kapernekas on Friday. I'll be going to a preview Thursday night. To be honest, I'm not that familiar with Gilbert-Rolfe's work, but I am very familiar with the flawless taste of Alexander Gray and Venetia Kapernekas. They've been open for a year now, and they've knocked me on my keister with every show. I was happy to see that their dedication to midcareer artists garnered them a mention in Holland Carter's recent article in the Times. That dedication makes what they're doing important, but the quality of the art they're showing is what makes them essential.



Friday is Cinco de Mayo. Monica will lead the way. Bottles and hearts will be broken.

Saturday brings two bits of predictable goodness. First, I'm traveling to Philly to see Zoe Strauss' I-95 show earlier in the day. (See Strauss' blog for directions and more photos.) Once a year Strauss exhibits 250 photographs underneath I-95 for two hours. In my book, this officially qualifies her for some kind of mad genius award. I smell MacArthur.




Saturday evening and Amtrak will bring me back to the city for the Creative Time event, Doug Aitken's Broken Screen Happening. This looks to be massive. Broken illumination. What more can a boy ask for? You know me. I love the sound of breaking glass.



Note: Sad to report that there's no more rsvp'ing for the Aitken shindig. The event is apparently booked beyond bookdom.

Still Fed Up With Being Sweet.

I wondered what happened to all those Slayers that were anointed at the end of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Apparently they've become artists, pooled their power, and are now kicking your ass as tART.

Their Salon Show and Benefit Auction for my beloved Creative Time is Saturday night. Unfortunately, I'll have to miss it because I'm going to the circus. So, spend some money for me, and make it count. They certainly will.

Here are some of the pieces . . .

Laura Fayer, "Home Base", acrylic and rice paper on canvas, 10" x 8"

Paddy Johnson, "Willing to Travel", digital print, 4.75 x 5.25" (frame 11" x 14")

Elaine Kaufmann, "Mercury Villager", digital photograph

Danielle Mysliwiec, "Corrupted Drive", oil on wood panel, 22" x 18"

Anne Polashenski, "Burmese and Thai Pattern Obliteration"

Yasmin Spiro, "Model for Shack", 8"x12"x12"


Update: Here's some installation shots from the, um, press preview. (ie, Y let me into her apartment early so I could post a couple more pics.) Sorry about the lack of labeling.

Letters.

When I walked into Cheim & Read Saturday I immediately thought that maybe I would take some pictures and use my Photoshop skills to rearrange Jack Pierson's letter sculptures to say something smartass like, "SIMON SAYS". The recent blow up about Barneys appropriating Jack Pierson's format was an unusually ham-fisted bit of intellectual and fiscal property protection. For the record, while Barneys might or might not have respect for Pierson's art, John Cheim's letter seemed to display little faith in it.

That said, as soon as I realized that Pierson had incorporated Barbara Pym into the show all was forgiven. I wasn't ready for that at all. I know. I'm easy, but . . . Barbara Pym! How often does she get mentioned anywhere? Between her work and her life she's a perfect touchstone for one corner of what Pierson is exploring here, female suffering. It was especially moving to see that candle flickering beside the well-worn copy of Less Than Angels.

Start anywhere. Everything I've read by Pym has been good. I have to say that the subtle power of the everyday in Quartet in Autumn is what makes that one my favorite. And trust me, nobody's ever going to copy her style to sell socks.

Medieval Mashups.

One show I've been meaning to mention is the Nancy Baker at Plus Ultra. Highly recommended viewing, and this is the last weekend for it. At first, I was thrown off by the tauntingly illustrative nature of the work. When I looked a little closer the illustration feeling dropped away, but the taunting stayed. That was interesting and more than a little thrilling.

Medieval scenes blow up with an unexpected palette and then get invaded by Caspar-like devils and villians, UFOs, Hindu dieties and paint-by-numbers foliage. Pop eating itself across the centuries. Seriously tasty.

Rust Never Sleeps.

Hey, hey. My, my.

Charlotte Nicholson: She's Got Gold.

Charlotte Nicholson Snowblind 3*
Heart As Arena pal Charlotte Nicholson put a hurtin' on Stephen Maine of Artnet when he went to see the group show, Presentational Painting III, at Hunter College. For those of you who know Charlotte's work this will not come as a surprise. The radiance is in the details.

Just one little note. Charlotte's paintings are fiercely difficult to photograph. This photo, nor any other I've seen, really does her work justice. Seeing it in the flesh is very much recommended.

*Photo totally lifted from Artnet.

Shi Jinsong's Na Zha Baby Boutique

The last few visits to Chelsea have offered up some nice unexpected surprises. A Jack Goldstein painting here, a Basquiat show there. I happened upon both these shows by accident.

Last week's glorious accident was Shi Jinsong's Na Zha Baby Boutique at Chambers Fine Art. I had gone to 210 11th Avenue to see the Judith Linhares show at Edward Thorp. (See Jerry Saltz's enthusiastic review of the Linhares here . Saltz nails it. I liked the show a little less than him, but only a little.)

After seeing Linhares' show, I hopped back on the elevator and ran into Chistophe Mao, a dealer I'd met a couple of times at Creative Time functions. I was under the very mistaken impression that he had a gallery in China. He actually has a gallery here (on the 4th floor of 210 as a matter of fact), representing artists from China. I hit the 4 button.

What a treat. Absolutely sick show (As in illin'.). The sculptures and the blueprints are beautiful in a really wrong way. Shiny, smooth, and caustic; they seethe with desperation and fear. The show made me think of Chinese birth control policies, David Bowman's utterly weird and thoroughly entertaining Bunny Modern, and the high school hallways of the Park Slope Stroller Brigade. All of these things lead me back to the primal urge to protect; not just your child, but what is yours. Possession. It is a sharp thing.

From the gallery's website, "The title refers to an enduring figure of Chinese folklore and mythology: Na Zha, an impish trickster with supernatural powers and flamboyant fashion sense (legend has it his red silk trousers generated so much heat the sea began to boil, enraging the East Sea Dragon King). Na Zha's essential ferocity long since tamed in the Chinese psyche, he is now chiefly celebrated as a God of Lotteries and Gambling, a commodified totem of the new global economy."

Marilyn Minter on Arsenio.

Huh? Seriously. Check out the link. Creative Time just posted the video of footage from 1989/1990 when Minter bought time on Arsenio, Letterman, and Nightline to air her film, Food Porn. Could she kick more ass? I think not.

There's also a short interview on the site. It's especially interesting to see her giving herself calluses from her painting method.