Tag: Abstract

My first review for Artillery Magazine – almost two years ago now – was for my favorite museum in southern California, The Norton Simon. I recently went back and reread that article, and I found that my own writing was, to be kind, academic. Dry as a bone, really. There’s a strong voice, but one that is far more interested in saying something than showing something. It reduces the art to a history lesson instead of elevating it to the contemporary moment. But that’s what first steps are all about, making a place to look back and see how we’ve grown. Artillery Magazine has awarded me with that opportunity, and so for my fiftieth (and final) Pick of the Week, we’re revisiting The Norton Simon Museum and their new exhibition, “Unseen Picasso.”

I don’t love Picasso. I have a hard time liking the work of artists who I feel I would’ve disliked personally. It’s why I prefer Cézanne to Gaugin, or Caillebotte to Degas. But with Picasso, it extended further than the personal; I found his work, particularly later works, to be uninspiring and disconnected. In short, I’m a Georges Braque die-hard.

But it’s time to put old biases aside and welcome a new side to Picasso – an unseen side, if you will. Through this exhibition’s collection of lesser known lithographs, prints, and linocuts, I saw the threads of Picasso’s creativity and genius manifesting around me. In Dove (1949), for example, the bird, jutting out in sharp relief from the swirling gradations of black lithographic ink, is masterful and subtly detailed. It’s gentle gaze echoes its status as a symbol of peace.

What’s special about the prints in the exhibition is not only the technical wizardry and expert use of vibrant color (as in Bacchanal with Goats and Spectator (1959)), but the nods to Picasso’s creative process. The small inscriptions, the notes to the printers, the Roman numeral dating – these signs of the artists method in the work are personal in a way that is refreshing in a Picasso. They elevate the work as they ground it, making clear the labors of creation. In this room at the Norton Simon, Picasso is no longer a titan of Modern Art, but a craftsman, one who iterates ideas and claims perfection with a decisive “bon à tirer” – ready to print.

“Unseen Picasso,” and Picasso himself, conveys that we can all as artists and people strive for nothing but growth. I am immensely grateful for my time growing as a columnist with Artillery, and I look forward to continuing to grow and forge works that I too will proudly stamp, bon à tirer.

The Norton Simon Museum
411 W. Colorado Blvd.
Pasadena, California 90232
Thru Nov. 6th, 2021

In his essay on photography entitled “The Decisive Moment,” Henri Cartier Bresson describes the intricacies of portraiture and the subject. He writes that the ideal portrait is a “true reflection of a person’s world – which is as much outside him as inside him.” We are just as much individuals as we are part of the larger whole. And while Bresson writes about photography, this lesson applies well to painting, where the artist can make far more deliberate choices as to what is reflected in the subject. The portraits of Ghanaian artist Amoako Boafo in exhibition at Roberts Projects, “Singular Duality: Me Can Make We,” express complexities both internal and external in a vibrant celebration of Blackness.

Black portraiture – which has been routinely excluded from the western art historical canon – is a subject that has been by some of the greatest contemporary artists, the likes of Kehinde Wiley and Amy Sherald. But what sets Boafo apart is the personal and impressionistic style of his subjects. The textured brushstrokes of the skin, mixing tan, blue, and black to create a complex color gradient, point to the intense care that Boafo wields. These direct signs of the artist illustrate the time and thought with which Boafo approaches his craft.

Contrasted with these apparent brush strokes are the striking fields of color that act as garb and backdrop for the subjects. The backdrops in particular are intentionally plain, with near shadows which cause the sitters to pop off the canvas and into the room. Combined with their larger than life stature, there is an immediacy to their presence – they exude an effortless confidence and ease, and above all comfortable with their self-expression.

But there is more than ease in these subjects. In Yellow Throw Pillow (2021), we see a seated figure resting their head on their folded hands, staring past the artist in a moment of reflection. The plaintive, wistful air surrounding the work is in contrast to the joy of Red Collar (2021) or the decisiveness of Purple Shadow (2021), demonstrating Boafo’s interest in capturing the wide-range of emotion, particularly for Black Americans in this past year.

Amoako Boafo’s work is simultaneously deeply personal, reflected in the care with which he paints his subjects, and illustrative of the wide range of human experience. Boafo offers ledgers of Black experience both inside and out, the individual and the whole.

Roberts Projects
5801 Washington Blvd.
Los Angeles, California 90232
Thru Nov. 6th, 2021

The Korean Peninsula is a region rooted in duality. It is a land both literally and ideologically split down the middle, a lasting result of Cold War-era proxy wars, Western imperialist action, and an on-going brutal dictatorship. And even before the interventions that created the north and south, the peninsula has long been a place of dueling characteristics. The Korean identity has been hard-fought, being constantly re-defined and altered through centuries of alternately Chinese and Japanese colonialist action. This dualistic identity is explored in Helen J Gallery’s current group exhibition of four Korean and Korean-American artists, “Humming to the Sound of Fear.”

The most immediate work upon entering the gallery is the soundscape created by YoungEun Kim. Inspired by the loudspeakers which constantly blare information across the de-militarized zone between North and South Korea, Kim creates her own speaker system. Using only the highest frequencies of famous South Korean love songs, Kim organizes a fragmented and chirping melody, reminiscent of bird calls. This creates an ambient juxtaposition between the natural and man-made, carried through in the works of the other artists.

Two in particular who carry this theme are Jae Hwan Lim and Song Sumin, painters exhibiting a wide body of work in the exhibition. Sumin’s works of acrylic on canvas capture the mountainous ranges of Korea, blanketed in thick canopies, yet streaked across in billowing clouds of smoke. In white stain (2017), we see the smoke stretch across two canvases, first appearing as benign fog until it crashes cataclysmically into the earth, revealing itself to be a missile strike. This conflation of nature and war, violence and serenity, lies at the core of many of Sumin’s works.

Lim’s examination of duality, on the other hand, lies in a simultaneously traditional and radical use of medium, as he applies traditional ink painting techniques to large sheets of plastic. The painted mountain scenes, all inspired from Mt. Kumgang, a mountain which famously acted as a reconciliatory bridge between North and South Korea until 2008. The ink paintings create a familiar mixing of natural and manmade, of new and old, and are striking reminders of the immortality not only of artistic forms but of the plastic we use every day.

Finally, we arrive at the work of Kyle Tata’s photo collage series Lookout Mountain Lab Production Notes. Diving into the archives of the US military backed film producer, Lookout Mountain Lab, Tata examines the far-reaching tendrils of war during the 20^th century and the ways in which conflict and propaganda can color every aspect of life.

Across the four artists in “Humming to the Sound of Fear,” we find the myriad of ways that we interact with conflict, nature, and borders both real and psychological.

Helen J. Gallery
929 Cole Ave.
Los Angeles, California 90038
Thru Nov. 6th, 2021

Grief comes in countless forms. There are as many ways to feel the peculiar sensation of loss as there are things to lose. One can lose another, something external, and just the same – or just as differently –one can lose oneself. With bereavement, there is no wrong way and there is no manual; it is intensely personal and yet universal, one of the few things that we are all assured to feel regardless of how long we live. And one a time like the present, so deeply entwined with grief, we should confront it head-on. In Nicodim’s current exhibition, “My Heart Cries, I Set Out an Offering for You,” we see how loss and grief can manifest through paintings and sculptures from stellar young artist Devin B. Johnson

What we find in Johnson’s abstracted and ethereal paintings is not loss, but the echoes of loss. We witness the people who are still here and must meet that loss. Those who lay lilies at street corners. Those who come home to empty apartments or huddled families. Those who are haunted, as we all are, by one ghost or another. These representations of loss are more striking than others because they illustrate the subtle and quiet moments that come in its wake.

The paintings utilize a sepia-toned palette, reflecting the somber emotional state induced by his paintings. They are highly textured paintings evoke sensations of rust and ash, forms of loss in their own right. Johnson’s use of mixed-media paints for his more abstracted work, along with the understated gridlines and swaths of color, pay homage to some of the great Black abstract artist whom inspire him like Torkwase Dyson and Cullen Washington Jr.

Coming off of an unintentionally extended residency at Kehinde Wiley’s Black Rock, Senegal and responding to the on-going battle for civil rights occurring in the United States, Johnson’s interest in loss, grief, and memory are deeply rooted to the current moment. An unexpected word is quietly repeated through his paintings: GLORY. It’s an odd word to be associated with loss, and reminds me of a statue that recently captivated me at the Met: Antonin Mercié’s Gloria Victis, glory to the vanquished. The work, depicting the winged goddess Pheme carrying a dying French soldier, reminds one that even in the most tragic moments of loss one can find uplifting strength. Johnson’s work reminds us that only by fighting through these darkest hours can we possibly find our destined glory.

Nicodim
1700 S. Santa Fe, #160
Los Angeles, California 90021
Thru Oct. 16th, 2021

Fairytales operate in a special place of human consciousness. They offer the building blocks of moralism and societal standards, for better or worse. Though folk stories, myths and fairytales are found throughout every culture, there are many common elements: simple language, universal symbology, repeated characters and motifs – essentially, they are created to be easily accessible. This may seem at ends with fine art, for which inaccessibility has been a hallmark for the better part of the last century. But the pick of the week (and perhaps the best show in Los Angeles) works to unite the two; with original works and a curated group show, “The Emerald Tablet” from Ariana Papademetropoulos at Jeffrey Deitch is a must see.

We’ll start with the originals. The large scale paintings offer a good introduction to the tone and rhythm of the show as a whole. They feature Papademetropoulos’ spectacular painting ability and weave a miraculous worlds of impossible proportions. Be it ghosts, unicorns, alien landscapes or wicker furniture, Papademetropoulos’ works entice the viewer into her occult dimension and prepare them for the magic which awaits them in the subsequent galleries.

The group show is a confluence of some of the greatest contemporary artists that Los Angeles has to offer. From up-and-comers like Lucy Bull to past powerhouses like Mike Kelley, Papademetropoulos gathers works which build off her own foundation and carry the ideas of occult happenings to new heights. The most striking works in the main room are the carousel from Raúl de Nieves and the witch-faced cottage from Jordan Wolfson, but the magic really begins in the final room. With the walls painted a deep, emerald green, rock monoliths pierce into the space, creating a feeling of sanctuary and ritual. In the center, a fantastic city under glass from the aforementioned Kelley evokes the emerald city imagined by Frank L. Baum in his timeless work, “The Wizard of Oz.”

But that quick comparison is not the base from which Papademetropoulos operates, though that is what first comes to mind. The show itself, “The Emerald Tablet,” is named for the Emerald Tablet of Hermes, an Arabic text that was foundational to the history of western occultism. This layering of meaning, hiding deeper, secret knowledge under the guise of something recognizable and mundane, is the core of occult working, and the core of Papademetropoulos efforts, both personal and curatorial.

Jeffrey Deitch
925 N. Orange Drive
Los Angeles, California 90038
Thru Oct. 23rd, 2021

I’ve written a lot about Los Angeles and how it’s mistakenly known as an “ugly city.” And while before I’ve been willing to blame that mistake on biased reporting, I’m starting to believe that the call is coming from inside the house. Truthfully, we have only ourselves to blame for our city’s image problem. And it’s more than just the labels we self-ascribe. It’s the images and impressions that have become iconic to Los Angeles. The palm trees and deserts, the waves and sunsets – we supplant the city that we built with the nature that we conquered. These natural icons act as the subjects for the incisive paintings from Jason Mason in his show, “California Rhythm,” on view at Bill Brady Gallery.

I was first struck by Mason’s work when I immersed myself in the details. Mason possesses an immense technical ability; from the gentle gradations of color in waves of water or sand, to the hyper- realistic palm tree on a millennial pink backdrop, he shows himself to be an outstanding painter. He renders the symbols of southern California with an exacting and fine eye.

But the power of his works is not built on technical mastery alone, nor on a sentimental awareness of our cities iconography. Rather, Mason injects into his natural images telltale signs of humanity: like trash floating in the sea or construction equipment. Mason goads the viewer into recognizing the identity of their city not only in the natural beauty but also in our human intervention. These suggestions of humanity highlight the dichotomy of a city like Los Angeles, and the difficulty of aligning a city with natural symbols.

These ideas come to the forefront with the works which introduce textual elements. Cloak and Dagger (2021), for example, takes the classic palm tree vignettes and flips them by transforming them into cell towers. The text (“Cloak and Dagger” written across the canvas) illustrates the thin veneer of Los Angeles’ identity. We want to put forward this front of splendor and iconic nature, but at our core we are a city of wires and towers.

The “California Rhythm” is a syncopated one; it upends our traditional understanding of our city and its iconography, but still ends up with a beautiful melody.

Bill Brady Gallery
603 N. La Brea Ave.
Los Angeles, California 90036
Thru Oct. 16th, 2021

As an omnipresent symbol across the history of humanity, the ocean assumes many roles. It is a healing force, and is immensely destructive; it is divine and earthly. The ocean encompasses the myriad of natural and mystical forces which have captivated our imagination as a species ad infinitum, inspiring visions of deities and monsters alike. “Obsidian Butterfly,” the newest show from Camille Rose Garcia on view at KP Projects, encapsulates the depths of the ocean and our connection to it.

For the past year, Garcia’s work has centered on the ocean as the Pacific became a refuge for her after being evacuated from Northern California during the wildfires. Across twelve works on panels (often adorned with driftwood) and fourteen smaller works on paper, Garcia draws on this experience to explore the shamanic and healing properties of the ocean. In her brightly colored paintings, Garcia often personifies the ocean as a healer/goddess figure, adorned with shells and sea stars.

In the titular work, Obsidian Butterfly (2021), we see one such goddess archetype articulated in Garcia’s signature style. The macabre, black-teared woman evokes the dualistic symbolism that the ocean itself evokes. While herself appearing as a kind of witch, gesturing out a spell with a wave of her hand, the warm, almost neon, palette is inviting and enticing – a sirens call. This sunburst scene is encircled by a vignette ocean floors and jungle vines, as if peering through a portal to another world.

One of the most striking works, Serpents of the Abyss (2021), again utilizes the sea-witch figures, this time in accompanying roles. They pick up instruments constructed of sea shells to announce your arrival to yet another realm, this one far ominous. A cave – or perhaps a maw – shrouds a spiny conch shell, which in turn has its own secrets. The entrance, however, is guarded by four identical serpent heads – the hydra. Smoke billows from their eyes and creates a psychedelic haze, one where the line between enchantment and peril is inexorably blurred.

Above all else, “Obsidian Butterfly” – and in fact, the entire oeuvre of Garcia’s career – is as aesthetically appealing as it is deeply rooted in the collective history of the symbols of our world, both natural and supernatural.

KP Projects
633 N. La Brea Ave.
Los Angeles, California 90036
Thru Oct. 9th, 2021