November 28, 2006
Three splendid exhibits currently at the Brooklyn Museum of Art deserve your attention, and two of them are reviewed below: Walton Ford's astounding watercolors in Tigers of Wrath and the lifelike sculptures of Ron Mueck. (The third—photographs by Annie Leibovitz—received enough attention elsewhere that I can safely omit discussion here.)
Dozens of Walton Ford's enormous watercolors center on exotic animals, birds, and some extinct species, depicting a vibrant and lush animal world, one clearly and constantly threatened by the encroachment of humans. Ford's own scholarship on everything from natural history to evolution to Audobon is clearly in evidence, with his elegant script scrawled across various paintings. While the tougher animals of the mammal kingdom can here appear as threatened as the extinct giant auk, Walton's vivid depictions of encroached habitats combined with a brilliant flair for explicating the inexplicable makes for a truly powerful and haunting show. Ford's commentary on the dark side of human interaction with the animal world fascinates both adult and child; it was rather curious to watch parents of small children attempt to explain the often-bewildering paintings, some of which defy explanation to even the most over-educated adult. In particular, depictions of the pressure points on an elephant ("the animal will die"; "the animal will be infuriated"; etc.) hearkens back both to an ancient Sanskrit text as well as the modern Burmese Timber Elephant by U Toke Gale, a book it appears Ford came in contact with on his extensive zoological inquires into this lonely planet. Ford's constant and obscure references from scholars of past centuries greatly enhance his watercolors, forging a bond with the natural world of yesteryear disappearing all-too-quickly in these modern times.
Although Ron Mueck's lifelike human sculptures of various sizes and proportions are well-known, some techniques he has adopted more recently have made his newer work even more dazzling than before. By utilizing more silicone, the form of the human body he depicts seems ever more realistic, and his implanting of hair is particularly astounding in this show. For example, the disshelved hair gives much credence to the two shrunken hags of Two Women (2005), whose elderly appearance is augmented by the artist's placing them in typical granny coats, dark stockings and sensible shoes. Though only 33 inches high, they nevertheless seem strikingly real, staring off into the distance from atop a pedestal. Larger sculptures such as Mask II (2001-2) and Big Man (2000) and the more recent In Bed (2005) are truly extraordinary; the form of their noses, limbs, hair and in particular facial hair on Mask II seems frighteningly realistic. A great behind-the-scenes Flickr slideshow explores how Mueck installed this show, and moreover neatly encapsulates the incredible challenges behind assembling and displaying these sculptures. The Flickr set additionally shows the fascinating range of hair Mueck chooses to depict on his many sculptures. The multimedia section of Mueck’s installation further explores how the artist assembles his work, and some vitrines display various components utilized in the sculpting process. The tremendous scale of both these shows—the visitor seems dwarfed by both, not to mention the sheer number of photos in Leibovitz’s exhibit sandwiched in between—underscores again how the revitalized Brooklyn Museum with its vast collections can also mount several exciting exhibits simultaneously.
Tags:
annie leibovitz, brooklyn museum, ron mueck, tigers of wrath, walton ford
© All rights reserved.
Posted on 11/28/2006
(
Permanent Link
)
 Send to Friend
|
November 06, 2006
After watching the lead female marathon runners zip past off the Queensboro Bridge yesterday, I headed to the Museum of Modern Art to see the just-opened Manet and the Execution of Maximilian. As with the reopened café on the third floor, in both instances I asked myself: Why is this here? Both seem distinctly out of place. So marathon-like, I zipped through, made my notes, and left.
Of course, Manet's series of paintings depicting the execution of Emperor Maximilian are superbly executed and would belong in any display of the oeuvre of Manet. But this particular exhibit seems to be orphaned, with seemingly no ties to anything else on view at the museum. Can a painting from 1869 be considered modern? In a word: Hardly. It takes a vast stretch of the imagination—aside from financial considerations (Manet always draws a crowd, especially at holiday time)—to explicate exactly why this exhibit is here.
Which recalls Roberta Smith's lovely smackdown of MoMA in the New York Times five days ago. Her comments both echoed and augmented some of the criticism leveled by Calvin Tomkins in his September 25 New Yorker article "I Remember MoMA." For 858 million dollars, the trustees and patrons of MoMA—simply put—got shafted. And this is everywhere apparent when you look at those smudged white walls, this reopened café or other dining areas. The reopened café, for example, has been shifted to accommodate a walkway to the new Education Center opening at month's end. While the café now has more seats, the dining experience has become gloomy. Both the espresso bar and café are deprived of that brilliant light and decent view of the sculpture garden. And the museum visitor has yet another empty white corridor with dustballs gathering at the base of the windows to admire. To quote Smith: "Yoshio Taniguchi’s MoMA is a beautiful building that plainly doesn’t work."
Do these things really matter? In a massive showpiece museum displaying many hallowed items of design, it indeed does. Just as the flawed design—about which I've written previously—still displays the most egregious flaws: Too many visitors cramped into narrow and confining galleries; too little space for the most prized items in the collection; too much dust in the corridors, walkways and window areas; and too many poorly-conceived nooks. As I wrote last week, while the Brice Marden retrospective looks wonderful, it would be even nicer if the two billion dollars' worth of top artwork from the permanent collection could be displayed in the airy and bright sixth floor, rather than the cramped quarters on the fourth and fifth floors.
Perhaps that's asking too much.
Tags:
brice marden, calvin tomkins, Edouard manet, execution of maximilian, moma, new york marathon, roberta smith
© All rights reserved.
Posted on 11/6/2006
(
Permanent Link
)
Send to Friend
|
November 02, 2006
What was the appeal of abstract painting to Brice Marden? This was a question posed to him by talk-show host Leonard Lopate during Monday's noontime interview. Because when you confront this massive retrospective of his work at MoMA, the breadth and evolution of his work becomes immediately apparent.
Do initially overlook the drawings on the third floor and proceed immediately to the sixth-floor galleries, for the boldness of these enormous monochromatic panels seems so striking, and as you proceed through the galleries you see his style evolve in a most extraordinary way. It seems hard to believe just a few weeks ago these galleries were chockablock with Dadaobjets d'art; fortuitously, the curators have allowed plenty of space to perambulate and ponder these paintings. While at first you might think his earlier works evoke if not emulate Mark Rothko or Ad Reinhardt, Marden is rather adamant in his declarations that this is not the case. "People kept saying I was looking at Ad Reinhardt and Barnett Newman, but I wasn't," Marden tells Leonard Lopate. But he admits to a big connection with Jasper Johns when starting out as a student in the late 1950s.
His most recent paintings—loaned by the Matthew Marks Gallery—are truly the most breathtaking. These gargantuan paintings each comprise six panels of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet, with each panel featuring bold strokes in these colors of the rainbow. And this final gallery on the sixth floor seems so very uplifting: While Marden did take a color course at Boston University and politely claims not to have understood it, his most recent paintings clearly show a genial and brilliant mastery of color and light. His use of oil paint with wax (beeswax) added is most compelling, and he continually speaks of the importance of surrounding environment to him in his painting. Little wonder that some reviews have focused much on his property and travels, as place obviously is of key importance to him. Moreover, his homages to famous artists—both his contemporaries and Renaissance masters such as Fra Angelico—indicate just how astounding the depth and breadth of his vision can be. And in assessing his prints—in particular, the Suicide Notes—the meticulousness and painterly qualities so evident in his larger works can be better understood here; Asian calligraphy and poetry are just two of the many factors that influence his drawing and brushstrokes.
The retrospective runs through January 15, 2006.
Tags:
ad reinhardt, brice marden, jasper johns, mark rothko, moma
© All rights reserved.
Posted on 11/2/2006
(
Permanent Link
)
Send to Friend
|
