Light effects, time and space, dream colors
Light effects, time and space, dream colors, and light-dependent computers: The works feature recognizable symbols that reveal references to the art history of the day, like a worn, new typewriter. Transparent sheeting, ubiquitous white waxed paper, and the corners of translucent acrylic paint join the gestalt structure of a sure-thing artifact. Bowers time and memory become the objects that compose a surprisingly timeless piece of narrative, and its not hard to imagine the stark juxtaposition of the painterly and the semiotics of modernist painting.Throughout the exhibition, audiences encountered and explored different levels of abstraction. Visitors could peer at paper works and photo works in the gallery or browse through penciled drawings in the second section of the exhibition, discovering subtleties and patterns of shape and color that were intricately worked out. A tour of the other half of Bowerss process, involving color, line, and line-shaped forms, was offered in the final gallery. A four-panel-sized work called Atrocity, 1995, was modeled on a newspaper cutout of the early 40s and was inspired by a black-and-white print of a cactus found in the woods of Montana. Unlike the newspaper works, the photo works were abstract, as were the colored scales, colors, and lines of color in the paper works. Although the print on paper, whereas a newspaper one might call it, was clearly just a printed page, the scale of the scaled-down section of the paper print was so astonishing that it resembled a grotesque print and thus was more apt to evoke one of Bowerss favorite paintings, Mabinogi. The pictures giant-scale scale seemed to bring out the insanity of the most abstract forms.In addition to Bowerss similar reference to the visual experience of painting, his work explores the tactile and esthetically satisfying properties of color.
. Her imagery is also an explosion of colors and shadows in shimmering waves, shadowy fields and opaque skies. The artists continued use of black and white in the late 70s came to be viewed as a critique of the temporalism in his works. Less successful was a series of paintings, Vibrations: Black and White, 1987, of a strange one-color image that might be a representation of the wave movement. Brown, green and blue waves ripple and ripple, accompanied by the sounds of surf. These works, as with the works in the exhibition, do not do justice to the intensity of her vision. The most powerful of the exhibitions are those by Marguerite Yourcenar and Liliane Lautrec, works in which photographs of the same color are juxtaposed in close-up, almost abstract, visual manner. In addition, their charcoal, pastel and graphite works are the most convincing, because of their shimmering and softening quality. If the paintings of Theseus and Picasso had any substance, it was in their ability to invite us into their universe. But when it comes to the more formal works, one tends to feel trapped in them, particularly those by auteurs like Murillo, Dufy and other such masters who put strong emphasis on form and order in their work. Color and technique are minimized, and content and formal qualities are often unclear. Otherwise, there is little detail, only shading and rough gray underpainting in some of the pieces. Is it possible to be too dry in an area like this? The problem is that the formalistic aspect of art becomes an aesthetic fact and not an intellectual one, as in the work of Gary Hill or of so many other artists who work in painting, especially in sculpture.
Light effects, time and space, dream colors, never lose the energy of a dream.The paintings, most in two-part frames, are normally hung on the wall. However, in One Small Piece, 1987, the frames are virtually obliterated, leaving only a hint of an aerial view. Painted on the opposite side of the wall, this photograph shows the shadows of leaves and branches that cover the grass, silhouetting the sky above them. In a corner of a mirror hung another photograph, Two Leaves Falling, 1987, the shadows of leaves, branches, and buildings obscure a single object in the background, the trees, in turn, obscuring the clear sky above them. A third photograph, Untitled, 1987, shows a collection of branches behind a house, viewed in a background with a single tree branch in front of it. On the opposite wall hangs Untitled, 1987, a portrait of a bare tree in a landscape that is almost desolate. Its branches are largely black but for the faint outline of a house in the background. It is an austere portrait.The images on this display of miniature paintings are chosen from a larger set of works that were also on view in this exhibition. Painted on canvas, these works, from 1985, 1987, and 1987, were based on photographs that had been taken by Karl Heinz Haackes and colleagues of the FRA-CUBE group. As Haacke calls the portraits, they show themselves miniature in their form, as if they had been exhibited in a gallery. The portraits were originally set in situ at the CERN laboratories in Geneva and from there transferred to canvas. The process reveals the technical methods employed, the techniques of transfer, and the care with which Haacke copied them. Paint transfer, he explains, gives a painter the ability to create a fine grain, a pattern of irregular lines, lines that are not smooth, and lines that are smooth but slightly gossamer, as if a mirage.
Light effects, time and space, dream colors, graphic patterns, signifiers of mass-produced art, are preserved in the modernism of which Freud is a part. The Nude (all works 1996), which recalls a nineteenth-century photograph, portrays a nude figure that is almost as but not quite as beautiful as the original. This is especially true of the front, which is just as colorful, strong and beautiful as the back, in the same way as the front is beautiful.But what does this painting imply? Is Freud dreaming? Is he an artist whose dreams transcend the boundaries of reality? Is he an artist who fills the human world with his ideas? Does he want to live in the surface of reality and explore it, to change reality? Does he want to make himself art, to be art? The Nude also suggests a brief moment of observation, a glance behind, of the world. But for Freud, time is not only a temporal object, but an essential condition for art. Time is a condition of the world, and art, on the other hand, is a space that exists only in the mind. The changes in the world, the motion of the stars, the tides, the seasons—all these are signs of reality, only in the mind. Thus, the sky changes, the clouds move, the clouds cover the sky. The sky becomes a world of signs, and the sky becomes a single object, of signs that do not exist in the world, only in the mind. In other words, the Nude is a sign, a sign of the mind. The Nude suggests, however, an understanding of the world as a spatial experience—a spatial sensation, even, which is not so much a physical sensation as a virtual reality. In the mind, everything is real, except the mind, which seems like a translucent surface covered by a dense fog.
, and very fine, highly viscous stains (with water in the textures, rather than in the picture) give the picture a faded, elusive quality. There is a wry subversion in the slowness of the painterly invention, as though the work had been left to chance. The works intensity is a result of a blind spot, a self-imposed limitation of vision.The movement in this show was slow and fluid, as if the effort were its own reward. With the very few exceptions—a tripod, a scale, and a drawing table—there was no central framing, no coherent set of focal points. Each panel was covered with a subtle, transparent pigment or embossed with a fragment of geometric, exuberant, solid, or dazzlingly abstract pattern. The paintings surface was undulating, perhaps because the material was dusty and crepulated, and perhaps because there were crumbly cracks and patches of fuzz. The surfaces were treated with an impastoed, metallic finish, a process that evokes the linearly applied surfaces of classic Cubism. But the result is not a soothing, soothing revelation; rather, it is a kind of ambitious, lacerating assault. The excitement is almost violent. The scenes are violent. The intensity of the painterly impulse is unruly. The mind is overloaded with activity. The paintings lack any right frame, and the method in itself creates a distorted, strange-looking illusion.
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