dArt International Magazine

by Steve Rockwell

From the outset, by titling their exhibition “At Face Value,” the curators Robert Curcio and Leah Oates put into play a dynamic tension between appearance and subtext, the spoken message and the unsaid meaning of what is presented. Amy Hill evokes the ghost of a 500 year-old porcelain complexioned Ginerva de Benci, a Florentine painted by a youthful Leonardo da Vinci. Her own treatment of it might be of a museum-attending New Yorker with political views who is into Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. 

Hill’s work contrasts the Andrew Owen AO1 hybrid portrait of model Winnie Harlow. Its digitally-generated spokes of eight images funnel to the singularity of a kaleidoscope of sex, gender, and ethnicity. As an artificially-generated construct transcribed from real life, it hints at the trans and post-human, but is a beauty in its own right, nevertheless.

The digital “Twins” photo of Arlene Rush commemorates a turn in the genetic transit of boy, girl, and parent as eerie cloning from a single egg into identical parts. The articulation of sexual distinction is achieved through the tailoring of clothing to shape anatomy. Hand-holding siblings raise their free hands in a kind of benediction to a possible new birth, the bannister before them suggestive of a crib. The fingers of the hand of the sister overlays the image of the mother bride on the wall behind them as a confirming gesture of attribution. The expressed moment is at once, intimate, lovely, and touching.

Chambliss Giobbi places the viewer on their back looking up, as if waking from a film noir delirium. The ceiling fixture behind the shoulder of the besuited man serves a hypnotic eye in the sky probe to signal the continuation of an interrogation or treatment. Where it lands is unclear. Giobbi’s melted Crayola technique captures an aura of Lucien Freud psychological disquiet. As a “votive” artist homage to the real thing, it tucks nicely under your pillow.

In her own words, Claudine Anrather inhabits “an unsteady world, figures freed from time and space,” a Jungian netherworld where  the animus and anima, the masculine and feminine sides of the personal psyche play out their dialectics. Since her subjects here have since given up their ghosts, her portraits of black trans women achieve a rebirth through a channeling of their archetype. Anrather’s painted effigies waft into a visible present from the immaterial timeless.

The intimate self-portraits of Dana Nehdaran transcend mechanically-transcribed visual journals, these being just one of several series that adhere to themes consistent with “At Face Value.” The tension between past, present and future against concealment and revelation play out in the multi-layered play of impasto brush stroke, color, canvas texture, and frames within frames.

D. Dominick Lombardi “self-portraits” at ages 17, 35, and a future 95 echo Oscar Wilde’s “Portrait of Dorian Gray.” Since drawings and paintings are time stamps, his portrait at age 95 should keep the artist younger than his “portrait” for years to come. In the mean time, all three works are at liberty to display tumors and mutations at will. A connection might be made between Lombardi’s drawings and the work of Ivan Albright, which served as inspiration for the portrait in the Dorian Gray film.  

The link between abstract expressionism and the cartoon is energy. Marcy Brafman effectively harnesses the latent force of the animated character without its explicit imagery. In the process, her painted strokes effectively charge her open-ended narratives with wit and vigor. This play between presence and absence sets in motion a game of multi-layered readings. Mere suggestions of eye and mouth are sufficient to drive a story line.

For Shantel Miller, the oil medium has opened up formal creative possibilities to the black experience. The figure on their back on a bed with raised arms displays a complex combination of vulnerability, resignation, rest, and revery. The frame of the room, its bed, and of course the painting itself projected as four floating representations on the wall create a sense of the dreamy meditative with “eyes wide shut.” 

The three characters that Noah Becker introduces in his “Three Figures” (2023) painting cannot be ignored. That they are unsmiling, is not the issue. Like insistent strangers on a doorstep, they will not go away until their “demands” are satisfied. Each subject in a Becker painting tend to be locked within its edges, figures sealed against their ground. We look, negotiate, and contemplate the hats, beards, and suits from a culture out of time.

Painted elements floating across the white of the Pierre St. Jacques paper work spin in space from the “big bang” of its creation. Three male characters seem to be residual burns from an old black and white photo. The viewer is tasked with repeated playback possibilities to solve the cause of the explosion. It seems that someone had absent-mindedly pressed the UP elevator button before all hell broke loose.

Ruben Natal-San Miguel tracks the aesthetic impulse in the corners and creases of culture. One such fleeting event was captured at a table in Crotona Park in the Bronx, where Jennifer had casually stopped for her “Beauty Make Up Check.” As such, it’s a collaboration and celebration of one of life’s unguarded moments out of which any community is necessarily comprised.

By overlaying classic art of the past with tropes of tagging, graffiti and tattoo, Sam Jackson manages to blend various aesthetic disciplines. Fragmented text fuses personal and societal motifs with a collective sensibility, bringing to life the “dead” art of the past. It’s a trope not different in kind to Amy Hill and her “Woman in Orange Denim Jacket.” 

At Face Value: Curated by Robert Curcio and Leah Oates. Saturday, July 5 –27, 2024 @ Station Independent Projects , 220 Geary Avenue, Suite #2B, Toronto, Ontario, Canada http://www.curcioprojects.com/home.html http://www.stationindependent.com

 

by D. Dominick Lombardi

Martin Weinstein’s art is time sensitive. No, not the anxiety producing, stressful, or expiring type. His art is more in the realm of the poetics of time – what we experience most often subconsciously, when connecting with the time/space undercurrent encountered during times of heightened awareness.

Time, a human construct, was designed to give us organization, to put forth the concept of the past, present and future which some see as virtually nonexistent. Weinstein takes a very close look at that last part, dividing his paintings into separate, physical overlapping transvisual layers. The resulting effect of his nontraditional approach precipitously changes the way we perceive two standard genres in painting: the landscape and the portrait, bringing renewed wonder and appreciation to these most familiar types.

Within his paintings, there is this shuffle between near and far, time of day and the changes throughout the seasons or years. Going beyond the preconceived, Weinstein changes the way we process visual information by breaking it down to selective details that jostle and float in space – real time triggers that occur when one is immersed in the experience of life. And despite the fact that Weinstein works with acrylic paints and panels, his art puts forth a very organic and fluid vision well beyond the fixed and familiar. In the orchestration or the illustration of time, the artist pushes beyond the limits within the realm of the painted surface – a challenge that Weinstein solves by angling and overlapping the painted clear acrylic sheets.

Overall, Weinstein’s numerous works are Installed to hint at the sequential process of a graphic novel, moving the viewer through various vignettes that begin with an introduction to the lead characters in the form of portraits. From there, the installation moves us through individual, variously connected vistas where a windy and weightless thread begins in Italy with Venice, Stormy Evenings (2019) and Venice, Stormy Mornings (2021), soaring to a peak of intensity in mid-exhibition with Dogwoods and River, One afternoon Over another (2021), May Evening, One Over Another (2021) and Snowy Evenings, One Year Over another (2021).

Weinstein’s loving embrace of seasonal change is most profound in the spring and summer when the fireworks of exploding blooms reach their various peaks in warmer weather. In these instances, the artist gives that distinctive airiness in his painting technique and places it in the petals of the flowers. Often painted at close range, this series of floral delights is a continuous celebration, clearly recorded in the stunningly alluring Roses and River, Late Evening over Early Evening (2020), Irises and River, Evening Under Afternoon (2021) and Peonies, Three afternoons (2021). In these works and others like it, we experience the endless cycle of the earth through its most brilliant and colorful stars.

Weinstein’s portraits have that similar mix of persistence versus impermanence as we see more than one view of the subject. One immediately gets the feeling that these paintings, whether it is Syd (2015-2015), Katie (2022), John (2022) or the artist’s partner Tereza, April (2020), are individuals that are close in heart, mind and spirit to the artist. And as subjects, they also become integral but less overbearing elements than your standard portrait type, as they are absorbed directly into the artist’s fluid process. As a result, these portraits maintain the aura of each person, the spirit of the individual, placing them in an altogether different realm than the usual portrait type, just like the artist has done in his interpretation of a landscape.

Lastly, there is the Inside Over Outside series that consists of a number of captivating works that move the viewer right through solid spatial boundaries. Walls dissolve, near and far intermingle, and what we understand as here and there blend together in a dance of visual delights. Add to the mix timeless cities like Rome and Venice and the outside under inside takes on even more import, giving the entire materialization of the narrative a chilling vulnerability.

Take for instance, Rome, Stormy Afternoon, Outside Under Inside (2023). Here we see the heavens intermingling seamlessly with the ceiling structure, while landmarks encroach and interior furnishings hang in the balance. In Rome, Stormy Afternoon, Outside Under Inside, and the many works that take on that same challenge of traveling through tangible barriers that demarcate space, there is Weinstein’s unique take on the plotting of time, a vision with far more layers of meaning than the ones recorded in paint. What remains is a very tangible substance well beyond mere representation. Landscape and portrait painting has been thoroughly resuscitated, revived and brought back to its once compelling place in the works of Martin Weinstein.

by Steve Rockwell

At the heart of his practice, Jaan Poldaas was a painter, albeit one with a rigorous conceptual bent. Whatever the systems and rules he may have set in the execution of the essentially minimalist geometries, his application of the paint alone was far from perfunctory. Patrick Barfoot’s 2020 documentary film Jaan Poldaas: New Work makes this evident. Shot in the artist’s studio in October 2013, Poldaas is seen at work remarking, “Part of the pleasure here is the anticipation…. I’ll get to see how these [yellows] look with the reds on them.” 

Poldaas held strong views on representation in art, even on a symbolic level. “There is almost something morbid about dead pigment trying represent something alive.” Yet, the artist’s E.G. Series (1978–2011) suggests at least a nuanced qualification of what is meant by representation, if not an outright contradiction. The hinge of distinction appears to be colour as material extension. By matching the type of paint and its application, say of the Metro Police Security Yellow, or the Green of Metro Parks, palpable aspects of our lived environment are made concrete, the caveat here being their verbal tag. The designation of the hues in the E.G. Series were precise. If blue, it’s a Via Rail Blue, if red, it’s a Coca-Cola Red.

Paint allotments to Poldaas established their frame through language. To cite Barfoot’s documentary again, “Generally, I’ll try to represent as broad a range of yellows as can be comfortably accommodated by the word. There is a linguistic limit.” If the colour in question fell to chrome yellow, for instance, its import drew more from its public use as road and parking lot markers than the personal and emotive. It’s a colour philosophy in stark contrast to one held by Kandinsky, who saw yellow as “warm, cheeky, and exciting.”

The artist’s reductionist impulse led him to delve deep into life’s foundational principles. Poldaas held the conviction that, “If we weren’t here to see it there would be no light. So the natural condition of things is darkness.” A pioneering minimalist work that addresses this theme directly is light artist Dan Flavin’s 1963 The Nominal Three (To William of Ockham). I learned in an 1998 interview with Poldaas that it’s a piece that had intrigued him for many years. Ockham’s Razor theory resonated with the artist: “Entities are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.” Poldaas liked Ockham’s “minimalism,” but not his theology.

The 12 paintings in the 2018 Poldaas Last Series measure 60 by 60 centimetres. That they frame just beyond shoulder to shoulder and head to chest is significant. Each seem to demand a sequenced close view as if standing at a crosswalk. We wait for the vertical band to change colour before crossing. Put alternatively in the artist’s own words, “On a T-surface lines do not cross; they might be said to stop when meeting, and start again in passing each other.” As verticals we stop. The traffic passes, and we continue walking.

The passage of time may be extrapolated in the Last Series paintings from the 60 centimetre ticks of their square measure. There are 3,600 seconds in an hour that matches the number of centimetre bits in each painting. It can also be seen as ten 360 degree rotations of a circle, or ten 24 hour periods. It’s a bit of a stretch, but there are seven distinct painted areas in each work corresponding to the days of a week. Of course, if a month is assigned to each of the 12 paintings, it’s a year. The variations in colour of each painting has a precedent in Monet’s Haystack series, where the artist repeated the same subject with differences in light and atmosphere at different times of the day through the seasons in different types of weather.

The equatorial belt that binds each painting in the Last Series teases out at least a hint of geodesy as it cleaves its meridian. As Poldaas liked to tie specific things and places to his hues, I’m tempted to link our local Greenbelt as an association, aware that it may never have crossed the artist’s mind. It’s rather an application of the colour designation method that Poldaas practiced over his career. It might just as well have been one of the several colour belts required before reaching the Karate Black Belt. This later reference has the advantage of signalling the rigour and mental discipline we have come to know of the artist’s work habits.

The legacy that Jaan Poldaas left to the arts community was a model of integrity to a vision that survived the fluctuations of fads and fashions, not only of decades past, but very possibly ones to come. 

Jaan Poldaas: 2018 The Last Picture Show and Anniversary: TTC Commission Proposal Studies: April 25 – May25, 2024 at Birch Contemporary, 129 Tecumseth Street, Toronto, Ontario, M6J 2H2 Canada