Art in Brief

RAY JOHNSON: EN RAPPORT
Feigen Contemporary

Ray Johnson's suicide in 1995 brought a macabre twist to the avant-garde quest to close the gap between art and life. The date he jumped from a Sag Harbor bridge was January 13, the artist was then 67 years old, and the previous night he had stayed in hotel room 247 — the number 13 (6 + 7 and 2 + 4 + 7 =13) was stamped all over the circumstances of his death.

Johnson has come down in legend for a series of clever stunts — chopping the bottom quarter from a collage purchased for $1,500, rather than the requested $2,000, for example. He did, however, produce much notable work. He is the inventor of "mail art," collages and drawings disseminated through the post, and he made countless larger-scale collages every bit as eccentric as he was.

Approximately 60 of these works are the subject of this compelling show. Each collage references one of Johnson's better-known art-world contemporaries, and most are dominated by one of two forms: a comic-book-like bunny with rings for eyes, and a silhouetted human face in profile, which is often studded with white dots so it recalls the night sky.

Also on view is John Walter's excellent 2002 documentary about the artist, "How To Draw a Bunny." Billy Name sums up the film's theme best: "Ray wasn't a person. He was a collage. A living sculpture. He was a Ray Johnson sculpture."

Because Johnson's collages generally seem as enigmatic as their creator, the occasional moments of lucid forthrightness are all the more powerful. "Dear Joseph Kosuth" (1969–80), filled with circular forms that may allude to his cerebral, tautological work, also contains the clear-as-day statement: "Dear Joseph Kosuth, How sad I am today. Ray."

Johnson's final cry for attention brought him his greatest renown. But if there is justice in posterity, the quiet, subtler cries in this always fascinating, sometimes baffling, and occasionally disturbing show will also be heard and appreciated.

Until December 23 (535 W. 20th St., between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, 212-929-0500).