Art in Brief
ALAIN KIRILI & GASTON LACHAISE
Salander-O'Reilly Galleries
Within the context of "Americans in Paris 1860–1900," the recent exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and countless histories of artists who habitually headed for that art Mecca on the Seine well in to the 20th century, it is comforting to know that artists have trekked in the opposite direction too. This gem of a show, which closes this weekend, juxtaposes two French sculptors — a contemporary, Alain Kirili (b.1946), who has divided his time between New York and Paris since the 1970s, and a giant of American modernism Gaston Lachaise (1882–1935), who moved to America in 1906 in literal pursuit of his muse, Isabel. Despite obvious period differences the show discovers striking similarities of spirit, intention, and material innovation between these two Frenchmen.
Mr. Kirili has often seen pairings of his own work with historical figures. In 2003 in Valencia, Spain he was shown with Julio González the father of open form sculpture Other such dialogues have featured Rodin and Carpeaux. Mr Kirili forms a credible alliance with Lachaise, as they are both demonstrably hands-on sculptors the fearless physicality of their metalwork seemingly born of an erotic impulse.
Mr. Kirili is essentially abstract and yet at the same time un abashedly figural. His 2006 "Nataraja" series, several exam ples of which represent him here are linear constructions in space worked in forged iron, which are voluptuously visceral. At once fluid and jagged, his line is the opposite of stylized in the way it is awk wardly pinched, alternately bulging and tapering.
Lachaise's small bronzes, which were selected by Mr. Kirili, may have the familiar bulbousness of his full-bodied nudes, but they eschew the smooth serenity familiar from his larger figures. Instead they wallow in a disconcerting sense of innards spewing out, giving new meaning to the term "gutsy." Placed in relationship to them Mr. Kirili's linear constructions take on alimentary overtones, unraveling like a colon. Lachaise's abstract figures from the 1930s, such as "Dynamo Mother" (1933), au daciously dissolve barriers be tween internal and external. The sense of isolated, accentuated body parts in his "Acrobat Woman" (1934) anticipates by decades the surrealist explorations of breasts of a fellow relocated countryman, Louise Bourgeois. A pattern of erotic and somatic connotations among French-American sculptors brings to mind the old adage for GIs: over-sexed and over here.
David Cohen
Until May 5 (22 E. 71st St., between Fifth and Madison avenues, 212-879-6606).
JOANNE MATTERA: Silk Road
OK Harris Works of Art
The ancient, labor-intensive process of encaustic painting has come a long way since art historian H.W. Janson, in 1941, declared it an "almost forgotten medium." If Jasper Johns put it back on the map in the 1950s and '60s, Joanne Mattera has been a prime mover in making the technique accessible to a new generation of painters. Her 2001 handbook, "The Art of Encaustic Painting," is the reigning manual for contemporary artists drawn to the surface qualities and translucence for which the medium is known.
The medium itself is very much the subject of "Silk Road," Ms. Mattera's series of small encaustic panels on view at OK Harris. Each panel is a simple expanse of what appears, at quick glance, to be a single color. But owing to the opalescent properties of pigmented beeswax applied in layers, these radiant fields are irreducible to monochrome. Cunning visual subtleties are the raison d'ętre of the series.
"Silk Road 87" (2007) appears superficially as red. But the panel cools, through a preternaturally delicate scumble, to a nimbus of pale blue that rises upward from the bottom edge like polar rays on the horizon. The red undergoes shifts in intensity from layer to layer (10 of them).
"Silk Road 90" (2007) spreads a luminous green-yellow over clear vermilion that asserts itself between the interstices of the covering brush strokes that crisscross right to left and top to bottom. Each panel achieves the woven quality of a textile, the warp and woof of exquisitely controlled brushwork.
If no panel is truly monochrome, neither is any color totally opaque. Light is held in the depths of the wax; color is suspended within the body of the medium. You look into the panels, not simply at them. Unseen underlayers display themselves naked at the edges in counterpoint with the dominant color.
The refinement of Ms. Mattera's touch is all the more impressive when weighed against the handling properties of encaustic, which work against finesse. Encaustic begins to cool — and harden — the instant a brush leaves the heated palette. Speed of application is critical. Ms. Mattera's panels are no larger than 12 inches square because that is as far as a single, discriminating brush stroke can be sustained on an unwarmed panel.
Resonance from within lends depth to understated surface patterns. Viewed in ensemble, there is nothing minimal about them.
Maureen Mullarkey
Until May 26 (383 West Broadway, between Broome and Spring streets, 212-431-3600).
MARKUS LÜPERTZ: Tents — Early Dithyrambs
Michael Werner Gallery
In 1962, Markus Lüpertz began to paint his "dithyrambic" paintings, serial works in which he explored both mundane and politically charged subjects using modernist, abstract expressionist, and pop styles. His subjects included Christ, Donald Duck, grids, tents, and Nazi imagery. The artist's use of the term dithyrambic, a word of Greek origin that relates to the throes of ecstasy experienced by worshippers of Dionysus, provided additional fodder for critics and academics.
An exhibit at Michael Werner Gallery focuses on paintings made in 1965 that were based on pictures of tents Mr. Lüpertz found in department store catalogs. A few of the paintings, such as "Taunus 200" (1965), take their titles directly from the products in the catalog. (The Taunus is also a mountain region in Hessen, Germany.) Although the banal subject matter and the serial nature of these paintings could indicate there was no emotional investment in the painting process, the prominent placement of the artist's first name at the top of each painting suggests otherwise. First and foremost, the device redirects our attention to formal issues — the subtle differences between the pungently colorful tents, the way they reflect and absorb light.
Mr. Lüpertz plays with volume and perspective through unusual cropping of the vertical and horizontal linear elements. He dramatically contrasts raw and painted canvas, and juxtaposes flat geometric pattern and tactile, sensual, and drippy passages. These tents can be read as surrogates for the artist, and at the same time they are a critique of the symbolic and allegorical traditions of German art. The various subjects that appear in the dithyrambic paintings of the 1960s are lures or empty vessels. The focus is instead on the act of painting, the construction of the individual out of the ashes of signs. The catalog tells us Mr. Lüpertz once characterized himself "das Volk, das malt," the populace, who paint. It is conflict between self-denial and self-expression that complicates his work.
Eric Gelber
Until May 19 (4 E. 77th St. at Fifth Avenue, 212-988-1623).
AN ART OF OUR OWN: Women Ceramicists from the Permanent Collection
Brooklyn Museum
Mounted as a satellite exhibition to the Brooklyn Museum's opening of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art, "An Art of Our Own" presents approximately 80 ceramic objects illustrating the presence of a distinctly female point of view within the tradition of ceramics. While not a comprehensive, indepth survey, these works from the museum's permanent collection are all principal examples of the various trends found in ceramic production by women over the last 100 years.
A selection of ceramics by Eva Zeisel, the pioneering centenarian industrial designer, runs the gamut of her long career: from the early genius of her folk- and Bauhaus-inspired mash-ups produced by the German manufacturer Schramberg, to examples of her curvaceous Hallcraft dinnerware, to her trademark Town and Country "schmoo" salt and pepper shakers. Missing, however, are her lustrous designs for the Hungarian factory Zsolnay, arguably some of her best work.
Other highlights include Clara Newton's tilted Arts and Craftsstyle vase for Rookwood (1882); Hallie L. Day's laboriously detailed 5-piece tea set for Limoges 1906-15); Daisy Makeig Jones' Satsuma-inspired porcelain bowls for Wedgewood (1920); Beatrice Wood's luster-glazed earthenware chalice (1975); and Concetta Fenicchia's teapot 1986) decorated in a Pattern and Decoration–style riot.
The real treats of the exhibition, however, are the often-overlooked works by Native American women. These jars, bowls, and vases deftly balance the utilitarian with the decorative, working within the traditions essential to the Native American way of life while simultaneously grappling with contemporary issues. Representative are Helen Shupla's black slip Santa Clara "Melon Bowl" (1984), Grace Chino's Acoma "Water Jar" (1988–90), Margaret Tafoya's black slip Santa Clara Pueblo "Water Jar" (1970), and Grace Chapella's Tewa Village jar (1951–60).
Brice Brown
Ongoing (200 Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn, 718-638-5000).
