September 5 to 30, 2006

This show – which was curated by David Cohen, editor and publisher of artcritical.com — covers a time range from 2001 to 2006 and as would be expected reflects some diversity. Durner appears to have moved from a rougher esthetic to a place in her work that is more refined.

The earlier of these pieces were done on paper with edges that are sometimes angled and uneven. Due to the effects of water-based paint the paper contains large ripples which, in conjunction with gallery lighting, creates an additional dimension of light and shadow not available on stretched canvas.  These pieces are approximately the same size as the canvases that follow later and should be regarded equally as paintings in their own right rather then as ‘works on paper’.  They have a pleasantly unfinished, often chalky, raw quality that provides them with an authenticity not as available in later work. Durner references the legacy of the New York School artists from the more expressive side in these pieces.  Compare “Day is Breaking” with “Stripes Drip”:  the former weaves together the structure of the forms, primarily through the paint handling.  “Stripes Drip,” on the other hand, gathers the forms together in a way that recalls Morris Louis and similarly confronts the conceit of orderly placement by letting gravity turn the paint loose.  The difference is that Durner’s paint is more opaque than Louis’s. These two approaches are nothing new but the execution is well done and the diversity between them is refreshingly experimental.  This is especially so given the unique textural capabilities of paper and the dry quality of the paint.

Her more recent work on canvas reduces the rough and tumble approach.  Further, the latest work divides into the two categories of painted or poured.  The poured pieces are the most refined work in the show as well as the smallest of the canvases.  Because of this they drift too closely toward functioning as objects and do not fully engaging as paintings. The refinement is too controlled (surprising for poured paint), the color too evenly distributed and the overarching effect too synthetic. The result is that these pieces come off as inaccessible and remote when compared to the other work.

Contrast this with Rousseau (2006) where a generous depth of space is coupled with an abstract, though natural sensibility.  The colors compose a warm earthiness that contributes to an overall realism regarding the emotional temperature of the piece. Another painting, Lush(2005) achieves the same thing but with a completely different color theme. In this piece the intensity is turned up with bright yellow and chartreuse dominating. Yet the governing colors are not straightforward as each is comprised of a complex mixture of tones.  Here and there bits of light blue, lavender and sienna are tossed in which is just enough to challenge the majority hues.  Rousseau and Lush are the strongest paintings in this show for offering simplistic forms complexly arranged.

Compared to the paintings on paper Rousseau and Lush break away from Durner’s use of woven forms or the confrontations she sets up between order and anarchy.  Unlike the poured paintings, they achieve a refined authenticity and quality of ‘painterly realism’ not provided by the latter work. In the end Leah Durner deserves a great deal of credit for pushing the boundaries of the territory she has staked out for her art. Clearly she is an able painter with an excellent color sense who is not content to simply ‘paint what she knows’.  Rather it is her artistic curiosity and willingness to experiment, for good or ill, that makes the best of her work even better.

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September 6 – October 1st, 2005

By JOE WALENTINI

The Painting Center’s two exhibitions in September found common ground between three very different painters in a painterly approach to abstraction.  Emily Berger and Iona Kleinhaut divided the large space in the gallery into a 2–person show of paintings and works on paper. Farrell Brickhouse took command of the project room with a suite of smaller paintings and works on paper.

Emily Berger & Iona Kleinhaut

Emily Berger’s paintings free-associate with the grid – at least as a starting point.  But her exploration of form is actually more vested in an architectural urban esthetic. The evidence for this is found in the density and uneven distribution and proportions of her lines. Berger also, quite literally, throws a curve in here and there to further disturb any sense of order. Her application of materials sublimely captures the messiness and accompanying noise and motion of a large city (generally New York; more specifically, Brooklyn where the artist lives and works).

Iona Kleinhaut explores a very different range of forms in which the structure is generically organic. Her shapes suggest everything from micro-biology to floral themes to landscapes to celestial references. An oblique comparison to Terry Winter’s paintings from the 80s and 90s pops up in some of these pieces. This is evident in the way the distinctly organic-like forms float over richly painted and colorful surfaces. Then there is the contrast between the loose handling of paint and color with the solidly, structured compositions which places Kleinhaut in full possession of the picture plane.

What unites the artist, most obviously, is the physicality of their materials.  While providing a pleasant esthetic experience this approach more importantly serves as a driver for defining both the subject matter and content of the work. Both artists derive visual energy for their paintings by pitting their application of the medium against the somewhat formal structure of their individual subject matter. For Berger, this is manifested in her animated sense of cityscape, whereas for Kleinhaut, it is found in her non-narrative yet strong references to organic nature.  Ultimately, both artists stay within the realm of the abstract by not accessing their corresponding subject matter directly which also leaves understanding of the work open to elucidation.

One other similarity is the quality of drama both artists employ, primarily in their use of light and shadow.  For Berger’s works on paper, a personal, rather moody, even somber ambiance is established.  However, just the opposite occurs with her paintings which are lighter, colorful and more open while still maintaining a personal touch. In Kleinhaut’s case contrast is skillfully woven into the color. The resulting drama in her pieces is also personal but less direct, more complex and occurs on a grander level.

Each of these artists presented work that is powerful, engaging and demanding of a generous measure of ‘breathing space’. For this reason the exhibition might have been better served with a bit less work.  Still, the range of proportions for these pieces mitigates any over-crowding while also providing dimensional variety.

Farrell Brickhouse

Although Farrell Brickhouse went solo in the smaller project room space, his work nicely compliments the show in the larger room. The connection is his overt use of the medium where paint handling and form are virtually indistinguishable from each other in most of these pieces. Subject matter primarily consists of generic iconic images which leave interpretations open. But the imagery takes a back seat to the paint handling which really defines the subject matter and content for this work. There is nothing preconceived about these paintings; rather, they seem to have been born through years of experience mastering painting. From this perspective the forms are more ‘found’ through the act of painting than merely depicted.

For their size these diminutive paintings manage to pack quite a punch.  This is obvious in the raw paint handling and crude rendering of the forms.  But a closer look reveals a counterpoint subtlety of color, surface and blended contrast which, combined with the former treatment, is equally responsible for the impact. The result plays directly into understanding the content by establishing a self-possessed authenticity; a real visual experience devoid of illusions or depictions that is only possible through experientially-created abstract art. The ability to pull this off truly designates Brickhouse as ‘a painter’s painter’.

The Painting Center’s Project Room space is long, narrow and characteristically difficult to work with. In response Brickhouse has included small to medium paintings including a single scatter-gun arrangement that comprises 12 small pieces grouped tightly together.  Given the constraints and the minute sizes of these pieces this is quite effective, especially given the artist’s desire to capture a bit of a studio visit ambience. The presentation reads as a singular installation and contrasts sweetly with the other paintings in the show.

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Out of the Picture – Milton Resnick and the New York School
Transcribed, compiled & edited by Geoffrey Dorfman
Midmarch Arts Press, 2003, 314 pages

Milton Resnick committed suicide on the 12th of March. Up until then he was one of an ever-diminishing group of living individuals such as Philip Pavia, Robert Richenberg and Paul Jenkins that comprised the New York School (A.K.A. the Abstract Expressionists). The artists he knew ranged from notables such as Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock, Arshile Gorky and Franz Kline to (now) obscure artists like Max Schnitzler and the sculptor Ernest Guteman. Geoffrey Dorfman, also an abstract painter, began working on this tour de force book in 1979. The result is a comprehensive readable volume that addresses Resnick and the New York School together and individually.

Reading this book might be compared to taking a river trip. The introduction provides a capable landing from which to launch your virtual canoe. Once underway you’re quickly immersed in the buoyant light rapids of the ‘Resnick Interviews’. The current begins to slow with reproductions of Resnick paintings ranging from the late 50s to 2000. Shortly thereafter the waters run very still and deep with a series of Resnick’s talks at the Studio School from 1968 to 1972. Subsequently you are swept up in the torrents again with the 1966 Resnick/Leo Steinberg panel discussion which quickly streams into the dénouement of the book Resnick/Ad Reinhardt debate: “Attack”, from 1960 that drops you over a waterfall. But you bubble back up to the surface with Pat Passlof’s remembrance (Milton Resnick’s wife and also a painter).

The interviews provide some early history on Resnick such as how he took up fine art due to the advice of a teacher and the encouragement of a friend. However, upon learning of it, his father presented him with a “not under my roof” ultimatum. This incident is a foreshadowing of Resnick’s often defiant, go-it-alone, temperament (hence the title ‘Out of the Picture’) because he chose to leave home and struggled for years to live and make art. For the next seventy plus pages Resnick and Dorfman engross you in a personal view of the New York Art world beginning in the 1930s. A subtext for the conversation is an engaging macro-perspective of the ‘New York School’ from its inception to its heyday.

Resnick’s account follows a number of interesting pathways such as the fact that early on he lived with de Kooning’s eventual wife, Elaine (and ironically de Kooning was with Pat Passlof). Or consider Resnick’s relationship with Pollock who at one point he invited to ‘Step outside’ at the Cedar Bar after an initial provocation. But he was also there (along with de Kooning) to steer a nervous Pollock clear of the bars while taking a break during the opening of his 1949 show. Resnick was one of the few individuals alive who was qualified to assess Pollock. He does so by pointing out Pollock’s weaknesses; but from a sympathetic viewpoint and ultimately, with respect for his intelligence and abilities. Resnick’s recollections relieve Pollock of his ‘Art god’ adornment while also countering his ‘piss-in-the-fireplace’ notoriety. This cutting through art historical analysis and sensationalist hubris is far more interesting in revealing Pollock as an individual rather than as cardboard cut-out.

The Studio School talks provide a fascinating view of Resnick’s forceful ideas regarding art, art making and artists. However, those ideas are presented with a refreshing undertone of uncertainty. Transcribed from tapes they possess a wonderful ‘off the cuff’ quality punctuated by humor and occasional audience discord. But they go right to the core of Resnick’s beliefs and demand a concentrated reading.

There are portions of the talks that don’t completely make sense such as Resnick’s assault on music. At one point he says, “.if you know anything about painting, you hate music.” further pointing out that music is poisonous. Is this just provocation, an attack on another medium or an absolutist’s statement? It’s not clear and when pressed by the audience his explanation is still not entirely satisfactory. At other times when challenged, Resnick defends his position by referring to his accumulated knowledge and experience over his questioners. This is weak and as a reader I was yearning to ask my own follow-up questions. But these are isolated criticisms. For the most part Resnick delightfully meanders through his subject matter in what amounts to a captivating journey through a wilderness of ideas.

The two panel discussions present the opportunity to see Resnick among his contemporaries; especially the ‘Attack!’ panel that took place January 1st, 1960. Chaired by Resnick and Ad Reinhardt ‘confrontational’ just begins to describe the event. The transcript offers an absorbing demarcation of the sea change that occurred when commercial success in the art world collided with the New York School artists’ decades long commitment and suffering for their idealism and integrity. Attack! represents one of the last documented gatherings of artists whose passionately fueled collective sensibility and veracity was something worth arguing and even fighting over. (Harold Rosenberg, immediately after hearing himself quoted by Resnick, was angered enough to get up and leave and de Kooning nearly got into a fist fight at one point). Shortly thereafter the art world moved on to embrace, indeed celebrate, the obtuse detached commercialism of Pop Art and the once intimate New York art community began to come apart.

Pat Passlof’s remembrance provides an excellent post-script. Presented in the same spirit as the interviews it brings a divergent view of the period plus a different personal take on Resnick. Passlof represents the younger generation of artists from that time and from her we learn of how the first contemporary art galleries sprouted up on East 10th street beginning with the cooperative Tanager gallery. There was also occasional friction between the younger and older artists. At one point, Passlof and others had been given permission to use ‘The Club’facilities for an alternative version of the Friday meetings on an off night. (The Club was the formal organization of the New York School that met weekly to discuss art and ideas). However, this was eventually revoked by the older artists in what appears to be fear of competition. One of the most touching accounts is Passlof’s portrayal of Franz Kline; of his character as well as being a character and of him tearfully breaking the news to everyone at Cedar Bar of the illness that eventually took his life.

Overall this book functions very well on a couple of significant levels. You get to know Milton Resnick the artist as an indisputable member of the New York School who was nevertheless separate from it – an individualist’s individual. Also you are treated to an intimate viewpoint as inseparable from a greater historical perspective; in short, a first person account of the birth and culmination of an authentically American art form.

With any visual artist, but especially for one of this magnitude, I wanted to see a lot more of his art. Still, the 16 reproductions of Resnick’s paintings present an adequate survey of his work. The period photographs sprinkled lightly throughout the content add context without distraction. The brilliant inclusion of maps indicating where artist’s studios once were also recreates a sense of place. At the completion of this book you walk away with a genuine sense of knowing Milton Resnick both personally and professionally. The downside is the sharp poignant edge this adds to his tragic death.

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