Marc Desgrandchamps makes multilayered paintings—literally. Compacted scenic depths recall scrims in an opera or ballet set, and also correspond to a cinematic simultaneity of time frames, in which a literal here and now butts up against an implied, poetic otherworldliness. And yet, like his women in particular, his paintings in general are, in the same instant, grounded and ethereal. Sometimes a protagonist’s monumental bulkiness recalls Maillol, other times litheness has fashion-model appeal. Fulsome or skinny, his figures echo actual thinness of paint, for in violation of the classic rule Desgrandchamps paints thin on thick. Transparency is the most striking formal characteristic in his work: whether an a priori intended effect or a byproduct of painterly disintegration, transparency is savored as an art historically savvy set of acknowledgements that run from Piero to Eric Fischl by way of Picabia. Flesh sometimes has the distressed feel of peeling fresco, a historic quality that sits uneasily with the stylishly vacant self-absorption of his sunglazed beauties. Managing at once to be earnest and nonchalant, his painterly gestures are luxuriantly problematic. DAVID COHEN
Marc Desgrandchamps, Untitled, 2011. Oil on canvas, 18 x 21-1/2 inches. Courtesy of Galerie Zürcher.
May 1 to June 22, 2012. Zürcher Studio, 33 Bleecker Street, between Lafayette Street and Bowery, New York City, 212-777-0790
Catalog available with essay by Barry Schwabsky