Showing posts with label new york contemporary art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new york contemporary art. Show all posts

Saturday, February 8, 2014

After Nature by Susan Hockaday at Soho20 Gallery in Chelsea

(After Nature by Susan Hockaday)
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Children’s books are often not really meant for children.  For example, in the Wizard of Oz, did you ever wonder why Dorothy is accompanied by a tin man, a scarecrow and a lion?  Apparently the author, Frank Baum, was a believer in the hugely popular Theosophy movement of the late 1800s.  This was a spiritual development movement created by Madame Blavatsky, who wrote that the human mind must pass through stages she labeled (for some reason) mineral, vegetable and animal. Before true awareness and fulfillment might occur, one had to go through each of these stages.  So we get the Tin Man as Dorothy’s mineral capacity, the Scarecrow as her vegetable capacity and the Lion as her animal capacity, all leading her to the Wizard.


I mention this because Susan Hockaday, in her “After Nature” show at Soho20, calls one of her pieces: Mineral, Vegetable, Animal, Plastic.  I’m guessing that to a Theosophite this would be a bit counterintuitive and pretty much mess up the whole spiritual equation – unless the Wizard symbolized the same thing as plastic…I don’t know.  But in that particular piece by Hockaday, she is literally concerned about the fact that our plastic trash is being integrated into the food chain and, ultimately, absorbed by humans.  So the food cycle also now includes plastic (which breaks down into little particles in the ocean before being ingested by fish) whether we like it or not. We dump our plastic garbage, hope it disappears, and then we eat it later.

(Mineral, Vegetable, Animal, Plastic by S. Hockaday)

In her Off Shore - 2 photograms she presents the eerie fact that there are islands and colonies of plastic junk floating through the oceans, via various currents, which, basically, mimic the movements and patterns of marine life.  The functions of post-industrialized globalized capitalism work beautifully in some countries to ensure universal nutrition, healthcare, leisure, comfort and even meaningful activities, except for the one flaw in the system unique in humanity’s long history – materials are being created that are more permanent than the most permanent organic material (even more permanent than, say, bones) but these materials are not absorbed back into nature in a healthful or even benign way.  No one seems to have adequately determined what to do with these materials and the more we try to hide or bury them the more deeply they become embedded in our personal lives.

(Off Shore - 2 by S. Hockaday)

In Strange Weather she shows that even if we look at the night sky and are affected with a sense of tranquility and awe, in reality the lower reaches of space are littered with human-made objects and space junk. This ties in with the overall theme of the show: concomitant with our global economic development is an irreversible process that seems to be imitating, destroying and replacing nature.  Indeed, the process is so insidious because it is often imperceptible on a personal level. 

(Strange Weather by Susan Hockaday)

The challenge, of course, in creating socially committed art about an environmental issue, is to avoid being trite and predictable and to present the dilemma in a novel, relevant and engaging manner.  The work of Hockaday does this by making these imperceptible processes more perceptible and more unacceptable.  In some of her pieces you can identify the individual objects that are floating in colonies throughout the ocean, and you see combs, buttons, plastic spoons as part of pseudo-organic structures or patterns.  She clearly conveys the palpable realization that many previous cultures left without a trace but we are unique in that we are leaving imperishable by-products made up of the littlest bits of useless trash while adversely altering ecosystems and hastening global warming.


Soho20 began as a female-centered gallery in the early 70s, and has consistently presented socially aware and socially and environmentally committed work. Hockaday’s current show is a good example of the high quality of work this gallery has become known for.

Monday, January 13, 2014

Kyoshi Nakagami's experiments with light and darkness at Galerie Richard


In his show at Galerie Richard, we see that Kyoshi Nakagami is doing something really unique with light.

 
He’s no where near to using the usual way that light is revealed in a painting in the western tradition. Of course, this would be expected from someone who has been classified as a ‘Nihonga’ artist – someone who deliberately hearkens back to a non-western, more purely Japanese style.  Nihonga art, apparently, strives to reveal ‘essences’ and not outer appearances. 

What he does with light, though, goes even beyond the Nihonga tradition.  He shows those qualities and aspects of light, in itself, that allow it to become meaningful to us on a deeper or symbolic level.  He shows us what it is about light that makes light such an important symbol in our religions, mythologies and philosophies.  Basically he seems to be saying “This is the essence of how light is most meaningful to us”  – and he further plays with light and darkness to tweak this “archetypal” relationship and make it more direct and engaging to the viewer. 

How has light usually been revealed in western art?  Well, to cite two famous examples we can think about Vermeer revealing light as an aspect of a particular moment as it floods through a window and fills up a room.  Light, in this case, brightens everything to a super-clarity. Light magnifies the transience of the moment.  Monet often showed light during the course of a day.  The intensity of the light was purely dependent upon the passing of time.  Nakagami is, however, painting a type of pure light in itself, not reflected off of any real, physical surface. It is not light attached to a specific time or place. 



You could almost say he’s painting light as a concept. He’s painting what we tend to do to light to make it more meaningful to ourselves.  This is not natural light in a natural environment.  The darkness is not an absence of light, but an actual type of frothy gunk, sometimes columns of frothy gunk, that is illuminated, parted, dispersed.  Yet, to say that he’s painting a concept of light is also misleading because these paintings grab you on a deeper level.  


What he does to this basic contrast of light and darkness allows for such an immediate engagement that one does not waste time conceptualizing. Susan Sontag warned against interpretation since it tends to divorce one from the piece of art. These paintings do not even allow you to intellectualize them.  Like the best works of abstraction, they resonate with you and you grasp the deeper meaning the artist is shooting for without over-intellectualization. If you can go to Galerie Richard and stand in front of one of these paintings in silence, I believe you will feel a meaningful engagement with this work.  Light and darkness is such a primal form of symbolism, that with Nakagami’s tweaking, you get that mountain-top ‘a-ha!’ feeling.



In the notes to the show, Galerie Richard points out that if these light paintings were vertically rectangular, they would be interpreted as religious in orientation, and if they were horizontally rectangular, they would be misconstrued as landscapes.  Nakagami’s work definitely does stand in between orthodox religion and insipid secularism.  It’s an attempt at a reconnection with nature as a source of spiritual self-understanding.  You see something ‘natural’ that compels you to recognize a parallel with your own deep, inner experiences.  In the past, before cities, people sought out  ‘sacred’ places based on salient geological features.  Nakagami creates a type of super-nature that provides a sacred experience on a canvas for the viewer.  The light in his paintings cannot be facilely ‘conceptualized’ as ‘the truth.’  We see a process in the outer world that mirrors one in our inner lives and which remains unarticulated.  The light is a component of this process.  Is the light dispersing the clouds of darkness?  Is it merely illuminating the clouds so that we see our own inner ‘dark-matter’? 



Galerie Richard has distinguished itself again as one of Manhattan’s more cutting edge galleries for the latest experiments in abstraction.