Dusty Boynton at Denise Bibro Gallery (An artist influenced by 'art brut')

Episode by Dusty Boynton

(All photos of Dusty Boynton's work in this posting are courtesy of the Denise Bibro Gallery)

One of the fun aspects of going gallery hopping in New York City is recognizing the various influences of previous art movements on contemporary artists, and seeing how artists take these influences one or more steps farther to convey their own personal insights. The influence of the ‘art brut’ movement is inescapable in the work of Dusty Boynton, who seems to use this influence as a starting point in her personal forms of expression, while also embracing traces of abstract expressionism and even, perhaps, graffiti art.

In the 1940s Jean Dubuffet became fascinated with the art work of mental patients and children, since he felt that this work was more raw, unrefined and genuine than the work of academically trained artists (‘brut’ means: coarse, unrefined, raw). He felt that when these folks created things, they were not concerned about artistic tradition or beauty – they wanted to get to and express something of the utmost meaning to themselves. Indeed, art brut or ‘outsider art’ seems motivated by a sense of urgency and a desperate need to express. The challenge for a contemporary artist, who wants to use this style as a language, is to avoid the obvious artificial visual clichés of this type of expression and to impart her own sense of urgency and meaning into the work.

If we look at a piece like ‘Episode,’ we see that Boynton clearly succeeds. One of the more valuable aspects of art brut is that there can be no doubt that the external image represents an internal state. This movement is influenced, after all, by psychiatric patients who were desperately trying to get at the sources of their psychological conflicts. Art brut and art influenced by art brut is supposed to have a type of therapeutic value. ‘Episode’ is interesting because it not only represents a powerfully evocative image but the graffiti-like style of execution lends a ‘process art’ feel. Jackson Pollock explained that he didn’t want to represent anything, he wanted to express something, and this is why he moved around the canvas instead of remaining stationary. When we look at ‘Episode’ and see the twisted, thick, dark and sometimes fractured lines, we feel the sense of urgency and the need for expression that is required in this style.

The sense of ambiguity and the license the artist gives the viewer to impute his/her own interpretation based on his/her own inner struggles is also well-accomplished. Is this figure dying? Is it rising? Is it showing defiance or is it acquiescing? Is it in pain or experiencing a sense of triumph? Significantly, in this figure we see one hand is directed at the earth while the other is directed at the sky. One knee is planted on the ground while the other is poised to help raise the body. This is a figure experiencing real struggle, in a state of transition, either succumbing to some type of force or conquering it.

There is nothing new under the sun, yet Boynton shows that it is possible to embrace styles and theories of the past and make them timely and relevant, and, indeed, timeless and meaningful. She includes influences in her work like Dubuffet, Basquiat, Twombly and de Kooning to create a sense of earnestness and insistence that draws the viewer into her art and invites deeper and more meaningful introspection. In so doing she has also created her own unique style and artistic language.

Samples of Dubuffet's work:

Cobi Moules, Conceptual Realist, at Lyons Wier Gallery in Chelsea

Lyons Wier Gallery has established itself as one of the premier New York City art galleries promoting “conceptual realism.” Conceptual realism is to be contrasted with photo-realism or super-realism. In super-realism (a movement created in the 1960s), the artist often starts with an actual photo and painstakingly reproduces that image (usually) on a canvas. The reaction of a normal viewer to a work of super-realism is often: “Is that a painting!? It looks like a photo!” The second question is invariably, “Why did he/she do that?” or “Wow, how long do you think it took for that artist to paint this?” 

An example of super-realism (Richard Estes):

That’s not to imply that super-realistic paintings are not without meaning or relevance. A person could argue that a super-realist was/is, basically, doing what Vermeer did – capturing and focusing on one instant in the flow of time to engender a better sense of the greater meaning of that moment and, perhaps, to better convey the transitory nature of our lives.

Conceptual realism, however, plays with realism to deliberately convey a greater meaning or concept. The work of Cobi Moules, in his show at Lyons Wier - Bois Just Wanna Have Fun - is a great example of conceptual realism. When you first look at one of his paintings in this show, you seem to see a huge mass of boys foraging around, standing around, rooting round or horsing around in an amazing landscape. Indeed, you might even mistake his pieces for examples of super-realism, until you look closely.

All the boys are, in fact, Cobi Moules. In fact, Moules’ paintings might be superficially interpreted as a wry commentary on the notion of trying to capture one moment in a super-realist piece. Moules seemingly captures many discrete moments within one landscape on one canvas. Indeed, one might feel an amazing contrast between the permanent and the transitory in each painting. Each particular landscape will be there for thousands of years (if not more), yet Moules, or anyone else wandering through, might be considered but a poor player strutting and fretting his hour upon the stage. The enormity of time each landscape will exist creates a sense of permanence or eternity which readily contrasts with the brief moment of our lives.

But Moules is shooting for more than this contrast between the permanent and the temporary – indeed, he seems to be fighting against this. After all, what’s more important: the actor or the stage? Moules’ pieces are, in fact, a wry commentary on the historically significant Hudson River School of painters, who can be considered, according to Moules, to be ideologically linked to certain strains of orthodox Christianity which condemn queer and transgender folks like himself as being ‘unnatural.’

Orthodox Christianity and the Hudson River School might have been saying, “Cobi, you don’t even belong on this stage!”, but Moules relishes his presence and exults in his multiple performances, engaging himself within a context of nature which DOES accept him. Moules' work shows that the stage and the actor are inseparable and that the diversity of human types on the stage of nature is a welcome presence.

Here's an example of Hudson River School painting.  I'm not an expert on it, so I am not sure that I can agree that there might have been homophobic ties between it and orthodox Christianity.  I think I understand Moules' argument, though, I guess.  Basically here's what he said in the press release from Lyons Wier Gallery: 

"I see a number of ideological links between their [Hudson River School] works and a specific current American Christian culture that was an integral part of my formative years; particularly in regards to ideas of purity and the honor of sacrificing one's selfhood for the glory of God. As a queer and transgender person, I seek to renegotiate my relationship with this upbringing and the act of being told I am 'unnatural' through such a pointed Christian lens."

Hudson River School stuff:

Introspective women by Jocelyn Hobbie at Fredericks and Freiser Gallery

Photos are courtesy of Fredericks and Freiser Gallery

In previous reviews of her work, in years past, art critics have pointed out an influence on Hobbie's work of the New Objectivity artists, who worked in Germany between the end of World War I and the rise of the Nazi government.  

This painting below shows an influence by Otto Dix, who relished contrasting older with younger to portray the decay of human flesh.  The painting below shows a very grim, pessimistic humor which appeals to me a lot. 

When I walked into Fredericks and Freiser I detected the influence of Weimar artists too, but I think that Hobbie's work also stands apart from this influence on many levels. And, although Hobbie's work might have been influenced by artists from a different time and social context, it's highly relevant as a contemporary statement on the lives of young women in America and how they are adjusting to or questioning the demands that are being placed on them. 

Photo courtesy of Fredericks and Freiser Gallery

In this latest show by Hobbie, all of her women are decidely introspective, looking inward, not even aware of the viewer.  By altering the subject's gaze away from the viewer, and into the subject herself, the viewer is given license to become a type of judge/voyeur.  The artist is, in fact, inviting some type of admiration for the physical beauty of the subject as well as a judgment concerning the lifestyle of the person being represented. In many of Hobbie's pieces we see very young, attractive women surrounded by and garbed in the trappings of a contemporary consumer culture.  They are literally in their own little hedonistic worlds engaged in some deeper contemplation.

But what are they contemplating?  My friend Jeremy thought they were thinking about their boyfriends or an upcoming date.  I thought they were questioning how they are expected to be ultra-feminine and brand conscious.  Are they thinking about the satisfaction/dissatisfaction or the fullness/emptiness of their lives?  Are they thinking about anything?  

Photo courtesy of Fredericks and Freiser Gallery:

This piece is called "Infant."  We see one of Hobbie's typically introspective girls but the painting is also filled with ambiguity and possibilities for interpretation. 

The blond woman wears a trident on her tee shirt and bears an anchor tattoo. The trident was a symbol of the god of the sea in ancient Greek mythology but also seems to be a symbol of mortality due to the three points it possesses (the number three seems to represent Becoming, Being and Death).  The anchor was (as well as being associated with the sea) an ancient Christian symbol that secretly revealed the crucifix.  The crucifix, of course, secretly revealed the ancient symbol or ideogram for a tree.  A tree, in ancient cultures, was basically a bridge between the earth and God.  We also see that the genitals of the baby have been discreetly hidden so that we do not know the sex of the child.  We see a dark haired woman staring at the blond woman.  The flowers might represent a life in full bloom but why is the dog lying next to the child and why does the dog have the letter 'P' on its chain?  The letter 'P' was called 'Chi' in the ancient Greek language and was half of the 'christogram' Chi Rho (PX) a way Christians represented Jesus Christ. Could this be a key to understanding the symbolism?

Here is a public lecture Jocelyn Hobbie once gave (it's very interesting):
http://vimeo.com/51969621


Examples of two New Objectivity painters:

Otto Dix

Christian Schad

Secret Garden: Process Art by Moon Beom at Kim Foster Gallery

Secret Garden #320 by Moon Beom (courtesy Kim Foster Gallery):

Everyone is familiar with Jack the Dripper - Jackson Pollock.  Pollock literally walked around and over his canvases as he dripped paint on them with a stick.  

In the video above Pollock states that he wants to "...express..." his "...feelings and not illustrate them."  This is the essence of what has become called 'process art.'  A process artist does not have a particular image in mind when he begins a painting. He feels a psychological need to 'act' or convey.  The result of the painting is due to a spiritually or psychologically initiated process within the painter.  In fact, Pollock compares his style to that of Native American sand-painters.  The painting reflects the process, yet the image is often amazingly complex and engrossing and it challenges the viewer to a deeper than normal level of interpretation.  

Moon Beom is within this process artist tradition. He doesn't use a stick like Pollock, however - he uses his bare hands.  First he covers a canvas with one color of acrylic paint - indeed, he seems to like using either very 'cool' or very 'hot' colors.  He then takes an oil stick - basically a crayon of solid oil paint - and smudges the canvas with it.  He then begins rubbing into this smudge and spreading it around the canvas.  By doing this over and over - like massage! - he creates very bizarre looking images.  It's hard to find an exact parallel but the Kim Foster Gallery refers to the images as being 'lettuce-like.'  They seem like strange tissue-like images suspended in artificial relationships to each other.

Believe it or not, there is actually a type of study called "the psychology of color" and researchers have found that light green is the most soothing color to us (the color of nature) while red is the color that excites us the most.  People in red rooms have experienced increases in blood pressure just due to that color.  Above we see Moon's Secret Garden #320 and the overall effect is calming. In Secret Garden #540, we see a more fiery image dominated by two phallic looking structures.

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Did you know that in ancient Chinese culture, color was sometimes used as a form of 'chromotherapy' to heal physical ailments? The color red was used to increase blood circulation, for instance, while some of the cooler colors were felt to help end or decrease physical pain.

Moon's tissue-structures are, basically, the remains or residue of his physical motion. And they look like residue, although you'd have to call them quite elegant forms of residue. These look neither organic nor inorganic. They are like lovely waste by-products. The force and velocity of his movements in relation to the canvas become the elements of the language of the work, as do the color choices. Moon works in agitating or pacifying hues, in forceful or subtle movements. His movements are long or short, quick or lengthy. It's almost as if he is suggesting, through his new and unique approach to process art, that the 'real' language of our inner lives consists of such binary and opposing combinations.  

Someone made a short video of the opening.  So if you are in a far-away place, here's a little bit of what a NY art gallery opening looks like:

Miler Lagos at MagnanMetz Gallery "The Great Tree of Water" (26th Street)

This gallery has really distinguished itself as a gallery that brings some of the more meaningful and incisive art work from South America to New York City. 

In the current show by Miler Lagos, we see work by a contemporary Colombian artist who incorporates religious and mythological themes from an indigenous culture.  

In many ancient cultures the tree was considered to be a type of bridge between the earth and the sky (or between people and God or our animal natures and our spiritual natures).  The roots stretched deep into the soil and the branches extended outward and upward into the air.  

For the Tikuna people, however, who reside in an area between Peru and Colombia, there was one great tree which was quite sinister.  It was so immense that it blocked out the sun and extinguished life. 

Twin brothers thus went on a hero quest with the animals of the forest and, by felling the tree, inadvertently created the many branches and tributaries of the Amazon River. Lagos uses paper reliefs and graphite images to depict this 'great tree of water' in what might be called convex and concave manners throughout the gallery.  This approach highlights the positive, creative force of the tree and the imprint in the earth caused by the force.

In particular, however, he has created some amazing tree trunks (made of thousands of sheets of paper, stacked and glued one on top of the other)  which bear beautifully painted scenes from Asian art on the top surface of each trunk.  (Thank you Giulia A. for snapping these photos for me...I miss you - come back soon!)

click on images to enlarge them

The images are often of trees or traditionally clad Asian women or just scenes of everyday equanimity.   

This set seems to connect more with the 'tree as bridge' concept than the 'great tree of water' concept.  These natural connection points between the earth and the sky have been destroyed, yet the plane caused by the severing of this connection now serves as a type of canvas.  The images of trees, fishermen, the sea and women represent an idealized traditional world of tranquility that has also been lost (if it ever existed), but which provides beauty and solace.

Martin Honert Life-Size Sculptures at Matthew Marks Gallery

Take a look at this group of people, and think about who they might be, and from what period of time they might be from:

{{{click on image to enlarge}}}

What's your general impression of these folks?

My friend Giulia and I pondered this group for awhile and thought it was a family (from the 1960s) at some type of family function - like a wedding or anniversary party.  We identified the eccentric, somewhat wealthy uncle (who looks a bit like Nelson Rockefeller), the uptight, frigid but attractive aunt who might have married beneath herself,  the suburban salesman and his housewife etc.

And we were close!  This is a group of German teachers (from the 1960s).

When we learned these were teachers, the pieces of the puzzle came together for us.  Of course this is a group of teachers!  And if you took a group of teachers now, photographed them, and showed someone the photo 40 years from now, you'd probably get the same response.

Why?

The French have a term called 'professional deformation.'  Basically they say that any profession changes a person so that after awhile everyone in that profession kind of looks and acts like everyone else in that profession.  Someone once said a cab driver in Paris is identical to one in New York or Tokyo.

So I love this sculpture as an example of the professional deformation of a teacher.  When I taught, for a short time, I noticed this deformation as well.  This is because a teacher is not just a dissembler of information.  A teacher is a civil servant of sorts who is expected to get various administrative jobs done and to accomplish goals.  The teacher is a classroom manager first and foremost, and an educator afterwards.

Indeed, the teacher is the prime promoter of the 'hidden curriculum.'  This was a concept created in the 1960s (like most good concepts).  Basically it means that while the teacher seems to be teaching math or science or literature, he/she is really teaching discipline, order, obedience to authority, a blue-collar work-ethic etc.  Benson R. Snyder of MIT apparently created this term.

So in this amazingly funny work by Honert, we clearly see a corps of hidden curriculum engineers in their traditional garb, which changes periodically.

Please go to Marks and see this in person (as well as the other amazing galleries in that neighborhood).

I am Daniel Gauss, The Proletarian Art Snob.

Actually, it turns out these teachers were from Honert's own boarding school in Germany when he was a child.  You can read more at Marks' web site:  http://www.matthewmarks.com/new-york/exhibitions/2013-09-13_martin-honert/

Michael Brown at the Mike Weiss Gallery in Chelsea

click on images to enlarge them

I think that Novalis is definitely a writer who should be revisited.  Looking at Brown's work at the Weiss Gallery, a few of his quotes ran through my mind:

"The path of mystery leads inwards..."  and "The world becomes a dream and the dream becomes reality."  I also recalled Schelling's "Nature is visible spirit; spirit is invisible nature."  Yes, I still read the German 'Romantic' writers.

If you go to Mike Weiss' web page, you can read details about how Brown creates these pieces. What I liked was that Brown first sketches a scene from nature.  Basically he sketches a barren landscape.  Over this sketching he then places rusty iron bars curved into circular shapes.  In many of his pieces the circles overlap each other in various patterns.

I took the above photo from Weiss' web page (so I hope he doesn't sue me) but you can see a closeup of one of Brown's pieces below.  My friend Tomoko might have been a little tipsy because the photo is crooked, but that's OK, I was tipsy too considering that it was the big opening night in Chelsea when we saw this work and free alcohol abounded.

Yes, we were both a bit tipsy.

Giulia A. took this photo while she and I were completely sober (am I ever completely sober?)

So why do I like these pieces so much?  Well, to me two processes are represented here. I would argue that two inner processes are represented here.  I think that every meaningful work of art is about our inner lives or inner reality and I believe Brown's work can be interpreted in this manner. I think he is illustrating two processes that occur when we perceive aspects of our inner life.  I guess a person could describe these processes as 'perception' and 'reaction,' or 'perception' and 'construction.'

Initially, in these pieces, we get 'nature' in the form of a landscape sketch.  To me, the perception of an aspect of inner nature necessarily leads to a cognitive process akin to Novalis' idea that a 'dream' becomes 'reality.'  We conceptualize what we perceive or feel.  

When language was created or developed, it must have been created or developed to express what happens in the outer world, because when we attempt to describe processes in the inner world, we are forced to use metaphors or symbols from the outer world.

When we conceptualize, we use metaphors or symbols and this leads us away from 'nature' and into another inner process altogether.  This new inner process can be represented by the curving and rusty iron. Like the circular pieces of iron, this process is a coherent whole.  And regardless of the differences that can be perceived, the process is always the same for every aspect in regard to trying to understand the nature of our inner lives.  

The aspects of our inner world exist for us independently of the nature of the aspects, through cognition, and they become other entities.  Like the rusty iron, our conclusions about what we perceive in our inner nature become separate from nature in a coherent and identifiable (and mostly useless) manner.

One can even mention Hume's Law or George Moore's "Naturalistic Fallacy" here.  Hume pointed out that often when we describe a situation, a judgment about that situation often then occurs.  I can't remember his exact quote, but he said something like, "How is it that we jump so easily from an 'is' to an 'ought'?"

So if I engage in some form of introspection and perceive some type of motive or emotion or inner conflict or something I feel to be problematic about how I am responding to the world, this perception leads to a type of transmutation whereby the natural becomes cognitive. I like Brown's work because, to me, it represents this process whereby nature becomes cognition or the 'dream' of the world becomes the 'reality' of the world.

So the cognition about nature becomes a thing in itself, and not necessarily a reflection of the individual details of nature.  The sketches represent 'nature' to me, while the rusty iron hoops represent our 'cognition' of nature and the new, empty world this divorce from nature brings.

The Mike Weiss Gallery traditionally shows thought-provoking work!  Here's their web page: http://www.mikeweissgallery.com/exhibitions