F*NOW

Group exhibition of New York University (NYU) art department students.

 

As the freshman class of 9/11, these students watched the Trade Center fall from the windows of their classrooms. Now, as they move into a marketplace which has developed an appetite for spontaneity, the authenticity of youth poses a new set of complications.

 

For this generation, the certainty of earlier decades is not an option. In a performance which symbolizes the theme of the show itself, Michael Miritello will walk to the gallery opening from his parent’s home on Long Island, the fourteen hour journey symbolizes the arduose path for young artists, from the comforts and stability of home and academia to the fiercely competitive realm of the New York Art World.? Miritello knows precisely where he wants to go, however he chooses in this act of defiance and social sculpture not to take any shortcuts.? A desk will be awaiting him at the opening reception whereupon arrival he will place his artist statement, take a seat and well deserved rest, and celebrate with his peers the fruits of their academic journey. Understanding that much work is yet to be done.?

 

This exhibition is a coming of age story, acceptance that this group is only but a swell amongst many waves of talent flowing through a vast ocean that is the international field of contemporary art, at least f’now.

F*NOW

Curated by James Fuentes

April 21 – May 5, 2005

 

Opening reception

6-8pm, April 21, 2005

 

Artists in exhibition:

George Pfau

Amelia Saul

Claire Connolly

Anne Kyle   

Deborah Hay

Renee Rivas       

Margaret Ward

Tara Eisenberg            

Emily Tanner

James Woodward

Noura Al-Salem 

Charlotte Marra 

William Russ Maschmeyer 

Wing- Sze Ho  

Michael Miritello  

Candice Yu  

Christina Caputo

Dana Liebermann & Tim Libert

Gina Mauro

Timur Civan  

Robert LaColla

Masanori Sugiura   

Laura DePeters

Lauren C. Schwarz  

Paige Hinkle 

Andrew M. Croce 

Haley McCrory                  

Nicholas Vissichelli                     

Kirsten Schuck 

Ben Guttin

Jessica Stephen 

In 1998 James Fuentes founded the James Fuentes Gallery at 558 Broome Street in New York City among the artists who presented solo shows were; Cheyney Thompson, Stephen G. Rhodes, Lizzi Bougatsos, Amy Granat, William Stone and Sean Dack, other significant exhibitions at the gallery included Jonas Mekas’ This Side of Paradise(1999) and Open Space(1999-2000) a series of 45 solo exhibitions that took place in a three-month period. Significant independent exhibitions include: The South Bronx Story(2001) an exhibition which hypothesized that Fashion Modawas a precursor to New York’s East Village movement;The United States of America vs. Alfredo Martinez (2003) prison work by an artist incarcerated in federal jail for forging the work and provenance of Jean Michel-Basquiat; and a series of solo and group exhibitions that inaugurated Gavin Brown’s enterprise at Passerby (2004). Jonas Mekas’ Farewell to Soho (GBE Passerby, 2004) was consequently included in Diary Filmby Liutauras Psibilskis and Magnus af Petersen at the Moderna Museet in Stockholm and Göteborg Konsthall, Sweden. Fuentes is the co-creator and co-executive producer of Jeffrey Deitch’s Artstar, an eight episode television series that broadcasted in June, 2006. He has been a member of the New Art Dealers Alliancesince 2003. Fuentes was Director at Lombard-Freid Fine Arts, New York in 2004 and in 2005 served as Director at Deitch Projects, New York. James Fuentes was born in New York City in 1977 and graduated from Bard College in 1998.

Categories: exhibitions

RUTH KLIGMAN: Demons • The Light

Ruth Kligman, Demon: Beginning

ZONE:Chelsea Center for the Arts is proud to announce DEMONS•THE LIGHT, new work by Ruth Kligman.  Recently, Kligman’s paintings have gazed back to the quiet of a time before she was born—the moment when one of the seeds of American painting’s triumph began to germinate in a cultivated garden in France: Monet’s explorations of vision itself, his dissection of shape, figure, ground, and color. His monumental Water Lilieslaid a solid foundation for modern painting by atomizing nature and making the plane on which paint was brushed, layered, scumbled, and dragged into an experience that fast lost any narrative quality, becoming one of the sensations defining the modern world. The interlocking palimpsests of experience that Monet conjured from the water are reflected in the flecks of color and shifting shades that make up the ethereal atmosphere of Kligman’s landscapes of the sky.

 

But Kligman’s spiritual icons of the 1980’s and her more recent explorations of enveloping light have alternated with those demons that first loomed up in the 1960’s, drawn on onion skin with colored pencils and metallic pigments. The end of the millennium saw a resurgence of figurative expressionism across the art world; Kligman’s came from a place of re-examined tragedy. Like so many of her peers during the anxious 1950’s (which, as today, found New York City pegged on the bull’s-eye of a war between ideologies), Kligman had been in psychoanalysis—her Monster series seems to have sprung from an unconscious that was never fully allowed to rest. Monster: Horus and Monster: Disintegration are direct channels back to the automatic drawing and primal Jungian imagery that freed up the New York School generation; Kligman’s works carry on this tradition but take it to a place of her own making. In Demons, similar compositions begin with rounded, swirling layers shot through with jagged forms, then transmute into recognizably demonic visages before melting into squalls of orange, blue, and black. Kligman uses long, unbroken color-pencil outlines to define these strange entities and then energizes the overlapping skeins with metallic flashes of paint. The Horus series engages the viewer through broad areas of color that alternately suppress or yield to the writhing black, skeletal frameworks underneath; these are works of tense beauty.

                 

The American century of art has had its share of glories and demons, and throughout, Ruth Kligman has been its abiding witness.

 

 

Ruth Kligman

DEMONS • THE LIGHT

January 20 – March 25, 2005

 

Opening Reception

6-8PM, Thursday January 20, 2005

A room of minimalist water lilies in lip gloss muted colors, industrial cosmetics contemporary feel, very spare, hardly there, muted colors, slight sheen, five foot square canvases end to end and on, a quiet contemplation, ephemeral, lurking. They are not water lilies.  They are light. Abstract markings. Nudges. The least mark applied with extreme presencing by a master in command of her medium and taking the space for an entirely cosmic ride.  One hears chords in the distance not quite dissonant and haunting.  The experience in the room grows with time.  The Rothko chapel in Houston has such an effect of the powerful ethereal.

 

But then the drawings are just the opposite. Dragons. Demonic scribbles that grows even more dynamic through her abstracting of these emerging tail cracking fire breathing enchanting monsters.  Well they are in another room in the gallery, just as we keep our shadow side on the right side of the neo cortex of the brain.  But these demon drawings are compelling, aggressive, raging marking, expressionist. Antonin Artaud drew a comparable series of automatist ravings shown at the Met a few years back.    THEN WE RETURN TO THE HUGE MINIMAL CONTEMPLATIONS AND THE MINIMAL MARKING HAS JUST A HINT OF A DRAGONS TAIL FLICKERING THROUGH THE MIST. AHA. The hidden tension in these very spare works is now palpable. I am reminded of Barnet Newman crosses buried under the very minimal paint. 

 

Ruth Kligman is at the top of her game as a painter.  An artist with a fabulous history that is just surfacing into rewriting, as feminist theory evolves to dispel the onus on the mistress, making her a person and a painter in her own right.   It is the right time to place Ruth Kligman properly in art history.   She is no longer the art student among art giants, the beauty seen as the muse who launched a thousand abstract expressionist paintings, and psychotherapists now grasp that the new girl didn’t wreck the marriage in the first place it was more complex than that.   Indeed one has to marvel that both Pollock and deKooning found her so conversational for years on end.  What did they see? It is astonishing that men are never implicated in bedtime stories only women, ever.   What mistress or kept man has had this reflected on his status as an artist I can’t think of one.  Camille Claude only emerged as the sculptor rival of Rodin out of the shadow of master? A hundred years later? It is an epic we speak of, that the culture is now looking.  Looking at art.  Seeing context and history but really looking.  Without dismissing offhand the work of women.  Did this happen? Consult Gorilla Girls statistics for the gory facts.    

 

Ruth Kligman is one of the towers of abstract expressionism and when this is outed many historians and critics will suddenly come forward with oh I always suspected, after years of hesitation to break from the dark hand.     I like very much that she is painting from her self. Rapturous. Engaged.   Moody and blooded and moaning and singing with the gods. Postmodernism has no idea how to approach this phenomenon. A lucky fool.  A painter invoking the cosmic rain come donor, there was another painter who danced the cosmic rain come down. Jackson Pollock. When I asked Clem Greenberg what he felt about the spiritual in Pollock work, he stopped and snorted ineffable, – we don’t discuss that. Now we can discuss that.

 

Barnaby Ruhe, PhD, Senior Editor, Art/World, professor of art NYU, Artist/lecturer MoMA

The arc of Ruth Kligman’s life is reflected in the half-century evolution of her art, which spans the moment Irving Sandler christened “The Triumph of American Painting” and the myriad styles that coexist today. Mentored by Willem de Kooning in the late 1950s, Kligman’s early large-scale compositions are a strong opening act from a woman painting in the macho arena of abstract expressionism, conveying both the movement’s brio and its poignancy. The ambitious swagger of the era can be felt in the slashing reds and blacks that speed across an eight-foot canvas titled The Bullring; its emotions suffuse Broken Cosmos, where sullied whites and bruised magentas entwine sandy ochres, echoing the doubt and struggle of the generation of artists who broke the ice and brought forth an American art that finally elevated the New World to the firmament of the Old.

 

Rather than looking toward the figures underpinning much of de Kooning’s work, Kligman’s bold abstractions moved into the wide-open spaces of color-field painting. Throughout the 1960s her work retained its broad scale while the contrast between colors deepened, until finally they were stripped down to emphatic black and white contours pushing against the classic rectangular format. The Two of the Both of Us plays with curves jammed into right-angled corners or pressed against the straight edges of the canvas, like two lovers confined to a narrow, rigid bed. Following these, Kligman began to shape her canvases into totems of color, as in Coney Island Baby, where an orange oval (an egg?) provides the weight that balances a thrusting nine-foot chevron of blue.

 

There is a hint of darkness underlying this period, something welling up from underneath. In Birth (Early Monster), a 7’ x 8’ oil, an organic shape, like the lithe cross-section of a pelvis, has been brushed onto the canvas, heavy black outlines constraining muted, variegated grays. The compressed shapes railing against the edges of her canvases were holding something at bay.

 

Kligman, of course, had an affair with Jackson Pollock and was with him the night he died. It was Pollock, as de Kooning stressed, who “broke the ice” for all the painters who came after by breaking contact with the canvas—by pouring and dripping paint in exquisite arabesques of color that delicately traced the movements of his body. Kligman recalled, as own her work began to mature a few years later, “The expression became alive . . . a frenzy yet deliberate . . . the abyss of the unknown, jumping off the edge  . . . Abstract Expressionism . . . when it worked it was an epiphany.”

 

The luminosity of fluid silver radiator paint—given a rosy flush through its mingling with a passionate skein of red that unveils a black figure—floods the painting Pollock made for Kligman. That hopeful glow colored her youth, and it reverberates in the luminous metallic paintings and works on paper she created in later decades. In the 1980s and ’90s, Kligman’s faith in art inspired reflective (both figuratively and literally) compositions incorporating the image of the cross, harking back to Byzantine icons whose precious metals foreshadowed the awaiting heavenly paradise. Monolith, Silver Cross, and Turquoise Cross bring out subtleties at the most basic intersection of light and surface.

 

Recently, Kligman’s paintings have gazed back to the quiet of a time before she was born—the moment when one of the seeds of American painting’s triumph began to germinate in a cultivated garden in France: Monet’s explorations of vision itself, his dissection of shape, figure, ground, and color. His monumental Water Lilieslaid a solid foundation for modern painting by atomizing nature and making the plane on which paint was brushed, layered, scumbled, and dragged into an experience that fast lost any narrative quality, becoming one of the sensations defining the modern world. The interlocking palimpsests of experience that Monet conjured from the water are reflected in the flecks of color and shifting shades that make up the ethereal atmosphere of Kligman’s landscapes of the sky.

 

But Kligman’s spiritual icons of the 1980’s and her more recent explorations of enveloping light have alternated with those demons that first loomed up in the 1960’s, drawn on onion skin with colored pencils and metallic pigments. The end of the millennium saw a resurgence of figurative expressionism across the art world; Kligman’s came from a place of re-examined tragedy. Like so many of her peers during the anxious 1950’s (which, as today, found New York City pegged on the bull’s-eye of a war between ideologies), Kligman had been in psychoanalysis—her Monster series seems to have sprung from an unconscious that was never fully allowed to rest. Monster: Horus and Monster: Disintegration are direct channels back to the automatic drawing and primal Jungian imagery that freed up the New York School generation; Kligman’s works carry on this tradition but take it to a place of her own making. In Demons, for example, similar compositions begin with rounded, swirling layers shot through with jagged forms, then transmute into recognizably demonic visages before melting into squalls of orange, blue, and black. Kligman uses long, unbroken color-pencil outlines to define these strange entities and then energizes the overlapping skeins with metallic flashes of paint. The Horus series engages the viewer through broad areas of color that alternately suppress or yield to the writhing black, skeletal frameworks underneath; these are works of tense beauty.

           

The American century of art has had its share of glories and demons, and throughout, Ruth Kligman has been its abiding witness.

 

R.C. Baker has exhibited his artwork at the Drawing Center, the Center for Book Arts, White Columns, and other venues in and around New York City; his writing has appeared in The New York Times, the Village Voice, the Performing Arts Journal, and other publications.

Ruth Kligman’s new work DEMONS and THE LIGHT is being shown at the ZONE 601 W 26thSt. Suite 302. Kligman’s art has a quiet power. Her art is not demanding attention, nor is there an attempt to convince a viewer of its worth. Her off-handed approach to art making, allows for an innocent and unpredictable range of expression. A tangled mass of colored pencil lines on onion-skin-paper has a completely unexpected material presence that is defined by the artist’s hand. In a careful balance of physical marking and emerging imagery, the presence of a ‘demon’ as a bundle of co-existing perspectives, defines itself in a viewer’s imagination. Images of demons become objects of sheer beauty. The ‘Demon’ drawings define a format for automatic image creation that allows for the freedom of expression that is essential to the uncensored emotive impact that emerges from each piece. This art lives in the ‘zone’ where the abstract expressionists left the illustrative shackles of Surrealism and defines the ‘surrealist expression’ as a state of mind to be experienced directly.

 

The Light begins with a group of small paintings on paper that Kligman calls the Cosmic Series. In these heavily painted surfaces, brush strokes are played down and give way to a massing of metallic paint that seems to smooth and polish a surface. But what is it? It does not depict anything. It reflects light casually. It seems like an unfamiliar piece of material. It is an object that glows. It holds light, shines; it maintains its strangeness. It refuses to give in to easy definition. This is not Neo Geo or a return to minimalism. It is a vision of painting construction that maximizes intuitive freedom within defined boundaries. The art making is held in check and freed simultaneously.

 

A third group of paintings in this show is influenced by the Cosmic Series. This time the painting is on canvas and large scale. Six ft. square canvases are butted against one another to form architectural installations. One wall has three canvases on it. The adjacent wall has five. The surfaces are built by scumbled, slashed and layered off-whites and subtle metallic paints that change color, like an oil slick, as the viewer walks by them. In the paper pieces, the strokes are barely distinguishable from their job of shining the paper surface. In the canvases, the brushwork is purposefully exposed, thereby creating a landscape arrangement to the marking. The painterly application of the paint in this series (Landscapes Of The Sky) is more familiar as painting, making the paper works ever stranger.

 

                                                                                                        David Hatchett

RUTH KLIGMAN

  

EDUCATION:

Studied painting and Art History at the New School for Social Research, New York University and Yale. Studied with Larry Rivers, Gregorio Prestopino, Abraham Rattner, Reginald Marsh and Willem De Kooning.

 

SELECTED EXHIBITIONS:

 

SOLO EXHIBITIONS

2005    “DEMONS • THE LIGHT”, ZONE: Chelsea Center for the Arts, New York

1988     New York Studio Show, sponsored by Sur Rodney Sur

1987     Otis Gallery, London, England

1986     M. Donahue Gallery, New York, New York

1984     “Pier Show”, Brooklyn, New York

1983     Pier 34, New York, New York

            P.S 1, New York, New York

1966   Ivan Spence Gallery, Ibiza, Spain

1964   Gallery International, New York, New York

1962   Thibaut Gallery, New York, New York

1959   March Gallery, New York, New York

         Tangier Gallery, New York, New York

 

GROUP EXHIBITIONS

1989-90    Spencer Throckmorton Gallery, Santa Fe, New Mexico

1987     Wessel O’Connor Gallery, Rome, Italy

            Christies Gallery, London, England

            369 Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland

            Richard DeMarco Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland

1986   Minneapolis Museum of Art, Minneapolis, Minnesota

1985   Kamikazi Gallery, New York, New York

          Neo Persona Gallery, New York, New York

1984    Shuttle Gallery, New York, New York

1967    Museum of Modern Art, New York, New York

1958   Martha Jackson Gallery, New York, New York

 

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JOHN CAGE: Watercolors, Selected Drawings and Prints

ZONE: Chelsea Center for the Arts, presents its second exhibition in 2004 of visual art works by the late avant-garde composer, writer, artist and philosopher John Cage (1912-1992).

 

John Cage: Watercolors, Selected Drawings and Prints,* articulates the relationship of Cage’s watercolor paintings to his important involvement with printmaking, during which his fourteen year-long (1978 – 1992) experience at Crown Point Press transformed the traditional discipline of etching as surely as he had reinvented our idea of music thirty years earlier. His late-career watercolor paintings were created at the Mountain Lake Workshop in the rural Appalachian Mountains of Virginia between 1983 and 1990. They demonstrate, like his graphic works, a profound sense of beauty not usually associated with Cage’s dismissal of conventional aesthetics.

 

The watercolors shown here reveal the dynamic interaction with his graphic art works (mostly unique images), including the Ryoanji drawings that occupied his attention for eleven years. This exhibition offers an essential visual component to complement Cage’s lifelong achievement as America’s foremost avant-garde composer and artist, and highlights his role as the principal mediator of the influence of Asian culture and philosophy on his generation and those to follow. Cage’s visual art, like his writing, brings an even wider audience to his uniquely pioneering work and contributes to a broader understanding of his strategic use of “chance operations” in his music, writing, printmaking and painting as a way to redirect our pre-conceived and authoritarian attitudes toward the arts.

 

* Guest-curated by Ray Kass, founder and director of the Mountain Lake Workshop, in which John Cage produced his watercolor paintings between 1983 and 1990

JOHN CAGE: Watercolors, Selected Drawings and Prints

November 18 – December 18, 2004

 

Opening Reception

6-8PM, Thursday November 18, 2004

John Cage: Watercolors, Selected Drawings and Prints

Ray Kass, Guest Curator

 

Ray Kass is an artist and the founder and director of the Mountain Lake Workshop of the Virginia Tech Foundation, where John Cage produced his watercolor paintings between 1983 and 1990. He is Professor Emeritus of Art at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virgina.

 

I became aware of John Cage’s visual artwork and printmaking activities at Crown Point Press when I had the opportunity to interview him in 1980.1

During the course of our visit, Cage showed me an example of the work he was involved with at Crown Point, an etching entitled “On The Surface” (1980 – 1982), and some of the materials employed in the process (cut up copper etching plates). Cage described how he had used  “chance operations” with the aid of a computer program derived from the method of random access of the ancient Chinese book of wisdom, the I–Ching, in making the complex print. He also described an even more complicated procedure for another related etching, also still in progress, entitled “Changes and Disappearances” (1979-82), and that used “chance” to incorporate an even more various array of imagery.2It occurred to me that his etchings had an extraordinary correspondence to the methods he utilized in composing his music – and that they were visual counterparts of sorts, related in a manner that one might not have expected (i.e. Schoenberg’s watercolors, for instance, don’t seem directly related to his composing anymore than Victor Hugo’s ink drawings and gouaches appear directly related to his novels). But the connection between Cage’s use of “chance” methodology in his various kinds of work (composing, writing, installation & performance art, & now printmaking) made sense in a way that awakened me to the great scope of his work.

            In subsequent visits with Cage over the next three years he continued to show me examples of the etchings that he was working on at Crown Point, including a series entitled Where R = Ryoanji (1983), and a new group of related drawings. The Ryoanji etchings consist of patterns of circular overlapping lines incised with a sharp dry point etching tool around stones placed by Cage’s chance operations on a copper plate. The Ryoanji drawings utilized the same stones, but they are drawn around with pencils and are basically simpler in execution than the prints; Cage worked on them at home intermittently for the rest of his life. He commented to his friend and agent, Margaret Roeder, that he considered the Ryoanji drawings as “ a form of meditation”.3         

            Before I saw the Ryoanji drawings, I had never sensed a vital relationship between the tradition of drawing and that of painting and any of Cage’s earlier graphic arts; in contrast, those works seemed insistently unconventional in their demonstration of randomly acquired effects.  Despite the fact that Cage had rendered the Ryoanji drawings in an unselfconscious, almost automatic way intended to avoid any “personal” stylistic manner, these works exhibit an implicit quality of hand gesture, however randomly acquired, and associated with the formal conventions of drawing. I asked Cage whether, since his early experiences with painting in the late ‘20s and early ‘30s, he had ever again thought seriously about painting; he said he had really not had time to consider it.

 

*

 

In spring 1983 I invited John Cage to direct a mycological foray (mushroom hunt) at Mountain Lake and to give a gallery talk at the opening of an exhibition of his prints and drawings that I had organized at nearby Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University.  During the several days of the 1983 workshop there were periods of free time to explore the mountains and rivers of Appalachia. We visited Ripplemead, a secluded place along the New River where the river stones are extraordinary.  Cage loved the site and spent much of the afternoon enthusiastically selecting specimens of the smooth river stones. Many of the stones he admired were significantly larger than those used for the Ryoanji drawings but most of them were portable.  We both realized that the larger sizes of these rounded stones might suggest their use in an experiment related to that of the Ryoanji drawings, in which he could employ a wide variety of materials, particularly brushes and water media, rather than pencils. I commented that the Ryoanji drawings suggested the possibility of a painting experiment in watercolor that might use the rocks from the site on the New River.  Without dismissing the idea, he indicated that he was too unfamiliar with the medium and materials to imagine how to undertake such work – and that he felt unable to organize the studio facilities that would be necessary.  His response seemed to indicate that he was being realistic but not closed to such an idea.  During the next few days I resolved to try to create an appropriate studio situation in which he could acquaint himself with watercolor materials, and to surprise him with it before his departure. I returned to the site with my students and gathered many of the larger stones.

            At the conclusion of his visit in 1983 Cage visited my studio, where I showed him the “studio practice” I had prepared for him the night before.  It included an ample floor space covered with soft particleboard, and the 60 or so river rocks gathered the previous day and now numbered and divided into general size groups of small, medium and large. I provided a large selection of watercolor brushes each numbered and arranged in groups according to type and size, a selection of different kinds of rag papers, a palette of about 26 colors, and additional tubes of paint and many various containers for mixing paint.  After a brief demonstration of brushes and paint qualities, I encouraged him to “experiment” by painting around some stones on several “practice” sheets of bond paper, which he appeared to enjoy. Then Cage took out his computer generated pages of random numbers based on the I-Ching and began to create a program for a painting – which was executed in about an hour – and I drove him to the airport for his trip back to NYC.

 

*

 

The experiment in my studio in 1983, and his ongoing development of his etchings informed and inspired his watercolor painting experiences at the Mountain Lake Workshop in 1988, 1989, and 1990. Prior to his death in August 1992, he was planning to return to Mountain Lake to make new paintings in the following October. In late 1989 I had shown Cage some examples of how the invisible divisions (or panels) that he often incorporated into his watercolors (and his composing of music) might become visible yet subtle elements of future painting experiments – his curiosity was engaged by this possibility. I believe that had he returned to the Mountain Lake Workshop in 1992, his watercolors might have expressed some correspondence with the soft geometric appearance of one of his final series of etchings at Crown Point Press, HV2 (1992).

            The exhibition, John Cage: Watercolors, Selected Drawings and Prints, articulates the relationship of Cage’s watercolor paintings to his important involvement with printmaking. I think that Cage’s fourteen year-long (1978 – 1992) experience at Crown Point Press transformed our idea of the traditional discipline of etching as surely as he had reinvented our idea of music thirty years earlier. His late-career watercolor paintings demonstrate, like his graphic works, a profound sense of beauty not usually associated with Cage’s dismissal of conventional aesthetics. An intrinsic sense of beauty, in fact, is at the center of the experience that one may have in encountering his work. The watercolors shown here reveal the dynamic interaction with his graphic art works (mostly unique images) after 1988, in works such as The Missing Stone, 9 Stones, and 10 Stones– all produced 1989.

This exhibition offers an essential visual component to complement Cage’s lifelong achievement as America’s foremost avant-garde composer, and highlights his role as the principal mediator of the influence of Asian culture and philosophy on his generation and those to follow. Cage’s visual art, like his writing, brings an even wider audience to his uniquely pioneering work and contributes to a broader understanding of his strategic use of “chance operations” in his music, writing, printmaking and painting as a way to redirect our pre-conceived and authoritarian attitudes toward art and life.

                                                                                   

 

 

NOTES:

 

  1. My visit with Cage was to interview him about the Pacific Northwest painter and mystic, Morris Graves, with whom Cage had a long friendship, whose retrospective exhibition I was organizing for the Phillips Collection. Graves and Cage became close friends in Seattle during the late 1930’s when Cage took a position as percussionist at the innovative Cornish School of Art. Graves was a colorful and pivotal figure among a small and adventurous group of young Seattle artists and involved Cage in his famous Dada antics as well as introduced him to the Buddhist Temple in the Yessler district, Asian art, and aspects of the Native American culture. The Painter Mark Tobey taught at Cornish at that time, and also became a critical figure in Cage’s artistic development and befriended the 26 year-old Cage. Our conversation that morning was filled with discussion about his deep involvement with both Graves and Tobey at a formative time in his own artistic development – and how Tobey in particular related to aspects of his current experiments in visual art. Cage described how Tobey and his paintings had profoundly effected his “seeing” – his actual perception of the world. The Phillips Collection project resulted in his traveling retrospective in 1983-84 and my publication, Morris Graves, Vision of the Inner Eye, (New York: George Braziller, 1983).

 

  1. The computer program had been developed for him at Cornell University – in order to more easily allow him to randomly access the 64 Hexagram structure of the I-Ching without having to go through the process of throwing stones or sticks. Based on our conversations, it was my impression that Cage chose the system of random-number access of the I Ching, rather than the Rand Corporation system, or any other system of random numbers, as the basis of his own use of indeterminacy in his work, because it was the most ancient system of random numbers in the world – and he wanted to point to that in a gesture of cultural affirmation of its significance – as well as acknowledge the influence of Asian culture and art on world culture. After selecting the elements of the work – or making “choices”, Cage described making Changes and Disappearances from eight copper plates that had been cut into 66 various smaller pieces whose curved shapes were determined by dropping greased string from various heights onto the plates (as an homage to Marcel Duchamp’s earlier use of a similar strategy to create “lines”) and straight edges determined by cutting along lines between chance-determined quadrants, he described how three types of etching techniques might (according to chance) be applied to these pieces, as well as photographic images of drawings from Henry David Thoreau’s journals.

      My (partial) descriptions of processes and materials involved in Cage’s etchings have been derived from Crown Point Press publications documenting Cage’s work at the press, particularly, John Cage – Etchings: 1978 – 1982(Crown Point Press, 1982) containing Paul Singdahlsen’s writing about On the Surface 1980 – 1982) and Lilah Toland’s notes on Changes and Disappearances(1979 – 1982), and also Kathan Brown’s book, John Cage, Visual Art: To Sober and Quiet the Mind(San Francisco: Crown Point Press, 2000) and her writing on Where R = Ryoanji(1983). Kathan Brown’s essays on John Cage have been particularly helpful to me.

 

  1. The Ryoanji etchings consist of patterns of circular, overlapping lines incised with a sharp dry point etching tool around stones placed by chance operations on a copper plate. the size of the prints and drawings as well as the number of stones (15) that he used for their execution are proportionate with the number of stones and the space in which they are arranged within the 360 square yards of raked gravel of the Ryoanji garden. The development of these etchings preceded Cage’s ongoing series of Ryoanji drawings; both the Ryoanji etchings and drawings were made approximately during the time that Cage’s was composing the music entitled Ryoanji(1983-84); although Cage described to author Joan Retallack how the music is different from the prints and drawings, (cited in Kathan Brown, John Cage: Visual Art to To SOBER and QUIET the MIND, (San Francisco: Crown Point Pres, 2000) 96), all three creations are inspired by the Zen-style Ryoanji garden in Kyoto, Japan.

 

ZONE: Chelsea Center for the Arts and Guest Curator Ray Kass would like to thank Laura Kuhn, Director of the John Cage Trust, Kathan Brown, Director of the Crown Point Press, and Margarete Roeder of the Margarete Roeder Gallery.     

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JOHN CAGE: Works on paper

John Cage: Works on paper, Opening, Talks and Readings

John Cage, best known as one of the twentieth-century’s most original musicians and aesthetic philosophers, was also a highly original and accomplished artist who made a unique contribution to the history of printmaking.  ZONE:Chelsea is proud to present 25 of his works on paper, along with a program of events placing his work in its multidisciplinary context.  Included in the show are the very rarely exhibited complete sets of Ryoku (1985, thirteen color drypoints), and Where R= Ryoanji (1983, four drypoints).  Also on view will be Where There Is Where There – Urban Landscape (1987-89), which exemplifies Cage’s technically innovative and conceptually rich method.  Holding twelve large etching plates over asphaltum treated flames, the artist inked each plate with one of seventeen earth colors.  The printing order of the plates was determined by chance operations, which Cage – like his longtime collaborator, the choreographer Merce Cunningham – believed freed the imagination. 

 

Cage produced thirty-three titles with Crown Point Press, not only casting the I-Ching to determine moves, but also pushing etching and printmaking techniques to the limit by, for example, setting fire to the press or scorching the paper with hot tea kettles.  One work that emerged from the fire process is the epic-scale 75 Stones (1989) outlining the variously sized stones scattered across the paper.  Cage worked at the press every year from 1978 until his death. 

 

John Cage was a polymath with an individualistic take on Zen traditions and ways of approaching the art of living. Appropriately, there are a number of events scheduled to complement the exhibition during the May 7 opening reception. Illuminating Cage’s working process, Master Printer Peter Pettengill will talk about the rock-outlining process of the Ryoku prints.   Deborra Stewart-Pettengill will share anecdotes on macrobiotic pickle-making (one of Cage’s passions). We are honored to have Merce Cunningham reading some of Cage’s work to accompany rarely performed live readings of Cage’s text on the artists Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Nam June Paik, and Marcel Duchamp, which will be read throughout the evening by award winning poet Martine Bellen, internationally known composer Dr. Mathew Greenbaum, Chairman of ZONE:chelsea Center for the Arts William Park, and performer Cathy Richards. Violinist Miranda Cuckson will bookend the evening with selections by Cage on the violin. 

JOHN CAGE: Works on paper

May 7 – June 18, 2004

 

Opening Reception, Talks and Readings

6-8PM, May 7, 2004

 

 

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PAT STEIR: Works on paper

Pat Steir

In these two dozen artist’s proof prints, on view at ZONE:chelsea March 13 – April 24, 2004, Pat Steir explores a signature motif, the waterfall that provides a central dynamic element in landscape.  Here highly personal development of this theme places her in an art historical continuum that includes Romanticism and Abstract Expressionism, while resonating with the millennia-long tradition of Asian art. She goes beyond reference to nature as a subject and locus for negotiations between abstraction and representation to engage the idea of artmaking as process. 

 

The act of creation is a performance, and the work perpetuates the gestural immediacy of the artist’s hand.  In a series of celebrated paintings, Steir emphasized the liquid nature of the medium, imitation the process with a sudden brush and swiping to channel the flow of released paint as it dripped down the canvas. 

 

Steir’s work as a printmaker displays the same intuitive sensitivity to the way mediums behave.  The spit bite aquatints in this exhibition, executed at the Crown Point Press, testify to the primordial power of the artist’s hand, vividly illustrating one of Steir’s key beliefs: “the one mark is for me a symbol. The straight line is the symbol of drawing, all drawing and painting, because it is all just a matter of how the lines are arranged.” 

 

The way the lines are arranged in the print series Long Vertical Falls conveys, paradoxically, both vertigo and meditative equilibrium. Extending the legacy of the Abstract Expressionist drip-and-splatter aesthetic, these compositions also evoke the scroll paintings of Asian art.  Steir’s centrally placed motif, running the height of the images, suggests a dramatic sense of scale – even grandeur – in a relatively intimate space.  There are no mountains, bridges or diminutive scholars depicted; the act of contemplating nature has been re-positioned outside the picture frame.  The movement of the artist’s hand, working both with and against the force of gravity, is central to Steir’s idiom.  Roughly parallel lines coalesce into a recognizable natural form, yet with their wayward vitality they retain the artist’s mark and celebrate the physicality of the materials she uses.

PAT STEIR: Works on paper

 

March 13 – April 24, 2004

 

Opening reception

6-8PM, March 12, 2004

 

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R.C. BAKER: “…and Nixon’s coming” | the draft

ZONE: CONTEMPORARY ART is pleased to present “ . . . and Nixon’s coming” | the draft, R.C. Baker’s first solo exhibition with the gallery.

 

“. . . and Nixon’s coming” combines art, fiction, and design to create a multifaceted narrative that arcs from the Moscow show trials of 1937 to President Nixon’s resignation, in 1974. Divided into four sections, the work views the turbulent artistic and social ferment of the mid-20th century through the experiences of the story’s main character, Kirby Holland, and through his artwork, including academic drawings and studies after the old masters, comic-book illustrations, and amalgams of Abstract Expressionism, Pop, and graphics. Whether figurative or abstract, none of the art functions as illustration; rather, the images create a parallel track to the text. Kirby progresses from earnest art student to member of an army unit charged with repatriating Nazi loot to comic-book illustrator caught up in McCarthy-era witch hunts to determined and eclectic painter at a time—the 1970s—when painting was viewed by many as irrelevant, if not completely dead.

 

The book “ . . . and Nixon’s coming” is a work in progress, created with varying fonts, layouts, and graphics—a literary/historical/graphic-novel/art-catalogue hybrid. The images for Part i, “The Fractured Century,” set in the years 1937–47, include still lifes, figure drawings, and early abstractions. Part ii (“Smashin’ Pumpkins,” 1952–55) features black-and-white action paintings, comic-book pages, and large-scale collisions of the two. Layered abstractions and reconceptualized Pop portraits appear in Part iii, “Incoming” (1964–68); dense collages and painterly graphics characterize Part iv, “What? My Lai?” (1972–74). All of the paintings, drawings, and prints were actually created between 1979 and 2009, with additional work planned as the book progresses. 



 

On Saturday, April 18, at 1 pm, Mr. Baker will read from “ … and Nixon’s coming” and discuss the work in the exhibition as well as the relationship between criticism and fiction.

 

R.C. Baker’s articles and essays have appeared in TheVillage Voice, Performing Arts Journal,The New York Times,and other publications, and his paintings, drawings, and artist’s books have been exhibited at numerous venues in New York City, including the Drawing Center, White Columns, and the Center for Book Arts. Mr. Baker is the recipient of a New York Foundation for the Arts Painting Fellowship and has taken part in numerous panels discussing subjects ranging from “The Future of the Graphic Novel” to last year’s Whitney Biennial. He most recently appeared as a talking head for the Ovation channel’s documentary Jeff Koons: Beyond Heaven. 



A solo exhibition by R.C. Baker

April 2  – May 30, 2009

 

 

Opening reception

6-8PM, Thursday, April 2, 2009

 

 

Artist’s Talk

1PM, Saturday April 18, 2009

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R.C. BAKER: Noise For Signal

Progressives everywhere were shattered: How was it possible that a demagogic, thin-skinned, petty — and c’mon, the man is a congenital liar! — how was it possible that this charlatan had been elected president of the United States of America?

 

Welcome to 1968. Richard M. Nixon won the White House by less than 1 percent of the popular vote. During a 1971 discussion with National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger, Nixon griped that the members of his cabinet, including a young Donald Rumsfeld, “don’t know what the hell they’re talking about!” This observation, along with other salty insights from Oval Office recordings of our most Shakespearean president, provides the dialogue for R.C. Baker’s 9-and-half minute animation, “President: ‘Why?’ ” 

 

The animation was created from approximately 3,600 “degeneration prints,” a selection of which will be on view in a mural-scale installation, along with posters and assemblages. The source materials for the degeneration prints are thumbnail reproductions of head-shop posters advertised in early-1970s comic books, distorted by cheap printing techniques. Baker’s process, which he terms “painting by other means,” pushes these flaws over the border between recognizable imagery and abstraction, revealing the towering ideals of the ’60s as battered and degraded, yet still beautiful.

 

R.C. Baker is an artist and writer who lives and works in New York City. He is a New York Foundation for the Arts Painting Fellow whose work has been exhibited at Baahng Gallery, Zone: Contemporary Art, the Drawing Center, White Columns, the Center for Book Arts, and other venues in New York City, as well as internationally. Baker is a senior editor at the Village Voice and a visiting artist at NYU Steinhardt School of Painting. In 2016 he was awarded a Creative Capital | Andy Warhol Foundation Arts Writers Grant for Short-Form Writing.

A solo exhibition by R.C. Baker

May 24 – June 30, 2018

 

 

Opening reception

6-8PM, Thursday, May 24, 2018

 

 

Artist’s Talk

6PM, June 16, 2018

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FRONT LINES: Visions from Southeast Asia

ZONE:  CONTEMPORARY ART (formerly known as ZONE:  Chelsea Center for the Arts) proudly presents a group show of significant emerging artists from Taiwan, India, Pakistan, Thailand, Japan and North Korea, as the inaugural exhibition in its new 57thStreet location.  Today, contemporary Asian art is often defined by a homogenous international art market that focuses predominantly on China.  Yet, by widening our peripheral vision we discover relatively young artists who are creatively engaging with their own diverse traditions while expressing their personal visions.  The speculative potential of these artists, most born in the 1970’s, is extraordinary.

 

Yao Jui-Chung bridges the gap between traditional and contemporary.  Yao’s large-scale ink drawings are based on familiar Asian pictorial strategies but include sharp contemporary content, often sexual.  Golden Baby II – Blue Eyes, a plastic doll covered in gold leaf, gives the pudgy female form, embellished with tiny horns, the numinous mystery of an idol.  The iconic golden baby personifies the next evolution of global art. 

 

Ryota Unno also references earlier Asian art with multi-incident narrative paintings.  His lively mix of humor and satire incorporates modern tanks and mundane human activities in Edo-style panoramas. 

 

Krishna Murari’s multi-media fiberglass sculptures are both social critiques and powerful totems.  The female figures are covered in goat hide, alluding to women in India being treated like domestic animals.  Yet the strength of the figures suggests primeval dignity.  Murari’s wit and aesthetic force lift him far above the level of merely polemical art. 

 

Manil Gupta finds an original way to translate concerns about destructive human behavior into vibrant visual form.  His recent black-and-white acrylic paintings owe much to both Pop and Op Art.  But his sinewy stripes and decapitated figures have a unique dynamism, provoking thought as the viewer unravels labyrinthine patterns.

 

Mahbub Shah reinterprets the grid in his labor-intensive collages, remaining true to the Pakistani classical miniaturist tradition. Meticulously assembling found media materials, he creates images that float between representation and abstract geometry that are reminiscent of early forms of computer art, based on pixels. 

 

Pure geometry has often been understood as a mode of access to the spiritual.  Kisho Mukaiyamacreates meditative boxes, combining oil paint and wax to capture light.  His craftsmanship honors local art-making traditions and esoteric Buddhism, while his simplicity relates to Joseph Beuys and Josef Albers. 

 

The global nature of contemporary art is epitomized by Navin Rawanchaikul, a Thai artist with roots in the Hindu communities of what is now Pakistan.  He also holds permanent resident status in Japan.  His Navin Production Co., Ltd. organizes numerous projects that explore how local circumstance interacts with globalization trends. He uses taxis, painted with poster images in various languages, as traveling galleries to bring art to remote communities. 

 

Finally, this exhibition offers an unprecedented opportunity to view a remarkable collection of DPRK Posters (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea).  Since contemporary art has been largely banned under the Communist regime, these propaganda posters represent the only visual outlet for artists, who remain anonymous and whose subject matter is strictly controlled. Yet the graphic energy of many of these images shows considerable talent.  If North Korea follows the pattern of China, these social realist images may become the seeds of a new art, when the political climate changes. While these works reflect a very different mindset from the personal visions of the other artists in the exhibition, they open a tantalizing window into what may be the next front line in Asian art.

 

Front Lines:  Visions from Southeast Asia reminds us that all art, like all politics, is local. The art world often seems to be a “geography of nowhere,” in which artists from across the world become interchangeable commodities.  The artists in this show, in contrast, demonstrate both commitment to their own regional identities and openness to global dialogue.

 

ZONE:  CONTEMPORARY ART recognizes Ombretta Agro Andruff, David Heather, Natane Takeda and Jack Tilton for their curatorial collaboration.

FRONT LINES: Visions from Southeast Asia

November 7 – December 31, 2008

 

 

Opening Reception

6-8PM, November 14, 2008

 

Artists in exhibition:

Manil Gupta

Yao Jui-Chung

Kisho Mukaiyama

Krishna Murari

Navin Rawanchaikul

Mahbub Shah

Ryota Unno

DPRK Posters artists

 

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Art in Asia

art in ASIA review on Front Lines: Visions from Southeast Asia

by Dominick D. Lombardi
January February 2009 No. 9
Yao Jui-Chung, Golden Baby II - Blue Eyes

FRONT LINES: Visions from Southeast Asia

November 7 - December 31, 2008

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