Monday, December 13, 2010

Charles LeDray: workworkworkworkwork At the Whitney Museum of American Art (Nov. 2010 - Feb. 2011)


workworkworkworkwork is a retrospective exhibition that brings together numerous bodies of work by New York artist Charles LeDray. Master miniaturist, LeDray, has spent the last two decades creating an arsenal of intricately crafted, everyday objects on a very small scale. The title of the show refers to an earlier project. In 1991, after creating a trove of handmade miniature items like clothing, magazines, books and many other household items, LeDray displayed the work on a Manhattan sidewalk. He presented the items randomly, like someone’s possessions in a sidewalk sale. The work on view at the Whitney Museum also includes hand-stitched clothing, paperback books, and daily objects, as well as wheel-thrown tiny ceramics and meticulously carved human bone sculptures such as buttons or furniture. The featurepresentation of the exhibition is the artist’s most recent work, Men’s Suits, (2006-2009), an installation of three vignettes of second hand shops.

Upon entry into the exhibition the viewer confronts Village People (2003-2006), little hats of all kinds lining the length of the wall, high above eye level. All kinds of hats in miniature are represented such as the sombrero, cowboy, safari, or Indian headdress. These hats obviously refer to the different roles we play in our lives. Our identities become presented through such roles, developed through our professions, interests, or responsibilities.

Not all, but most, of LeDray’s works are experiments with men’s clothing. Lining the gallery walls are miniature outfits, suits, and uniforms, tailored to perfection. But this is not a fashion show. Surprisingly, LeDray never had formal training. He learned to sew from his mother as a child. The work he creates is scaled down, perhaps so the objects are not mistaken for commodities, but, instead, are subjects for introspection. The clothing we wear is the way inwhich we present and protect ourselves in the world. These works serve as substitutes for human presence, almost breathing on their own. Clothes that have been through life do not stay pristine. LeDray’s articles of clothing show such signs of life as tatters, stains, holes, missing buttons, and patched denim. Much of the work is quite literal, while other clothes are wittily or humorously abstracted or altered.

The series Men’s Suits (2006-2009), is a presentation of three small-scale scenes of second-hand clothing shops. One scene presents what looks like the back room of a store with hangers, laundry bags, a ladder and piles of clothes in disarray. The second is a public second hand or vintage shop, fully stocked, with coats, jackets, pants, shirts, gloves, belts and more. The third is a specialty section of a men’s shop, featuring an array of tiny ties, each a different pattern, from paisley to plaid. For this project LeDray spent three years painstakingly hand sewing miniature suits, shirts, and accessories, as well as crafting furniture, clothes hangers, laundry bags and shopping carts. The work is astounding in its realism. The miniature adult clothes are small - too small for any real person to wear - but they are not so small to seem like toys. The fabrics are not cheap and flimsy like doll’s clothes. One can tell that the materials have been carefully chosen, cut from real clothes. Small and wonderful, the work is delightful, but not necessarily cute. Blue jeans and jackets look worn, as if real life had been carried out in them. The vignettes are startlingly believable, causing a suspension of disbelief. One wonders about the lives of people who might have worn these clothes or who might choose to purchase them. This sensation is reminiscent of visiting preserved historical places, such as Versailles, Monticello, or the Anne Frank house, as they manage to transport the viewer to the environment and give a realistic sense of the lives that were lived there. This sensation, however, is momentary. The viewer is not completely enveloped, but towers above the scenes. One quickly returns to reality and the vignettes begin to feel like oversized dioramas.



These installations give an eerie perspective into human experience and our everyday lives. First, the scale (about one–third the scale of actual life) evokes the loneliness of knowing how small our lives are in comparison to the immensity of the universe. Second, one cannot help but feel a sense of futility. These coats, gloves, pants and collared shirts are so perfectly made, but no one will ever actually get the pleasure of wearing them. One thinks of the hours spent toiling away - planning, cutting, folding, ironing, and stitching…stitching…stitching. It brings to mind the hours and hours we all spend at work, or school, or on hobbies or projects - the labors of love and necessity. But when a task is complete, then what? It’s done – on to the next thing. One cannot help but sometimes wonder, what is it all for?

Wonder and disbelief are heightened when viewing Charles LeDray’s intricate ceramics. Presented in 6-7 ft. tall multi-tiered vitrines Throwing Shadows and Milk and Honey show thousands of delicate, porcelain vessels. The shapes of the vessels vary greatly and no form is spared. There are amphoras, urns, decanters, carafes, jugs, bowls, etc. One wonders what these tiny containers hold. Are they vessels for the hopes and dreams of the living or little reliquaries for something lost?

Lastly, there are the sculptures, such as an ivory finger bone with a gold wedding band or stacked furniture, carved from human bone. Again these inspire feelings of loss or futility. These types of objects may be the most morbid in his oeuvre, yet they do not fail to fascinate.

Witty and humorous, though often melancholy, the work is a delight. Though we are mortal, the gift of life is for living. Each person finds meaning in their own way, through how they choose to live and spend their time. One must do something to keep busy and Charles LeDray’s hands have not been idle. He has created an entire tiny universe of objects that manages to give grand insight into real human experience.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Venezia


Giovanni Canaletto

Giovanni Canaletto


Gaspar Vanvitelli


Francesco Guardi

Francesco Guardi

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Michael C. McMillen - Now Showing in Los Angeles


Lighthouse, an exhibition of work by Michael C. McMillen is at LA Louver Gallery. Currently running through October 30. That's not much time, so if you're in Southern California get on over there.

McMillen is currently preparing a retrospective catalogue to accompany the upcoming exhibition at the Oakland Museum of Art, running May-Dec 2011.





See it at LA Louver Gallery online
Read the LA Times review by Leah Ollman

Monday, September 27, 2010

Interview with Steve Galloway

Sip
(click to enlarge)

West Coast artist Steve Galloway is a talented and humble man with a slightly wry sense of humor. He draws and paints strange, humorous, mysterious, sometimes dark, often irrational scenes with a very meticulous hand. Odd and compelling, these surreal landscapes envelope the viewer into the frame. The grittiness of the sand is palpable as you empathize with a lone hare in the desert. It is dry and at least 115 degrees - his thirst poignant, as is the weariness and skepticism about the reliability of the spicket having water and that snake minding its own business. In another work is unfortunate roadkill victim, Arthur. He is dead but alas, you cannot resist a smile and feel compelled to dance with the armadillo's spirit, accompanied by the skeletons of the men who killed him.

Steve Galloway has exhibited extensively and has work in many private and public collections.
He kindly answered some questions and here I share them with you.
Great Basin
(click to enlarge)

Jessica Kloville: What is your birthday and where did you grow up?
Steve Galloway: I was born in Los Angeles on March 10, 1952.
I grew up in New York with the majority of time spent in the greater Los Angeles area, mostly in the San Fernando Valley.

What first drew you to art? Was it a natural inclination beginning in childhood?
I loved to draw and can remember back for most of my life that I did so. I am not sure where, or why, this desire to draw comes from, however, in my case, it might just be some kind of escape mechanism. And maybe, a way to rearrange the world as I see it. I was always interested in the peculiar and the distorted as a child, and still am, I guess. Little eccentricities and quirks are things that seem to find their way into what I do. The play of light also had a strong influence on what interests me and how it appears as imagery.

Ghost House
(click to enlarge)

Would you mind describing some of your experience at the California Institute of the Art in the 1970s?
When I entered Cal Arts back in 1970, I was fresh from high school and about as naive as one could be. I thought I wouldn't last a week. Everyone else was more experienced and older, or so I thought. I made it through that first week. I was a delusional kid, but it worked. The first day we had an orientation of the whole school and we chanted the aum. We joked about it a lot, but later on you learn to appreciate symbolic attempts like that. The school was definitely unorthodox and rough around the edges, and that made it a perfect fit for me as I moved along. The art school was a great laboratory of possibilities, if you were self-motivated. If you needed technical instruction, Cal Arts was the wrong place. It turned out to be the right fit for me. The amount of talent at the school when I was there was very energizing. The school was very much influenced by artists and teachers from New York, so there was a sense of dynamism and rigor that we might not have had otherwise. It was place of freedom and high expectations.

Found

What is your process or the stages of a painting?
When I want to start a new work, I usually build it up from ideas that are circulating in my head. A bit like daydreaming, I suppose. If the idea works well enough, I draw it out in thumbnail form and later turn it into a larger final piece. I edit things in or out as I see the piece take form.
Some ideas need a little trimming. In retrospect they can sometimes seem born of a drunk's folly. The rest of the work on a painting or drawing is fairly simple - fill it in without falling off. Maintaining balance along the way.

How long do you tend to work on any one thing? Is it one thing until its done or many things going at the same time?
The length of time any one piece takes depends on the complexity of imagery and the size of the work. Smaller pieces, drawings in particular, take much less time than do paintings. A painting can be frustratingly slow in the manner I work, but it is a choice. Some paintings take a month or two, and some drawings might only take a day or two. In the main, I work on an individual piece solely until it is finished.
I keep a better focus on the work than shifting gears and juggling several works at the same time.

Where do you get your inspiration?...epiphanies, dreams?
Inspirations for my work come from the daily bits and pieces of life. Visual ideas, nature, news events, cultural absurdities, humorous quirks, architecture, folk stories, etc. are some things that help to form ideas for me. I have never found sleeping dreams to be of any help for my work. My ideas are waking thoughts.

Are there themes that you slowly work through?
There are some themes that course their way through my work. Some that have continued for decades and others that have dropped by the wayside.
The challenge is trying to find something new I've not done before. However, as I have gone along, I have realized that one pilfers and adapts much of what one
has done before, while still attempting some new angle conceptually. You have to be a demanding critic of your own work while allowing for audacious possibilities. It is a constant process of breaking down and building up again.
Rebelliousness is good.


(click to enlarge) (click to enlarge)

It seems like there is a personal narrative or mythology being played out. Who is B. Wilbur and what can you tell me about some other characters that appear in your work, as in Cave of 3 Bats?
Buddy Wilbur, or B. Wilbur, is an alter ego. A swamp rat and a self-taught entrepreneur of the illogical and the absurd. He came about when I needed a name for a proprietor of a swamp museum set in a drawing I did a few years back. I mumbled this name and it stuck.

The Mystery of B. Wilbur and the Swamp Bottom
(click to enlarge)

In the Cave of 3 Bats I used a guy on a lighted-sign platform that represents a well known art patron, who, when I was introduced to him while I was really in a slack period career wise, said, "You're Hot!" Nothing at that moment seemed more preposterous and ironic. He was speaking of my current career as much as he knew, I think. I laugh when I think of it. So, I placed him in the painting. The 3 bats are Cliff Westermann, Otto Dix, and Pablo Picasso. Three artists I think of often for various reasons. They are fruit bats waiting on a painting of peaches.

Cave of 3 Bats
(click to enlarge)

Some pieces are more narrative than others in that they imply human interactions, while others are made to convey more reductive ideas.

Load

All images courtesy of the artist, RoseGallery, Santa Monica, CA, and Galerie Eric Mircher, Paris, France

Friday, September 3, 2010

Marketa Luskacova

While looking at book titles by Gerry Badger recently, I came across a monograph of Czech photographer Marketa Luskacova.



Her life as a photographer began with a chance encounter. In 1965 she met with a group of pilgrims near Levoca, a town in Eastern Slovakia, and spent the following years recording the Christian peasant culture of Slovakia. In 1975 she moved to England, where she became absorbed in the immigrant communities of London.



The photographs are familiar, though I have never seen them before. The compositions are reminiscent of such great Magnum photographers as Henri Cartier-Bresson, Josef Koudelka, and Elliott Erwitt. With a photojournalistic approach she captures moments and makes formal portraits, showing people as they are - with all of their sadness, despair, humor and joy.



The eye is drawn to the qualities of composition, graininess and high contrast as the heart responds to the the vacillation between whimsical and serious subject matter.






- Luskacova's photographs can be found at Stills Gallery, Australia
- the artist's website: www.marketaluskacova.com

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Lucy WIlliams

I just discovered British artist Lucy Williams. Her work is unbelievable in its craftsmanship. These tediously constructed pieces are paper or board cut in low relief. She may include other elements to the paper sculptures to create collages with string, paint, or pillow stuffing. In all of the work she depicts architectural interior or exterior modern imagery that one generally sees in architecture books or in the likes of Dwell Magazine.

So flawless is the depiction of the scenes within, these works could easily be compared to photography or photo-realism painting in their ability to transport the viewer to the given location.





Lucy Williams artwork can be found at Timothy Taylor Gallery, London
as well as at McKee Gallery, NYC.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Richard Learoyd



Exquisitely intimate. These sitters are obviously vulnerable, many are completely bare, yet they seem defiant in their determination to face the world with fortitude.






Learoyd's prints are large format, the images painstakingly made with a camera obscura.


- Richard Learoyd at Union Gallery, London
- works also available at McKee Gallery, NYC
- See the article in Aperture Magazine, #199.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

New York

Now that I have arrived to New York I have been able to frequent some of the many venues for viewing art. Here are a few highlights of what I have seen so far:

Tomoko Sawada at Zabriskie Gallery

from Mirrors

from Mirrors



David Goldblatt at Howard Greenberg Gallery

from Particulars, South Africa, 1970s

from Particulars, South Africa, 1970s



George W. Gardner at Deborah Bell Photographs

San Francisco, 1970


Henri Cartier-Bresson at MoMA

Easter Sunday in Harlem, 1947

Romania, 1975

Telavi, Georgia, 1972



Trine Sondergaard at Bruce Silverstein Gallery

from Strude, 2007-2009

from Strude, 2007-2009



John Wesley at Fredericks & Freiser


read about and see it on Artkrush