Walter Pater famously said, “All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.” Korman’s paintings exist in a musical state.
The pleasure Ryman took in seeing and sensing the world of things so closely is what viewers who are open to his work will take away.
Jule Korneffel is not after denial in her paintings but rather affirmation, even in these chaotic, seesawing times.
One thing that comes across in the drawings of Rackstraw Downes is the austere, almost monastic life he has lived in order to make art.
In Danica Lundy’s paintings it seems that I can see two places at once, inside and outside my body.
With her portraits, Jenny Dubnau seems to be drawn to that psychologically charged instant of the momentary encounter.
The subject running through all of Tabata’s works is the meeting place of one’s inner and outer life, of psychic states and outward responsibility, and the different frictions that can arise in that gap.
One key to understanding Diao’s art is that he has long worked with a reductive geometric vocabulary, while always pushing back against any of postmodernism’s reductive narratives.
Despite all we know about the environment and what we are doing to it, Kim arrives at another, less palatable realization: As much as we call the Earth our home, we are strangers here.
Bischoff and Burckhardt questioned assumptions and conventions regarding abstraction and how we apprehend it. In fact, their questioning is what makes this a fruitful pairing.
While I have seen Goodman’s self-portraits numerous times, the unlikely combination of raw pathos and tenderness always stops me in my tracks.
The visual stutter of Mary Lum’s artwork invites us to enunciate the staccato repetitions of sounds we hear and see when we walk through the city.