January 31, 2007
I Want Candy
I Want Candy, 20070131, HTML, 360 x 285 pixels
January titles provided by Mel Prest
Posted by chrisashley at
10:25 PM
Gee's Bend Quilts
This was published originally published at Two Artists Talking on December 31, 2006. I thought I'd close out January by re-publishing it here with a couple of minor changes.
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I hope that every artist who complains about their day job and how little time they have to make art saw the Gee's Bend quilts that have been travelling around the US the last three years. And then I hope that all those complaining artists just shut up. Like me. I've had my comeuppance.
Probably enough has been said about the quilts already, and anyone with half a finger on the pulse of the art world knows about it. The press release says, "Organized by the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, with the Tinwood Alliance, Atlanta, the exhibition has been on a three-year, coast-to-coast, twelve-venue tour since its premiere in Houston in the fall of 2003." I saw the show at the de Young a few weeks ago. It closed December 31. I believe this the final venue. I have to thank
Mel Prest for mentioning it to me several times.
Now, here are some people who I would think have good reason to complain about their day jobs. Farmers and fieldworkers, raising families in poverty, geographically cut off from opportunity and resources- who has time to be creative? And yet their faith in family, God, hard work, and consistent and continual making resulted in beautiful and very moving objects that have shifted from functional bedcovers to concrete, visual, transcendent objects that are innovative testaments to the handmade and communal.

I found this show tremendously moving, not only because of the circumstances in which they were made. For a museum exhibition, it's not enough to be moved by these circumstances. Certainly, art objects made in a difficult situation can tell us valuable things about the people and their times, but for the object to be aesthetically powerful requires something more. And it seems the women of Gee's Bend found that.
Of course, I was moved by the story of how these quilts were made, and I was especially moved that the quilts are made in spite of a day's work, often in the company of others. I found it especially interesting that a functional product- something so functional in the circumstances in which it was used that it could even barely be called craft- which implies hobby and decoration- could be elevated to art object. This is part of what I found both humbling and inspiring.
But there's more. These quilts are truly handmade- hand cut, handstitched- and while many utilize various traditional patterns, these often have little twists and interruptions in them, while many others eschew pattern and have a feel of improvised compostion, more modern collage than historical symmetric structure. Up close you can see the stitches, the fabric frayed by washing and use. But stand back, and they feel composed by a commanding and experienced eye capable of setting up rhythm and contrast, tension and surprise.
I often read press releases for exhibitions in which So-and-so's art plays with some crap notion of this assumption or that received idea or another that questions and challenges our assumptions about this or that miniscule thing that results in a paradigm shift to some other imagined nothing. Geez, they're pretentious and cliched at the same time.
But in the Gee's Bend show here are some genuine questions about where art comes from, how it's made and for whom, who makes it, art's origins and place in daily life. That's powerful stuff, and there is a real challenge to our assumptions. This show does it in broad daylight with no theoretical sleight of hand, and with a mimimum of contextual and historical knowledge required. It's just so plainly and visibly beautiful and bold. It makes me want to say lame predictable things like "celebration of the spirit," and "triumph over adversity."
It's too obvious a connection to talk about the quilts in relation to geometric abstraction- they're just different animals with a different purpose. In fact, I think it's a waste of time to make a competition between the quilts and painting. They are about different things, and anyone with a pair of eyes knows that immediately. I see these as closest to Korean wrapping cloths called bojagi, which are also made using fabric scraps.
The closest art connection I keep making is to Rauschenberg, and his reuse of materials, especially fabric. Compostionally, feeling-wise, there seems to be something shared in how things are arranged, a sensitivity to color and pattern, to the use of found materials. I'm thinking not only of Rauschbenerg's combines, but also his cardboard pieces.
But even still, this is a fruitless comparison. I really brought up Rauschenberg to make another point. There is his famous quote, "Painting relates to both art and life. Neither can be made. (I try to act in that gap between the two.)" I think that for the Gee's Bend quilters that gap doesn't exist at all. There is no split. The quilts and their making are part of a greater whole- the lives of their makers. This seems unusual to me these days. It is especially unusual for art, which often seems disconnected from life's dailyness. Partly, it is unique, I think, because of the medium itself- fabric and thread, which are ordinary and domestic materials that anyone is familiar with- and because these quilts are originally functional objects; most contemorary art does not have these origins. The quilts were intended to be part of everyday life. The quilters and their families are the primary, original audience, and the primary users. There seems to be no gap between the maker, the intended object and its use, and people who use it. This wholeness is also unique because these quilters defied tradition by not settling into historical patterns, but instead used their eyes to compose and make, working by hand and responding immediately to their materials, learning from and working in the company of each other, day after day over the years. It's remarkable to see how these objects, made for a specific use in a particular place, can now function as powerful art objects for a much larger, more diverse audience.
Chris Ashley
Oakland, CA
January 2007
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07:04 PM
January 30, 2007
Sour Times
Sour Times, 20070130, HTML, 294 x 346 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:57 PM
Fernando Botero's Abu Ghraib Paintings at UC Berkeley
This is about as close as I got last night to getting into the opening of Fernando Botero's exhibit of his Abu Ghraib paintings at UC Berkeley's Doe Library. There was some kind of color-coded ticketing system, and when I finally found this out after waiting in one line, and looked at the line of three or four hundred people waiting to get in outside in the main line, I took some pictures through the windows and left.
The paintings are not being shown at the Berkeley Art Museum. They are being shown in a large room in the library which houses computers mostly used by students for email and quick searches, through which most people walk to gain entrance to the main library. New partitions were installed, the walls were painted- it is a very serviceable exhibition space.
As is probably well known by now, the paintings have shown in Rome and New York, but nowhere else, and Botero has offered the complete collection of works to an American museum willing to take and show them. No takers.
As far as I can tell, the Berkeley Art Museum, the UC Berkeley Department of Art Practice, nor the the UC Berkeley History of Art department had anything to do with the exhibition taking place at UC Berkeley. My guess, and this is based soley on nothing except my own knowledge of the current faculty and the kind of students the department produces, is that the overt content, and the fact that these are merely paintings, does not engage serious enough theoretical and material concerns. Or, maybe they're just out of the loop, unaware, too busy, don't have the resources or budget, or simply can't respond quickly enough. Whatever the reason, it's a shame they're not involved.
Instead, the Center for Latin American Studies is primarily responsible for organizing the exhibition, which- including a room converted for the purpose, the transporting of paintings, and the development of a complete accompanying academic program- astonishingly took place in just about exactly two months.
I saw the exhibition today. It consists of forty seven paintings and drawings. There are several large paintings, and several that seem to consist of two or three panels; I don't know if those count as single or multiple "paintings"- I didn't count. There is plenty to look at, and one can get quite close and look at the paint. Due to some built-in features of the room several of the large paintings are hung with the bottom edge nearly at eye level, making one look up in a way which physically creates a sense of reverence and witness.
The imagery is horrifying, but not in quite the way a photograph would be horrifying. Botero's style of figuration places the figure a little at a remove so that one needn't turn away. This is not to say he makes the subject softer and removes the horror. Instead, the style of figuration removes us from the pain we may feel when looking at a real person, thereby creating the opportunity for contemplation and reflection while encouraging empathy, outrage, and sorrow. We are able to look longer at what we are seeing and at what is being alluded to. By staying with the paintings, and seeing how these images generalize the horror, we all feel our own range of emotions, and recognize the indictment of our times and the challenge to not let this happen again.
These paintings would not be effective if Botero were not a competent and knowledgeable painter. He creates pictorially effective arrangements and juxtapostions that makes the work formally interesting; subject matter alone does not make the paintings successful. On close look one sees Botero's fine sense of line, solid grounding of figures, subtle modeling of anatomy and drapery, sure sense of color, and confident economy with paint and brush. Formally, there are wonderful things he does in a painting's composition: the rhyming of an arc of urine streaming in from the left side with a raised leg ready to kick; the bright multi-colored head bands worn by each man in a large pile on the floor; the bright blue glove on the hand of a torturer whose body is outside the picture plane; the various skin tones of different figures; the contrast of the bright green hood on one man's head next to which his raised arm ends at a bright bloody red hand. In one three panel painting the victim changes postion from one panel to the next; in the experience of viewing this time is a component, and it is this prisioner's turning and suffering over time that drives us more deeply into knowing his agony, and knowing him as a living being, an individual.
One of course thinks of Goya and Picasso, or Grosz or Beckmann. It's not hard to see in some paintings allusions to Christ, at least through the way Christ's life has been depicted, particularly in, say, 15th century Italian painting- the wound, the suffering, the sacrifice. I kept thinking of someone like Mantegna, particularly his paintings like Calvary and St. Sebastian. Botero's classic allusions, rather than seeming a pat anachronistic device, reinforce his presentation.
This is a very important exhibition in several ways. It is important because the subject matter is crucial to America's current image and reputation, and Botero has made a permanent record of this unlike that made in any other medium. It is important for the way in which it was organized- outside of the museum and gallery channels- and for where it is shown- in the library of the university known for being the birthplace of the Free Speech Movement. It is important because it shows that painting is still relevant; no photograph can function in the way a painting functions; no other medium depicts things with the same sensuous, tactile, handmade means; no other visual medium has a thousand years of history to reinforce and extend the viewer's experience. It is important because these paintings have been brought to stand before people's eyes to see up close and in person one individuals's committed outrage carried out with intelligent skill. And it is important because Botero's paintings are made with skill and craft, knowledge and wit, compassion and generosity.
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Video and/or audio of an interview with Botero by poet Robert Hass on January 29, 2007 can be streamed or downloaded.
Several programs and panels are being organized by the Center for Latin American Studies.
San Francisco Chronicle art critic Kenneth Baker has written a feature article and a review.
San Francisco Chronicle editorial writer Louis Freedberg provides some very interesting background.
In the Brooklyn Rail, Robert C. Morgan's A Note on Botero’s Abu Ghraib.
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06:00 PM
January 29, 2007
Reverend Lee
Reverend Lee, 20070129, HTML, 294 x 346 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:04 PM
January 28, 2007
17
17, 20070128, HTML, 295 x 300 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:29 PM
January 27, 2007
I Will Survive
I Will Survive, 20070127, HTML, 343 x 280 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
10:40 PM
Tethered and Untethered Stars
Douglas Witmer & Chris Ashley: Tethered and Untethered Stars, 2007. Ink, acrylic, and magic marker on found paper
Installed in Across the Borderline at Rike Art Center, University of Dayton, Ohio, January 11- February 10, 2007
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10:47 AM
January 26, 2007
Call Me
Call Me, 20070126, HTML, 343 x 280 pixels
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07:41 AM
January 25, 2007
Brick House
Brick House, 20070125, HTML, 260 x 510 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
07:54 PM
January 24, 2007
Just the Way You Are
Just the Way You Are, 20070124, HTML, 302 x 294 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:59 PM
January 23, 2007
Me and My Arrow
Me and My Arrow, 20070123, HTML, 225 x 145 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
09:13 PM
January 22, 2007
Kiss
Kiss, 20070122, HTML, 278 x 254 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:44 PM
January 21, 2007
I'm Not in Love
I'm Not in Love, 20070116, HTML, 375 x 305 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
04:54 PM
January 20, 2007
Fall On Me
Fall On Me, 20070120, HTML, 270 x 220 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:18 PM
January 19, 2007
Persephone
Persephone, 20070119, HTML, 270 x 230 pixels
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11:54 PM
January 18, 2007
Stardust
Stardust, 20070118, HTML, 400 x 300 pixels
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10:34 PM
January 17, 2007
Since I Been Lovin' You
Since I Been Lovin' You, 20070117, HTML, 390 x 300 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
09:53 PM
AtB installation photos
Douglas has posted about forty installation shots of our show "Across the Borderline" at UDayton.
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11:24 AM
The Best Day Ever
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10:13 AM
January 16, 2007
Temptation
Temptation, 20070116, HTML, 420 x 300 pixels
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11:41 PM
January 15, 2007
Wish You Were Here (EAM)
Wish You Were Here (EAM), 20070115, HTML, 370 x 390 pixels
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06:27 PM
Coco 1991 - 2007

Coco
September ?, 1991 - January 15, 2007
Coco was a great cat- spirited, feisty, talkative. She died a few minutes after midnight last night, her head in my hand, while I talked to her. She is the one out of our five cats who showed Ruby, our dog, how to co-exist with cats- she was tough, demanding, demonstrative. She was sensitive to volume and tone of voice, emotion, affection. Animal energy in our house is a vibrant presence. This energy was present, sometimes directly, mostly indirectly, in my art, so it's especially fitting to picture her here, today, in a place, this weblog, that doesn't usually focus on the domestic, but is a place, about my art, in which the importance of the domestic, over time, is undeniable. Goodbye Coco.
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11:50 AM
January 14, 2007
Love My Way
Love My Way, 20070114, HTML, 250 x 512 pixel
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11:59 PM
Across the Borderline
Across the Borderline (Chris Ashley & Douglas Witmer), University of Dayton, OH, January 11, 2007
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12:02 PM
January 13, 2007
Night and Day
Night and Day, 20070113, HTML, 225 x 145 pixels
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11:26 PM
January 12, 2007
Change Gonna Come
Change Gonna Come, 20070112, HTML, 225 x 145 pixels
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11:59 PM
January 11, 2007
Heaven
Heaven, 20070111, HTML, 220 x 150 pixels
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12:12 AM
January 10, 2007
Ne Me Quitte Pas
Ne Me Quitte Pas, 20070110, HTML, 315 x 455 pixels
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12:16 AM
January 09, 2007
Life on Mars
Life On Mars, 20070109, HTML, 315 x 455 pixels
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11:10 PM
January 08, 2007
Say It Ain't So
Say It Ain't So, 20070108, HTML, 360 x 360 pixels
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11:59 PM
Georg Baselitz at Nyehaus
I have always liked Georg Baselitz's work. I first saw his work in the flesh in 1982 at Ileana Sonnabend in New York; I liked it immediately. The paintings I saw in that show of eagles, drinkers, bottles, and oranges have stuck with me for a long time.
I don't think many of my peers share my enthusiasm; perhaps I'm wrong, and they do at least respect him, much like one has must recognize Guston's late period. It's too easy to get stuck with the idea that he's the guy that paints things upside down. He's a painter, he works with images, but most of all he's making a painting, dealing with visuality, compostion, surface, mark, tension.
Today I recieved an email announcing a recent exhibition. Rather than a brief press release the email contained a long and excellent essay. It is below. Maybe this will explain why I like his work.
GEORG BASELITZ: WORKS FROM THE 1960s and 1970s
January 11th through February 17, 2007
Opening: Thursday, January 11th, 6-8PM
Nyehaus is pleased to present Georg Baselitz: Works from the 1960s and 1970s.
Opening reception will be held on Thursday, January 11th, 2007 from 6 pm to 8 pm.
Pictures are omnipresent. They fill our lives as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They can appear anywhere; they make use of every technology and every medium. But pictures not only come upon us everywhere: pictures have effects, they have force, they can heighten their power even to the point of violence-a metaphorical violence, of course. This they achieve in several ways. They can represent violence or endow their aesthetic means with what one might call violent directness. The viewer senses a particular aggression whenever this violence appears mixed with sexuality. And this is precisely what happened in the case of an early picture by Georg Baselitz from 1962, "Der nackte Mann." It was exhibited for the first time in Berlin in 1963, along with "Die große Nacht im Eimer"-and soon the public prosecutor was on the spot, to ban the exhibition and close it down. A scandal!
Over and over throughout his artistic career, Baselitz has shocked the public-in recent years, however, not so much by means of the provocative representation of sexual organs but rather by the great force of the aesthetic strategies he chooses. It would be wrong, however, to emphasize one-sidedly the provocative element of Baselitz's work. Even in the picture of the naked man, there are many other things to observe, for-despite the painting's aggressiveness-despair, fear of the abyss, and an existential solitude or insecurity appear as well in the helpless figure lying in the mud.
(Right: Georg Baselitz, Bussard, 1974, Olie pċ papir pċ lĉrred, h: 200 x w: 162 cm / h: 78.7 x w: 63.8 in)
When Baselitz painted such pictures in the middle of the affluent society of postwar Germany, he saw himself as an outsider, alone in a political reality split between West and East Germany. And precisely this situation that offered no foothold, this feeling of in-betweenness that called into question the self-delusions that sustained East and West Germany, determined his work and fed his creative process again and again with new energy. It was the experience of an existential uncertainty in which the individual, the artist Baselitz, must reinvent himself again and again: this was at the bottom of the work. Therefore Baselitz used only a handful of motifs, which always offered anew the starting point for painterly operations: the tree, the head, the frontal male figure, the eagle, nudes, and so forth. There is much to say about what he does with these motifs, which serve as anchors in the midst of the often turbulent painterly action. Obviously the sheer speed of the painting has a special meaning, as does the materiality of the paint application. There are suggestions of gestures as well, pointing towards the psychic constellation underlying each picture. These elements are combined differently in different periods of Baselitz's work. Take, for instance, a work from the "Heroes" series, painted in 1965-66; before these works, the viewer becomes aware of the materiality of paint, which is brought out in a highly differentiated way. For the surface is not constructed according to a general principle-it is sometimes more and sometimes less impastoed, often tacky and slimy, in many places impulsive. Again and again-in the painting "Ein Roter," for instance, from 1966-anxious contour lines cut through zones of color, creating the effect of a painted jigsaw puzzle. The impression of numbness and helplessness is further reinforced by the way the colored figure appears before the white ground. The "hero"-whose inner life, emotional and agitated, is made vivid as the intense life of the colors-knows no purpose, he sees no outlet for the strength and energy which seem to have been given him.
While Baselitz made manifest in the structure of the works of these years a blockage with regard to the development of a sustainable identity, he began to reorganize the strength of his pictures in the late sixties and particularly in the seventies. It is as though the veil of dream and nightmare fell away from his motifs; now they belong to the real, more or less. The earlier blockages, in motif as well as in execution, disappear and make way for a faster painting process, which the painter's gestures can make freer use of. The act of painting becomes an equivalent for the vital energies Baselitz can make visible. Where do they come from? A curious interlacing of memory and imagination may be observed; an intense friction within the structure of the pictures arises from this combination, for the motifs remain fundamentally static, as is reinforced by their placement in the middle of the picture's surface. While the motifs, therefore, might be called the unconscious of the pictorial structure, or the bridges to a memory to be uncovered, the painterly surface flashes with bolts of color, with sparks and thick masses of pigment. This new stage of Baselitz's painterly operations may be seen in the eagles and nudes of 1976-77. Although these motifs seem to be pulled from reality, Baselitz in fact adapts them from photographs he takes himself. By this means a certain distance from realism is gained, making it possible to create a space for memory. Elke, the artist's wife, appears as a nude, but she stands in the work for a connection to home, origins, inspiration, and so on.
(Left: Georg Baselitz. (German, born 1938). Woodmen. 1967-68. Charcoal and synthetic resin on unprimed canvas, 8' 2" x 6' 6 3/4" (248.7 x 200 cm): 63.8 in)
If, then, the motifs always recur, although the painterly facture of Baselitz's work often changes suddenly, even jerkily, one might compare the overall progress of his artistic investigations to the formation of concentric circles. For this artist, development means not the abandonment of one thing and the invention of something entirely new from one period of work to another, but instead the always renewed interpretation of the underlying constellation of an in-betweenness of past and present.
In the years between 1967 and 1969 this process reached perhaps its most critical point. For the transition from the "Heroes" series, the masterful conclusion of all his early efforts, to the formulation of a new iconography of presentness, of nudes, still lifes, forest scenes, and eagles, which could embody this in-betweenness, proved to be a very risky undertaking. How could the provocative power of the earlier motifs be transformed into a new manner of painting with its resistant and aggressive traits intact? Baselitz searched for others who could guide his new investigation, just as he had earlier discovered for himself the Florentine Mannerists, the artists of the School of Fontainebleau, and outsiders like Antonin Artaud and August Strindberg.
The painter was able to heighten the violence of his images without recourse to nightmares, mutilations, and organ forms by intensifying the materiality of his colors. In doing so, he could go back to his own early reception of Philip Guston and find leads for his own work in that of Franz Kline, Willem de Kooning, and Clyfford Still. While the Abstract Expressionists saw their pictorial strategy fulfilled in the suddenness of a painterly eruption, which guaranteed the selfhood of the painter a powerful symbolic presence in the picture as a counterpart, Baselitz avoided this kind of subject-bound expressivity in favor of the restlessness of in-betweenness. With his much discussed "trick" of turning his figures upside down, Baselitz asserted very clearly that his motifs serve as the scaffolding of his paintings and not as their content in the expressionist sense. But the path to the upside-down paintings proved difficult. One can see, in the many steps necessary to come at last to this decision, the pictorial logic behind the upside-down motifs-which were anything but a whim. When Baselitz inverted the motif, the in-betweenness of the painterly handling gained a new freedom. Thus it is only half right when the upside-down motifs are placed in the rich tradition of inverted pictures, such as are required by certain iconographic situations. Examples from the old masters include some motifs in Tintoretto, the crucifixion of St. Peter, and representations of Simon Magus, among many others. With Baselitz, references to such themes are not to be discounted, but ultimately something else plays the essential role-falling down as a symbol for the desire for origins, which nevertheless remain unreachable. The emphasis and retention of the middle of the picture, as the place where the presence of painting and the search for the preconscious meet in the motif, must be seen as central. And it is almost always bodies or metaphors for human bodies, such as trees, that serve as the catalysts for pictorial events.
The paintings of Baselitz resemble an archaeology of the indissoluble connection between the body and emotion, the conscious and the preconscious. This investigation is paired always with the willed finding of the self. When one sees the speed and vehemence on Baselitz's paint application in this light, then an explanation for the violence of the massing of motifs in the eighties may be found here as well. Two essential elements, however, broadened the range of Baselitz's painting after 1980: the varied colors start to glow and the painter as an individual maintains a certain distance from the motif and the picture. The latter observation seems implausible at first, since many personal motifs do appear in the works of the eighties and the personal is even, as in an allegory, transformed into the universal in two large-scale compostions titled "Pastorale." But now Baselitz does not join self-invention as a painter to self-construction as a historical being, as he did in the early sixties, nor does he hint at the rather private realistic motifs of the seventies, but instead he uses his motifs in a manner that might be called allegorical. That is, he joins relics from the past and the present together in compositions, which remain necessarily-as allegories-bulky and unwieldy. The circle of motifs expands, however, in historical dimension, if often into darkened areas-as when the war-scarred Augustus Bridge in Dresden is cited. Other hints show that Baselitz includes the historical as he reflects upon his personal experiences of postwar Germany. Astonishingly, he does this by means of a new style, intensely colored and impastoed, which yields melancholy and painful tones, as in the painting "Motivschimmel-Zerbrochene Brücke." The new definition of memory in Baselitz's work comprises two seemingly incompatible strategies-on the one hand, the motifs are held at a distance, allegorically; on the other, color infuses everything that appears in the picture with almost visionary intensity.
After inventing images of in-betweenness, an unstable state between different times, Baselitz arranged, with great painterly verve, his world of motifs around the unreachable core, a cool crystal which painterly representation can never reach. From time to time in recent years, the artist has spoken of this aim by means of a metaphor; he says he is searching for the "picture behind the picture." Every successful work, in this perspective, is part of a chain of painterly actions that can never arrive at their goal. There can be no now in the painting of Georg Baselitz. -Siegfried Gohr |
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08:27 PM
January 07, 2007
Let Me Go
Let Me Go, 20070107, HTML, 400 x 360 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
09:52 PM
Across the Borderline

"Across the Borderline: collaborative works by Chris Ashley and Douglas Witmer"
January 11--February 10, 2007
Rike Center Gallery
University of Dayton, Ohio
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11:31 AM
January 06, 2007
Isobel
Isobel, 20070106, HTML, 380 x 270 pixels
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06:42 PM
January 05, 2007
Heart-Shaped Box
Heart-Shaped Box, 20070105, HTML, 360 x 325 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:59 PM
January 04, 2007
Yesterday
Yesterday, 20070104, HTML, 350 x 370 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
10:32 PM
January 03, 2007
Caribou
Caribou, 20070103, HTML, 310 x 250 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:08 PM
January 02, 2007
Bad Penny, 20070102, HTML, 340 x 340 pixels
Posted by chrisashley at
11:17 PM