I first noticed Stephen Westfall’s geometric abstractions within the mid-Eighties, when he set his grids in opposition to monochromatic grounds. What quickly set him other than others working on this mode was that his grids had been askew, as if his California upbringing and consciousness of earthquakes made him acutely aware that all the things might collapse. Together with creating and exhibiting his artwork at the moment, Westfall — who appears to own boundless vitality — wrote often for Artwork in America and periodically organized exhibitions centered on geometric abstraction.
Westfall’s ardour for the roots of geometric abstraction in the USA, and his championing of lesser-known artists comparable to Ward Jackson and Ralston Crawford, revealed him to be heartfelt, non-dogmatic, single-minded, intellectually curious, and unconcerned with developments and {the marketplace}. These qualities, in tandem with the arc of his profession, piqued my curiosity once I realized that he had curated an intergenerational exhibition, A Planar Backyard, at Alexandre Gallery.
Alexander Calder, untitled cell (c. 1950–60s), painted metallic, total 17 1/2 x 36 x 14 inches (44.45 x 91.44 x 35.56 cm) (© Non-public Assortment, courtesy Lachaise Basis)
Westfall’s definition of planar portray is simple. Everybody works on a rectangle and makes planes which have crisp edges with out counting on tape or making gestural marks, or what may be construed as strains. It’s refreshing to see a bunch present that hews to its curatorial assertion, and consists of each outdated pals and sudden twists. (Surveying the exhibition, I noticed that I had written about 10 of the 16 artists.) Uneven and at all times inclined to the motion of air, an untitled tabletop cell by Alexander Calder (c. 1950–60s) units the tone for the exhibition, which I might characterize as an unfixed geometry. In his mobiles, a sculptural type he invented, Calder’s playfully defiant exploration of a destabilized geometry runs counter to the geometric abstraction of the Summary Expressionists and the logical progressions of Op Artwork.
I used to be completely happy to see “Untitled” (1999) by Harriet Korman, wherein interlocking curved kinds part off a rectangle. Three of the portray’s sections are brown, a shade that the artist has included in lots of works over time; this isn’t a simple feat, since brown doesn’t at all times work optically in abstractions.
Harriet Korman, “Untitled” (1999), oil on canvas, 54 x 54 inches (137.16 x 137.16 cm) (courtesy the artist and Thomas Erben Gallery, New York)
Odili Donald Odita’s use of scalene triangles and reconstituted black wooden veneer, which composes an image of Blackness, is a reminder that abstraction just isn’t purely a White invention. Tiny vertical striations inflecting the work’ prefabricated black surfaces add one other visible component to this excellent artist’s work.
Two welcome surprises within the exhibition are works by Joanna Pousette-Dart and Polly Apfelbaum. Identified for her stacked, gently arcing kinds, Pousette-Dart’s maverick, formed work haven’t been sufficiently appreciated in the USA. In these items, as Carter Ratcliff wrote in Hyperallergic, Pousette-Dart “found an original way to be original.” The 2 stacked kinds in her latest portray “Night Stripe” (2024), measuring 30 1/2 x 37 3/4 inches, made me need to sit in a room surrounded by equally sized work.
The glazed terracotta work “Block Stripes” (2022) by Polly Apfelbaum is the exhibition’s largest shock. I’ve come to think about Apfelbaum as an set up artist whose “fallen paintings,” as she calls them, encompass many dyed material parts organized in situ on the ground. Prior to now, they’ve made a powerful first impression on me that by no means lasted. “Block Stripes” (2022) is a promising outlier in her ouevre. The muted colours of the vertical stripes are capped alongside the highest and backside by small blocks in one other shade. Maybe this work alerts a brand new avenue of exploration for the artist.
Odili Donald Odita, “Choir” (2024), acrylic latex paint on aluminum-core fabricated wooden panel with reconstituted wooden veneer, 45 x 45 x 1 1/2 inches (114.3 x 114.3 x 3.81 cm) (© Odili Donald Odita, courtesy the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York)
The linear components and curving and arabesque shapes, every in a stable shade, in Patricia Trieb’s “Torque II” (2024) are derived from a variety of sources. Thinly painted on an off-white floor, Trieb’s works are drawings in paint, wherein brushy areas are seen throughout the kinds. Their languid sensuality is riveting. The figure-ground relationship oscillates between painted kinds and the unpainted areas between them. The interplay of the kinds establishes one other visible dialogue throughout the image aircraft. The items are inviting and distant, direct and elusive. A well-researched museum survey of the artist is so as.
In Westfall’s personal “Summit” (2024), he interrupts his area of flat, overlapping triangles pushing in from the perimeters with a volumetric type in two colours descending diagonally from the portray’s higher left nook. It’s this sort of disruption that the viewer repeatedly encounters within the exhibition, a way that geometry isn’t fastened and may nonetheless astonish.
Stephen Westfall, “Summit” (2024), oil and alkyd on canvas, 36 x 30 inches (91.44 x 76.2 cm) (courtesy Alexandre Gallery)
Patricia Treib, “Torque II” (2024), oil on canvas, 80 x 60 inches (203.2 x 152.4 cm) (courtesy the artist and Bureau, New York)
Polly Apfelbaum, “Block Stripes” (2022), terracotta and glaze, 22 x 22 x 3/4 inches (55.88 x 55.88 x ~2 cm) (courtesy the artist & Frith Avenue Gallery, London)
A Planar Backyard continues at Alexandre Gallery (25 East 73rd Avenue, Second & Third Flooring, Higher East Facet, Manhattan) by February 1. The exhibition was curated by Stephen Westfall.
