Greg Stone’s works on paper at Pierogi 2000 evoke mirrored and multiplied geometries, and their immediate gestural effects fluctuate with the elusiveness of a flickering fire. Located in the Pierogi gallery adjacent to the retrospective exhibit of the late Mark Lombardi’s preparatory drawings, one realizes that the artists share an interest in the interstices between visible and invisible worlds. The cool and diagrammatic lyricism of Lombardi’s investigations into the dangerous world of capitalist manipulation surprisingly echoes Stone’s hallucinogenic and organic fields filled with networks of synaptic configurations.
Stone is an artist who acts as a filter through which thoughts and events—the general white noise of the streets of this Williamsburg neighborhood—are seemingly transmitted to the nerve endings of his vision and touch. He works within a visionary tradition and he constructs his paintings with grandly conceived geometries—the ellipse, the circle, the square, and the rectangle. Building them on the recto side of the paper, he delves into the possibilities and interior connections of his structures inch by inch. He then freely deconstructs their girdings and trusses by placing marks in such a way that the result is a film of images charged with energy and floating across the surface. The patterns of centrifugal force in “Circle Your Wagon,” or the expanding square-like structures of “Little Bang Theory” are examples of this.
The painting “Prayer” was done while listening to and watching the news about the war in Iraq. Constructed around an American flag that has been reproduced four times, the vertical stripes of the flag frame a central area whose 50 stars have been multiplied into four perpendicular bands, so that they lose their traditional form and become radiating spoke-like rays. In transforming the already bold abstraction of this 18th-century artifact, he subversively works within an aesthetic framework that evokes Middle Eastern and Islamic art. The flag has become a translucent object akin to layered skin. Released from the gravity of their traditional symbology, the patterns of the flag now reference a more universal freedom, one in which pattern and form are free to follow their existential necessities, rather than the strict and rational grid of historical tradition.
In earlier work, Stone used assemblage techniques that incorporated modern western identification systems with Old Testament, Islamic, and Sanskrit writings. His idea was to investigate the utilitarian attitude represented by numerical assignation, like telephone, credit card, and social security numbers, which he saw as the anonymous organization of members of a free democracy. He contrasted this with calligraphic and genealogical themes such as those he found in Hebrew and Islamic texts, which emphasize the relation between the mortal and divine through geometries connected to the spoken word and the visual arabesque.
The resulting strength of Stone’s process is an immediately sensuous and unified surface that the eye takes in at a glance, even as its intricacies become analogies for natural creation. Within this framework he creates a tense balance of opposites in which up and down, right and left retain an equivocal value, even as they remain in perpetual motion. All of these elements reflect his ongoing interest in Greek pre-Socratic philosophers like Heraclitus, for whom even fire observed the equilibrium of measure.
As a young artist in Williamsburg, Stone wanted to paint, but the most affordable materials were ivory black acrylic gel, or tar at $4.00 a gallon. He stayed with this material long enough to transform its trademark look of gritty and urbane art school chic into a sophisticated process that evades dissimulation.
Rachel Youens is a painter, writer, and teacher who lives in Brooklyn.
Mildred Thompson: Throughlines, Assemblages and Works on Paper from the 1960s to the 1990sBy Susan Harris
MARCH 2021 | ArtSeen
Mildred Thompson: Throughlines, Assemblages and Works on Paper from the 1960s to the 1990s cracks the veneer of the 20th century, modernist canon to highlight a little-known body of work by an African American abstract artist who, in spite of being overlooked and criticized for her race, gender, and style, remained resolute in her vision.
Leiko Ikemura: Anima Alma - Works 19812022By Jonathan Goodman
DEC 22–JAN 23 | ArtSeen
Born in Japan, Leiko Ikemura left for Spain to study language and art before moving to Switzerland and eventually to Germany, where she currently works. An artist of subtle feminist assertion, Ikemura has chosen in most paintings to represent women and in some instances children. Ikemura is well known in Europe and has shown extensively there, but this is her first exhibition in America. Her painting style tends to be diffuse and sensuous, in a manner not so distant from the art of someone like Marlene Dumas. Her training directed her toward a compelling mixture of figuration bordering on abstraction, even when she is rendering people.
Perle Fine: A RetrospectiveBy Tennae Maki
JUNE 2022 | ArtSeen
An underlying current of profound emotional intelligence is palpable in the retrospective of her work at Gazelli Art House. Exhibiting the many liberties Fine took in terms of scope and artistic range, the works independently represent near case studies in objective expression. There are paintings with shades and shapes of blue, as well as carefully drawn grid lines across a plane of yellow. Each piece demonstrates that during her fifty-year career, she was more interested in unlocking the depths of feeling, rather than the weight of materials.
Cora Cohen: Works from the 1980sBy Alfred Mac Adam
OCT 2022 | ArtSeen
Cora Cohen: Works from the 1980s is a time capsule, and like all time capsules it is an enigma. Time capsules are supposed to provide people of the future a sample of things typical of the moment when they are buried. Which raises the critical issue of perspective: are we to understand these eight glorious pieces according to what we think they meant thirty-five years ago, or should we understand them according to what they say to us today? Even if we lived through them, the 1980s are as irrecoverable as the 1880s: an abyss separates us from that decade even if human timememorymay trick us into thinking we actually know that remote moment perfectly.