Bradley Rubenstein is now officially an arthole. Rubenstein is a painter and long time resident of Greenpoint. In the hopes of getting him to review all the shows out in Brooklyn that I’ll never get to, I’m letting him cut his teeth on a museum show.


My Six Year Old Could Review That
by Bradley Rubenstein


No Limits, Just Edges: Jackson Pollock Paintings on Paper

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1071 Fifth Ave [betw. 89th & 90th Sts.], 212.423.3500
http://www.guggenheim.org/new_york_index.shtml

Through September 29

Untitled (Green Silver), ca. 1949. Enamel and aluminum paint on paper mounted on canvas. 22 3/4 x 30 3/4 inches.
The current exhibit at the Guggenheim enjoins the now half an age old debate as to whetherornothecouldactuallydraw and shows Pollock overcoming his personal limitations to develop something other. Pollock did not just develop a way of working, he developed a way of working through: styles, materials and personal demons. He consumed his own innovations with such fervor that by the time he reached his signature poured style he was already a cliché, done. Yes, it is the 50th anniversary of his death or something, and yes, a Pollock show is always (usually) worth seeing, but in this case seeing the drawings in the context of the Guggenheim's über-modern architecture points up the struggle he faced trying to define what it meant for him to be modern.

The gems of the show aren't the delicately laced Duco drawings but the transitional early pieces. Whether Pollock was quoting his shrink in this work, really did a lot of reading up at the library, or was actually trying to unlearn how to draw (see Clement Greenberg) these pieces persisted for him and would be resurrected later in his black and white works like Portrait and A Dream. By the time we get to the end of the Pollock story, we are usually depressed because he had "lost it" (again see Clement Greenberg) or had "fallen off the wagon" (or is that “on the wagon?”) or whatever. I would like to think that he never really lost anything. Maybe these drawings were always lying around the studio, a reminder of just how far he had gone with the work. No matter how tight that final corner he painted himself into was, it was still worlds bigger than the one he had painted himself out of 15 years earlier.

The other day I saw a man sitting alone at an outdoor café. It seemed as if he were talking to himself. I assumed he was merely talking on a blue tooth. But he wasn’t. He really was talking to himself. I was oddly comforted.

* * *

The Robin Yount of Contemporary Painting

Thomas Nozkowski: Works on Paper

Bravin Lee Programs, 526 West 26th St. Rm 211 [btwn 10th & 11th Aves], 212.462.4404
www.bravinlee.com

Closed

Thomas Nozkowski can best be described as one of those quiet players who puts up great numbers every year and before you know it is ready for the Hall of Fame. He’s a pro’s pro. If he isn’t the flashiest player in the league, he’s certainly the steadiest. Pound for pound his paintings pay out the most consistently interesting rewards to their viewers. In this show oil on un-gessoed [!] paper paintings wring myriad possibilities out of their humble form. Anything you see in them I can see better: graffiti, Klee, Matisse, Lasker—but most of all Nozkowski. He’s been knocking around inside the same four sides of his surfaces with the basically the same elements for 25 years and it’s never boring and seldom precious. Like the great Robin Yount he rarely makes an error.

* * *

Father's Day

Len Servetar

JCC-Y, 900 Route 45, New City, NY, (845) 362-4400
http://www.servetar.com/HTML/len_index.html

Through July 28

Ok, so I’ve completely compromised my journalistic integrity [oxymoron?] by listing this show. Then again, unless your dad is Andreas Gursky or Barry Frydlender, my dad is a better photographer than your dad anyway. Nyah.

At Play, 18" x 20", digital print, 2006

* * *

Mish Mash

Robert Altman: I am what I am
Lothar Hempl: Umbrella

Anton Kern Gallery, 532 West 20th St. [betw. 10th & 11th Aves.], 212.367.9663
www.antonkerngallery.com

Closed

Endlose Reise (Endless Journey), Boat, MDF, photographic paper, lights, 80 x 45 x 128, 2006

So I walked into the gallery. I only saw Robert Altman’s name on the front wall. Saw a bunch of things that looked as if Altman might have made them in his garage when he wasn’t busy not-directing one of his tomes. Hippie art assemblages, photo collages and diamond shaped canvases in early 70s colors with faded frau themes—strictly rummage sale stuff. In the back were stills from Altman’s various films—the potentially money making part of the exhibit. I got to thinking about how celebrities have taken over Broadway plays, children’s books, procreation and now, so it seemed, art making. Then I found out that the stuff in front was by Lothar Hempl. My bad.

* * *