"They seem to be going somewhere, leaving you in a state of questioning, very similar to a film still."
Louis Block speaks with painter and writer Merlin James in his Glasgow studio in the lead up to his forthcoming show, River at Sikkema Jenkins Gallery.
On the occasion of his solo show at Peter Blum Gallery, painter Erik Lindman speaks with Louis Block about landscape, refining gesture, and the Perceval myth.
Louis Block speaks with artist Hilary Harnischfeger about materials and process, geology, science fiction, and the influence of the landscape.
Baltimore-based painter Jo Smail speaks with Louis Block on the occasion of her retrospective at the Baltimore Museum of Art, reflecting on her career in South Africa and the US, recovering from a stroke, painting emptiness, and the influence of Clarice Lispector.
Louis Block speaks with artist Rachel Eulena Williams about memory and transformation in her two solo shows, and finding order within disorder.
For the past half-century or so, Ed Clark has been making plastic paintings that live up to the name.
MacKinvens scenes approach history painting in both scale and mood, but fall just short. This is a good thing, as a step further would overload the pictures with meaning, and a step back would thrust their subjects into banality.
Shaun Leonardos current exhibition posits a simple act of resistance: to excavate these optical memories, sifting through their noise. In his repeated drawings of news photographs surrounding violence against Black men, Leonardo builds a system that questions a singular images capacity for truth-telling.
It is this immeasurable space between visual belief and betrayal that Thomas Demand mines in his intricate photographs. For his new show at Matthew Marks, Demand combines stills, animations, and sound to consider the textures themselves of experience.
Suters work feels both settled in place and open to the possibility of change. Painted both indoors and outdoors, her canvases are subject to the unstoppable forces of naturehurricanes, flooding, crittersbut do not resist their effects.
These paintings insist on the meditative quality of their content. Truitt intensifies the resonance of these fields of color not by doing away with form and line, but by pushing it to the periphery.
Lês pictures are about intense desire, which draws us to make form in this world. They seem to say that the weight of history is omnipresent, but shiftingeach reiteration sutured together from more disparate sources, lit from a dustier sun.
The largest painting in Andy Cahill’s new show spans over thirteen feet wide. In it, an androgynous creature points a finger-gun at a man crawling up an increasingly vertiginous path toward a house already out of reach, lost to the inevitability of one-point perspective.
This exhibition at the Met gathers over 100 of his daguerreotypes, less than a tenth of his total production, focusing on his extensive travels east through the Mediterranean from 1842 to 1845. Though it only occupies a few small galleries of the museums photography wing, the collection is filled with small pictures of a vast geographic scope.
Good painting gives us pause because it is so absorbed in a proprietary language that we must approach it on foreign terms. We cannot begin to shape our own words without our bodies becoming enlisted in the objects way of making meaning in the world.
Goya’s prints and Eisenstein’s 35mm films serve as an introduction to Longo’s massive charcoal drawings.
That these two pieces join subject and form through a harmony of image and support is not proof of any substantial connection between their authors oeuvres, and the pair may not warrant extended consideration. But, faced with the works current proximity, why not revel in its strange, absorbing links?
The Metropolitans concise retrospectivean abbreviated version of what was shown at Londons Royal Academypresents the printmaker and painter as a merciless interpreter of his environment and its characters.
The exhibition foregrounds Crawfords projects in other media (photography, printmaking, and film) alongside the larger scale oil paintings for which he is known.
This generous retrospective traces the development of an extraordinary career in color photography, from the late sixties until Singh’s sudden death from a heart attack in 1999.
Seeing and remembering are at odds. Memoriesif they are to be shared with othersare packaged in a specific way: flat, rectilinear, still. This fact is not contingent on photography; we have a natural tendency to break narratives up into stills.
In this show of nine canvases, all painted in 2018, EJ Hauser mines an ever-shifting vocabulary of form. The language here lies somewhere between literal and mythological, spoken and remembered.
What is most disconcerting about Fixator is what it lacks. The voids between its structural elements seem to weigh more than the solid ceramic and metal structures making up the imaginary body now resident in PS1’s creaky galleries.
What brings me back to a painting is often a feeling, like a nagging muscle memory, of wanting not only to see, but to sense the paintings facture.