The Future is Lush and Lonely: Review of Hernan Bas at Lehman Maupin

Hernan Bas’s show at Lehmann Maupin, up through July 10, is many things; the first adjectives that come to mind are worth-seeing, interesting and ambitious. These scenes of verdant landscape enclosing small figures create a sense of narrative, cataclysmic and lonely, and are visually mesmerizing as your eye tries to take in all the detail of these large canvases.

Ubi Roi

Bas breaks up the landscape with angular planes and covers them in expressive brushwork. There’s a chaotic element to the landscape, which looks like tectonic plates smashing into each other to create contours, and its warring colors.


While the angular planes of the landscape are lushly and loosely painted, this contrasts with his treatment of human figures. They are small in relation to the landscape and tightly delineated. His figures are the more telling than his deceptively loose, chaotic landscapes. You can see it in the hard edges he creates, seemingly by painting in layers over strips of paper that he then pulls off, how precisely controlled the enviorns are.

A Landscape Heard

Bas’s images work from far away, when the wild colors seem more balanced and you get an evocative sense of a landscape in ruin, and up close, where his painting becomes mesmerizingly complex. There are some instances of really beautiful color, like below. Yet I also felt that the angular planes of the landscape, instead of creating depth, pushed everything in the picture to the forefront. Without depth, the complexity becomes dizzying, at times to the composition’s detriment.

As Bas says in an interview with BlackBook,The whole show is based on a newfound interest that I had in Futurism and 1920s Absurdist performance,” and there’s no lack of references to it within the show (e.g. The title of the show, The Dance of the Machine Gun & Other Forms of Unpopular Expression). This conscious use of art history can seem heavy handed, and I think the New York Times might have put it best when, in an article on the artist’s show at BMA that just closed, “The cumulative effect of the exhibition is of a young man still finding himself as an artist.”

The Bagpiper in Exile (or, The Sad Wind)


‘Finding himself’ seems to be a rewarding process for the viewer as well as the artist based on this show. It bodes well that the artist is willing to try new things, as here he to incorporate new elements into his visual language and risk different subject matter (previously homoerotic scenes of young boys, like the show at BMA). Bas is an artist to watch.

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Picasso at Gagosian: Go now!


As you know, if you read yesterday’s or the day before’s post, I had a great list of galleries in Chelsea that I wanted to go see. Yesterday was beautiful outside, so I biked up to 20th Street. Overall, I had a mixed reaction, but one thing stands out as being an incredible show and opportunity for any art lover:

The Picasso exhibition at Gagosian

It’s amazing to see Picasso in a smaller, intimate gallery setting. This is Gagosian’s new space at 522 W. 21st St, and it’s beautifully lit. The sheer number of works in the 4 large spaces is dauntingly fun, and it really helps you make sense of Picasso’s late period during the 60s and 70s, from which all the works were drawn. Called Mosqueteros, due to an abundance musketeers, cavaliers and prostitutes in these later works, the show comes mostly from private collections that are not accessible to the public. So Gagosian’s exhibition is an unprecedented chance to see this grouping.

The artist in 1971

Gagosian‘s business acumen is amazing: rather than focusing on lower-priced works in these economic times, he is marshalingl his resources to create shows like the Pierro Manzoni retrospective and this one to generate buzz and excitement at a time when it’s hard to generate sales. The exhibitions themselves have been wonderful.

I felt within the Mosqueteros, there was certainly an uneven quality to the grouping. Some paintings were great, others very great. The paintings themselves were jarring, ruthlessly honest, and aggressive with haunting eyes. If the exhibition shows you anything, it’s that Picasso remains fresh and relevant today. It’s on view until June 6, so go see it while you can.

A Painful Creative Process?

Caravaggio
‘Artist suffer to produce art’ was the opening premise of my post yesterday. Somehow the creative process is one of “cracking your skull open” or “putting your sweat and blood into it.” “Tortured artist” even gets a page on Wikipedia, and is linked to the similar ‘poète maudit,’ the bad-boy artist who is against the establishment. In a way, societies finds tortured artistic personalities moving in the most Romantic way, because they feel a deep connection to this other person.


Vincent VanGogh

This all may be true to an extant, but I’m a little skeptic. Both the Romantic I of lyric poetry and the Romantic artist struggling to produce art are flawed characterizations. This emotional ethos en-nobilizes the making of art from a craft to fine art, with the by-product of considering the piece of work to reflect the soul of its creator. I think you’re as likely to see a reflection of your own soul as you are that of the artist.

Charles Baudelaire
Making art is suffering as much as making anything else is. It could take the same amount of work, in terms of energy expelled and time, to make a table as a painting. Going to work is often not fun, but do I really get to claim that I suffer as I email and answer the phone? Running on a treadmill might be considered suffering, but nobody will idolize your soul over it.

Robert Mapplethorpe
Also, don’t happy people create, and why shouldn’t they create good art? Leonardo is generally upheld as a great artist. He is also widely considered a brilliant thinker–yet he didn’t brood over his canvases. Hell, he could hardly be coerced to finish them once he had sketched them out, much less pour a troubled soul into them.