More than a few artists I know made the pilgrimage to Germany to see sculptor Cady Noland’s 2018-19 retrospective. Museum of Modern Art in Frankfurt. This says two things: one is that his work, a mixture of post-punk minimalism, installation art and institutional criticism, is important to some artists; The second is that despite Noland’s work being a provocative critique of American history and politics, the show did not travel to the United States.
Now you can see it inThe Clip-on Method” in Buchholz, a compact solo show that coincides with the release of the two-volume monograph of the same name edited by Noland and art historian Rhea Anastas.
Six new sculptures are here, all “Untitled” (2021) and employing the famous Noland vernacular. There are two galvanized steel chain-link fences and four plastic barricades. A freshly installed gray carpet covers the wooden floor and contains the chemical reek of glue, adding to the unsettling feeling of the gallery as a holding cell or a place of confinement. Three works from the early 1990s are also included: enlarged black-and-white illustrations taken from police-patrol manuals, annotated with anonymous handwritten text.
The “Clip-On Method” books themselves, which are on display, echo the no-nonsense design of the Police Manual and include Noland’s writings and photographs of his work, as well as artist-selected sociopolitical essays and quotes about sex, death. addresses. Celebrity, race and psychology (a special Noland topic). The title is not explained, but many of Noland’s sculptures include objects – guns, handcuffs, American flags – dangling from steel tracks, such as two sets of Budweiser six-packs with plastic rings mounted of a man. In the picture taken is hanging from his belt. Noland’s workClip-on Man” from 1989. (The cover of one of the two volumes of “The Clip-On Method” features an image of William Randolph Hearst, with an accompanying text that describes how he started the era of yellow journalism and sensationalism.)
Noland, in the ’90s, was translating cool ’60s minimalism into political critiques of darkness, power and violence, and showing how these phenomena are steeped in myths promoting patriotism, social mobility, and meritocracy. . Revisiting her work after Donald Trump’s presidency and the ongoing pandemic of police violence and mass incarceration, and thinking about it with other artists such as Cameron Rowland, Mona Hattoum or David Hammons, how important her work is And essential, a chilling reinforcement of it provides. — rarely seen here — is.
through July 21. Eva Presenhuber, 39 Great Jones Street, Manhattan; 212-931-0711, presenhuber.com
Like Emily Dickinson with her tight meter, like Miles Davis with her muffled trumpet, veteran Iowa-based painter john dilgo Knows the power of the whisper; His small landscapes, created in a limited palette of decadently cool colors, have an intimate beauty that can only be evoked by moderation. Fourteen sparse, imaginary scenes of land and water, each painted recently, each hardly larger than a legal pad, each in sky blue and camel and artichoke green murmur, now seen at a show in Presenhuber going, which is called “flight path.” Together they are as intimate and entertaining as a private room-music concert.
Dillag, who was born in 1945 and teaches at the University of Iowa, prefers to discipline the outside world in some symmetry, bifurcating his canvases with a river from top to bottom, or one between two slopes. Focuses the gorge. But these Midwestern landscapes hardly live up to the Manifest Destiny ideal. The water and sky typically appear in the same washed-up blue or green, and the sparing application of oil reveals the rough weave of the cotton canvas, giving the landscape an almost fresco-like rugged materiality. is.
With their repeating, stylized evergreen trees or ice floats, these landscapes are more like general signs than typical sites; The limitation of some of the smaller, standard canvas sizes also forces us to view these ideas as clearly constructed. Their narrow range of tones is based on the color research of Giorgio Morandi, Agnes Martin and Luc Tumans, although initially Dilag’s celadon saag had me in mind of classical Korean ceramics: beautiful to be delicate, priceless because they can shatter. .
Humans are rare in Dilag’s landscape, although they do not have influence; In “reformation,” large stumps of trees are scarred like scars on a riverbank. And for New Yorkers who’ve spent the past week or so cruising around air-conditioners and scrolling past fireballs in the Gulf of Mexico, there may be a sense of disappearance, or return, to the bleached landscape of Dilg – As if these were small, faded canvases of what we once called the natural world. Here a painting of a river valley, whose greenery is swallowed up in white, has a title that may apply to all of them: “Towards the future.”