ON REVIEW

Mysticana, 2009
13 x 13 x 8 feet
Painted steel
Nexus Companies
One MacArthur Place, Santa Ana, CA 92707

David Simpson 1970's Abstractions, The San Francisco Chronicle (PDF file)

Art In Review [The New Mexican, Pasatiempo]
By Douglas Fairfield
Dec. 5-11, 2008

Charles Arnoldi: Fractured Arc Paintings

This review is two fold: it looks at an exhibition of work by Los Angeles artist Charles Arnoldi- on view at Charlotte Jackson Fine Art- and at a book on the artist newly published by Santa Fe based, Radius Books. What’s tough is knowing where to begin; both the exhibition and the monograph are worthy of first-place honors. However, looking at the real deal always takes precedence over flipping through images in a book (but that’s not to imply that the latter is any less satisfying).

Charles Arnoldi: Fractured Arc Paintings is like taking one chapter out of the book and hanging it on the wall. Begun in 2005, The Arc paintings are an ongoing series in which the artist pieces together multiple shaped canvases into rectangular compositions. But this feat of impeccable craftsmanship is secondary to the painting itself.

More than just the tailor-fitted constructs- the conjoined parts are revealed only upon close scrutiny- it’s the truncated (fractured) sweeping gestures within the paintings that lend Arnoldi’s work its striking character. Like segments of giant painted pinwheels reassembled in calculated juxtapositions, Arnoldi’s work is ultimately non-objective, and anything seen as recognizable is in the viewer’s imagination. Foremost, aspects of process, textural quality, and dynamics of movement come to mind. The work seems to be inspired by broken pottery shards- the simple design elements, limited color schemes, and the not quite seamless transitions from one shaped canvas to the next remind me of such.

Arnoldi’s application of paint is proficient but thin- the weave of the canvas shows through. It is also apparent that the artist uses masking tape to define his arcing edges; although he cannot be accused of being overly concerned about producing precise contours. Traces of bleed and drip save the work from being purely decorative. But what gives Arnoldi’s paintings their most emotional and tactile impact are the vertical and horizontal scrape marks that tend to ground the paintings in some ethereal framework that echoes the rectangular format of the overall composition. In a scumbling technique that results in scuff marks on the surface of the paintings, a window appears that adds a peculiar perspective to the work. In short, these marks were intentional and not gross negligence on the part of incompetent gallery grunts.

Stalker (2008) and Fight (2008)- situated in the front gallery- are prime examples of all that has been said. Stalker, painted in various degrees of black and cream color, is visually activated by the fractured arcs yet is symmetrical in layout and stabilized by the incidental framework within. Fight- painted in autumnal shades of butterscotch tending to raw umber- has the same elements of arrested motion imposed by symmetry and intermittent right-angled scuff marks.

The back gallery features two related paintings: N.S.E.W. (2008) and Double Diamond (2008). Jackson was smart not to install these in the front space, as they seem less rich, less inviting than their more aggressively titled brethren. Double Diamond is too fundamental in its use of straight-out-of-the-tube mars Black and Titanium White, while the garish chartreuse thrown in the mix for N.S.E.W has too loud a voice for my sensibilities. But the two gouaches in the show- seemingly studies for the paintings- are sweet little ditties that are bold in persona yet understated in their muted tonalities and smaller scale. In total, the show consists of only seven paintings, including the two gouaches- a sparse presentation by any means- but there is much to consider, and O commend Jackson for her conservative installation.

On the other hand, Charles Arnoldi the book- weighing every bit of 7 pounds- is loaded with work:138 pieces. But the beautifully produced publication- with images one to a page, along with a few detail shots and photos of Arnoldi at work in his studio- does not seem overdone. Monographs are usually jammed with reproductions paired with an overwrought text with far-reaching profundities that lead to the detriment of the work, not to mention the artist. But the design team of David Skolkin and Chickey got this pitch perfect.

Also commendable is the book’s readability. Avoiding the standard chronology- “Arnoldi was born in… went to school at… met so-and-so,” etc.- as well as a pedantic series of essays, the publishers instead incorporated a an ongoing dialogue among Arnoldi and four people who personally know him and his work, including gallery owner Charlotte Jackson. Taped during a roundtable discussion, the transcript serves nicely as the text. Unscripted, the group responded to the artist’s work through a progression of slide images that covered all phases of his career, beginning in the 1970’s. The conversation is lively, critical in thought, and well paced. Additionally, the introduction by David Hickey- former executive editor of Art In America and professor of English at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas- is well informed and enlightening; he talks about Arnoldi the person, his West Coast aesthetic, and his artistic accomplishments.

Becoming acquainted with Arnoldi’s work- and his sometimes bizarre methods- was interesting. From his sculptural Stick series to the chain-saw paintings to his potato phase and his ellipses, grids, arcs, and windows, I appreciated how the book effortlessly segues from one phase of Arnoldi’s development to another, giving each equal time.

Most people agree that a book is always better than the film it is based on. But in this case- given the book and the exhibition- it’s essentially a tossup. I stand by my preference to see actual work, but buy the book for an in-depth look at a prolific artist whose progress over nearly four decades has resulted in some incredible work. Also keep in mind that 7 pounds of beautifully bound images works great as a doorstop.

Object Lessons, KIM RUSSO For the Journal

There is no other way to say it: this is a stunning exhibition. Constance DeJong’s works cause the viewer to forget the world and the self — to stop thinking. Using a reductive palette of materials, DeJong has created works that one might dare to call sacred –– sacred in that spontaneous, visceral way in which one experiences an object before a thought takes hold.

In her exhibition, “Shift,” on view at Charlotte Jackson Fine Art through Oct. 31, DeJong has reduced terror and beauty, dark and light, the somber and transcendent, into a sublime, aesthetic awe. It would be simple, and incorrect, to say that this is formalist or minimalist work. It isn’t.

Although DeJong’s works are made of metal, they are visually soft. “Big Black Work With Three Tilting Planes #2” is composed of three vertical, tilting, and converging rectangles hanging a foot off the ground on the white gallery wall. The entire work is human scale –– 6 feet tall by 100 inches wide. The edges of each rectangle, shaped like a wedge, reveal the glowing orange of the bare copper. The front faces of each are black: a dense, subterranean black that absorbs light. This work is a sculpture and a painting –– a painting of time and movement, stillness and infinity. Without knowing DeJong’s process, it is evident that this surface was carefully crafted and meticulously felt. A reproduction of this work will not communicate much, especially on newsprint. Like Mark Rothko’s paintings, DeJong’s works demand intimacy with the viewer. A snapshot will not do; you must show up and have a conversation with the work, in person, in real time.

Most of the works in the exhibition adhere to the same organizational structure: three angled rectangles hanging side-by-side. The number three has many cultural and symbolic meanings that seem to resonate with the work: the divisions of time (past, present, future), the human abilities of thought, word and deed, the Christian trinity, the three aspects of the Egyptian sun god (rising, midday, setting), and even the three grammatical forms of self: me, myself and I.

“I work with numerical logic, in some cases with classic mathematical ratios like the Golden Mean, to generate or guide form in very precise ways,” DeJong said during a phone interview. “Within this rigorous framework, the surfaces are meant to express the nature of elemental processes like gravity, the movement of water, etc. I work on the copper pieces outside, pouring the patina solution in layers, sometimes over the course of a month or more until a surface is realized. I don’t intervene but I do make decisions about which naturally produced surface is expressing the right quality. Then I seal it.”

Rothko worked in watery layers, rubbing thin paint into the canvas. According to art historian Dore Ashton, “his surfaces were velvety as poems of the night.” DeJong’s copper works suggest something similarly elegiac. They refer to what is constantly apparent or looming in oneself, the core that lacks a name or solid form.

“Untitled Stainless” is a work that is nearly identical in size and form to “Big Black Work,” but its presence is dramatically different. This work is made of unmilled steel that DeJong says is difficult to find. This is steel in its pure state, before it is manufactured into a utilitarian object. The surface, which DeJong carefully chose but did not alter, is highly reflective and creamy. The waterlike surface is intersected by a row of screws. They refer to the construction of the work and to its existence as an object. Without the screws, the transcendent power of the surface, light and scale would be uninterrupted.

The exhibition includes very small works, made of steel, aluminum and silver, that pull the viewer into an internal and sensual world. Their intimacy is as powerful as the larger works.

In addition — and this shouldn’t be missed—another installation of DeJong’s works has been installed at Charlotte Jackson’s project space just off Airport Road. A to-scale cardboard model of a large rectangle is propped against the wall next to rectangles in materials with which DeJong is experimenting. Upstairs, small paintings made of stained copper plates hang in plastic bags on the wall. A visit to the project space will reveal DeJong’s quiet and careful working process and deepen the viewer’s experience with the work.

Edmund Burke, who published the “Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful” in 1757, believed that terror or pain, along with beauty, is key to experiencing the sublime. According to Burke, a feeling of the sublime is only possible during a fully absorbed sense of astonishment, “in which all… motions are suspended, with some degree of horror. In this case the mind is so entirely filled with its object, that it cannot entertain any other.”

Burke’s sublime is experienced when we witness (and are struck silent by) natural disasters, oil spills and forest fires. These days, Burke’s sublime is all around us. It is this particular quality of the sublime that is present in DeJong’s works. They are not beautiful in a “pretty” sense. Their beauty is sourced from those things that are somber and detached. This is not a negative sense of detachment, but rather the fact of how things really are — a Zen-like acceptance of the true nature of life. All of it, from the pleasurable to the horrific, is life, and life is wonder.

10/9/2008 10/10/08

Constance DeJong: Shift

The theory of plate tectonics has always fascinated me. It addresses Earth's magnetism, the worldwide distribution of volcanoes and earthquakes, and the positions of seven continent-sized layers of the Earth's outermost crust — the lithosphere — that collide, shift, and bump and grind against one another over the eons (in a process that was once called continental drift).

I couldn't help but think of such things when viewing sculptor Constance DeJong's new work at Charlotte Jackson Fine Art. The title of the exhibition — Shift — sent my mind in that direction. The work is on display at both Jackson's downtown location and the Charlotte Jackson Project Space near the airport.

DeJong's large-scale vertical configurations of various metals, triptychs of conjoined, truncated pylons, are bold and beg for explanation. Like industrial detritus that has been salvaged, modified, and reconceptualized as gorgeous wall sculpture — DeJong refers to these pieces as paintings or drawings — this recent group of work is a continuation of her tectonic aesthetic.

For almost 30 years, DeJong has produced metal constructs large and small, allowing for her sensibilities in painting and sculpture to merge. Robert Rauschenberg explored such a convergence in the 1950s with his "combine" paintings. But DeJong's three-dimensional work, unlike Rauschenberg's, is devoid of social commentary and far less expressionistic — there are no stuffed, paint-splattered goats adorned with rubber tires here.

Attuned to minimalism — in which an object exudes its formalistic self — DeJong's metalwork is reductive and pure, but it is also more than what minimalism allows and beautiful to look at. In a 2003 monograph of her work, DeJong is quoted as saying, "A minimalist would bolt a sheet of copper to the wall. I would suspend it, illuminate it, and let it 'bleed.'" In general, her worlows that of a select group of artists who first explored volumetric simplicity using manufactured materials such as metal, glass, and plastic as well as those who considered an object's physicality. DeJong's aesthetic ancestors include the likes of Constantin Brâncus¸i, Antoine Pevsner, Naum Gabo, and El Lissitzky from the 1920s and 1930s and Carl Andre, Donald Judd, and Richard Serra 30 years later.

One of the untitled pieces in the show, fashioned from stainless steel with a mill finish and measuring 72 by 114 inches, is indeed suspended — and illuminating. Situated in the front gallery of Jackson's downtown location, this piece is difficult to ignore. With smooth and lustrous surfaces, the three vertical abutted tapered pylons — accented by a series of machine screws — are engaging and demand your attention. Conceptually, it alludes to aspects of connectedness, inversion, and pure form.

In the same room hangs its doppelgänger, another untitled work that is seemingly a body double of the first. But this triptych of cropped chevron shapes — the middle of which is inverted — is made of aluminum, with a delicate glazing effect that adds textural quality and the illusion of depth to its silver surface. Like segments from an airplane fuselage long exposed to atmospheric scarring, this particular work is more industrial looking but no less rewarding. If it were on the floor, skateboarders would love it as a high-end tripartite ramp.

Given their highly reflective metal surfaces, DeJong's untitled pieces are best experienced in changing light, over the course of a day. Set in a space with at least one window, each would emit a variety of reflections and transform visually with the passage of time.

DeJong's other large-scale constructs — Big Black Work With Three Tilting Planes #1 and #2 — are featured in a separate room. The titles are perfectly descriptive yet make no reference to their dynamic personae.

According to gallery data, both pieces are composed of "sheets of burnt and burnished copper. ... Their blackened surfaces [result] from a poured chemistry, which darkens into crusty velvet." For those inclined to darker moods and greater drama, these fill the bill nicely. Not possessing quite the hermetic tone of the monolith in Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, DeJong's conjoined black panels nevertheless evoke a sense of mystery. However, the exposed copper edges add life and light to what otherwise might be overly somber statements.

DeJong's industrial creations aren't for everyone. If your personal décor tends toward overstuffed chairs covered in floral prints, mahogany paneling, and a moose head above the mantel, then don't bother with them. But if your idea of a beautiful home lies in the neighborhood of Philip Johnson, Marcel Breuer, or Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, where each room would be furnished with only the bare necessities, any of DeJong's works will look smashing.

Complementing DeJong's large constructs are smaller pieces — sketches, if you will — displayed in the main galleries and in the hallway of the downtown location. It is instructive to see the results of DeJong's process in these little gems, created out of formed aluminum and steel screen material secured to white supports by tiny silver posts. In a series of diptychs and triptychs incorporating her tapered pylon shapes, she juxtaposes these different materials, which exhibit delightful plays of light and shadow as well as shallow suggestions of depth. More of DeJong's small studies (13 total) plus one large piece are at Jackson's project space, where the presentation is less formal.

Like the artwork itself, the downtown gallery installation is austere, with only 10 pieces (four large and six small). Gallery owner Jackson — who has represented DeJong for less than two years — was smart not to overload her wall space. She allows DeJong's work plenty of breathing room, so that individual pieces won't impose themselves visually on others. And one need not be exposed to more of DeJong's work to understand her sensibilities toward shape, form, light, and space. The curatorial process got it just right.

In fact, featuring one large-scale piece per room — if Jackson had more rooms — would have lent a spiritual consideration to DeJong's work, similar to Mark Rothko's meditative paintings done specifically for that purpose and housed in the Rothko Chapel in Houston. Still, this work invites contemplation, and I would suggest to Jackson that she include more than one bench in her gallery for extended viewing; DeJong's constructs deserve sit-down time.

Shift represents a second coming-out party for DeJong. "This is her first show in Santa Fe in 10 years," Jackson said, adding that it follows a self-imposed break from the gallery circuit that gave the artist concentrated studio time. If that's what it takes to produce work like this, then so be it.

Top