Alan Moore

  • Gordon Matta-Clark

    Gordon Matta-Clark went out and cut up two balloon frame tract houses in the New Jersey suburbs, split one right in half (322 Humphrey Street), and cut hunks of wall off the other one (637 Eire Avenue). Fine. But to prove that what he was doing was really art, he mounted this show of photographs and chunks of the buildings. The corners he carved off the Humphrey Street house become sculpture in the gallery—serial Minimal objects (although they face each other as they had in situ to recreate the space of the roof). The three wall sections cut from the Eire Avenue house he lined up like the panels

  • “Slide Show,” Judy Pfaff

    Although I arrived late, I saw most of the special slide show of galleryless New York artists put on by Artists Space. The audience of about 150 artists, dealers, critics, and curators all sat slack jawed as the slides flicked by. We saw 440 slides in an hour, two per artist in the time it took to say each’s name. No one in the crowd that I saw took notes, and no one asked that the presentation be held up for a closer examination of particular slides.

    Lots of interesting stuff flashed by, and a lot of academic hackwork. But then the slides were presented in such a depressing rapid-fire there was

  • Joseph Beuys, George Brecht, Geoffrey Hendricks and Ray Johnson

    René Block Gallery, newly opened here from Germany, mounted “What’s the Time?”—an exhibition of multiples and original work by 17 American and European Fluxus artists—as “a preview of the coming season.” Fluxus is a moniker advanced by George Maciunas in 1962 from the Latin root of fluid and flux. The movement’s activities here and abroad were intended to be transient, and the artists who participated in them during the ’60s are today quite resistant to those who would corral and context them. Sixty years after, Dada has succeeded in evading historians determined to chronicle and interpret that

  • Jean Dupuy

    IN 1968, THE FRENCH ARTIST Jean Dupuy—then forty-two—built Heart Beats Dust, a tall red-lit plastic box. Inside, a membrane stretched over a speaker throws up dust in time to the monitored and amplified beat of spectators’ hearts. The piece was a hit, perhaps for all the wrong reasons, and Dupuy became the star of participatory tech-art exhibitions around the country and in France.

    Heart was a kind of summa, a piece which coalesced out of a number of separate concerns. Atmospheric dust clinging to the plastic surfaces of his early work constantly annoyed him. At length it came to fascinate him,

  • Mel Ramos

    Pop veteran Mel Ramos has expanded the series he began with his pinup Ingres, mounting a show of paintings recasting well-known compositions of nudes by Boucher, David, Gérard, Ingres, Manet, and Modigliani in contemporary terms, like a Las Vegas nightmare of the Louvre. Ramos’ style is a crisp version of commercial illustration. He paints people and things in the same flat photographic light. His debt to Playboy illustrator Vargas is obvious, and this exhibition shows that Ramos has kept pace with the venerable purveyor. His nudes, with their modish pubic hair, reflect the latest soft-core

  • Nancy Kitchel

    Nancy Kitchel exhibits her diaristic documents in a dramatic literary installation. The viewer sits in turn at each of four lighted desks in a darkened gallery, examining groups of artifacts in a pool of light. Reading the art is a carefully arranged invasion of privacy, like a late night session with incriminating documents. The subjects Kitchel treats—the decomposition of her love affairs, the gestures and social strategies of her aging relatives, and her own failing memory are the stuff of letters and private journals.

    Such material is usually advanced into the domain of art as literature,

  • Peter Campus, Andy Mann, Ira Schneider, and Tom Marioni

    As a conference, “Video and the Art Museum” at the Everson Museum was unexceptional. The same antagonisms continue to divide the early experimenters (the video underground) from the latecomers who found museum and media recognition; the distribution of creative work remains problematic; and the panel of critics met with a hostility born of fundamental mistrust and a perception of critics and curators as units in a political and economic system that represses the video artist. Perhaps I was overly optimistic to expect this conference to quiet my misgivings about video art. Conferences are to get

  • Peter Saari

    Peter Saari’s oils on shaped and stretched canvas simulate Etruscan and Roman tomb paintings. Saari represents the visible canvas—both surface and edge—as masonry, rendering peeled layers of paint, rough wall surfaces and broken edges, even the chalky blush of ancient pigments on plaster. Like the Poiriers, Saari transposes antiquity, literally transmitting the experience of ancient walls with a curatorial reverence for the physical facts of the artifacts he represents. He groups canvases as if they were chunks of wall (some are even numbered on the edge) reconstructed in a museum. The show

  • Richard Mock

    Some super-Realist galleries have been showing Concept artists and documentors in their back rooms and basements much as a department store moves slow-selling low profit items to the bargain basement. Richard Mock fills the basement at Meisel with large constructions of plastic sheets, and papers the walls with Xeroxed documents from two sculptural programs, World Piece (1973 and continuing) and On Board Q-E 2 (1974).

    For World Piece, Mock entrusts his plastic assemblages to travelers who place and photograph them in various spots around the world—on a crowded street, draped over a nude woman’s

  • Barbara Roan And The Blue Mountain Paper Parade

    Barbara Roan and 20 dancers performed Landmark at dusk on the snowy slope of a deserted ski run. A kind of land painting was systematically evolved within the eight squares of a grid 60 feet wide and 120 feet long, marked out by flags and colored discs. Performers unrolled sheets of bright plastic, wrote the name of the piece in the snow with colored water, moved in groups carrying black cardboard arrows, laid out diagonal lines of snowsuits (they each wore several) in the shape of bodies, and finally lit sparklers as night fell.

    Roan has organized several parade pieces in the past, and Landmark

  • Dennis Oppenheim

    In Dennis Oppenheim’s sculpture Recall, an image of the artist’s mouth appears on an aluminum-bound video monitor at the end of a long oil-filled pan. Oppenheim speaks slowly and disjointedly of his school days in California, and the emergence of his self-definition as an artist. The tape has a confessional aspect modeled on Vito Acconci’s monologues. Esthetic “crimes” are recounted: heromaking, eclecticism, retrogression. Loud static and deletions of names of figures he criticizes dilute the confession to mere autoreflection, with no clues offered to relate past and present. 

    Since Recall was

  • Jean Le Gac

    In his show of captioned photographs, Jean Le Gac is concerned with “watching himself act” through word and image reconstructions of living memory. His narrative sequences accrete the personal in experience. They rely on evocative photographs, second-person address, and his artisthood to appeal. 

    His language is dense, fraught with constructions as faulty in English as they must have been in French. It is easy to denigrate his expositions as a species of French literary pedantry; perhaps it is more productive to view them (since they are in a gallery and conjoined with photographs) as pictorial