Bruce Boice

  • Hans Haacke’s Gallery Visitors' Profile

    Hans Haacke

    DURING AN EXHIBITION OF WORKS by Carl Andre, Hans Haacke, Nancy Holt, Laurie James, Brenda Miller, and Mary Obering, October 7–24, 1972, the visitors of the John Weber Gallery were requested by me to complete a questionnaire with 20 questions. Ten of these questions inquired about their demographic background and ten questions related to the visitors’ opinions on sociopolitical issues. They were either multiple choice questions or had to be answered by writing in a figure or a word. The questionnaires were provided, with pencils, in two file trays on either end of a long table in the

  • Ed Moses

    Ed Moses’ four new paintings at Ronald Feldman Fine Arts are different from his resin, canvas, and powdered pigments paintings of the last few years, but they are like the earlier works in certain basic respects. The new works are also paintings that are tacked directly to the wall without supports. They are generally rectangular with rough, erratic edges, and, like the earlier works, consist of sets of colored parallel lines.

    The new works are made of Japanese tissue paper and acrylic, with the paper playing an active role in the formation of the works. The works are formed by sets of parallel

  • Isaac Witkin

    Isaac Witkin showed six new steel sculptures in a space rented downtown by the Robert Elkon Gallery. The problem for Witkin, and formalist sculpture generally, is finding a way to get away from Anthony Caro’s dominating influence. Witkin seems to have taken a clue from Frank Stella’s newer work by trying to solve the problem in terms of increasing complication. Papageno uses forms which are literally out of Stella’s recent work. The work is a conglomeration of sharp triangular and rhomboid planes, with interior similar shapes cut out. These planes even have a 3” or 4” perpendicular lip like that

  • Paul Wiesenfeld

    The problem with representational art is not its unreality, nor its exploitation of what Greenberg calls “sculptural illusion.” One kind of illusion is as real as another, and illusion is as real as any other allegedly real entity. A still-life painting is not less real than Carl Andre’s fire bricks. Illusion is a possibility, and in a certain sense, a necessity. Illusion is a necessity in the sense of the peculiar meaning that must attach to a notion of eliminating illusion: What would be eliminated, and what sort of thing would remain? As illusion exists as the product of the mental construction

  • Jack Beal

    There’s a lot more flash in Jack Beal’s paintings, in his obviously contrived compositions (“contrived” is not intended as a negative term), and in his garish colors. Beal’s show of four paintings at Frumkin also presents two similar paintings for comparison, but in this case, the distinctions are sharp ones. It’s not difficult to see Beal’s two versions of Danae, of 1965 and 1972, as developing from Titian’s painting of the same title, at least, in terms of the poses and the positioning of the figures. As Beal leaves out any suggestion of imminent impregnation by a shower of gold, it can be

  • Roy Lichtenstein

    Roy Lichtenstein’s show at Castelli uptown was, for me, something of a disappointment. After his successive shows of the “Mirrors” and “Entablatures,” the new still-life paintings seem to be a retreat in the direction of the modern old master, Matisse in this case, done in comic-strip style. Matisse is everywhere in the new paintings, and where he isn’t, images from earlier stages of Lichtenstein’s career appear in the form of a Matisse device. Artist’s Studio is like a strange detail of Matisse’s The Red Studio complete with a comic-strip style Art Nouveau plant in a vase on a table in the

  • Saul Steinberg

    Saul Steinberg has been known for a long time as an extremely unconventional cartoonist. In his books of more than a decade ago, the next page always represented the unknown. Steinberg’s drawings were never jokes with punch-line captions, and what appeared within balloons demonstrated its form, but was never legible. Penmanship became a linguistic alternative to syntax and semantics. Steinberg’s concurrent shows at Sidney Janis and Betty Parsons don’t contain this kind of constant surprise, but they are not without small, quiet ones.

    There are basically three kinds of work at the Janis Gallery:

  • Jim Dine

    Jim Dine’s work once seemed to lie somewhere between the constellations of Johns-Rauschenberg and Pop art. His persistent use of objects in, or dangling from paintings put him on the side of Johns and Rauschenberg, while his subject matter, such as neckties, shoes, toothbrushes, and red bandanas, often brought him closer to Pop imagery. This is not to establish Johns-Rauschenberg and Pop art as opposing poles, but only to establish Dine’s work as generally existing between two major forces. Dine’s earlier work is probably closest to Oldenburg. Their work shares almost no common physical

  • Lewis W. Hine and George A. Tice

    There is a glaring difference between the photographs of Lewis W. Hine and George A. Tice, shown in separate galleries at Witkin. The difference is indicative of photography’s problems and possibilities. Hine’s photographs are documentary, playing on our acceptance of the photograph as a reliable and accurate depiction of reality. Clearly, the presentation of a kind of social reality was the aim and achievement of Lewis Hine. The photographs shown at Witkin were made when Hine worked for The National Child Labor Committee in New York City, from 1908–30. All of these photographs are of workers

  • Lynton Wells

    Lynton Wells’ work is a kind of synthesis of photography and painting. In his show at Cunningham Ward, there are four large four-panel works, and two smaller single-panel works which appear to be sketches. Wells’ works are large photographic prints made on photosensitized linen, stretched on a frame, and partially painted with black or white acrylic. The subjects photographed are a studio wall, and normal studio paraphernalia, such as ladders, reflector lamps, wires, and huge sheets of clear plastic. There is no special sense of the artist’s studio about the works, or of biography or personal

  • Lynda Benglis

    Lynda Benglis showed videotapes at Paula Cooper’s which seemed simultaneously boring, interesting, and funny. But there’s no point getting entangled trying to explain such an apparently contradictory response. Most of the time, the content of Benglis’ videotapes is another monitor screen, which sometimes shows still another monitor screen. Much of what appears on the screens is the visual static which occurs when a monitor is on, but the tape has run out. However in these tapes, the tape hasn’t necessarily run out at all. Usually the visual static is at one remove or more from the machine we’re

  • Dan Flavin

    The announcement for Dan Flavin’s show at Weber reads accurately, “more circular fluorescent light, etc.,” though how many “more” depends on how the counting is done. The circular fluorescent light referred to, Untitled (In Memory of Barbara Schiller) 1, consists of two horizontal rows of circular lights, each at eye level, and spanning the length of opposite walls of the large front room at Weber. In a sense, the rows of lights measure the walls they occupy. The larger span of lights consists of 23 cool and 23 warm white lights, and 11 of each kind form the smaller row on the opposite wall. In