Fidel A. Danieli

  • “Ten Sculptors”

    Lively variety on every level is the keynote, as members of the gallery’s painting stable join recognized West Coast sculptors and several newcomers. The late John Bernhardt’s proportional measuring rod The Dimensions of Man is spread­eagled in greeting. An A-framed starfish in choice worn redwood and silvery spring tendons, it amply demonstrates again his naive sophistication and inge­nious near-functional inventiveness. Junk for Bernhardt was never discarded, it was aged; raw materials whose use had given them friendly character, wait­ing to be combined with taste and rein­vested with new

  • XXth Century Drawings for Collectors

    Mr. Evans has gathered a random selection of equally interesting works ranging from the asceticism of Morandi and Giaco­metti to a voluptuous giantess by La­chaise, and from the camera accuracy and academic modeling of Orpen to the diffused labyrinth of Appel. Mirko is represented by a Woman of 1944, with a hard, ornamentally incised feeling which strikes one as almost perversely fin-de-siècle. Henri Gaudier-Brezska and Christopher Wood, seldom seen and little known, are shown in fine gestural observations of the model. Indeed, sculp­tural records of studio nudes, with quali­ties of having come

  • Gallery Group

    Several pieces merit mention from this summer review of the gallery’s artists, who, for the most part, verge on taste­fulness of the School of Paris variety.

    Faralla’s new Gold Post of small curls and fragmented lengths builds to a Nevelsonian totem which is finished in a fine and unobtrusive working of soft black into an ochre surface, yield­ing a weighty, dense flow with imper­ceptible transitions. Four of Anthony Berlant’s latest constructed, fabric­-covered panels show him working to vary his previous splayed cruciform figures. Miss Beauchamp divides into a split personality, Hello, Lola!

  • “Drawings and Graphics Selection”

    Examples of each grand name offer a linear feast for the eyes, as Picasso’s amazons and fauns compete for attention with a set of three resting dancers by Matisse. In one corner the tenderly awkward Burch­field contours fight the Eilshemius gaucheries as Braque’s Birds soar be­fore the sun. In this plenitude of riches, Chagall, Leger, Modigliani, Rouault, Ku­niyoshi, Matta, Dalí, Gorky, Rothko, and Kline vie to open the collector's purse; and if this were not enough, real hand­made puddles by Burton, Goodman, and Fields await us on the back walls. As surely as the surplus stock is stacked on

  • “Aubusson Tapestries”

    The history of architec­turally oriented arts (tapestry, mosaics, mural painting) provides three overlap­ping alternates of organization and of spatial considerations: the heraldic banner; the repeated pattern of the frankly and joyously decorative interpretation of a scene or subject; and the least noteworthy Hellenistic phase, the illu­sionistic rendering of a painter’s touch. Thus, while Sicard’s rendered skyscrap­er wins only sympathy for the skilled weaver’s dedication at reproducing brushstrokes of broken analogous tones, Leger’s Constructeurs, because of the master’s two-dimensional

  • Group Show

    Bearing their certificate of acceptable acade­mism (Royal or National) as if it were a seal of Good Housekeeping product approval, the paintings here divide themselves evenly along lines of old school innocence and contemporary slickness. They ignore the axiom that a lack of pictorial invention or inspiration equals little viewer response. Homely subject matter and illustrative senti­mentality abound in old and new: F. T. Johnson’s cattle ruminate contempla­tively around the ol’ campfire while Burt Proctor’s Indians prove him to be the fastest palette-knife west of True and Argosy.

    Stylistic

  • Llyn Foulkes

    This young artist is engaged in continu­ously repeating, varying, and refining the environment of graphic and dia­grammatic memorabilia which proved so convincingly abundant in his last one-man show at the Pasadena Art Mu­seum. Foulkes is gradually simplifying­—even classicizing—his compulsive and formerly claustrophobic nostalgia. He seems as well to share the scientific curiosity of a Leonardo with Ernst’s nightmare romanticism. From this fertile ground have sprung his enlarged, hand­made “photographs” of hallucinations (dark silhouettes of body parts, animals, and mountains) which are rendered

  • Gal­lery Group

    Tidy, portable intimacy appears to be what unifies a slick, wide-ranging selection of faintly fashionable foreign­ers and Americans, where at least a few are bound to arouse curiosity and whet the visual appetite. The weirdly com­pulsive linear pages of Eusebio Sempere put the Spaniard in the surrealist micro­cosm of Max Ernst, and Felice Canon­ico’s dry brushed, canvas-covered bas­-reliefs owe their origination to Burri but still manage to stand out. Don la Viere Turner, Maria Luisa Segnoret, and John Coleman are refining tiny but vividly ex­pressed personal visions of reality. The sculptor,

  • Gallery Selections

    In scale and importance this exhibition is directed toward the gilt­edge, philatelic type of collector who ought to have “one of each” in his repre­sentative holdings. A few rare speci­mens: a tiny, vibrant, mint Pollock, a Gorky at his grey, most Matta-like, a Kline studio study in a slightly cancel­led condition, and an outstanding Arp, a special edition honoring “Heavenly Objects,” are to be seen.

    Larger commemorative size offerings include Raymond Parker’s re-“Inven­tion” of Cubism (1950), which somewhat confirms suspicions that there is little behind his current series but a nice idea. And

  • “Non-Figurative Art”

    One expects the innocent primitives, frustrated designers, tech­nical tricksters, copyists, and simple non-entities would have again crawled out of the woodwork for another festival of stylistic mish-mosh. But at least the quality of this juried show is relatively above the median average. Honest indi­vidual efforts may be difficult to spot, but recommended conditionally as standouts are: North Young’s untitled, odd, flottage; the carved ceramic Swinging Figures of Laurette Sping­arn; Aimee Bourdieu’s lively Suspen­sion; and Bob Kennicott’s watercolor Air Borne. Most of the rest grope about in

  • Gallery Group

    A di­verting show of the gallery stable’s paintings and sculptures which range from the historically respectable to the inconsequential. The former include Feitelson and Lundeberg (a tiny, mar­velous “Dark Sea”), Burkhardt (in a new direction, loosening Gorky’s shapes with Yunkers’ bruised color), and Schwaderer (as primitive as ever). Block’s encaustic-­like, bleached intimism and Bosworth’s accidental, oriental air-views are curious, individual and memorable, but probably (along with Frame) caught in a cul-de-sac. In a preview of Goedike’s one-man show we find he has moved the models abandoned

  • Edward Bush

    Bush has had some formal art training––that’s apparent––but either too much or not enough. Every move is that of a rank amateur with abundant failings. His paintings are involved with, and the victims of: more than four differing styles completely dependent upon clever tool manipulation; an absolute lack of drawing and composing skills; an awkward collection of meaningless sur­face gimmicks; simple-minded, two-layered spatial interests; and color which has all the sensuous charm of a plastic leatherette sample book. Surprisingly, one facet would seem to hold promise of more “professional” results,