Joseph Masheck

  • Natavar Bhavsar

    Natavar Bhavsar, at MaxHutchinson’s, works with spotted turfs of some dominant but varying color surrounded at the edges by conglomerations of juxtaposed and clashing hues. These pigment-flecked canvases suggest neo-Impressionism more by their palpable dryness of finish and by their use of the complementary border idea than by the simple fact of their tiny dotlike facture. When we notice the orange field of R-DHYA checked by patches mainly of a brilliant blue, the principle of complementary colors makes the analogy inescapable.

    Bhavsar, however, is quite unlike the neo-Impressionists in his aims

  • Bonnard Drawings

    THERE IS NO REASON WHY we should expect Bonnard to have been an accomplished draftsman, and as a rule he wasn’t. Bonnard’s cornucopias gift was color. In his line drawings there is sometimes an embarrassed nakedness in the forms and compositions. For Bonnard, as for many great colorists, drawing was extracurricular and extramural.1

    114 of the master’s drawings were recently shown at the Finch College Museum of Art, under the aegis of the American Federation of Arts. The collection, assembled by Mrs. Kyra Gerard and Mr. Alfred Ayrton, covers a large and unfamiliar part of the painter’s work from

  • Arthur B. Davies

    A large number of graphics by Arthur B. Davies appeared at the Hirschl and Adler Galleries during late September and early October, together with a few of his paintings and miniature bronze sculptures. Davies is familiar as a painter and, for having been a chief organizer of the Armory Show, as a hero of the modern movement in America. When we are perfectly honest about Davies I think we would agree that his painting was uneven, and that to some extent our advocacy of it is a dialectical compensation for European ignorance of the native American modernist tradition. But ever since I first came

  • Carl Holty

    Carl Holty, born in 1900, has seen a lot of art come and go. A German-American who grew up in Wisconsin, learned academic painting in the Middle West, studied under Hans Hofmann at Munich in 1926, joined Abstraction-Création in 1932, and became the second chairman of the American Abstract Artists, Holty is in himself a formidable phenomenon. Forty-one of his works, from 1925 to 1971, were on view at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York through most of October.

    The case for Holty is in a way the opposite of that for Arthur B. Davies. Holty is not overwhelming in his art, but

  • Jack B. Yeats

    Jack B. Yeats was an uneven but remarkably good Expressionist painter. Roughly on a par with—but sometimes better than—Soutine, he occasionally equalled Kokoschka, except that his sensations were commoner and less articulate. It is difficult to assess Yeats fairly because he has been made a cult figure in a homey Irish chauvinism that doesn’t do him justice at home and vulgarizes his reputation overseas. In fact, many Irish devotees of Yeats’ painting ignorantly and anxiously deny any relations between his work and Expressionism in the rest of Europe, even when such parallels could add

  • Gianni Pattena

    Gianni Pettena is an Italian artist whose work has features in common with both earth works and Conceptual art, though he stands significantly apart from their tendencies to suspend value and meaning. Pettena is a trained architect and has taught in schools of architecture, but what he himself makes is only “architecture” of a cleverly nefarious sort. In the last few years artists have tried innumerable ways of dealing with (or overlooking) a world that grows increasingly piggish. Pettena’s response is one of the subtlest I have yet encountered. In his work, political considerations are not

  • Chris Wilmarth

    Chris Wilmarth’s show at the Paula Cooper Gallery included some very thoughtful sculptures among its six freestanding works, nine wall pieces, and two items that rest on the floor and “hang” from the wall. A number of works consist of plate glass and steel and employ an active sense of the intrinsic visual and plastic properties of the materials. The tensile strength of these substances is at least as important as the way they absorb or admit light, although optical properties are sustained, preventing the works from becoming superfluous or redundant evidences. Otherwise they might be works-proper

  • Charles Hinman

    The Denise René Gallery showed a large group of recent paintings by Charles Hinman during March. The works fall into three categories: shaped canvases with multiple stretchers having one continuous plane; relief aggregations of separately stretched canvases jutting out from the wall at various angles; and closed three-dimensional painted objects, some of which stand on the floor while others hang from the ceiling. All share a relaxed avoidance of profundity in formal relations and a freewheeling, unsystematic attitude toward color. The critical problem is to decide whether their casualness is

  • Mary Corse

    Mary Corse has two large paintings at LoGiudice which may supply, and not without wit, a special flavor of inflationary opulence not yet denominated, even by Baskin-Robbins. The canvases, both from 1971, are nine feet square. You could characterize them as Puritan sin, for while they are entirely white they dazzle recklessly with a satiny sheen that is impossible to photograph. Sugar-coated, fairy-sparkled Robert Rymans. Rich art, fat art, dessert art, “lobby” painting. The blatant indulgence is thinly glazed with an utterly Tasteful reticence toward color. Untitled is the more immediately

  • A Note on Caro Influence: Five Sculptors from Bennington

    EVERY ARTIST WHO CONSCIOUSLY INVOLVES himself with another artist’s style must believe that he correctly comprehends it. Yet one of the engaging features of art history is the extent to which the stylistic character of influenced work can differ from the master’s style as his style might be scrupulously defined. Perhaps the commonest such discrepancy occurs where artists derive the entire grounds of their own procedure from but a part of their master’s esthetic which they either prefer to the whole or mistake for it. The relation of second-string Cubists to Picasso and Braque is a handy example,

  • John Ferren

    John Ferren (1905–1970) was the kind of painter who stood on the sidelines but who nevertheless did seem to be around when something was happening. The A. M. Sachs Gallery has been showing a selection of his works, mostly from the last 20 years of his life. Ferren’s career actually goes back quite a bit further. In fact, his name ought to have a recognized place in the history of transatlantic modernism. He was active in Paris in the ’30s and Gertrude Stein says in Everybody’s Autobiography (1936), “He is the only American painter foreign painters consider as a painter and whose paintings interest

  • The Bestiary

    When you don’t as a rule like the idea of “theme” exhibitions built around subject matter, and then the theme in question is something you happen to dislike, chances are you aren’t going to be too receptive. This is where I find myself with regard to the show called The Bestiary at Cordier and Ekstrom. I have never liked material of this kind because in it there is an almost inevitable distraction from plastic values by fascination with the motif; in art the only subject matter more dangerous than the Interesting is the Fascinating. Works of art like these are swimming upstream, and if they get