Matthew A. Weinstein

  • Robert Greene

    There is something very American about Robert Greene’s paintings. Although his Arcadian landscapes—peopled by a plethora of dogs and tiny figures in airs of distracted contemplation, eccentric activity, or self-inflated beauty—hearken back to 18th-century French Salon painting, stylistically Greene can be linked to Marsden Hartley, Albert Pinkham Ryder, and even Arthur Dove. Beneath the decorative amiability and vanity of his paintings is a foundation of angular compositional rigor and a bare-bones, encrusted-oil-on-board surface, as opposed to the compositional swirls and luminous varnished

  • Bill Komoski

    Bill Komoski’s recent paintings look like mechanically produced images, even though their effects are achieved through the gestural acts of sponging and wiping. His brushstrokes and smears resemble the flat, two-toned gestures of printmaking, as well as the visible pull of the squeegee in a botched silkscreen. The one truly painterly moment in Komoski’s paintings is the presence of drips moving horizontally across the sides, making it clear that these works were painted on the floor. The drips instantly contextualize Komoski’s practice within the tradition of abstract painting, even though our

  • Patrick Weidmann

    Patrick Weidmann makes wall arrangements out of painted monochromes, frames, mirrors, objects, and photographs, grouping the elements in order to suggest the rectangular space of the easel picture. With these aggregates of fragments from art and industry, Weidmann employs familiar conceptual strategies that are neither personalized nor altered, and so gives his work the quality of a rote conceptual exercise.

    Untitled With Mirrors, 1987, exemplifies Weidmann’s generic strategizing. In this piece, four long thin monochromes demarcate a rectangular section of wall. Set into the upper-left- and

  • Jane Irish

    The decorative excesses of the Rococo set the stage for painter Jane Irish’s depictions of modern buildings. Cotton candy vegetation surrounds housing complexes, shopping centers, and office buildings. The frames of some of these paintings also include still-life elements, as in Penn Centre, 1988, or a painterly mist, as in New World Convenience, 1989. The buildings Irish depicts do actually exist, but they are in no way landmarks. They are, rather, bland descendants of the form-follows-function legacy, tombstones to utopia. Irish surrounds these structures with a marsh of foliage, not only to

  • Sokhi Wagner

    Sokhi Wagner’s recent photographs and photo-objects skittishly avoid interpretation. Intentionally obscuring her disjointed imagery, Wagner creates work with a highly cryptic presence. A series of four photographs (View from the Doorway, View from the Trail, View from the Stern, and View from the Shore, all works 1988) show her use of the medium to make images containing more mystery than information. From miles of film, Wagner edits out four stills and leaves them partially obscured, abstracting each image through obfuscation and decontextualization. Each of the tiny images she employs are

  • Will Mentor

    Will Mentor’s work has splintered off in so many directions that it is difficult to see what binds his output together, besides the artist’s facility with paint and composition. His recent show is composed of representatives from the various styles he has been working in: geometric abstraction, atmospheric painting, and a sort of surreal cubism. Though Mentor swings with technical bravado through this museum of styles, his work provokes little more than routine visual interest. Mentor invests much more in his impeccably glazed surfaces than in the development of an individual sensibility or an

  • Michael Young

    Michael Young’s recent show manifests the artist’s interest in minutiae on a grand scale. For several years, Young has been producing small, square paintings of targets, circles, grids, and crosses; the paintings are made of sand and soil affixed to canvas, and sealed with a generous application of clear resin. Young has always imposed strict limits on his own practice. He combines and recombines his reduced formal vocabulary and limits his palette (with the exception of a few isolated patches of manufactured color) to the varying colors of sand provided by nature.

    Young’s new work—four large

  • Eberhard Bosslet

    Eberhard Bosslet brings a consistency of vision to a wide variety of formats. Besides his site-specific installations in exhibition spaces (such as his floor-to-ceiling steel-pipe construction in a stairwell at Documenta 8) and his outdoor projects in the Canary Islands (in which he defined the jagged contours of ruins with paint), Bosslet also creates architectonic paintings and sculptures that share many of the same concerns as his site-specific projects. Bosslet’s recent sculptures on display here are made from old file cabinets, which the artist transforms with an almost sadistic mastery (

  • Jennifer Bolande

    Jennifer Bolande’s recent exhibition was her largest and most ambitious so far; it included a disparate selection of sculpture, photography, and works combining both media. Neither cohering visually nor commanding the space in a traditionally assertive way, the works were, in part, unified by the fact that each one helped to construct a discursive space between sculpture and photography. In the case of Milkcrown, 1987–88, Bolande fashioned a cast porcelain after Harold Edgerton’s well-known high-speed image of a milk-drop splash. Edgerton’s image is transformed by Bolande into a sculpted crown,

  • Jim Isermann

    Los Angeles–based artist Jim Isermann works according to the dictates of his own taste. Neither issue nor idea-oriented, he comes close to being an artist of pure sensibility. His objets d’art and furniture have a look informed by the biomorphic abstraction of the ’50s and the Op art of the ’60s, and by those movements’ ability to inject futuristic optimism into the American home. Isermann’s installations are not self-conscious exercises in recontextualization (design carrying the ideological baggage of art), but efforts toward remembrance and preservation. Isermann is a nostalgic Candide,

  • Lynne Cohen

    Lynne Cohen does not show her photographs, she makes displays of them. Her recent show, which included work from the past 15 years, offered many such displays. Images of rooms, laboratories, classrooms, showrooms, practice ranges, exhibition halls, and offices—in which people and merchandise are tested and observed—are framed in faux-stone linoleum, the title of each photograph presented beneath the image and within the frame. Each scene is discovered and shot as is, before being repackaged by Cohen, lending significance to the show’s title, “Occupied Territories.” The image is then displayed

  • Aimee Rankin

    In 1942, one could view Marcel Duchamp’s Boîte-en-valise at Peggy Guggenheim’s Art of This Century gallery by turning a wheel and looking through a peephole. That same year, Duchamp rendered this “pervert’s-eye-view” by collaging a circular detail of a Paul Delvaux painting into an exhibition catalogue; the detail features a woman’s breasts reflected in a mirror. By the time he revealed his Etant Donnés, the peep show piece par excellence, Duchamp had committed yet another artistic atrocity: the privatization of visual experience in a public space. The viewer’s unshared peep into one of Aimee