Robert Pincus-Witten

  • Joe Raffaele

    Joe Raffaele’s ability to fix the obsessional image of empirical reality is bewildering and, at this moment, entirely unexpected. He makes one think of Gérome or the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, one without the trappings of a sclerotic Neo-Classicism, and the other omitting a Christian Sermon.

    The most unnerving aspect of Raffaele’s work is his refusal to imbed it within an esthetic matrix. Rather, he participates in that esthetic of the absurd animating so great a portion of contemporary art. Yet, Raffaele’s work is as difficult to categorize as are the many nuances of absurdity. Unlike the

  • George Segal

    George Segal’s grim monuments intensify the beauty inherent in the transient commonplace. His figures are completely unselfconscious. A nude girl indifferently expresses some triviality to her fatigued partner resting on a bed’s edge. An old woman observes the horizon outside her window. A nude girl brushes her hair. A luncheonette waitress distractedly pours coffee. A nude girl stretches out in bed listening to her record player. The kosher butcher’s wife unthinkingly dresses a heap of slaughtered chickens.

    Segal has an uncanny gift for seizing the exact, pregnant detail. Marcel Duchamp notes,

  • Jack Youngerman

    Jack Youngerman’s recent paintings rarely go beyond an arresting elegance. His work is large, airy, extremely handsome, but occasionally it aspires to a humanistic ethos which it cannot convincingly sustain (e.g. Elegy for a Guerilla).

    Working within a familiar two-dimensional idiom whose inflections were first those of Arp and then of the much larger twentieth century collage tradition, Youngerman has further sharpened his already keen sense of the figure ground dialogue. The paint has grown thinner, the color more saturated, the brush-stroke more diagonally active, the paint fields (duplicating

  • Robert Hudson

    Five works are an entire year’s production of sculpture for Robert Hudson. Small wonder they are so few since these welded, polychromed works are infinitely complex mazes. Violently garish, the powerfully composed sculptures make every attempt to deny their sculptural massiveness and try every trick to be pictorial. Basically welded out of steel the works often have a boneless inflated grace which makes one think of the buoyant figures of Lachaise or the delicate balloon transfers of Agostini. The works are absurd and extremely moving, paralleling, in part, the comic-strip vulgarity of Peter

  • Orozco

    The Orozco exhibition at Huntington Hartford’s Gallery of Modern Art has the unfortunate effect of minimizing the real accomplishments and emphasizing the shortcomings of an artist whose position is at best equivocal. Before treating the works themselves it must be pointed out that the installation aggravates this impression to an inexcusable degree. All difficulties presented by the building aside, the shabby treatment given this show is the latest example of a pernicious slovenliness in presentation which has repeatedly marred temporary exhibitions at the Gallery. One comes to wonder whether

  • Bob Thompson

    Not-so-naive mythologies are what Bob Thompson presents in his new paintings at Martha Jackson’s. He is still using his tropical hot color in rigidly localized areas, fitting together the compositions like those jig-saw puzzles that have some pieces in recognizable shapes. In his previous shows, large paintings didn’t quite make it because the scale showed up serious weaknesses in drawing. The present group of pictures sticks to a more manageable format, and the resulting gain in both clarity of form and spatial construction raises Thompson’s achievements well above his previous exposures.

    The

  • Sidney Goodman

    Sidney Goodman’s Ausstellung includes drawings and watercolors as well as sizable paintings. Some of the latter were seen earlier in a Whitney show of works by artists under thirty-five years old. There are no further revelations in the current show. Goodman’s abilities as a draftsman become diluted and lost in his big canvases, which reveal a shocking poverty as a colorist. Despite elaborate distractions offered by murky allegorical suggestions, his chilly acid palette and limited range of values cannot be made to support a Sense of Meaning. Compositionally the paintings are faultless and