Tom Moody

  • Duncan Hannah

    Using old photos, magazine illustrations, and details from other paintings (including his own), Duncan Hannah puts a personal spin on stock scenarios of love, betrayal, and isolation in his paintings—mixing and matching locations, adding and subtracting characters, altering compositions and moods. In these wistful, Edward Hopper–esque scenes, figures dressed in the styles of the 1940s float through seemingly haunted spaces as if lost in reverie.

    Though the use of appropriated images from magazines, advertising, and the history of art characterizes the work of a number of artists who came to the

  • Robert Harms

    The lush setting of Robert Harms’ Amagansett studio serves as the point of departure for his radiant abstract paintings. In many of the paintings Harms takes a recognizable image from the landscape and attacks it with arbitrary marks until it nearly disappears from view—an old Willem de Kooning trick—and the resulting bramble tantalizes the viewer with the insistence of a half-remembered name. The remaining traces of the landscape and human figure haunt the work. The clumps of olive, white, and blue in Side of the Road, 1995, might be a pastoral valley by Cézanne viewed through the haziness of

  • Tad Griffin

    In 1989 Bruce Ferguson, Joan Simon, and Roberta Smith curated an exhibition at the Ringling Museum in Florida called “Abstraction in Question,” which attempted to address how the abstract painting of the ’80s differed from that of previous decades. According to Simon, the critical and formal stance of post-Modern abstraction required “that it do two things at the same time: refer to itself and to something else.” This is still a viable strategy for many young abstract painters like Tad Griffin who have developed a stylistic vocabulary that is formally self-sufficient but comments on some aspect

  • Giles Lyon

    Giles Lyon generates a rich body of work from a fairly straightforward idea. He flings Jackson Pollock–esque loops and skeins of acrylic paint onto a pale, largely monochromatic ground, then folds the wet canvas over to make web like splotches that resemble Rorschach inkblots. Next, using a thin brush, he compulsively outlines every drip and paint trail, merging the crisp rendering of Japanese animation with a spiky, nervous line that recalls the drawings of Dr. Seuss. The result is a biomorphic vortex brimming with subliminal suggestiveness, and Lyon’s outlining relieves viewers of some of the

  • David Dupuis

    According to Arthur C. Danto, art “ended” with Andy Warhol’s Brillo Box so now artists can choose to be any kind of artist they want. They can be Abstractionists, performance artists, Conceptualists, or switch back and forth among these, even on the same day. Just because artists are free from the forward march of art history, however, doesn’t mean they are free from their own compulsions; if anything, these compulsions will continue to sustain art when the historical reasons for making it have gone away. The strength of David Dupuis’ art, for example, is rooted precisely in his lack of choice.

  • Benito Huerta

    Three years ago at Houston’s Contemporary Art Museum, Benito Huerta showed semiabstract works with geopolitical overtones, which were obsessively painted and socially conscious, but dull. While he was working on that series he put aside other ideas that he felt hadn’t gelled, or didn’t fit the sequence. Huerta says his new work “is about my own ideas and their dissonant tone against my oeuvre and within its own body.” For sheer energy and imagination, this salon-style explosion of dissonant bad-boy paintings blew the “good” but boring CAM show to bits.

    Huerta’s images cover the spectrum from

  • Ange Leccia

    Ange Leccia says his work falls somewhere “between Jackson Pollock and Piet Mondrian,” referring to the former’s frenetic energy and the latter’s ordered precision. Each piece in this sprawling but thematically concise show bore the laconic title Arrangement (as do all his works), a direct reference to the artist’s technique of “arranging” objects or events while drawing from installation art, performance, sculpture, video, “art photography,” and documentation. Past Arrangements included filling a gallery with police motorcycles, placing bulldozers in a face-off in front of a neoclassical

  • Perry House

    Perry House bases his paintings on an assortment of recurring motifs he calls his “cast of characters,” shapes that combine aspects of sculpture, furniture, architecture, and everyday objects, many of which symbolize the artist’s past experiences. The names assigned to these motifs (“The Ball,” “The Throne/Chair,” “The Cash Register,” and so on) are individually mundane but cumulatively poetic; their obsessive reappearance as images in paintings—isolated, abstracted, or fused with quasi-Modernist patterns—gives them a talismanic power.

    This vocabulary of private symbols could be pretentious were

  • “The Vertical Flatbed Picture Plane”

    In “The Flatbed Picture Plane,” 1972, an essay discussing the work of Robert Rauschenberg, Andy Warhol, and others, Leo Steinberg posed the idea of a “tilt” in the conventional pictorial surface from vertical to horizontal. He argued that Rauschenberg’s scatterings of mass-media images and Warhol’s pictures of pictures demanded a perceptual reorientation, away from a “worldspace” (a view corresponding to a window on the world or the upright posture of the human form) and toward a “receptor surface,” such as a tabletop, the studio floor, or the flatbed printing press. According to Steinberg, the

  • John Pomara

    John Pomara’s recent work may reflect a split personality, but it’s ours as much as his. In paintings from the first half of the ’80s, turbulent color fields surround silhouetted black abstract forms, evoking robots and spaceships. The science fictional elements combine with graffiti and neo-Expressionism to comment obliquely on the failed aspirations of both mid-century science (Sputnik gone awry) and the painterly heroism of the Abstract Expressionists. The painterly brio of Pomara’s work compete with the dopey, out-of-kilter robotic forms, suggesting a paradox—the investment of substantial

  • Linda Ridgway

    Linda Ridgway isn’t generally thought of as an installation artist, but this exhibit of three-dimensional objects worked so well as a unit that one almost hated to think of its component parts removed from each other’s company. Though Ridgway’s abstractions function as autonomous works, here she positioned them to heighten their theatrical interaction: they sat resolutely on the floor, hung purposefully from walls, or dropped delicately from the ceiling. Indeed, her materials—bronze, wood, hemp, wax, cement, and hydrastone (finished with a broad spectrum of surface treatments and patinas)—were