Los Angeles

Los Angeles

Although artists are what count in the long run, the styles, tastes, and fates of the galleries are at least semi-crucial in a scene as continually precarious as Los Angeles. A couple of months ago, I ungenerously labeled Eugenia Butler’s establishment an emporium of “ideological entertainments”; since then the character of the shows (at least the last two) have changed in that the art has gotten more physical, visual and, I think, better. Richard Jackson is basically an Abstract Expressionist painter, but he’s been influenced by a number of things, among them anti-art (or, anti-pretty art) in general, and Bruce Nauman in particular. Jackson’s major piece is either a maze or a series of paintings arranged in spiral succession; it is composed of stretched canvas panels, about eight feet high, which allow the viewer a passage among them a yard wide, painted surfaces on either side, winding

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