Los Angeles

Greg Card

Greg Card’s three large light pieces on the walls of the Cirrus Gallery constitute the best show. The works, relating very much to more traditional visual art in their framing and scale, are constructed with elegant graphs of string about 1/4'' off the wall, and lighted with two colored lights apiece from the overhead beams; the resultant tracery gives, up close, a triad of linear design—the colored string and the two hued shadows—and, further away, a dizzying but controlled sense of very, very deep space. (I don’t imply that “space” means serious art, just that the effect is arresting.) Card operates under a couple of disadvantages: 1) the second-generation “L.A. look” of pastel colors, ethereality, slickness, austerity; and 2) a felt, but lilygilding mysticism (star charts, the Golden Section, and a superstition that compass directions and color are cosmologically connected). Card’s hesitant conservatism—apparent when one thinks of Robert Irwin or Michael Asher—is overcome by an intangibility one might just infer as sincerity. His work, clean and hip though it is, doesn’t give the impression of groundbreaking, of dealing with issues in a polemic way. There is, evidently, room for some beautiful academics within the projection of lights.

Peter Plagens