London

Alan Stocker

Pomeroy Purdy Gallery

Those who accuse abstract art of inhumanity are surely right. Yet what they miss is that absolute nonobjectivity is never actually achieved, but remains, even in the most unrelenting formalism, a mere asymptote of the mind, its fantasy of victory over the body. In reality, the recurrence of resemblance is never overcome, and the autonomous properties and logic of color and configuration serve only to catalyze other capabilities of the imagination. To be sure, the elements of painting exact their own demands, yet each formal shift is but an altered threshold toward a new image-advent.

Alan Stocker creates form out of the ore of primordial color. His images reach just as far as the cusp of a likeness, where recognition gets caught among lustrous deposits of pigment. The paintings imply a subterranean genesis, a cave or mine where the rock-face wrinkles into phantasmagoric life. They are like

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