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Allow Nothing to Worry You: Inez Storer and Andrew Romanoff at Gallery 16

Photo by Todd Pickering

Allow Nothing to Worry You

The recent exhibition at Gallery 16 in SF of work by Inez Storer and her late husband Andrew Romanoff presented a touching and bittersweet journey through time and place. Titled Allow Nothing to Worry You, the show pairs Storer’s unique brand of Magic Realism with Romanoff’s quirky and whimsical works.

A larger-than-life photograph of the pair greets viewers upon arrival, a mural-sized enlargement of a scene at the couple’s bucolic home in Inverness. Romanoff, a dashing figure in a striped shirt and ascot, is on the right, while Storer, an intense and vibrant figure on the left crackles with energy. But the punctuation point is where their hands are gently joined in a tender clasp.

Storer is the more sophisticated artist of the pair. Her formal art education included studies at Art Center Los Angeles, San Francisco Art Institute, UC Berkeley, Dominican University, and SF State, where she obtained her master’s degree. She taught art at SFAI for many years, as well as at Sonoma State, SF State, College of Marin, and numerous other colleges and art schools. She also ran the Lester Gallery in Inverness, while teaching and raising a blended family of six kids.

Allow Nothing to Worry You Installation Shot all photos courtesy Gallery 16

Storer’s work pairs an unerring eye for color and composition with a wicked sense of humor, filtered through a lens of social and political conscience. Drawing strongly on narratives inspired by found objects, iconic subject matter often includes romantic female imagery, Matisse-inspired flowers and still life objects, references to world politics, and environmental issues. With such a busy life and household, the fluidity of the collage medium enabled Storer to create her art when the opportunity presented itself.

Romanoff’s personal history has a strong intersection with that of modern civilization, as great nephew of Tsar Nicholas II, deposed and executed by Bolsheviks in the Russian Revolution, one might say in his case “the personal is political” is proven true in spades. He grew up in Great Britain, on the grounds of Windsor Castle, in a place with the beguiling name of “Frogmore.” While not allowed to consort with the royals, they did occasionally bump into each other in the garden. After serving in the British Navy in WWII, as a young man, Romanoff moved to the States at the encouragement of his cousin, he subsequently had to learn to fend for himself using his wits and his strength to get by.

Andrew Romanoff, New Boy at School, Acrylic paint and pen on polystyrene mounted to spray painted panel, 5.5″ x 6.75”

Inez and Andrew met and fell in love, introduced by the cousin, Igor, who lived in West Marin, and the rest is history. They raised a large blended family in Inverness. Andrew discovered his own artistic talents, and became focused on the medium of Shrinky Dinks®, a children’s craft material that reduces in size when baked in the toaster oven, one which seemed somehow well-suited to convey his unique memories and impressions of the world around him. The company provided him with a lifetime supply. (More information on Andrew’s life and work is found on this site at Remembering Andrew Romanoff.)


Inez Storer, Telepathy, 2023, Mixed media on panel , 24” x 36”

Storer had grown up in Los Angeles, with her father, who worked in the film industry, offering her a look at the backlot and underbelly of the glittering fantasies of the silver screen. Forties era films, with their glamorous women, suave men, and convoluted plots, inflect much of the aesthetic of the work. Her multi-faceted dad was also a pilot, and his international adventures add another layer of complexity to the work. Even more significant was Storer’s discovery, as an adult, that she was not, in fact, Catholic, as she had been led to believe. During a time when it was dangerous to admit, her family had hidden its Jewish faith from even its own members.




Inez Storer, The Ordinary Life of Natalia Ortiz, 2010, Oil paint and collage on panel 52” × 40”

The Ordinary Life of Natalia Ortiz (2010) makes a statement about the lives of all women, how behind the calm facade of a “normal” woman’s life there are always buried secrets, hidden intrigues, loves lost or found. A box of letters, purloined from her neighbor’s garage, set the stage for a narrative about one of these clandestine affairs, their flowing script sets up a lovely collage element on the lower edge of the canvas. A beautiful, mysterious woman stands in for Natalia, while her elusive suitor emerges from the upper edge of the canvas. A bit of detective work yields the result that a woman named Natalia Ortiz was, in fact, a 40s-era film star from Mexico.




Andrew Romanoff, A Day at the Races, 2004, Acrylic paint and pen on polystyrene mounted to spray painted panel, 9.5” x 9.5”

A Day at the Races (2004) suggests one of Romanoff’s iconic scenes from childhood. Here, a young lad in a stroller implores his father to push him faster, echoing the racetrack scene behind him. Scenes from Andrew’s own childhood, many included in the book The Boy Who Would be Tsar, published by Gallery 16 in 2006, have a particular poignancy that is well-suited to his chosen medium of Shrinky Dinks®. In other images, like 9 Second Limit No-Ogling Law (1995), the childlike drawing in juxtaposition with a mature theme feels more loaded; as Storer remarked, “Andrew had no filters.”




Andrew Romanoff, No Ogling, 1995 Acrylic paint and pen on polystyrene mounted to spray painted panel, 10.5” x 10.5”

The mingling of romance, intrigue, royalty, Hollywood movies, Pop art, and naive art blend and intermix to create a fantastic world of illusion firmly grounded in reality and personal narrative. Like many great celebrity pairs, say Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, the duo brought out the best in each other; obviously Storer, a strong-minded woman, is no femme fatale, and Romanoff, who worked as a laborer and craftsperson much of his life, had a nuanced presentation. But, yes, he exuded a royal presence, and the pair together created a gestalt of grit and grace that was unstoppable. It seems as if their symbiosis shifted back and forth as needed, with one providing a rudder of stability when the other began to veer off course.

While Romanoff’s work remained largely a hidden talent outside of the Bay Area, Storer’s work has been widely acclaimed. They enjoyed traveling, in particular making several memorable trips to Russia, where Andrew was greeted by many as the sole surviving heir to the monarchy traveling incognito. Storer completed a remarkable series after one trip, conflating experiences of the thin veneer of normalcy and elegance being at the time displayed in certain settings—the Russian palaces they toured—and her early assimilation of the concept that the glamour of Hollywood was really all just paste.

Gallery 16’s presentation is a welcome tribute to the amazing lives and work of these two remarkable individuals. Romanoff passed away in 2021 at the age of 98, but Storer remains vibrant and active to this day. At Storer’s talk with Griff Williams near the end of the exhibition’s run, she commented that it was good Andrew had not lived to see Putin’s brutal invasion of Ukraine, while the pair both feared such an eventual outcome, it would have made it no easier to take. With dry humor and unfailing deftness, each in their own way has made an indelible mark on the Bay Area art scene.

Barbara Morris

Allow Nothing to Worry You closed in May at Gallery 16, SF.

https://gallery16.com/

Inez Storer, Fear, 1992 Oil on panel 18.25” x 15.75”
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art assemblage environmental art installation painting political art sound art video art

Lands End

Ana Teresa Fernández On the Horizon, 2021; acrylic resin cylinders filled with sea water. Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Lands End

at the former Cliff House

The FOR-SITE Foundation, founded in 2003, has taken on the unique project of mounting exhibitions of immersive, site-specific installations set in some of the Bay Area’s national parks. With memorable exhibitions including 2012’s International Orange set at the imposing Fort Point, followed by 2014’s @Large:AiWeiwei at Alcatraz housed in the stark and unforgiving former prison, our relationship with the ocean, nature, and the environment, coupled with concern for human rights and freedom of expression, have long been at the forefront of their mission. Other exhibitions have dealt with thorny issues such as the needs for shelter, safety, and security.

The latest in this series is Lands End, curated by FOR-SITE’s executive director Cheryl Haines, which takes the site of the former Cliff House restaurant—vacant since 2020—as a point of departure for the work of 26 artists and artist teams from around the globe. With its spectacular vistas and precarious perch, the work is brought to our attention in a setting that dramatizes it and also holds it at a distance, our attention torn between the interior and the exterior. The show, Haines states, “invites visitors to wade into an immersive environment where their charge is twofold: to discover artwork in unlikely places and to consider the planet’s health.”

This is my second visit to the site, the former Cliff House, an iconic SF restaurant and ballroom—which I somehow managed to completely avoid during its lengthy history of providing dining with a spectacular backdrop to countless SF natives and tourists alike. The first Cliff House was built in 1863, and was destroyed and rebuilt twice, the rambling structure is perched at the edge of the Pacific Ocean on a bluff, quite literally the land’s end. On my previous visit, a clear day, the jaw-dropping views outside distracted me from focusing on the art for some time. This time, SF has been socked in and the coast is still blanketed in wispy fog. Crashing waves on rocks outside still beckon. With such a large show, I intend to give just a taste of the work, installations which stood out the most to me. As I am getting my bearings and juggling my pen, notebook, and other belongings, another visitor remarkably precisely echoes my initial sentiment, that “it’s hard to know whether to look inside or outside…” Well, perhaps it’s not so remarkable, given the show being put on in the bluffs.

Andy Goldsworthy, Geophagia, 2021; Ione kaolin clay and wooden tables. Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Off the bar area, which seems a fine place to start, is a large-scale work by Andy Goldsworthy, Geophagia (2021).Salvaged restaurant tables have been covered with Ione kaolin clay from a mine in the Gold Country near Sacramento. Goldsworthy is of course known for site-specific works often set in nature, using natural materials at hand. Here, the brittle clay echoes the earth with the changes it undergoes as it dries and cracks, while alluding as well to the white tablecloths often found in restaurants. We may read the cracks as a metaphor for the parched earth as California repeatedly deals with prolonged and cataclysmic droughts. “Geophagia,” incidentally, refers to the psychological disorder of earth-eating, creating an allusion to the tragic fact that many in our world have a meager table laid for them.

The restaurant is huge, sprawling rooms opening out into vast dining areas with expansive picture windows, lengthy stretches of bar, and other massive spaces whose functions may remain a bit of a mystery. The whole undertaking has the feel of a secret and kind of spooky place, a very cinematic vibe with it’s echoes of a bourgeois past juxtaposed against a harsh yet spectacular present. My first take is that there are some vibrations of Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece The Shining, I could envision a reclusive restaurateur going mad here in the empty shell of the facility.

One Beach Plastic, for here or to go, 2021; plastic collected at Kehoe Beach and ceramic dishware; Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Moving, perhaps, from horror to scifi, one might flash on the scene in Jurassic Park where the children are pursued by velociraptors into the hotel’s kitchen. The brushed steel cabinets here are certainly large enough for a small person to hide in to avoid being devoured. But rather than a game of reptilian hide-and-seek, we find a remarkable work by One Beach Plastic, the husband and wife team of Richard Lang and Judith Selby Lang, who have created a striking and sobering installation for here or to go (2021) using an enormous amount of white plastic debris—a fraction of the tons they have cleaned from Kehoe Beach in Marin County since 1999. The West Marin-based couple have made combating plastic pollution of the ocean very much a life mission. Simultaneously playful and horrifying, the detritus is sorted into piles of different types of things, bottle caps, tampon tubes, hunks of Styrofoam, tortured plastic bags that refuse to die. Many are arranged aesthetically, almost appetizingly, on ceramic plates lining the steel shelves…“order up!”

 Tuula Närhinen, Baltic Sea Plastique, 2013–14; plastic washed ashore near the artist’s studio, glass vases, water, single-channel video (color, sound). Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

With a related aesthetic, Tuula Närhinen, a Finnish artist, presents Baltic Sea Plastique (2013-14). A row of acrylic tubes contains colorful plastic assemblages suspended in water, all filled to the same precise level, suggesting a science project whose intent is unknown. These appealing, almost floral works make the menacing issue of aquatic pollution a bit seductive; one might liken them to colorful plants and animals who lure in their prey with beauty.

Shumon Ahmed, Metal Graves 14 and 15, 2009; When Dead Ships Travel 10 and 12, 2015; digital prints on archival rag fine art paper; Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Lurking in an alcove, perhaps the old freezer, we may find a display of solemn photographs, Metal Graves 14 and 15 (2009) and When Dead Ships Travel 10 and 12 (2015) Living in Bangladesh, Shumon Ahmed documents desolate areas there which constitute a container ship graveyard. We may think of the current issue of global supply chain breakdown, with these massive vessels stranded unloaded in ports around the world.

William T. Wiley, Punball: Only One Earth, 2008; rebuilt and restored pinball machine with original artwork;Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

On the lower level, the prolific punster and skillful draftsman William T. Wiley, who sadly passed last year, is represented by an uncharacteristically spare installation—a single pinball machine situated in a large wedge-shaped room. Wiley’s piece Punball: Only One Earth (2008) takes the theme of pollution and global warming to a repurposed vintage Gottlieb “North Star” game. Wiley’s alter-ego, Mr. Unnatural, poses bent over, wearing a red commedia dell’arte clown/jester nose and doffing his wizard cap to Buster time, a character who reminds viewers that the clock is always ticking. Wiley always had a strong social conscience, as as the environmental issues facing us grew more dire they became increasingly important in his diverse body of work. Recalling the artist’s propensity to a bit of excess, in its opposing starkness this work serves much as a memorial totem.

Mark Dion and Dana Sherwood,Confectionery Marvels and Curious Collections, 2021; resin, insects, porcelain, plaster, glass, various dry and wet specimens; Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Echoing the theme of something which beckons, but is a bit repellent on closer inspection are the Confectionery Marvels and Curious Collections (2021) of Mark Dion and Dana Sherwood. These evoke ornate jello-molds in sparkly, colorful rows perched on small glass shelves set in circular niches, six glimmering jewel-like on either side of this elegant lower bar. Dotted with butterflies and other taxidermy insect specimens, the contrast implies the dual existence of food waste and excess for some, and food insecurity for others.

Ana Teresa Fernández On the Horizon, 2021; acrylic resin cylinders filled with sea water. Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Ana Teresa Fernández fills an airy, light-filled room with her installation of seven large acrylic cylinders, each about human height at six feet tall, filled with sea water and perched on small heaps of sand. The cylinders distort the view outside, bringing it indoors, and create mesmerizing visual effects. On the Horizon (2021) alludes to the disturbing fact that sea levels are expected to rise at least six feet in the next century. We may think of Roni Horn’s installation Library of Water, in Stykkishólmur Iceland, where similarly-scaled tubes are filled with water obtained from melted glaciers. It bears noting that Fernández also created an earlier version of this work, temporarily installed on nearby Ocean Beach with the help of community volunteers.

Doug Aitken, migration (empire), 2008; single-channel video installation (color, sound), one projection, steel, and PVC screen billboard sculpture; Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick

Taking the cinematic aspect of the exhibition to another level is Doug Aitkin with migration (empire) (2008), a single channel video installation. Aitkin has filmed surreal vignettes in empty motels where wild animals explore their unlikely surroundings; a puma enters, looking wary and alarmed, reindeer, peacocks, and even a buffalo roam. The banality of the motel gains an eerie, ominous quality when seen through the eyes of the unwitting animal visitors. Scenes of desolate roadsides are interspersed, giving the work a feel of a dystopian future somehow particularly appropriate for this moment.

Exiting Aitkin’s work through passageways that feel remote and a bit disorienting, one may encounter Norway-based Jana Winderen’s sound installation Energy Field (2010). The artist collects sounds from inaccessible places, like the bottom of the ocean or the interior of ice sheets, and quite appropriately here we also cannot reach the source of these unsettling sounds. Cold blue fluorescent light adds an unsettling quality.

Chester Arnold, Survivors, 2021; oil on linen. Part of the exhibition Lands End, organized byFOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers Herrick.

With so much to see, don’t miss Chester Arnold’s five small-scale oil paintings hanging in a narrow corridor. Unlike the traditional placid nautical scenes one might expect at a restaurant, here roiling seas churn with whirlpools from which these vessels clearly have no escape. Arnold’s meticulous style shows to good advantage in this intimate space, with Survivors (2021) huddling in a life raft showing a particularly deft balance command of gesture. Clearly Arnold finds a metaphor in the image of vessels and their crew at peril for the journey we all embark today on our imperiled planet.

Gülnur Özdağlar, The Last Reef, 2021; plastic bottles, fishing line. Part of the exhibition
Lands End, organized by FOR-SITE. Image courtesy FOR-SITE. Photo: Robert Divers
Herrick.

By the entrance/exit is Gülnur Özdağlar’s The Last Reef , (2021) a beautiful suspended installation of jellyfish made from plastic bottles, a glowing, ethereal work. This piece, like many visually stunning works on view, helps temper the harsher, more pessimistic vibes that also abound. Certainly plastic can be beautiful, it comes in so many bright, cheerful colors. The fact that it has been so inexpensive to manufacture for so long has made us complacent about using it once, then “recycling” it; we are just learning that recycling the material often merely meant shipping it overseas where it would ultimately end up in the landfill. Now, as these markets are increasingly saying “no thank you” we are stuck ourselves with this monster which we have created.

Reflecting on Lands End, I was delighted to play the game of seeking out the artworks amid the architecture, and the underlying message of environmental devastation hit squarely home. A third, strongly felt dimension is that of time, of the feeling of stepping into a realm caught between the past and the present, the lingering presence of different times and ways of living. We may sense how fragile our world is, how what we assume is permanent may without warning vanish, from a beloved restaurant to the polar ice caps.

Barbara Morris

Due to space concerns, many additional noteworthy works could not be discussed here. The other artists in the exhibition are Daniel Beltrá, Andrea Chung, Ólafur Elíasson, Elizabeth Ellenwood, Adam Eli Feibelman, Angelo Filomeno, Carsten Höller, Suzanne Husky, Brian Jungen, and Tony Matelli.

Lands End is free and open to the public Thursday through Sunday, 11 am to 5 pm, through March 27. Admission by timed ticket.

https://www.for-site.org/project/landsend/

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art feminism figurative art humor Italy mythology narrative art painting political art

M. Louise Stanley: No Regrets at Marin MOCA

M. Louise Stanley: No Regrets

Marin MOCA

With a flood of recent solo shows and accolades over the past couple of years, it seems as if painter M. Louise Stanley’s ship has come in. Her current exhibition is No Regrets, at the Marin MOCA in Novato. Behind the entry desk, Bad Bankers (2011) escorts us into Stanley’s world with a line of contrite businessmen carrying briefcases, awaiting their turn to be spanked on their bare bottoms by an oversized goddess of justice. One could only wish that misbehaving power-brokers could all be taken down to size this easily.

Bad Bankers (2011), acrylic on paper, 30″ x 40″

The exhibition proceeds, for the most part, chronologically, and while weighted toward the artist’s later works, there are some gems from earlier years on view. The Mystic Muse and The Bums Who Sleep in the Golf Course Behind the Oakland Cemetery (1970), a small watercolor, is the earliest work on display. Stanley, “Lulu” to her friends, attended CCAC, (now California College of the Arts) and obtained her MFA in 1969, forming consciousness-raising groups with similarly feminist-minded friends. They often gathered to paint intimate, narrative watercolors, going against the grain of large, abstract oil paintings. We may note many features that predict the artist’s subsequent work, her palette, with its acid greens set against warm hues, is largely in place, we see already her love of patterning and costume, and the juxtaposition of the sexual—a naked “muse” with thrusting breasts—and the macabre, the creepy “bums” in their graveyard setting.

The Mystic Muse and The Bums Who Sleep in the Golf Course Behind the Oakland Cemetery (1970), watercolor, 11″ x 15″

Death of a Saleswoman (1981) adapts the title from Arthur Miller’s moody play, and invents a fictive tale of a door-to-door saleswoman, perhaps an Avon lady, who has been shot in the chest, spurting blood in a dramatic arc. A sprinkler on the lawn twins this image with its own benign gusher. The gunslinger is a woman wearing a high-heeled mule with a pink pompon. The subtext here is how women have historically been pitted against one another, the stay-at-home-mom, for example, versus the career woman, both battling over stakes that are depressingly small.

If the Shoe Fits (1976), watercolor, 22″ x 30″

Perhaps, like Warhol, Stanley may have a bit of a foot fetish—her emphasis on feet and footwear a recurring device dating back at least to If the Shoe Fits (1976) a discomfiting interlude of barely-contained sexual tension between a languid shoe-salesman and his eager customer. In these earliest works the distortion of the figures is more extreme, arching breasts, pointy noses and chins suggesting Peter Saul, Jim Nutt, The Hairy Who and the world of underground comix. Later figures remain stylized, often retaining comically-exaggerated features. A tendency throughout to present women as oversexualized caricatures, bitches, whores and temptresses, reflects the way they are so often portrayed in our culture. She employs a similar device to that used by the late, great, Black painter Robert Colescott—turning the tables on an oppressive culture by shoving caricatures back in its face.

The Mouth of Hell (Catherine Cleves Hours) (2018), gouache, 16″ x 12″

A sextet of mid-scale works on paper in gouache, painted as if pages taken from an illuminated manuscript, fits nicely along a curving wall in the middle gallery. A stunning version of The Mouth of Hell (Catherine of Cleves Hours) (2018) is both funny and more than a little scary. Small green devils prod and poke small damned souls, tossing them into the gaping maw of a structure both feline and architectural. Ars Longa for Ed (2020) offers a touching memorial to gallerist Ed Gilbert who sadly passed last year. (Stanley represented by Anglim/Trimble Gallery, the torch having been passed from Paule Anglim to Ed, and now to the resilient Shannon Trimble.) Gilbert, known for his stylish appearance, sports a natty outfit of red pants and a green shirt, with additional jackets and footwear mingled among vines embellishing the edges of the page.

Some of Stanley’s strongest works reside in her prodigious collection of sketchbooks, an accumulation of years of copious notes, skillful ink drawings, spontaneous color studies and fully-realized paintings—many of which have been created on the go, often in Italy, where she led countless art lovers on tours. A few of these remarkable journals are open on display here, under plexiglas vitrines.

In one, Piazzole dei Cavalli Marini, Borghese Gardens presents a three-tiered fountain, rising from a base of the torsos of rearing, spouting horses, bathed in a warm glow of rosy peach and grey-greens that co-mingle in a masterful play of light. A Grimacing Selfie, sketched with pen and ink, shows Stanley’s love of the grotesque with its twisted mouth, spotted chin, sagging jowls, angry eyes and crazy tufts of hair. We may recall some of Rembrandt’s late self-portraits, where he likewise reflects mercilessly at his aging, fallible visage.

Jupiter and Io (2008), acrylic on canvas, 62″ x 80″

Many significant works are clustered in the last gallery. Jupiter and Io (2008) a particular favorite, is a tongue-in-cheek retelling of the Roman myth of infidelity and sexual predation by shape-shifting gods. Io, in a clingy slip of peach-colored satin, is perched off balance on one foot, as a shoe flies off another. Her legs are encased in seamed nylons; the costuming, postures and personas of many of Lulu’s characters evoke a somewhat 1940s vibe—something out of Thomas Hart Benton, perhaps, with a nod to film noir.

Stanley frequently uses animal avatars to comment on the scene at hand. A furry little terrier stands guard, mouth agape, gazing intently at his mistress’ encounter with Jupiter, who manifests as a voluminous puff of steam that rapidly disperses through the nether-regions of Io’s attire. Achingly-beautiful details—a glass of milk, alluding to Io’s transformation to a heifer at one point in the legend and a dangling nylon so transparent and delicate you just can’t stand it—are contrasted with less subtle passages, notably a table lamp whose base consists of a pair of formally-dressed figures recoiling in exaggerated horror.

Melencholia (After Durer)2012, acrylic on canvas, 62″ x 80″

One of the big issues we face when discussing Stanley’s art is its abundant and unremorseful irreverence. In the exhibition catalog, the artist is quoted as saying “I strive for that precarious line between the colloquial and the sublime, perhaps in order to sabotage both extremes, but more often just to see if I can get pull it off.” That transgressive streak runs broadly through much of the work, and, like so many things, is both a blessing and a curse. A somewhat atypical take on this issue of humor is found in the ambitious Melencholia (After Dürer) (2012) featuring “The Archetypal Artist,” Stanley’s alter-ego, holding a jester’s mask bearing a dour expression in front of her own smiling face, trying to get the subject Melencholia, and/or a similarly grumpy putti to smile. Is Stanley suggesting that, like Dürer, she struggles with a tendency to melancholy? Just who, here, is pulling the leg of whom?

Anatomy Lesson (2003) acrylic on canvas 72″ x 96″

Anatomy Lesson (2003) is a very funny, tour-de-force work. This massive canvas presents overly-sedate art students, one with severely bad bangs, diligently working away as a bizarre scene unfolds. Their models consist of “The Artist,” clad in her signature lime-green pedal pushers and red and white striped top, and a pair of dancing partners who appear to have stepped out of Grey’s Anatomy. Her face is titled skyward in ecstasy, evoking Bernini’s St. Teresa. A skeleton, behind her cadaver partner, taps with a bony finger to cut in. We sense Stanley’s enduring love affair with the canvas, and with her muse, as often leaving her a bit breathless, with raw nerves exposed.

Gothic Revival (1997), gouache, 40″ x 26″

A pair of pithy works spinning liturgical tales anchor the two south corners. Gothic Revival (1997) is a beautiful medium-scale work where gouache paint describes a shadowy corner of a gothic cathedral, all vaulted arches and wrought iron, but our eye is drawn by a revelatory stream of yellow light to focus on the small figure of a distinctly male baby having its diaper changed on a bench in an alcove. The vertiginous composition accentuates the lofty architecture. Virgin Birth, Barcelona (1996) is also a small knockout, here painted in acrylic. A woman in a narrow gallery flanked by medieval statues of Madonna and Child appears poised to reenact her own nativity scene.

The artist often bemoans the fact that in the 1980s she developed an allergy to oil paint, necessitating the switch to the less responsive medium of acrylics. If acrylics can’t really pull off quite the same look or feel as oils, Lulu is one of the very best around at coaxing the medium into submission, achieving subtle tonal variations and delicate tactile qualities that are fairly astonishing.

Self-Portrait (After Ensor)(1992), gouache, 22″ x 30″

Coming full circle, we may find a small gouache near the entryway Self-Portrait (After Ensor) (1992) Here, riffing off the eccentric 19th century Belgian painter James Ensor, the artist presents herself as a skeleton laid out on a slab, with head and back propped up. The skull, which has retained both teeth and thick ropes of spiky orange hair, gazes disconsolately at the viewer. Her neatly-folded capris and tunic at last cast aside, palette and brushes nearby at the ready.

Stanley has lived an uncompromising life, and as the title suggests, is at this stage of the game largely content with how things have played out. With a boundless imagination and keen wit, coupled with formidable draftsmanship and painterly skills, her work is poised to withstand the test of time.

Barbara Morris

M. Louise Stanley: No Regrets at Marin MOCA by appointment through April 18

https://marinmoca.org/exhibitions/event/130/

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art assemblage cyanotype figurative art painting political art racial justice

One-Two Punch at Jack Fischer Gallery

Travis Somerville and Keris Salmon at Jack Fischer Gallery

In a similar fashion to that of German artists grappling with the Holocaust, caucasian American artists, perhaps in particular those who come, as Travis Somerville does, from the South, have a substantial burden of grief and shame to bear. Setting aside, for the moment, issues of geography and ethnicity, anyone paying attention to the political climate in our country in recent days—or to be frank at least the past four horrific years of the Trump White House—has to feel outraged and in despair. As I write this, we have thankfully voted that destructive presence out of office, and it looks like he at last has faced the reality of his loss. (Well, that hope for a glimmer of sanity has since been crushed-bjm)

1965 vintage ballot box with audio and video components 2020

Visiting Jack Fischer Gallery to see “One-Two Punch” before the election, it was a particularly fraught moment: so much was at stake. Given all the attempts to restrict voting in numerous nefarious ways, interfering with the US Postal Service perhaps the most insidious, the piece that had the greatest initial impact was not one of the artists massive and powerful wall-mounted works, but 1965 (2020), a sculptural installation. A wooden box, resting on a pedestal, was lit with a crackling video projection of dancing flames. A recording of LBJ’s 1965 speech approving the voting rights act sent chills down the spine as the wooden object came into focus as a vintage ballot box, particularly in light of the fact that several ballot boxes had actually recently been the target of firebombing.

Once one absorbs that sobering and dramatic content, the rest of the gallery comes into focus as filled with Somerville’s gargantuan and challenging paintings, as well as some moody and mysterious photographs which we will come to a bit later…

Year of Our Lord 2020, acrylic, collage, gesso on found truck tarp, 118″ x 123″ 2020

Somerville has taken every offensive triggering image in the racist playbook and painted it, beautifully, one might add, in oil on the rugged surface of recycled truck and army tarps. These rough images are juxtaposed with iconic American symbols like the flag and the Liberty Bell, and layered with some genteel lacy wallpaper. One work, Year of Our Lord 2020, features scrawled text stating Jeff Davis was not a president, punctuated by a Confederate flag. An image of a figure, toppled to the ground, may evoke images of statues of very unpopular Confederate Generals being pulled down in recent protests. We may recognize the dark blue suit and oversized red tie of the hooded figure holding the bible—upside-down.

The figure which has been knocked down is, in fact, a boxer, an image that recurs in several of the paintings. In one, The Mat (2020), a powerful torso and arms float in space, a klansman’s hood replacing its head, its hand clad in boxing gloves, one red bearing the initials “GOP.” The same figure appears in Poster Boy, only here we see his angry, mask-like face, shorn of an empty hood dangling adjacent. My initial take on this imagery was that the figure perhaps represented anger against racism and political injustice, but further thought on this has yielded a more probable conclusion that the pugilist, with tan skin of a hue that does not initially ascribe race, is perhaps the “Great White Hope” of the early 20th century boxer Jim Jefferson, who came out of retirement in 1910 an ill-fated attempt to beat Jack Johnson, the African-American heavyweight champion. This figure as well is a stand-in for Trump, whose white-supremacist leanings are well-documented, with famous incidents such as his claim that there were “very fine people on both sides” in Charlottesville. And, with the initials RNC and GOP prominent in The Mat and Poster Boy, it doesn’t take much of a leap to assume that Somerville finds the Republican party as well to be complicit in the rise of racism and white nationalist violence in our country.

Poster Boy, acrylic, collage on found painter’s tarp, 64″ x 48″ 2020

Sadly, as I have been working on this story, a new and tragic chapter has been written, with the storming of our nation’s Capitol last week by an angry mob of violent, deluded, Trump supporters, egged on by their amoral and lying leader. These ugly and appalling images, including rioters smashing Capitol windows, invading the sanctity of the most secure and private areas of our nation’s houses of government, carrying off the lectern of the speaker of the house, and even beating a police officer with of all things an American flag. When will this insanity stop? As I write, a second impeachment process has begun for this disgraceful excuse for a president. Some Republicans have, in the wake of their own lives being threatened by his mob, turned against the president, but others remain, if not loyal, unwilling to do anything to upset the status quo and in particular their Trump-supporting constituents.

It is hard to fathom the situation, but it certainly is reflected quite clearly in Somerville’s work, which seethes with rage and indignation at this twisted mutation of patriotism. Back to the hooded figures. Anyone paying attention to contemporary art has likely heard of the huge controversy over recent postponement of the major retrospective Philip Guston Now organized by the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and scheduled to run at the Tate Modern, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, and Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. All pulled out of the commitment, citing concerns in particular over how Guston’s challenging imagery—also containing hooded figures suggesting klansmen—would be viewed in the light of increased sensitivity to racial injustice. It is particularly ironic that those who support freedom of expression would censor the voice of Guston, one of the more influential painters of the 20th century and one whose leftist political leanings are quite clear. As a youngster growing up in Los Angeles, Guston was profoundly affected by the KKK’s persecution of the Jewish community. Images of this violence are foundational to his later use of the imagery. These later hooded figures are, admittedly, more nuanced in nature, alluding perhaps to how we ourselves often contain elements of that which we most despise.

The Mat, acrylic, collage on found painters tarp 60″ x 48″ 2020

With heavily-loaded symbols, and there are a boatload of them here, one may feel the urge to tread lightly. Taken out of context, one might find them highly offensive, frightening, dangerous. But the ugliness is not created by the artist, rather he is reflecting the ugliness he sees before him in our fractured society. The references to Guston are likely meant to include a commentary on the thorny issue of censorship in the museum community. We even have some quotes from Guston in Somerville’s palette, with it’s bubble-gum pinks and candy-apple reds, while Gutted (2020) offers a klansman image lifted almost in entirety from Guston’s The Studio (1969).

Gutted, acrylic, collage on found painters tarp 66″ x 54″ 2020

“One-Two Punch”…so one blow is the racism and injustice perpetuated by elected officials, the other is the knockout punch of death and havoc wrecked by the COVID-19 virus. A jaunty ball with coronavirus spikes is tossed in the air above images of a skull and a patient on oxygen. Honestly it’s hard to imagine a more challenging time to be alive, at least from where we currently sit. With new administration just days away, we are holding our collective breaths for a return to sanity. Somerville’s unflinching work clearly struck a nerve.

Labrynth, cyanotype, 8″ x 10″ 2019

Along with Somerville’s work, Jack Fischer presented The Architecture of Slavery, a haunting series of cyanotypes by Keris Salmon, an African-American artist. Salmon was appalled when her caucasian husband shared that “he had something to tell her about his ancestors.” They were, in fact, slave owners, and her work is derived from photographic negatives exposed at the estate where they had lived. Processing the real and intimate details of a world where ownership of human beings was commonplace is heartbreaking and sobering. A folio of works, To Have and To Hold, accompanied her exhibition.

What happened to the “Great White Hope”? Jim Jefferson lost the contest, and faded into obscurity. We may hope that the 45th president soon does the same.

Barbara Morris

One-Two Punch closed in December at Jack Fischer Gallery

Jack Fisher Gallery: Travis Somerville