Elizabeth Harris Gallery 529 West 20th Street, Chelsea Solo Impression 601 West 26th Street, Chelsea Both through May 23
In the early 1980's Richard Bosman contributed to the return of representation with tragicomic, daringly ham-handed paintings of violence and romance that rifled through the history of book illustration from pulp fiction to Rockwell Kent. But as 80's image-making simplified into opposing factions of photo-based appropriation art and (mostly) European Neo-Expressionism, Mr. Bosman and his art were progressively left out in the cold .
The artist's first New York show of new paintings since 1994 suggests that the years in the wilderness were well spent. In the overcrowded field of painterly (wet-on-wet) representation -- from Alex Katz and Neil Welliver to young artists like Dana Schutz and Daniel Richter -- Mr. Bosman has refined and developed his style into something that more than holds its own ground.
At Harris, his thick-surfaced paintings of roiling Adirondack streams, bright stowed canoes, campsites, trophy-lined hunting lodges and people swimming in lakes continue his penchant for parody-homage and crude paint handling. But things are more optically complicated and a note of scintillating deftness has been added. Mr. Bosman's luxuriant, dashed-off brushwork, brings a quality at once antic and powerful to expanses of trees, water and wood grain and staring deer, both living and stuffed.
The images, whose naturalistic palette is sparked with expert additions of white, push toward you with a kind of aggressive intimacy, a little juicy and overdone. Their strength, however, may be quite literal: the slightly clumsy scale relationships between surface agitation, surface size and image.
The show breaks from the Adirondack theme with open declarations of northern artistic allegiances in ''Munch's Closet'' and ''Rembrandt's Collections.'' And Mr. Bosman revisits the intimations of violence implicit in his pulp fiction paintings with ''Raft,'' which centers (exactly, like a movie camera) on the head and shoulders of a man emerging from a deserted lake onto the ladder of a swimming raft. Maybe he's trying not to wake the woman sunbathing on its surface; maybe he's going to kill her.
Lake scenes and swimmers predominate in the exhibition of Mr. Busman's prints at Solo Impressions, where his sure connection to materials is visible in more abbreviated form. The choice of medium -- color wood cut -- underscores his connection to German Expressionism; and a selection of earlier prints sketchily surveys previous subjects. The list of 80's artists, especially painters, who have deepened their work in the ensuing years often seems depressingly short, but Mr. Bosman should be on it. ROBERTA SMITH
I don't know how to live through this hell Woken up, I'm still locked in this shell Frozen soul, frozen down to the core Break the ice, I can't take anymore
You're a Heartbreaker Dream Maker, Love Taker Don't you mess around with me! You're a Heartbreaker Dream Maker, Love Taker Don't you mess around - NO NO NO!
Wow. I'm surprised I actually like this (representational painting usually isn't my thing).
I used to work on a TV show called Wild Survival where we'd go out into the winderness and reenact people's close-call experiences (plane crashes, lost hunters, stranded kayakers, that sort of thing). This painting reminds me of that experience. There's something upbeat and stagey about about. TV-like. I agree, there's an SUV with an open tailgate full of hot chocolate, cheese sandwiches and a jumbo bag of Lay's just out of frame.
I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine If you're into evil, you're a friend of mine
In the early 1990's, bizarre vampire clubs began springing up in New York's Greenwich Village. The clubs boasted a dicey clientele, many of whom claimed to be real blood drinkers. Susan was so taken with the vampire world, she started dating a man who claimed to be one of the undead. Susan wrote a detailed article, but in this case her judgement seemed skewed. She apparently believed a lot of what was being told to her. To Susan's disappointment, the Village Voice never ran her article on vampires.
"beautiful people" don't walk there puppys they have people to do that for them - or they look good in there bags, - how bout the Katz at Blum now? a smile indeed!
I find viewing these pieces via digital images is an improvement over seeing them in person. The coolly represented disquieting subject matter could be a hook, but given their large size, I don't see much holding any of these pieces together. I was there to see the exhibit of Peter Acheson's small paintings in the back room. Acheson's work does have a pulse - an element missing from Bosman's paintings.
These paintings remind me of being stuck in the hinterland of Boston. Or Boston for that matter. Totally screwed. Middle of no-where. Blank, at wits end.
Makes one pine away for a Gallace painting, which is saying something.
Four horizontal grey stripes: We've found our trees, the weather looks healthy--no sign of global warming, hurricanes across a continent mid-winter are absent. There is some catastrophe going on, or, as a poster offered earlier, lunch is served. This is a gentle picture with nice marks and snow, painted indoors. The question: Does this gain one access into the interiority of the nature of what is? Or is it not a process: the busy bee in a twilight of see?
critics fronting franticly in New York city, every body in L.A just plain licking ass or having it licked, irony in place of balls, balls in place of brains, brains in place of soul, where is the soul?, where is the love?, where am i?
I'm a football baby, Rollin' round the field. I've been passed and fumbled, Till I don't know what I feel. Everybody's the same, They're all footballs too. Setting up the big play And trying to score.
I'm a football baby In a football game I'm a football baby Run--kick
Life's a football game, As every chump and champ knows. We don't touch, we collide, Till we're worn out inside. We're kicking each other, Right where it hurts, Setting up the big play, And trying to score.
I'm a football baby, In a football game I'm a football baby, I'm a football baby, In a football game I'm a football baby, Block--pass I'm a football baby, In a football game I'm a football baby, Run---kick---hit---goal .
The team searches for an up-and-coming young artist who secretly photographs and then paints strangers on the street who are experiencing intense personal moments. Peter Paige guest stars. TVPG-L
Most TV shows deal with voyerism by having a surveilance camera view. some heavy breathing and some foregrounded bushes. A mysterious car. A strange individual. This show did it with exposition. So then I wonder, maybe its avant guarde to just stand and talk or maybe women are more verbal and it was a show aimed at women. I want to read into it, you know, like a cultural critic.
One thing is - and I know other people say this - but artists are crazy!!!!! I wish I was as crazy as an artist!!!!
But another issue - and its the one that was most interesting (after watching the game) is that of trust. They never really dealt with the motive - I guess there wasnt one - it was sort of a Columbine sensless thing. I think the character was probably gay. That or a psychopath. But you never guessed it because the murderer is never really developed as a person. You just see them act like a dillhole.
Anyways that part was the most interesting but the least developed. Maybe teenagers dont like to think about stuff like that but I do. Its like psychological depth or something.
Just returned from a quickie trip to the Big City where I had the opportunity to check out this show. This painting was underwhelming in person although I like seeing it's image here. I agree with cralbert that this holds up better in the virtual world where the narrative feels more present than the paint.
36 comments:
Richard Bosman @
Elizabeth Harris
529 W 20 St
NYC 10011
You'd immediately think that Richard is a contemporary hipster that just graduated with his MFA...but don't be fooled.
contemporary hipster?,...we aint fooled and I'm not foolin, Its Fairfield Porter incarnate.
By ROBERTA SMITH
Published: May 16, 2003
Elizabeth Harris Gallery
529 West 20th Street, Chelsea
Solo Impression
601 West 26th Street, Chelsea
Both through May 23
In the early 1980's Richard Bosman contributed to the return of representation with tragicomic, daringly ham-handed paintings of violence and romance that rifled through the history of book illustration from pulp fiction to Rockwell Kent. But as 80's image-making simplified into opposing factions of photo-based appropriation art and (mostly) European Neo-Expressionism, Mr. Bosman and his art were progressively left out in the cold .
The artist's first New York show of new paintings since 1994 suggests that the years in the wilderness were well spent. In the overcrowded field of painterly (wet-on-wet) representation -- from Alex Katz and Neil Welliver to young artists like Dana Schutz and Daniel Richter -- Mr. Bosman has refined and developed his style into something that more than holds its own ground.
At Harris, his thick-surfaced paintings of roiling Adirondack streams, bright stowed canoes, campsites, trophy-lined hunting lodges and people swimming in lakes continue his penchant for parody-homage and crude paint handling. But things are more optically complicated and a note of scintillating deftness has been added. Mr. Bosman's luxuriant, dashed-off brushwork, brings a quality at once antic and powerful to expanses of trees, water and wood grain and staring deer, both living and stuffed.
The images, whose naturalistic palette is sparked with expert additions of white, push toward you with a kind of aggressive intimacy, a little juicy and overdone. Their strength, however, may be quite literal: the slightly clumsy scale relationships between surface agitation, surface size and image.
The show breaks from the Adirondack theme with open declarations of northern artistic allegiances in ''Munch's Closet'' and ''Rembrandt's Collections.'' And Mr. Bosman revisits the intimations of violence implicit in his pulp fiction paintings with ''Raft,'' which centers (exactly, like a movie camera) on the head and shoulders of a man emerging from a deserted lake onto the ladder of a swimming raft. Maybe he's trying not to wake the woman sunbathing on its surface; maybe he's going to kill her.
Lake scenes and swimmers predominate in the exhibition of Mr. Busman's prints at Solo Impressions, where his sure connection to materials is visible in more abbreviated form. The choice of medium -- color wood cut -- underscores his connection to German Expressionism; and a selection of earlier prints sketchily surveys previous subjects. The list of 80's artists, especially painters, who have deepened their work in the ensuing years often seems depressingly short, but Mr. Bosman should be on it. ROBERTA SMITH
what the hell?
new image!!
live the new image!!
air lift?
I don't know how to live through this hell
Woken up, I'm still locked in this shell
Frozen soul, frozen down to the core
Break the ice, I can't take anymore
I think its search and rescue practicing. Later they will get hot chocolate.
Or ithey are ice fishing for a monster.
Later they will feast on monster.
"a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlXlFB76_eY">
here
"he broke the ice"
-Dekoonig
You're a Heartbreaker
Dream Maker, Love Taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a Heartbreaker
Dream Maker, Love Taker
Don't you mess around - NO NO NO!
Wow. I'm surprised I actually like this (representational painting usually isn't my thing).
I used to work on a TV show called Wild Survival where we'd go out into the winderness and reenact people's close-call experiences (plane crashes, lost hunters, stranded kayakers, that sort of thing). This painting reminds me of that experience. There's something upbeat and stagey about about. TV-like. I agree, there's an SUV with an open tailgate full of hot chocolate, cheese sandwiches and a jumbo bag of Lay's just out of frame.
Nice to see his work again, there is more Katz in it. Interesting imagery, I like the car in the snow image.
I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine
If you're into evil, you're a friend of mine
In the early 1990's, bizarre vampire clubs began springing up in New York's Greenwich Village. The clubs boasted a dicey clientele, many of whom claimed to be real blood drinkers. Susan was so taken with the vampire world, she started dating a man who claimed to be one of the undead. Susan wrote a detailed article, but in this case her judgement seemed skewed. She apparently believed a lot of what was being told to her. To Susan's disappointment, the Village Voice never ran her article on vampires.
here
Have been a fan of this artist for a long time.
I think he is buddies with Alex Katz.
Have been a fan of this artist for a long time.
I think he is buddies with Alex Katz.
its an exploration in "tree", two types (one season) at four distances with atmosphere and weather...
“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”
yayeaye!
this painting makes time stop on a dime. brings it to an absolute screeching halt. makes time irrelevant.
helicopters in paintings are the equivalent of beautiful people walking puppys. If you see either, people are going to go awe shucks.
"beautiful people" don't walk there puppys they have people to do that for them - or they look good in there bags, - how bout the Katz at Blum now? a smile indeed!
I find viewing these pieces via digital images is an improvement over seeing them in person. The coolly represented disquieting subject matter could be a hook, but given their large size, I don't see much holding any of these pieces together.
I was there to see the exhibit of Peter Acheson's small paintings in the back room. Acheson's work does have a pulse - an element missing from Bosman's paintings.
These paintings remind me of being stuck in the hinterland of Boston. Or Boston for that matter. Totally screwed. Middle of no-where. Blank, at wits end.
Makes one pine away for a Gallace painting, which is saying something.
Four horizontal grey stripes: We've found our trees, the weather looks healthy--no sign of global warming, hurricanes across a continent mid-winter are absent. There is some catastrophe going on, or, as a poster offered earlier, lunch is served. This is a gentle picture with nice marks and snow, painted indoors. The question: Does this gain one access into the interiority of the nature of what is? Or is it not a process: the busy bee in a twilight of see?
ride the lighning
death from above!
DOes anyone want a Carlton Sheets mashup?
You know, reel estate.
no more quoting
brush strokes either, bitches.
customers who bought this also bought:
tim gardner
critics fronting franticly in New York city, every body in L.A just plain licking ass or having it licked, irony in place of balls, balls in place of brains, brains in place of soul, where is the soul?, where is the love?, where am i?
watching the game?
Go Braints!
I'm a football baby,
Rollin' round the field.
I've been passed and fumbled,
Till I don't know what I feel.
Everybody's the same,
They're all footballs too.
Setting up the big play
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby
In a football game
I'm a football baby
Run--kick
Life's a football game,
As every chump and champ knows.
We don't touch, we collide,
Till we're worn out inside.
We're kicking each other,
Right where it hurts,
Setting up the big play,
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Block--pass
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Run---kick---hit---goal .
Camille Paglia CBS "Without a Trace"
WOnder who writes that shit.
Sunday, January 21, 10pm et/pt
Primed
The team searches for an up-and-coming young artist who secretly photographs and then paints strangers on the street who are experiencing intense personal moments. Peter Paige guest stars.
TVPG-L
real life
Most TV shows deal with voyerism by having a surveilance camera view. some heavy breathing and some foregrounded bushes. A mysterious car. A strange individual. This show did it with exposition. So then I wonder, maybe its avant guarde to just stand and talk or maybe women are more verbal and it was a show aimed at women. I want to read into it, you know, like a cultural critic.
One thing is - and I know other people say this - but artists are crazy!!!!! I wish I was as crazy as an artist!!!!
But another issue - and its the one that was most interesting (after watching the game) is that of trust. They never really dealt with the motive - I guess there wasnt one - it was sort of a Columbine sensless thing. I think the character was probably gay. That or a psychopath. But you never guessed it because the murderer is never really developed as a person. You just see them act like a dillhole.
Anyways that part was the most interesting but the least developed. Maybe teenagers dont like to think about stuff like that but I do. Its like psychological depth or something.
Just returned from a quickie trip to the Big City where I had the opportunity to check out this show. This painting was underwhelming in person although I like seeing it's image here. I agree with cralbert that this holds up better in the virtual world where the narrative feels more present than the paint.
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