The proof is in the pudding, as it were—each of the “Color Virus” paintings is composed of a series of micro layers of paint that are not all the same color. For instance, in 20120126, the title of a predominantly yellow painting hanging in the show, the viewer can identify green and orange sitting beneath and beside the more dominant yellow. The paintings have a sort of transparency to them, creating a sensation for the viewer akin to looking through multiple panes of glass, each having its own landscape, but affording one the ability to see through or beyond that landscape to the next. The remnants of this strata can be found dripping over the edges of the stretched canvas, as proof of the scrupulous process of layering that Juchtmans employs in his practice. In most cases, the drips occupying the sides of the canvas are not the color that the painting would seem to represent.

Another notable quality of Juchtmans’ paintings is their glossy finish, created by an acrylic gel medium that he uses in creating his micro layers of acrylic paint. As a result, the viewer catches her reflection in Juchtmans’ paintings, as well as a reflection of the space in which the paintings are hung. This element of Juchtmans’ work and the intent resting behind it is what aligns him with minimalist artists like Donald Judd and Dan Flavin. There is an attention given to the environment in which the artwork exists as well as the viewer’s role as “viewer,” insisting that these both are components of the artwork itself.

In Insert, a kind of Juchtmans manifesto written by Peter Theunynck and provided by Margaret Thatcher Projects, it reads,

4.3 The spectator sees colour.
4.3.1 Colour makes things visible.
4.3.2 Colour is dependent on light.
4.3.3 Light is dependent on time (moment) and space (place).
4.3.4 Colour adds time and space as variables to the painting.
4.4 The spectator sees reflected space.
4.4.1 Through the reflection, the space paints beyond the canvas.

In employing this technique, Juchtmans veritably illuminates the familiar dichotomy inherent in monochromatic works. There is simultaneously an experience of transcendence, a movement beyond the physical object, and also an experience of grounding or commitment to the physical object, as the viewer is so intimately related to the painting itself. An attempt to understand the physical object cannot be separated from an understanding of the space in which it sits and the person attempting to understand. The look of “one” color on canvass, as well as the experience of reflection, is at the same time a representation of infinity but also a sort of Omega. In other words, there is an ongoing-ness to the “one” color and to the reflection produced, as well as an inherent sense of consummation in both.

Though part of the ambition of minimalist works is to give merit to the experience, rather than the aesthetic, of a given piece, the highly aesthetic quality of Juchtmans’ work cannot be diminished. His paintings have a beautiful iridescence about them that was visibly achieved through a great deal of labor. This is definitely an exhibition to be seen in person, as photographs of the work cannot truly capture this quality of color—specifically the glossy nature created by Juchtmans’ application of specialized acrylic gel. And of course, the physical experience of the paintings is a part of the works themselves; they do not perform as they are intended to when only seen in photographs. Best stop reading and just go looking.

By Cassie Cummins

The post Jus Juchtmans at Margaret Thatcher Projects appeared first on NY Arts Magazine.

Utilizing a cunning ability to compose marks in both two-dimensional and low relief space, paired with a zen-like concentration abilities and a steady hand, Adam Fowler frees the mark from the page with the help of a sickly sharp blade. Layers of mark making are then able to be placed over each other in space, laid one on top of another before being fixed into their eventual compositional home. The negative space has been separated from the mark, but it has not disappeared from view. One can even argue that the paper that has been cut away was only temporarily holding the space of the areas between Fowler’s lines. The removal of this dead paper has enlivened and lifted the mark to a more liberated state where its character is able to be recognized without need for registration to a superfluous, restrictive ground.

Working in this way for many years, Fowler’s work is seen to be growing steadily. Although one could never know this without seeing the new work, compositions have become more confident and engaging, feeling less calculated. The best example of this comes in Fowler’s wall installation named Untitled (41 Layers). In this piece the layers of unbound line work are further able to breathe in their unframed installation. Overlaid in a progression that expands horizontally, the work spans a distance of some 120 inches across the wall that confronts the viewer as they enter the space. The upper limits of the lacy layers of paper are aligned to mimic the rectangular shape of a frame while the bottom hangs free of delineation in a seemingly organic dispersion of looped line work. The work is almost imperceptibly fixed to the wall by incredibly minute insect mounting pins so that the work seems to hover magically, breathing ever so slightly at times with the caress of local air currents. The gorgeous fragility the work presents is able to be fully appreciated in it’s openness to the same air the viewer holds on baited breath.

The beauty of Fowler’s process is in the simplicity of his project being elevated to a heightened sophistication. Fowler is simply cutting out and rearranging marks in space, but the level of expertise that he brings to this task is what makes the work so engaging to look at. Lingering with the work is one of those pleasantly evolving viewing experiences where one is able to float in and out between wonderous marveling at the tightness of the artists control of hand and the joy of becoming lost following one gesture or another as they wind in and around each other, never seeming to begin or end. Countless artists have used these materials, and somehow none come to mind in relation to seeing the work in person.

Fowler is an artist’s artist. He has a supreme confidence and patience in his aesthetic pursuit that drives his work to levels of sophistication rarely reached by an artist of his age. The amount of time spent with each work and the complexity of the compositions seem to point to an artist far beyond his years. The work seems pointed in the right direction, and now that he has begun to work larger, in unframed wall based installation, the next works will definitely take time. Time is something that is on Fowler’s side. I can’t wait to see what’s next. If this show is any indication, it’s going to be gorgeous.

By Matthew Hassell

The post Adam Fowler: Escaping Forward appeared first on NY Arts Magazine.