AN AFTERNOON STROLL THROUGH CHELSEA

On a recent wintery afternoon, we took in some sun and some culture. Here's are some exhibitions of note:


CHRIS MARTIN @ MITCHELL-INNES & NASH - A very nice, well-curated show of recent paintings by the last of the great Williamsburg painters. The work is smart and loopy. They contain a joie-de-vivre that you can only experience first-hand (many of the paintings' surfaces are topographical). Several stripe paintings pay homage to Brancusi and Barnett Newman, colorful columns made of stacked semi-circular shapes. Circular forms bump up under the surface and flower into fanciful gardens. "Good Evening, Alfred Jensen, Good Evening" carries the joyous cacophony of that artist's work in a small canvas that surrounds a collage blond bikini model in a rainbow of thick colorful stripes. My favorite work, Afghan Painting, also involves collage, this time the eye of a lizard hidden amidst a day-glo color field painting done on an actual crocheted afghan. Don't forget to pat the lucky gnome by the doorway on your way out.


JUAN USLÉ @ CHEIM & READ - Another painter with a lot of textures and a lot of stripes. The first gallery contains three small horizontal paintings with vertical stripes segmenting them. They are rather charming. The larger the pieces got, the more derivative. All done in some exotic concoction of vinyl dispersion and dry pigment, some made me think of monochromatic Mary Heilmans, others of Agnes Martin on a VERY rainy day. Impressive but rather empty.

RICHARD ARTSCHWAGER @ GAGOSIAN - Artschwager has unpacked those packing crate sculptures and made himself right at home, displaying a painted series of domestic vignettes which echo Impressionist interiors along with two Tables made of Formica, subtitled (Whatever) and (Somewhat). The master is in peak form here. Be sure to check out the small gallery space behind reception; the small homage to Morandi is nice, but the enormous, hairy, turquoise exclamation point suspended from the ceiling steals the show! Bravo!!

NAYLAND BLAKE "WHAT THE WHISKEY SAID, WHAT THE SUN IS SAYING" @ MATTHEW MARKS - I think the title says it all; that is to say, absolutely nothing. Petulant and adolescent, it's a show of a lot of work you've seen done before by much better artists. I have never understood this artist's appeal, and this show hasn't changed my mind. Not worth the trip up the stairs!!

SARAH PICKERING @ DANIEL COONEY GALLERY: I liked these large color photographs by this up-and-coming photographer. Unlike her earlier work of explosions out in natural settings, which have left me cold, these images of "practise fires" bring us indoors into familiar surroundings. These set-up scenarios are extremely thoughtful but tilt towards the Anglophile (one bedside table contained a paperback Patricia Highsmith mystery and a can of Strongbow). Worth a peek.

Also seen:
Robert Gobers @ Matthew Marks - A creepy show taking up two small gallery spaces. Wall sculptures of the seats of wooden chairs sprouting breasts. The two on 21st Street included a flaccid shotgun and a snake-like set of feet connected by a hairy leg. Whatever.
Michal Rovner: Makom II @ Pace Wilderstein - Rovner builds a little bit of the Holy Land for you right here Stateside. A sonic hum brings an added solemnity to this imposing, cryptic structure. Worth a peak.
Shirin Neshat @ Barbara Gladstone - Two overly long, beautifully shot video installations, with some large color photo-documents. Just make a movie already.
Catherince Sullivan: Triangle of Need @ Metro Pictures - More video taking up a lot of space. If you have to go, check out the last gallery with the small pixelated projections of bridal picture shoots.
Luis Gispert @ Mary Boone - Even more video!! Something about kids. The sound track was annoying and the volume level unbearable. C-prints from the video are available in the back gallery, if you dare!!

MEN ARE FROM CALIFORNIA, WOMEN ARE FROM CANADA - "There Will Be Blood" & "Juno"

As the OSCARS rapidly approach, we took time to take in a couple of contenders:

A lonely silence pervades the first ten minutes or so of Paul Thomas Anderson's remarkably bleak new film "There Will Be Blood". He paints us a loving portrait of an American landscape now hard to find: dry, cold, and remote. And its these very same attributes that characterize his chief protagonist, Daniel Plainview. Played by Daniel Day-Lewis, he is a fascinatingly repugnant study of American entrepreneurship. Showing all the characteristics of American "Can Do" spirit, we watch Plainview, early in the film, break his leg while mining, then dragging himself through the desert to the assayer's office to register his claim while lying on the floor with the grin of a cat who just ate the canary. Silver becomes oil and soon Plainview and his son, HW, are traveling California, buying up land and lease rights. Visited one night by a young man named Paul Sunday (Paul Dano), Daniel is made aware of a potential vast oil field on Paul's family farm. Using the pretense of being on a quail hunting trip with his son, Daniel scopes out the Sunday farm for the veracity of Paul's claim. Soon he is not only raising up an enormous oil derrick but the ire and wrath of Paul's brother, Eli, a charismatic preacher with hopes of building a church and a god-fearing community. The centerpiece of the film is a beautifully shot scene involving the well exploding then catching fire. The explosion throws HW from the derrick, where he had been watching the pump, and causes the boy to go deaf.

The film moves forward deftly, as Plainview strives forward towards more and more money, doing whatever it takes to "succeed". By the end of the film, he is like Kane in his Xanadu, a lonely alcoholic sitting out the depression in mansion which includes a two-lane bowling alley. By the end of the film, when he sputters out to his butler "I think I'm finished!" we know he most certainly is. Day-Lewis' performance at this point is Shakespearean, an oil-mad Lear who's well has finally tapped out.

We loved this film. Poetically shot, it is a brilliant portrait of American capitalism, biblical in scope, smart but not smug, brutal but never grotesque. It is destined to become an American film classic.

Poor "Juno". That lonely comedy in the Best Picture category; the one that never wins. Like it's title character, the film is cynical but plucky. We didn't hold out much hope of enjoy it during the first two scenes. The opening scene with the convenience clerk is a bit too snarky and Juno's call to her best friend, Leah, just drips with quasi-Valley Girl -speak. But Ellen Page's performance certainly is noteworthy. She allows us to see the vulnerability beneath the sarcasm of this sixteen year old. And as Juno is supported in her decisions by her family, Ms. Page is supported by a great cast that includes J.K. Simmons and Alison Janney as Juno's father and step-mother, and Michael Cera as Paulie Bleeker, the father of her child. There are also fine performances by Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman, as prospective adoptive parents. Ms. Garner in particular gives a finely tuned performance as the want-to-be mother. It is interesting to watch the bond between these two "outsider" women forms. By the end we were totally bowled over by this charming, quirky comedy.