4 matchs for pynchon:
2732: Steve DiBenedetto
Novelty Mapping Picnic
Sifter
2010-2016
Oil on Linen
28.5 x 21.5 inches
72.39 x 54.61 centimeters
Cherry and Martin is proud to present a solo exhibition of new, densely layered oil-on-canvas paintings by Steve DiBenedetto.
Steve DiBenedetto’s intensely worked canvases explore painting in the Post Modern world. His process, a sometimes-combative approach that can last many years, has a ferocity to it. DiBenedetto’s paintings drip with energy and the liquid materiality of oil and pigment. They ram together pattern, line, color and imagery with seemingly both abandon and calculated intent.
DiBenedetto speaks of his work as a very compressed expressionism: a meticulous, yet agitated kind of painting. In his work, boundaries become uncertain. Multiple layers of paint create hallucinogenic scenes held together by webs and tendrils. DiBenedetto’s encrusted surfaces display a fascination with assertive color; they organically merge surface and structure into a sometimes plaintive, sometimes exuberant whole.
Critics have described DiBenedetto’s works as depicting invented, science fiction-infused environments, which grapple with the overwhelming abundance of information now present in our lives. Other critics, like New York Times-writer Martha Schwendener, have described DiBenedetto’s work as truly “phenomenal,” placing it in a context with that of artists like Philip Guston. Schwendener adds that as artworks, “The paintings’ layered and distressed surfaces lends them an aura of history and authority, like archaeological objects.”
DiBenedetto’s recent solo exhibition at the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum (Ridgefield, CT) interspersed texts by writers like J. G. Ballard, Thomas Pynchon and William Blake alongside his paintings. One area held a collection of ephemera — works on paper, photographs, books, album covers and other materials — culled from the artist’s studio. As an artist who has revitalized the landscape of contemporary painting, DiBenedetto’s work was included in the major exhibition, “Remote Viewing: Invented Worlds in Recent Painting and Drawing,” (2005, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, NY). The show was curated by Elisabeth Sussman, and placed DiBenedetto’s work alongside friends and peers like Franz Ackermann, Carroll Dunham, Julie Mehretu, Matthew Ritchie, Alexander Ross, and Terry Winters.
Steve DIBENEDETTO’s most recent solo exhibition, “Evidence of Everything,” was at the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum (Ridgefield, CT) from November 2015 through April 2016. DiBenedetto’s work has been included in such solo and group museum exhibitions as “Remote Viewing” Whitney Museum of American Art (New York, NY); “Curious Crystals of Unusual Purity” PS1 Contemporary Art Center (Long Island City, NY); “Le Consortium Collection” Centre Georges Pompidou (Paris, France); “Slow Art” PS1 Contemporary Art Center (Long Island City, NY); “Embracing Modernism: Ten Years of Drawings Acquisitions” Morgan Library & Museum (New York, NY); “Portrait de l’artiste en motocycliste,” MAGASIN-Centre National d’art Contemporain de Grenoble (Grenoble, France); “Einfach Kunst, Sammlung Rolf Ricke” Neuen Museum (Nurnberg, Germany); “Sieben New Yorker Maler” Kunstverein Museum Schloss Morsbroich (Leverkusen, Germany); “Nachtschattengewaschse-The Nightshade Family” Museum Fridericianum (Kassel, Germany); “Inaugural Exhibition” Museum of Contemporary Art (Geneva, Switzerland). DiBenedetto’s work is included in such public collections as Museum of Fine Arts (Boston, MA); Museum of Modern Art (New York, NY); and Whitney Museum of American Art (New York, NY). DiBenedetto lives and works in New York.
Cherry and Martin’s 2732 space is open Tuesday - Saturday 11am-5pm and by appointment. For images or more information please contact the gallery at 310-559-0100, or email info@cherryandmartin.com.
STEVE DIBENEDETTO
Mile High Psychiatry
MARCH 20 - APRIL 18, 2015
OPENING RECEPTION: FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 6-8PM
“The authorities demand indifference regarding your participation in ignoring their request” is an elliptical non-declaration contained deep within a large canvas by Steve DiBenedetto.
Through scraps and globs and stabs and billows, those words have dissolved into a pre-linguistic slime. The actual, legible sentence has now been reduced into (or by) every conceivable strategy for paint application while maintaining the sentiment dripping from that once written ouroboros : “The authorities demand indifference regarding your participation in ignoring their request”
Elsewhere, the exhaust pipe from Wyatt’s choppered Harley a la Easy Rider spits the same CO2 fumes it feigns to be filtering away back onto the canvas. With more scrutiny, we see that those fumes are just being sucked back into bodies of the composition’s other passengers, including one octopus. This is not a basic octopus. Basic octopi are not socialized. They forgo language for body manipulation and alterations of skin color, communicating through a state Terrence McKenna describes as “both psychedelic and telepathic”. Not this guy, this octopus has a chalkboard and he’s learning how to make marks on it. He’s a socialized (or social-ish) octopus and with one tentacle coiled around a nub of chalk he communicates to us his intimate thoughts about the paranormal, modern architecture, and the subplots of Apocalypse Now, with scraps and globs and stabs and billows.
DiBenedetto paints while standing up. On his feet he develops a counterintuitive strategy towards abstraction. Instead of negating language and iconography, he looks to over-expand them through swarming gestures, reaching a point where they collapse under the pressure of their own weight, meaning, and paranoid history. Structurally speaking, DiBenedetto’s paintings have more in common with Thomas Pynchon than his art world peers. This enterprising sprawl of paint presents an unsolvable equation similar to the question of: how do I ignore the authorities demand for me to participate in ignoring their request?
Steve DiBenedetto (b. 1958) has exhibited extensively, including recent shows with Half Gallery, New York, David Nolan Gallery, New York, Daniel Weinberg Gallery, Los Angeles, a two person exhibition with Terry Winters at National Exemplar, New York, as well as a solo exhibition with Derek Eller Gallery in 2002. His work is included in public collections such as the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. He is participating in an exhibition at The American Academy of Arts and Letters, on view March 12 - April 12, 2015; and also has an upcoming solo show at The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum. This exhibition is presented in cooperation with David Nolan Gallery, New York.
Derek Eller Gallery is located at 615 West 27th Street, between 11th and 12th Avenues. Hours are Tuesday - Saturday, 11 am - 6 pm. For further information or images, please contact the gallery at 212-206-6411 or visit www.derekeller.com
What is it about Central Asia?
From the so-called Aryans, to the Huns and the Hordes, not to mention Timur the Iron Limper; there's always some threat to civilization issuing from this inhospitable zone. Alexander the Great turned back there, along with Kipling's Britain (check the last verse). I can see why people want to leave, but what are they doing there to begin with? History's losers, forced beyond the margins, until they've grown as hard as the country? We're talking about people whose favorite sport involves a bunch of guys on horseback and a goat carcass. People expect the world to end in the Middle East, but I say keep your eye on Central Asia. Maybe we should ask Pynchon about it.
Anyway, the point I'm getting to is that the area provides the perfect name for the current military campaign. This has been a problem, as Operation Infinite Justice was dumped, supposedly in deference to our Moslem friends. Actually, it's got a ring to it, and will likely turn up as the title of a Schwarzenneger movie next year. Enduring Freedom, or whatever it is now, is no good. Clumsy, and whose freedom are we talking about? And forget Muslims, it ought to be objectionable to Christians. Doesn't the Bible teach that the works of man are passing, and only God endures? As far as I know, heaven is not a democracy.
I'm proposing Operation Baluchitherium, named after the largest land mammal ever to walk the earth. Imposing animals have a long tradition as totems and military mascots. I think a giant, extinct, hornless rhinoceros makes a fine symbol for our present deployment. And where's it from? You guessed it; Central Asia.
What is it with that place?
The importance of the material must be recognized. LOR drew the template for virtually every epic fantasy since. It may appeal to adolescents, but they represent the last, best, hope of the imagination, before the compromises of adulthood. Such compromises may be the subject of "grown-up" literature, but the unstoppable spring of Tolkienesque fantasy evidences a basic facet of our being. The template fits sci-fi futurism just as well as medievalism: the generality of a truly mythic chord being sounded. Tolkien does not fall into the typical cliches of pulp-fiction type fantasy. Violence, sex, and magic are central, but are consistently underplayed. His overwhelming nostalgia and melancholy are alien to Hollywood's understanding of the heroic epic. Scale is different than size, and this is where many followers have lost the way. The vastness of his tale is not so much a matter of length, as it is the implication of an entire world of untold tales, fleshed out by the extensive pseudo-scholarly appendices. This presentation of the material as some sort of discovered text links the work to things like Borges and Pynchon, and even Poe's early detective stories. It seems to be a gloss on a larger truth, which supersedes the author.
And the reader. Unlike the comic books, and other fantasy forms I've enjoyed over the years, Tolkien never fed my ego-fantasies, but served to weave me into something larger; a frame of reference in which the ego was but the focal point of loss. In this sense, his work is about as serious and adult as stories get. It triggers a nostalgic pain so acute that growing up becomes the escape. The sixties, the heyday of Tolkien-mania, has often been similarly critiqued, and I'd make a similar defense. I always think of Tolkien when I hear this song by the Incredible String Band, exemplars of the Hobbit-swilling hippies of yore.
You Know What You Could Be
by Mike Heron
Read your book and lose yourself
In another's thoughts.
He might tell you 'bout what is
Or even 'bout what is not.
And if he's kind and gentle too,
And he loves the world a lot,
His twilight words may melt the slush
Of what you have been taught.
You know what you could be.
Tell me my friend,
Why you worry all the time
What you should been.
Listen to the song of life.
Its rainbow's end won't hold you.
Its crimson shapes and purple sounds,
Softly will enfold you.
It gurgles through the timeless glade,
In quartertones of lightning.
No policy is up for sale,
In case the truth be frightening.
You know what you could be.
Tell me my friend,
Why you worry all the time
What you should be.
