George Petrides at National Hellenic Museum

 

George Petrides, Man Between TwoWars, 2022

There are many ethnic cultural spaces in Chicago - yet only a few are serious about visual  art. ( hats off to the Ukrainians and Mexicans ! ). Now, ten years after the National Hellenic Museum built a gorgeous new facility in Greektown— perhaps it is finally going to give more space to art exhibition.

This show consists of six monumental bronze-like heads - each on its own pedestal with explanatory signage.  They tell the story of the artist’s Greek ancestors - mostly in the 20th Century:  how they fled Smyrna when it fell to the Turk and then began building new lives elsewhere. The dark, lumpy, dimly lit, monstrous busts depict it as a story of loss, pain, and endurance -  most notably, and almost heroically, in the self portrait shown at the top.

Rodin, Head of Pierre  de Wissant, 1885-6

Signage for that self portrait refers to a detail from Rodin’s Burghers of Calais - one of whose many variants is shown above. Petrides is certainly swinging for the fences in both the scope of his theme and the sculptural tradition he invokes to address it.  But does  he really hit the ball  into the grandstands?

This work is not in the heroic/natural tradition of Pheidias, Michelangelo, or Rodin. It does not amaze with a conflation of convincing mimesis and formal power.  But it does project strong feeling - much like the works of an expressionist sculptor like Giacometti - who is also mentioned in gallery signage. The pieces in this show feel far less isolated, insecure, and borderline wacky than  those of the  artworld icon of the mid-20th Century - and that’s not a bad thing.  Existential angst was trending  back then - nowadays it’s been replaced by tribal victimization.

  The 2016 exhibit of Theaster Gates at Richard Gray comes to mind, though Greek identity is far less relevant than African to today’s artworld.  Petrides work is also much more personal and nostalgic.   Both artists, however, invoke a great tradition of sculpture…. yet only to establish ethnic identity as they plead sympathy for ethnic trauma.   The greatness of the past is but a dim, fading memory.

************

Regarding materials:

New City reports that the artist used  "epoxy clay, plastic, metals and custom patinas" … while referring to his practice in general, the artist himself says that "each piece cast in bronze using the same lost-wax methods that were used by the ancient Greeks, with expressive patinas applied by hand and torch."  Gallery signage reads "mixed media including bronze and custom patinas"

Epoxy clay has no role in the bronze casting process… so I’m guessing that it was applied to a foam core and mixed with - or covered by - metallic bronze powder.  The results can resemble bronze at about a tenth of the cost.

Anna Kunz at McCormick Gallery

 

Masterpieces of spiritual art can also be quite decorative.  Think of all those graceful Buddhas in the living rooms of upscale, non-Buddhist Americans.  While decorative art, like ceramic ornamental tiles, can appear on the walls of mosques as well as private homes.   But still …..can’t we distinguish between what makes one feel good - and what jolts the soul like a divine revelation?

Both kinds of Anna Kunz paintings  can now be seen in McCormick Gallery - but curiously enough,  it’s only the decorative ones that  are in the featured exhibit of smaller pieces called "Rosy".  The larger, more impressive pieces are in the back rooms of inventory.

Size doesn’t really matter.  Think of the amazing four-inch paintings by Nicholas Sistler .  The abstract watercolors of A.R. Ammons that came to the Poetry Center a few years ago were not much larger than the 11x13" pieces in this show -  yet what an amazing impact they had.  Most of the 30 small oil paintings pieces in "Rosy’ do no more than demonstrate the artist’s commendable skill and taste - while the half-dozen watercolors are just puzzling,  Kunz achieves luminosity so well in her oils - so why do her watercolors feel so dark and gloomy? Is that really what she was aiming for?

11" x 13"

A few of these small pieces, however, like the one above, really do proclaim the joy of paint as it registers shape, rhythm, hue and luminosity.  It recalls  the strength and delicacy of an earlier Chicago abstractionist, Miyoko Ito, though with a spirituality that’s more European than Japanese.

Anna Kunz, Well, 2023, 53x53"

This large piece, found in a back room, is even more emphatic in its connection to traditional European religion.  It draws the viewer in to a glowing center of divine revelation.  These are pieces that belong in a chapel not a dining room or corporate office.  It needs equally inspired architects to design such a space - like those who created the Rothko chapel.  If only our local billionaires were as committed to aesthetics as much as right wing politics.

********************

In his New City review, Alan Pocaro  is  more concerned with the idea of color than whatever emotional, spiritual, or narrative effect these particular colors may have. He does call the pieces "Ernest and poetic", but he does not elaborate on the content of that poetry or find any qualitative difference between the oils, watercolors, and the dyed hanging fabric.  Given their prices ($6000 each) I was reluctant to call these small pieces studies - but Alan correctly identifies them as such ( as confirmed by gallery website text that refers to them as "foundational pieces that ground her studio practice and inform her larger canvases and installations." 

Tom Torluemke at UIMA

Contemporary observational landscape paintings are turning up in the strangest places this year.  First there was David Hockney’s "Arrival of Spring in Normandy" at the Art Institute.  Now Tom  Torluemke’s four seasons of the upper Midwest are showing at UIMA.  Is this still popular 19th century genre expanding beyond the retro middle brow art galleries to which it has been confined?

Nothing is typical of Torluemke.  He has painted across several figurative and abstract genres.  Perhaps he’s best known for a satirical surrealism  reminiscent of the Chicago Monster Roster.   A single example of such work, "Drag Race" is included in this show.  Combining the whimsey of Seymour Rosofsky and the morbidity of Fred Berger, it’s as fun and outrageous as it is incomprehensible.

Yet there is nothing strange and puzzling in the landscapes in this show.  They’re as dry, flat, and obvious as magazine illustrations.  But still, they are wonderfully alive - and they are more about composition than depiction. These are not places for quiet contemplation - like the bucolic retreats so often depicted in the 19th Century.  These pieces have no glow or depth or atmosphere or mood.  What they have is the relentless, disruptive energy of life.  The foliage drawn by Charles Burchfield comes to mind.

Accompanying these landscapes are nearly two dozen portraits of local people whom the artist happens to know.  Each subject was asked to submit a selfie and photo of  chosen background. Offering neither soulful presence (Rembrandt) nor psychological penetration (Kokoshka) nor elegance (Sargent) these are what they started out as: selfies - even if they have been ever so skillfully enhanced. - and even framed in their own uniquely carved,and painted hand-held vanity mirror.  Every person is different yet no one is special.  It’s quite a democratic collection - reminding me of the ancient encaustic portraits from Faiyum - except that there is no whiff of eternity. Every face is as immediate, timely, factual, and temporary as the front page of a newspaper - but comfy instead of alarming.

A gentle and loving view of our world, both planetary and human - in sharp contrast to identity politics, art about art, or art about the artist.  A fine antidote for the harsh polarization of our times.  I wish Torluemke was more ambitious about the deeper meanings of things, but quite possibly the future will recognize him as one of the most important Chicago artists of the early 21st century.

Drag Race, 110 x 76