William Burroughs, oil on canvas, 6ft x 5ft, Alison Van Pelt

William Burroughs, oil on canvas, 6ft x 5ft, Alison Van Pelt

William Burroughs, oil on canvas, 6ft x 5ft, Alison Van Pelt

Burroughs painting is up at Realm of Realism tonight

Angela Featherstone: Fuck Pretty, with Catherine Opie, Susan Meiselas, Tierney Gearon, Alison Van Pelt

Angela Featherstone: Fuck Pretty

Mon, Jul 04, 2011

Actress Angela Featherstone’s first curated show is a collection of photographs by world-renowned and unknown women artists, whose work moves and inspires her. Opens July 21 at Robert Berman.

There are images from contemporary photographers Catherine Opie, Susan Meiselas, Tierney Gearon, Alison Van Pelt and equally important to the curator, an array of emerging artists, some of whose work the curator is proud to be showing for the very first time. The exhibit is accompanied by a musical score created by film composer Claudia Sarne (Book of Eli).
“In Dec of 2010, I found myself frustrated by forces beyond my control, alone and having just spent most of the year dealing with childhood trauma. I woke up, alone, right before Christmas and a conversation I had with my dear pal, Richard Jeni (r.i.p) came to mind. I had ranted to him about a deal gone south, ‘they always say, ‘she's so pretty and funny’ but I say fuck pretty, gimmie money, get it now!’ Jeni laughed so hard and said, ‘Angie, FUCK PRETTY has to be the title of your autobiography.’
In a matter of minutes I found two great clips on youtube: The Network 'I'm mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore’ speech and a kickass clip of L7 at Cannes playing ‘Questioning my sanity’. I then found the quote: ‘in order for something to be beautiful it doesn't have to be pretty’ - Rei Kawakubo.

Naomi Harris, Sisters Getting out of Ocean / Haddon Hall Hotel/ Miami Beach, FL., 2000, Cibachrome print, Numbered 1/5, Signed on verso, Image 20 x 24 inches; Framed: 24 x 31 inches, Image courtesy of Naomi Harris and ROBERT BERMAN GALLERY
Having had two to three good ideas before in my life - I knew I had something. I called my old pal, Gallerist Robert Berman and said I wanted to curate an all female photographer show called FUCK PRETTY. Luckily, he said yes.
Since December, the show has really come into perspective, thanks to the amazing collaborative efforts of these brilliant photographers. I have come to realize that this show reflects my life - where I've been, where I am and where I want to go - in a way I couldn't articulate on my own: from abuse and desolation to anger, alienation, acknowledgment and unification. The photographs are all, in some way, a reflection of who I am. So in the end, Jeni was right. It is an autobiography of sorts.”

Sharon Johnson-Tennant, Malibu Road,  2008, Archival Inkjet Print, Numbered 2/25, Signed on verso, Image: 20 x 30 inches, Image courtesy of Sharon Johnson-Tennant and ROBERT BERMAN GALLERY
Artists featured include: Anonymous, Sarah Baley, Sally Davies ,Tierney Gearon, Sandy Gray, Naomi Harris, Hana Jakrlova, Sharon Johnson-Tennant, Siri Kaur, Gillian Laub, Kristina Loggia, Lauren Marsolier, Mary McCartney, Susan Meiselas, Catherine Opie, Alison Van Pelt, Cydney Puro, Marjorie Salvaterra, Jessica Shokrian, Deanna Templeton

Realm of Realism, Artists Reception, LA Mart, Thurs July 28th

Artists Reception July 28^th, 2011 6:30 to 8:30

LA Mart

1933 S. Broadway

Suite 409

Los Angeles, CA 90007

Realm of Realism

Realism in art has recently taken on many new forms as we view our world through the filters of technology, creating realities that often don’t exist in real life but do within the realm of art. Each of the 11 artists in this exhibition deal with the juxtaposition of ideas that conjure up an implied narrative that exists between what we know to be an illusion versus what we sense to be real. The exhibition has been installed by curator Shane Guffogg to delve further in to that idea as each work of art communicates through image, color and form, creating a visual map of the human psyche.

Curated by Shane Guffogg

Artists –

Stanley Dorfman

Ron Griffin

Michael Lindsay Hogg

Laura Hipke

Bari Kumar

Erin Payne

Michael Rosenfeld

Richard David Sigmund

Vonn Sumner

John Scane

Alison Van Pelt

Robert Sobieszek, LA County Museum of Art, Van Pelt’s Relationship to the Photographic Image

Alison Van Pelt’s relationship to photographic images is quite direct and unapologetic, as well. Carefully choosing images that interest her, she manually copies them, simply painting what she sees, and often manipulating and enlarging their scale. So far, there is little by way of innovation; earlier painters did this as a matter of procedure. In traditional representational painting, the image on the surface of the canvas was a mere analog to the image on the surface of the photographic emulsion, only the painting was done by hand, as if that gave it an edge of superiority. Modern artists had a choice; accept the surface of the image as it had been since Alberti – as a window onto the world – or challenge that surface for what it was: a fraud, a simulacrum, a fiction. Neither realist paintings nor photographs are “windows to the world” or “portals of perception.” They are simply surfaces which someone has played with, regardless of their chemicals or techniques.
Interrupt that surface, alter it, transform it, however, and something deeper may be gotten to Man Ray knew that in the 20s when he solarized his photographs, making us look more deeply upon their surfaces. Lucas Samaras knew it in the 70s when he physically disturbed his Polaroids’ emulsions before they dried. Van Pelt also knows this, and here, she breaks from slavish appropriation of the photographic image. While her faithful rendition of her source is still wet, its oils not yet set in their ways, she takes a dry brush to subtly blend, striate, blur, and dematerialize her forms until, as it were, they become mere Platonic shadows or suggestions or hints of themselves. Hidden within the surface of the paint and not atop the canvas, her subjects take on an essential quality of becoming, of yet to be finished, of possibilities rather than definitions, Caught in some viscous primal ooze, embryonic, dreamlike as in a dense fog, her images appear more within our vision than without, or as if they were projected from us outwardly upon the external retinal field from some deep recess of memory.

Alison Van Pelt, Blue Nude, Sears Peyton Gallery

Alison Van Pelt Nude, 2011 oil on paper 7 x 5 inch paper 8 1/4 x 6 1/2 inches framed

Alison Van Pelt FUCK PRETTY Curated by Angela Featherstone at Robert Berman Gallery

.

There are images from contemporary photographers Catherine Opie, Susan Meiselas, Tierney Gearon and equally important to the curator, an array of emerging artists, some of whose work the curator is proud to be showing for the very first time. The exhibit is accompanied by a musical score created by film composer Claudia Sarne (Book of Eli).
“In Dec of 2010, I found myself frustrated by forces beyond my control, alone and having just spent most of the year dealing with childhood trauma. I woke up, alone, right before Christmas and a conversation I had with my dear pal, Richard Jeni (r.i.p) came to mind. I had ranted to him about a deal gone south, ‘they always say, ‘she's so pretty and funny’ but I say fuck pretty, gimmie money, get it now!’ Jeni laughed so hard and said, ‘Angie, FUCK PRETTY has to be the title of your autobiography.’
In a matter of minutes I found two great clips on youtube: The Network 'I'm mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore’ speech and a kickass clip of L7 at Cannes playing ‘Questioning my sanity’. I then found the quote: ‘in order for something to be beautiful it doesn't have to be pretty’ - Rei Kawakubo.

Naomi Harris, Sisters Getting out of Ocean / Haddon Hall Hotel/ Miami Beach, FL., 2000, Cibachrome print, Numbered 1/5, Signed on verso, Image 20 x 24 inches; Framed: 24 x 31 inches, Image courtesy of Naomi Harris and ROBERT BERMAN GALLERY
Having had two to three good ideas before in my life - I knew I had something. I called my old pal, Gallerist Robert Berman and said I wanted to curate an all female photographer show called FUCK PRETTY. Luckily, he said yes.
Since December, the show has really come into perspective, thanks to the amazing collaborative efforts of these brilliant photographers. I have come to realize that this show reflects my life - where I've been, where I am and where I want to go - in a way I couldn't articulate on my own: from abuse and desolation to anger, alienation, acknowledgment and unification. The photographs are all, in some way, a reflection of who I am. So in the end, Jeni was right. It is an autobiography of sorts.”

Sharon Johnson-Tennant, Malibu Road,  2008, Archival Inkjet Print, Numbered 2/25, Signed on verso, Image: 20 x 30 inches, Image courtesy of Sharon Johnson-Tennant and ROBERT BERMAN GALLERY
Artists featured include: Anonymous, Sarah Baley, Sally Davies ,Tierney Gearon, Sandy Gray, Naomi Harris, Hana Jakrlova, Sharon Johnson-Tennant, Siri Kaur, Gillian Laub, Kristina Loggia, Lauren Marsolier, Mary McCartney, Susan Meiselas, Catherine Opie, Alison Van Pelt, Cydney Puro, Marjorie Salvaterra, Jessica Shokrian, Deanna Templeton

Alison Van Pelt FUCK PRETTY Curated by Angela Featherstone at Robert Berman Gallery

July 21, 2011 - August 20, 2011

Opening Reception
July 21, 2011 12:00 PM - 12:00 AM

Actress Angela Featherstone?s first curated show, Fuck Pretty, is a collection of photographs by world-renowned and unknown women artists, whose work moves and inspires her. There are images from contemporary photographers Catherine Opie, Susan Meiselas, Tierney Gearon and equally important to the curator, an array of emerging artists, some of whose work the curator is proud to be showing for the very first time.  The exhibit is accompanied by a musical score created by film composer Claudia Sarne (Book of Eli).

“In Dec of 2010, I found myself frustrated by forces beyond my control, alone and having just spent most of the year dealing with childhood trauma.  I woke up, alone, right before Christmas and a conversation I had with my dear pal, Richard Jeni (r.i.p) came to mind.  I had ranted to him about a deal gone south, ‘they always say, ‘she's so pretty and funny’ but I say fuck pretty, gimmie money, get it now!’  Jeni laughed so hard and said, ‘Angie, FUCK PRETTY has to be the title of your autobiography.’

In a matter of minutes I found two great clips on youtube: The Network 'I'm mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore’ speech and a kickass clip of L7 at Cannes playing ‘Questioning my sanity’.  I then found the quote: ‘in order for something to be beautiful it doesn't have to be pretty’ - Rei Kawakubo.

Having had two to three good ideas before in my life - I knew I had something.  I called my old pal, Gallerist Robert Berman and said I wanted to curate an all female photographer show called FUCK PRETTY.  Luckily, he said yes.

Since December, the show has really come into perspective, thanks to the amazing collaborative efforts of these brilliant photographers.  I have come to realize that this show reflects my life - where I've been, where I am and where I want to go - in a way I couldn't articulate on my own: from abuse and desolation to anger, alienation, acknowledgment and unification.  The photographs are all, in some way, a reflection of who I am.  So in the end, Jeni was right.  It is an autobiography of sorts.”
- Angela Featherstone

FUCK PRETTY Artists:
Anonymous
Sally Davies
Tierney Gearon
Sandy Gray
Naomi Harris
Hana Jakrlova
Siri Kaur
Kristina Loggia
Lauren Marsolier
Mary McCartney
Susan Meiselas
Catherine Opie
Alison Van Pelt
Cydney Puro
Marjorie Salvaterra
Jessica Shokrian
Deanna Templeton
Sharon Johnson­Tennant


EXHIBITION:
July 21, 2011 – August 20, 2011

RECEPTION:                        
Thursday July 21, 2011 6:00pm – 9:00pm

LOCATION:                          
Bergamot Station Arts Center
2525 Michigan Ave. / C2 Gallery
Santa Monica, CA 90404

GALLERY HOURS:                  
11 – 6, Tuesday - Saturday

Fight: Alison Van Pelt by Robert A. Sobieszek, senior curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Fight: Alison Van Pelt
by Robert A. Sobieszek, senior curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art
2000
To plunge beneath in order to arrive at a surface, to ground one’s vision on the palpable where there is none, and to assault the apparent because too much is still hidden – these thoughts may be useful in approaching the paintings of Alison Van Pelt. She was trained in modern painting at Art Center in Pasadena and Otis Parsons in Los Angeles, and then was classically retrained at the Florence Academy of Art. Much of the art taught at both Southern California schools centered around conceptualism, appropriation, word/text synergy, and postmodern theory. Florence presented her with something more ancient: beautiful form, the love of looking, and techniques of painting, of laying succulent colors in oil onto a canvas, of forming images that have still to be plumbed for some fugitive essence.
Contemporary painting, especially representational and figural painting, is fraught with a love/hate relationship with the photographic image. When patently obvious the symbiosis is taken for granted, when visually redacted as a critique of our culture of images the praxis is applauded, and even when the source is obscured its presence can be felt. The photos behind Gerhard Richter’s figures and still lives are exquisitely and magically transformed into paint. The photos that act as models for Chuck Close’s portraits are critical to the scaffolding of his painted enlargements. Richard Phillips takes the faces of young modes in advertisements and monumentalizes them. The photographic covers of popular magazines of the 60s and 70s are rather melancholically vested in the teenage reminiscences of Elizabeth Peyton’s paintings.
Alison Van Pelt’s relationship to photographic images is quite direct and unapologetic, as well. Carefully choosing images that interest her, she manually copies them, simply painting what she sees, and often manipulating and enlarging their scale. So far, there is little by way of innovation; earlier painters did this as a matter of procedure. In traditional representational painting, the image on the surface of the canvas was a mere analog to the image on the surface of the photographic emulsion, only the painting was done by hand, as if that gave it an edge of superiority. Modern artists had a choice; accept the surface of the image as it had been since Alberti – as a window onto the world – or challenge that surface for what it was: a fraud, a simulacrum, a fiction. Neither realist paintings nor photographs are “windows to the world” or “portals of perception.” They are simply surfaces which someone has played with, regardless of their chemicals or techniques.
Interrupt that surface, alter it, transform it, however, and something deeper may be gotten to Man Ray knew that in the 20s when he solarized his photographs, making us look more deeply upon their surfaces. Lucas Samaras knew it in the 70s when he physically disturbed his Polaroids’ emulsions before they dried. Van Pelt also knows this, and here, she breaks from slavish appropriation of the photographic image. While her faithful rendition of her source is still wet, its oils not yet set in their ways, she takes a dry brush to subtly blend, striate, blur, and dematerialize her forms until, as it were, they become mere Platonic shadows or suggestions or hints of themselves. Hidden within the surface of the paint and not atop the canvas, her subjects take on an essential quality of becoming, of yet to be finished, of possibilities rather than definitions, Caught in some viscous primal ooze, embryonic, dreamlike as in a dense fog, her images appear more within our vision than without, or as if they were projected from us outwardly upon the external retinal field from some deep recess of memory.
Van Pelt’s latest series, Fight, grows out of her last two series which also began with the same letter: Flight and Figures. Not the dynamics of startled birds imaged in mid-flight, nor the elegiac voluptuousness of barely emergent female torsos, Fight goes right to the matter of male aggression at one of its extremes, the heavyweight boxing match. Selected stills from videotaped classic fights are the primary source for the images: Sugar Ray Robinson vs. Randy Turpin, 1951; Cassius Clay vs. Sonny Lisson, 1964; Muhammad Ali vs. George Foreman, 1975; etc. The artist has discovered an extreme range of emotions in these stills, from animal violence to physical grace, from the exuberance of the victor to the despondency of the vanquished, from violence to tenderness. She also finds the beautifully dramatic and harsh overhead lighting of these old fights utterly irresistible.
Aside from portraits of celebrities or friends, this series is Van Pelt’s first foray into representing the male body, its masculine forms, its muscular physique, its martial singularity. In her series on the female form, her Venus-like Figures were pictured as strictly iconic, reverential, totemic, and purely in offering; here, in Fight, the male figures are in diametric opposition to both the earlier series and to themselves: they are portrayed as narrative, transactional, removed, and ultimately in action. Yet, while her female figures rose to the surface towards us in remote suspension, her male boxers remain just as remote, out there in some other depth, some other conflict. Van Pelt’s subjects are basic: primal mothers in iconic verticality and feral warriors in narrative horizontality.
Across this horizon, the fighters feign, jab, block, slug, recoil, clinch, and fall – fundamental steps in a complex metaphor of life, perhaps. Joyce Carol Oates may have called boxing the “drama of life in the flesh” and “America’s tragic theater,” yet many of the boxing images Van Pelt chooses to render anew show us the visual poetry of this sport, its masculine choreography, its athletic balance, its atavistic prowess. It really does matter which of the heavyweight champions or contenders was captured on film or videotape; the simple primitive nature of this complicitous and immemorial dance performed by males is sufficient for Van Pelt. The poetic essence of this dance, however, is not to be found in any specificity or particular details, but beyond them; not in the factualness of historical films, but in the thickness of the image’s transparency; not on the surface of the painting, but beneath it; not in pigments but in dreams. And dreams are never the surface of things.