Speaking about her process, Dole-Recio comments: "I start off with remnants. The remnants are organized according to material and scale and shape. There is vellum, cardboard, and paper cut from other pieces. I have boxes of triangles; I have boxes of stencils of the triangles – so there are the opposites. They are scraps with potential. They were cut out of one thing, but saved with the intention to be recycled. I will usually imagine a piece made out of certain elements. The current body of work is about responding to the color and marks that have accumulated on the brown paper protecting my studio floor – the five years’ worth of drips and smudges that end up there. I work on the floor and make stencils, so they are not completely incidental marks — it is like a net that I have cast. I am taking that paper up from the floor and cutting it into shapes. Then I combine it with parts from other paintings. Those two things make something new."
Tyson writes: "although not a household name, [Dawson] increasingly recognized as the first American artist to work in a completely abstract mode. What’s especially significant about him, though, is that he made his breakthrough to non-objective imagery prior to any exposure to modernist art. Instead, his innovation stemmed from his training and employment as a structural engineer."
Whitman writes: "Roth’s paintings are beautifully exuberant, filled with color and movement and a sense of space that pulls you in with force... Mindful of tradition, she is also an innovator. Her work incorporates new acrylic paints and mediums, irregularly shaped canvases, the collaging of folded canvas onto the canvas, and the more occasional addition of unusual materials such as Plexiglas sheets and shards of glass and ceramic. Also distinctive is her extensive use of often-transparent acrylic 'skins,' made by lifting dried paint off of polyethylene sheets and collaging them. Large skins—mottled, translucent—sometimes cover large areas of the surface while clear, rectangular “box top” skins are placed like bandages, bearing further clottings of paint. The style is as much baroque as expressionist—all twisting and bulging, barely self-contained."
Kelly Grovier reviews Agnes Martin at Tate Modern, on view through October 11, 2015.
Grovier writes: "Ghosting among these diaphanous canvases, room by room, one’s eyes are slowly heightened to the uplifting paradox that undergirds Martin’s artistic conviction: apprehension of life’s beauty and its intensities does not require a retinal mimicry of physical forms in the here-and-now, but a luminous distillation of invisible harmonies and mysterious proportions. Though they may have required for their exacting execution the fragility of a mind as brittle and punctilious as Martin’s, the power of her paintings is that of a sublime symphony: their mute melodies as meticulously wrought as they are effortlessly imbibed by the ear of the eye."
Crehan writes: "Taking the artist’s 1947 visit to the United States as its starting point, the show reflects both Miró’s irrepressible energy and the return of his own stylistic innovations in the work of his American counterparts, inspiring his own work anew. Miró was ecstatic over the loose freedom of the abstract expressionists and their rugged approach to the painterly gesture, and would take that energy into his own canvases, opening new creative pathways in his already well established techniques."
Rob Sharp reviews a new, permanent installation of works by Sean Scully at the monastery of Santa Cecília, Montserrat, Spain
Sharp observes that "22 of [Scully's] artworks, including six abstract canvases with his signature bands and blocks of color, energize a space that is more than 1,000 years old... As well as advising the restoration team on the monastery’s interior, Mr. Scully has donated paintings on canvas, aluminum and copper; replaced windows with stained glass; designed candlesticks; and painted frescoes on the walls."
Mattera notes that: "Taking advantage of the newly available acrylic paints at that time, [the Washington Color artists] created geometric compositions, often applying the pigmented polymer directly into unprimed canvas. Their coolly measured work was light years away from abstract expressionist angst."
John Yau reviews works by Stanley Whitney at Karma Gallery, New York, on view through July 26, 2015.
Yau writes: "Drawing and mark making are what all of the artist’s works, whatever their size, share... Working within the self-imposed restraint of a loosely defined structure, Whitney draws different colored lines within a rounded abstract shape. In the two earliest paintings in the exhibition — 'Radical Openness' (1992) and 'My Whatever Means Necessary' (1992) — Whitney insets a series of rounded shapes on shelf-like bands against a uniformly colored ground. Within each shape he drew an energetic line in paint, a flurry, that wants to burst beyond the shape’s boundaries, but doesn’t. Sometimes he draws another line over the first. He places one color on top of, as well as beside another. There is a dissonance within the structure, but there is also air and space. The paintings are gritty, urban and brisk."
Thorpe writes: "The works in the final room are a combination of styles accumulated throughout the exhibition; drawing, collage and painting on paper. We see the emergence of Twombly’s celebrated style seen in larger-scale works that explode with colour and natural shapes... Colour is one of the major accelerations of this room... From drawings with crayon and house-paint, to experimentation with symbols and numbers, to collage, to paint dripping and, finally, to the accumulation of techniques, the exhibition is a journey through Twombly’s experimental processes, which reaches a climax in style and composition parallel to his larger-scale practice."
Edited by artist Brett Baker, Painters' Table highlights writing from the painting blogosphere as it is published and serves as a platform for exploring blogs that focus primarily on the subject of painting.