Critique DECEMBER 2016 : ISSUE 67
Art
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erplexingly, “Agnes Martin’s paintings cannot be fully experienced except by viewing them in person. It’s only when you’re in a room with them that their spiritlifting, eye-fooling qualities can be truly felt and seen… [It] follows Martin’s progress as – within the strictures of a square format, a pencilled grid and limited colour – she perfected her craft.” So says Time Out New York of Martin’s 60-year retrospective, at the Guggenheim Museum in New York until 11 January. Art Review’s Holland Cotter reveals, “To be honest, I wonder what a lot of people see in abstract painting. I love it, the idea of it and the experience of it, because it’s been in my life for decades. But… how do you approach an art empty of figures and evident narratives… What do you do to make it your own? ‘You go there and sit and look.’ That was the terse advice that… Martin gave to anyone coming to her paintings, more than 100 of which are now floating up the ramps of the Guggenheim Museum rotunda in the most out-of-this-worldbeautiful retrospective I’ve seen in this space in years. Her art is as
abstract as abstract gets, yet her presence in it is palpable. So is her story, once you know how to read it.” In his comprehensive review for The New Yorker, Peter Schjeldahl writes, “Martin died in 2004, at the age of 92, and [this] new retrospective affirms that the greatness of her work has only amplified in the years since… No setting would seem less congenial to the strict angles of Martin’s paintings than the curves of Frank Lloyd Wright’s creamy seashell… The show’s challenges to contemplation and stamina turn out to intensify a deep, and deepening, sense of the artist’s singular power.” Antipodean art lovers can get their aesthetic fix via John Olsen: The You Beaut Country, at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne until 12 February. Says ABC News’ Stephanie Ferrier, “There is a twinkle in John Olsen’s eye when the artist calls a major retrospective of his life’s work ‘the finest dinner party’ he has ever been to. The octogenarian shows no signs of slowing down or losing the spirit and energy that flows through his iconic works depicting the Australian landscape… Olsen
Salute To Cerberus by John Olsen, 1965 28
is arguably Australia’s greatest living artist, known for his evocative landscapes that have captured the country’s unique terrain and spirit.” Sasha Grishin of The Sydney Morning Herald expands, “The layout of the exhibition follows Olsen as he travels around Australia exploring different landscapes that change as the personal circumstances of his life alter. In each place… he establishes an emotional bond and conveys as much information about the appearance of the place as about its spirit and presence… I suspect there will be future major Olsen exhibitions, but this one, for our generation, will be the definitive Olsen show.” Let’s ruffle some feathers. Of South Africa: The Art Of A Nation, Matthew Collings says in the Evening Standard, “From the prehistoric era to the Boer wars to Mandela’s struggle against Apartheid, this show encapsulates the powerful narrative of South Africa’s history… The fascination of the show is not with individual artistic achievement so much as with the curators showing you, in a series of clever play-offs between past and present, how artists in different eras of this country’s existence (and of course for a long time it wasn’t a country) have expressed their sense of reality, inevitably from conflicting points of view.” Along comes Eddy Frankel at Time Out London: “Any show at a major British institution that looks beyond Europe is a good, important and necessary thing. But [this] is frustratingly and infuriatingly wide of the mark. The idea is to present a survey of the artistic production of the whole country, from 3 million years ago to the present day… Too ridiculously and stupidly broad? You’re right, it is… How can you sum up the art of a whole country in one show? This just scratches the surface, and does it messily. It’s just too proscriptive, too problematic and paints too simplified a picture. The British Museum set itself an impossible task – and failed.” It shows until 26 February.