Viewing page 46 of 59

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

FEBRUARY 29 TO MARCH 25
FRANK LOBDELL
(FIRST ONE MAN SHOW IN NEW YORK SINCE 1963)
THE DANCE SERIES 1970-71
FROM THE FIFTIES
SELECTED FROM THE AVANT-GARDE WORKS ON PAPER
MARTHA JACKSON
32 EAST 69TH STREET NEW YORK 10021 YUKON 8-1800
john duff sculpture-opening march II
john bernard myers gallery
50 west 57, new york, n.y. 10019
[[image]] d'ANTY GALERIE CARDO-MATIGNON
32 Avenue Matignon - 225,03.08
PARIS 8
ROBERT REID
PAINTINGS & DRAWINGS THRU Mar. 11
RUTH ECKSTEIN
PAINTINGS & PRINTS
Mar. 14 - Apr. 1
[[stamp]]
ALONZE GALLERY
26 EAST 63RD STREET, NYC
bolotowsky
borgenicht 1018 madison avenue n.y. 10021

negative/positive, black/white. One never stops demanding the impossible. It's touching and diabolic."
It is the same mechanics of love and the same difficult relation between two worlds that Barbara Chase-Riboud expresses in her sculpture now: silk is the female element, bronze, the male.
The idea to associate silk or wool with bronze in her sculptures first came as a way to camouflage the connection between the sculpture and the floor; the legs of her personages had a thinness which bothered her; her bases, on the contrary, took on too much density in proportion to the sculpture. "I discussed the idea with a weaver friend, Sheila Hicks, who helped me find the right materials and perfect the techniques of wrapping and cording." Very quickly she saw in this process the renewal of a primitive tradition: that of the African or Oceanic dancing masks where the wearer of the mask is hidden under a skirt of raffia, feathers, etc.
Chase-Riboud's drawings are windows on the same imaginary world. The most elegant are those in charcoal pencil with black pastel backgrounds in which objects—scrupulously drawn accumulations of stones, steps, crumbling walls, sometimes natural and sometimes constructed forms lying in ruins—seem to float in a timeless an weightless night. From these cairns sneak or insinuate threads or creepers which are also a species of umbilical cords. As in some or her sculpture, they are the link between the floor and the strange archeological aeroliths of her singular imagination.

Grey Eminence continued from page 27
of a Marden canvas. Some of his colors can't even be described, let alone paraphrased, for instance those of the two horizontal panels of Hydra I in his recent show, two extremely close yet vigorously opposed "greys"—yet to call them greys is like calling Remembrance of Things Past a novel. Each seems to be the product of every color on Marden's palette except one; and although these colors have left no visible traces of themselves, they nevertheless burn insidiously in the non-color that has replaced them. To create a work of art that the critic cannot even begin to talk about ought to be the artist's chief concern; Marden has achieved it. 
It was not quite correct to say as I did above that Marden works from some sort of attitude to other reductive art: actually he has been painting monochrome pictures since he was a student at Yale Art School in the early 1960s, and with reference to no one. Still, the Minimalist riddle existed long before it was actually formulated—negotiation is always just around the corner—and Marden's reply is no less appropriate for having preceded this formulation in time. From the very first it was apparent that his art would be both austere, for its limitation, and sensual, for its allusiveness. He still has two paintings from his Yale days: one is divided into four squares: black, mahogany and two greys, with a churning Abstract-Expressionist pulsion under the relatively calm surfaces. The other is divided vertically into two panels, one grey, one black. Thought they are definitely student works lacking the finesses of light and texture that concern him today, they establish once and for all the narrow limits of his painting, which will be transcended only inwardly while outwardly remaining much the same.
Brice Marden was born in Bronxville, N.Y. in 1938. From 1957 to 1961 he attended Boston University where he studied drawing and painting with Reed Kay, a teacher whose strict academic disciplines helped him enormously, he feels. The first year the students weren't allowed to paint only to draw from the model. Later, when they took up painting, abstraction was forbidden. "If you did an abstract painting at home and brought it into class, your grades were likely to go down," Marden recalls. But he is happy to have had this early training; it gave him an added incentive toward an abstraction based, however secretively, in nature. His color is referential and not arbitrary; it must fit and hole the shape of the

64 ARTnews