Modernism, high modernism and postmodernism

“Modernism” and “postmodernism” are slippery terms, especially when

it comes to art. They were protean even at their starts (which was

pretty concurrent, right around end of the first World War), and they

still have sweeping applications.

You’ll hear the both terms applied to the same music,

architecture, and even furniture. They’re pretty interchangeable to

most people. We recognize an artist like Picasso as a “Modernist,”

but is Jackson Pollock (a contemporary) a post-Modern? (Picasso

outlived Pollock by 17 years.) And we still use both terms to

describe artists, nearly a hundred years after their start.

It becomes ridiculous, which, in and of itself, can be a

characteristic of postmodernism. I thought of this as I stood in

front of a collage by Paul Darrow in Peter Blake Gallery (326 N.

Coast Highway). The title is “Artist” (19 1/2x16 3/4), and it’s an

elaborate joke that takes in both the spectator and the artist

himself.

Collage is a twentieth-century invention. Both the surrealists and

the modernists used it, working objects and bits of paper into

paintings. What makes this postmodern is its irony, its wry glance at

art itself.

Darrow’s “Artist” uses an old book, torn and in the last stages of

disintegration. The book’s brown cloth cover forms the ground, and

Darrow builds up layers of irony by placing a faded page of text,

nearly transparent with age, right in front of the viewer’s eye. The

word “artist” is clearly visible, printed on the page. A broken piece

of plastic seems to have been reverse-painted, and is framed in white

cardboard so that it almost looks like a Polaroid (a very temporary

photograph). Lumps of glue-like material form the last layer. A

broken wooden frame surrounds it all, a frame within the frame of the

collage.

The thing about collage that makes it postmodern is that it

rejects values that made art an object of worship, a symbol of

immortality. All collage is temporary. Its materials are so fragile,

such works will only exist for a limited amount of time. It also uses

this irony against itself. In Darrow’s “Artist,” not only is this

work temporary, but so is art and the artist. The book becomes a

multi-layered metaphor and a literal statement at the same time,

making its own disintegration its subject.

But then, what is modernism? It, too, reacted against the

19th-century worship of art’s immortality. Really, in the end, you

can say that modernism was unable to totally shake off the love of

passionate expression that runs through all of art’s history. It

retains its connection to the past.

Look, for instance, at the large canvases of James Leonard,

currently covering the walls of Marion Meyer Contemporary Art (354 N.

Coast Highway). You can see there the legacy of what was called “High

Modernism”--the color fields of Mark Rothko and the “action

paintings” of Jackson Pollock. Leonard nods to his predecessors in

abstract expressionism, but has clearly developed his work into a

mature style full of energy and passion. There is lightheartedness

here, but this work is no joke. Its earnestness makes it “modern.”

Leonard works in acrylic. This gives the canvases a flatness that

recognizes and transcends the limitations of painting (that your

surface is, basically, two dimensional and framed in space) by

embracing them. You should also know that acrylics require a certain

amount of speed. They dry quickly, so if you’re going to blend on the

canvas you have to work fast.

Start by looking at “Color Moves” (68x88). Its large size should

tell you that this canvas will require your time. It’s also crawling

with color: red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange, all with high

saturation. They’re not exactly stock colors--Leonard has mixed

paints. But he mostly relies on pulling layers of color through each

other. He uses white like a master, allowing it to pick up the hue of

the colors around it but still retain its “whiteness.”

This operation is on a huge scale in “Color Moves” (a lot of

movement was involved in its creation, no doubt). There’s so much

paint layered on the canvas, if you look closely, you can see where

it has warped under the weight.

To see how modernism’s energy and confidence play out in

expressionism, look at “Collection of Stars” (48x68) and “Flying in

Red” (36x60). These paintings involve underpaint that flows across

the canvas in bands, but they are only visible in the places where

Leonard has cut into the top layers of paint with a palette knife.

This top layer is semi-translucent white in “Collection of Stars” and

vivid crimson in “Flying in Red.”

Paul Darrow’s collages are on view though April 28 at Peter Blake

Gallery. James Leonard’s show is at Marion Meyer Contemporary Art

through May 15.