Sunday, January 29, 2012


January 14 - February 25, 2012 at Ruth Bachofner Gallery, Santa Monica
by Andy Brumer

If painter Robert Kingston were a poet, readers might associate his work less with the cerebral machinations of a T.S. Eliot, or the personal confessions of a Robert Lowell. One might, however, align him with the soulfully sensitive “Projective Verse” eruptions of Charles Olson, Robert Creeley and Robert Duncan. That group established the poetry component and cornerstone at the once vital but now defunct avant-garde, North Carolina-based art school called Black Mountain College. They felt that their poetic lines unfolded into the metaphorical ‘open field’ of the blank page and were driven into creation via the cadence and duration of breathing itself. These poets, like their Abstract Expressionist forebears, stood committed to producing a process-oriented art from the center of their bodies. The late Cy Twombly might stand as a painter-practitioner of this, if not a similar aesthetic. Not surprisingly, people often position Kingston’s work alongside Twombly’s.




In these new, large-scale paintings Kingston treads the same painterly path of lyrical abstraction that has resulted in a series of highly regarded exhibitions stretching back over the last twenty-five years. Kingston has stated that for him, each painting begins with “... making a random mark” on a gessoed canvas, an act or projection which instantly engages him in an intense yet playful conversation with both his space and materials (mostly acrylic paint, but sometimes including white house paint and graphite pencil on canvas). His process involves smearing, scribbling, layering, and erasing. Through it, the artist builds textured surfaces that feel like visceral and woven atmospheres, through which painted fragments of various densities weave and wander like birds flying through clouds or boats bobbing among waves.




Questions of finished or unfinished become mute if not meaningless when considering a Kingston painting, in part because the artist’s bountiful fountain of images command such intense visual consideration in and of themselves that while looking at one portion of a canvas, the rest of the painting might collapse into a kind of humming blur. Furthermore, though painterly in the modernist manner of Matisse and Diebenkorn, Kingston’s canvases also direct a trompe d’oeil nod to a Schwitters or a Rauschenberg-type assemblage.  Therefore a patch of smeared black paint in one of these Kingston paintings alludes to a piece of pasted newsprint, while a swatch of cadmium blue becomes a “framed” and metaphorical section of the ocean in another.






Of course, each painting’s “sections” never fail to resolve themselves into balanced and integrated wholes. Yet feeling in Kingston’s work doesn’t straddle archetypes or express opposite ideas simultaneously. Rather the emotions of each canvas unfold sequentially and coexist comfortably next to one another. Therefore some whimsically doodled lines of graphite dance with a tangent patch of rugged paint in one painting, while a veiled dreamscape visible through layers of light wash along with a vivid and brightly painted suggestion of a stout forest dot the virtual geography of another.

The attentive and receptive viewer will find here same kind of masterly execution, ripe imagination and fearless optimism that Kingston has exhibited throughout what has steadily evolved into a distinguished body of work.




Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Twombly on Twombly


"It's instinctive in a certain kind of painting, not as if you were painting an object or special things, but it's like coming through the nervous system. It's like a nervous system. It's not described, it's happening. The feeling is going on with the task. The line is the feeling, from a soft thing, a dreamy thing, to something hard, something arid, something lonely, something ending, something beginning. It's like I'm experiencing something frightening, I'm experiencing the thing and I have to be at that state because I'm also going." - Cy Twombly




  
      Cy and I in New York at the MOMA.

Three new paintings in the studio



                    

Sunday, May 15, 2011

New Studio

I've rented the former Alfie's Appliance on the corner of Lake Avenue and Altadena Drive in Altadena, California as my new studio/project space.













Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A collage and a poem



Poem by  Maw Shein Win -  collaboration (2010)

things that begin 


i.
tinctures for sparrow. a capsized pumpkin. shadow blots. memento mori. wrestle the chimera.
ladder to sky. palliative feathers and dreaming crickets. elephant key. 
contained custards. braided turnips and scalloped fur coats. tempests and gladiators.
painted things.


ii.
riotous hips and ribcage. a being-filled with liquid.  stop, stop now. please. continue. over is it yet. 
the doctor’s eyelashes are butterflies.  she was a little man. he was a little woman. 
sleeping children with locks and tresses. lost in the desert. found in the forest.
pointed things.


iii. 
crushed tundra and crossed eyes. trinkets and sceptres and waterfalls in brazil. 
he believes in magic, and so do i.  nine times nine equals twine. dragon fruit scooped into bowls. 
owls and blue spaces in sparkling lots. matters can complicate matters. a slithering towards. 
planted things.