June 15, 2000
Contriving to Save Appearances
by Peter Berenger
"Passages," a show of Larry Bell's "fraction" series, opens at his studio annex, 233 Ranchitos Road, on June 16 (reception 5-7 p.m.) and runs until July 13, although a selection of the work will be on view at the annex indefinitely thereafter. The fractions get their name from the fact that they are collages constructed from cutup pieces of rejects from a previous Bell series, the mirage works. The mirage works are themselves collages of a sort, since they are made by fusing paper materials, mylar strips, and laminate film to a canvas by heating the materials in a laminating press to the point of liquefaction.
Some of the mirage works he produced were considered successful by Bell, others not. Four years ago Bell starting ripping up the rejects for disposal. In the process, he discovered that some of the "shards" were "aesthetically interesting," especially when placed in groups. He began playing around with them, seeing what effects he could achieve through various arrangements.
His next step was to test what the shards would look like joined to a sheet of paper. He placed laminate film on the backside of a few shards, artfully laid them on a piece of paper, and "cooked" them in the same press he had used to make the mirage works. The result showed enough promise, he felt, to warrant further exploration.
The first collages made in the way just described were larger than the collages on display in the current show. Although he found individual details to be interesting, Bell was dissatisfied with the overall works themselves. He began reducing the dimensions of the paper and the shards until eventualiv he reached a size where he was happy with the effects. The regulation sheet size for fractions, so to speak, is ten inches square. The image area in each fraction falls roughly in the center of the sheet and is surrounded by a two- to three-inch margin of white that, like a matte, sets the image off.
Once Bell had produced a stack of 10"by- 10" fractions, he decided he should keep track of the works he was creating by dating and numbering them. At some point, he also decided that he would aim for a total production of 10,000 (yes, that's a one followed by four zeroes). In other words, he began to see the production of the fractions as a project with an endpoint. The number of curated fractions (i.e., those dated and numbered) is now around 8,500, so the provisional end is in sight.
In the main room of the annex, there are hundreds of fractions on display. They are placed one right next to the other in two rows that circle the room at eye level, with vertical columns of fractions at set intervals. Because the images are small, the fractions have only weak impact when seen from a distance, even when arranged in a geometric pattern. The experience of standing in the center of the room is quite odd. The room is obviously not empty, yet it also doesn't feel as if it is filled with art. For one thing, the works are unframed and the white margins blend into the white walls.
The fractions are best viewed from a few feet away. At that distance the eye is able to pick out the details while at the same time perceiving each image as a whole. The details are what give the fractions their vitality.. The images, in general, are quite busy, filled with dots, dabs, lines, squiggles, smears, and washes of pigment.
Bell talks about the experience of being drawn into the images beyond the page plane, and in fact many of the fractions do seem to have a kind of quasi-depth, even though they are nonrepresentational. For one thing, many of the shards are square, and so square shapes abound, in some cases suggesting a window onto some view or, in a few rare instances, an infinity of mirrored reflections. In addition, the liquefaction of the shards that occurs during the pressing can create lines of flow that appear to be directed into the painting or out toward the viewer.
Even though very different from his other work. in part because of their small size, the fractions fit with what seems to be Bell's career-long interest in unusual perceptual effects. Odd color juxtapositions, stark tonal contrasts, and ambiguous structural forms (interpretable one way and another) combine to pull the viewer's attention in. Bell talks about the fractions as exhibiting a language of feeling, but he is not referring to the standard emotions most people have in mind when they talk about feeling - joy, for example, or desire or anguish. And in fact the fractions, like much of his other work, are emotionally unexpressive. By that I mean that one is not tempted to use adjectives like joyful or brooding or happy or sorrowful or even powerful when describing individual pieces.
In fact, what Bell calls feeling, if I understand him correctly, I would be inclined to call the experience of attentive or probing curiosity. The viewer's interest is drawn to the image area 'Within a typical fraction because of the plethora of colors, shapes, and textures, because of the formal qualities, because of the suggestion of depth, the suggestion of representation (is that a mountain? the surface of water?), questions about the artist's intent, and so on. If feeling is involved, it is the "feeling" (or experience) of being an alert, conscious perceiver presented with an out-of-the-ordinary object that, by convention, calls for some interpretation. In other words, the appeal of the fractions is that they are intriguing - that they are rich in pictorial qualities and rich in allusiveness and thus easily allow the viewer, or at least the primed viewer, to have the experience of what I have called attentive curiosity to in intense de-ree.
The installation of the show - the placement of the works in two rows and narrowly spaced apart - is based on the idea that fractions in close proximity affect how they are perceived. In a sense, the fractions becorne elements in a larger piece of art, which is the installation itself. For Bell, putting pieces of art in a space to be viewed is an extension of the work that goes on in the studio.
The fractions have evolved over time - the most recent incorporate watercolor - and Bell takes advantage of their evolution in the arrangement of the works. As noted, the two rows of fractions circling the room are interrupted by vertical columns. Between any two columns, the fractions are ordered from earliest to latest, and these are considered to form a passage (hence the title of the show). In the top row, for example, a fraction from the first thousand is placed to the extreme right. To its immediate left is a fraction that was produced roughly one thousand fractions later, to that fraction's left is one produced a thousand fractions later still, and so on. In the bottom row, the order is reversed, so the earliest fraction is at the extreme left.
According to Bell, in moving from one end of a passage to the other he experiences what he calls a pulse - some "message" that comes from the ordering. That's a kind of message, if message there be, that the average gallery goer is unlikely to be attuned to, for most of us are used to psychologically bracketing the individual art piece we are looking at.
This is not to suggest that viewers shouldn't treat the passages as units and test their own experience of viewing the show as it was intended to be viewed. Furthermore, whatever the result, Larry Bell would be happy to hear about it. According to him, one of his reasons for putting up this show is to get feedback from the public. He wants to find out people's reactions to a project that's been going on now for four years. He also admits to wanting to establish a local collector base and accordingly has priced the works to be affordable ($1,000 a fraction).
Bell, as he says himself, loves to talk about his work, and he does it well. He is friendly and plain spoken, and he should be taken at his word when he says he will be around and available for discussion during most of the official run. The opportunity to view a new series of works by a major American artist and to talk freely with him about his intentions and your reactions is one that should not be dismissed easily. Take my advice: go see the show, allow yourself to have an honest response, and tell the artist what you think. Then listen to what he has to say. There simply isn't a better way of coming to an appreciation of this body of artistic work.
"Passages," a show of Larry Bell's "fraction" series, opens at his studio annex, 233 Ranchitos Road, on June 16 (reception 5-7 p.m.) and runs until July 13, although a selection of the work will be on view at the annex indefinitely thereafter. The fractions get their name from the fact that they are collages constructed from cutup pieces of rejects from a previous Bell series, the mirage works. The mirage works are themselves collages of a sort, since they are made by fusing paper materials, mylar strips, and laminate film to a canvas by heating the materials in a laminating press to the point of liquefaction.
His next step was to test what the shards would look like joined to a sheet of paper. He placed laminate film on the backside of a few shards, artfully laid them on a piece of paper, and "cooked" them in the same press he had used to make the mirage works. The result showed enough promise, he felt, to warrant further exploration.
The first collages made in the way just described were larger than the collages on display in the current show. Although he found individual details to be interesting, Bell was dissatisfied with the overall works themselves. He began reducing the dimensions of the paper and the shards until eventualiv he reached a size where he was happy with the effects. The regulation sheet size for fractions, so to speak, is ten inches square. The image area in each fraction falls roughly in the center of the sheet and is surrounded by a two- to three-inch margin of white that, like a matte, sets the image off.
In the main room of the annex, there are hundreds of fractions on display. They are placed one right next to the other in two rows that circle the room at eye level, with vertical columns of fractions at set intervals. Because the images are small, the fractions have only weak impact when seen from a distance, even when arranged in a geometric pattern. The experience of standing in the center of the room is quite odd. The room is obviously not empty, yet it also doesn't feel as if it is filled with art. For one thing, the works are unframed and the white margins blend into the white walls.
The fractions are best viewed from a few feet away. At that distance the eye is able to pick out the details while at the same time perceiving each image as a whole. The details are what give the fractions their vitality.. The images, in general, are quite busy, filled with dots, dabs, lines, squiggles, smears, and washes of pigment.
Bell talks about the experience of being drawn into the images beyond the page plane, and in fact many of the fractions do seem to have a kind of quasi-depth, even though they are nonrepresentational. For one thing, many of the shards are square, and so square shapes abound, in some cases suggesting a window onto some view or, in a few rare instances, an infinity of mirrored reflections. In addition, the liquefaction of the shards that occurs during the pressing can create lines of flow that appear to be directed into the painting or out toward the viewer.
In fact, what Bell calls feeling, if I understand him correctly, I would be inclined to call the experience of attentive or probing curiosity. The viewer's interest is drawn to the image area 'Within a typical fraction because of the plethora of colors, shapes, and textures, because of the formal qualities, because of the suggestion of depth, the suggestion of representation (is that a mountain? the surface of water?), questions about the artist's intent, and so on. If feeling is involved, it is the "feeling" (or experience) of being an alert, conscious perceiver presented with an out-of-the-ordinary object that, by convention, calls for some interpretation. In other words, the appeal of the fractions is that they are intriguing - that they are rich in pictorial qualities and rich in allusiveness and thus easily allow the viewer, or at least the primed viewer, to have the experience of what I have called attentive curiosity to in intense de-ree.
The installation of the show - the placement of the works in two rows and narrowly spaced apart - is based on the idea that fractions in close proximity affect how they are perceived. In a sense, the fractions becorne elements in a larger piece of art, which is the installation itself. For Bell, putting pieces of art in a space to be viewed is an extension of the work that goes on in the studio.
The fractions have evolved over time - the most recent incorporate watercolor - and Bell takes advantage of their evolution in the arrangement of the works. As noted, the two rows of fractions circling the room are interrupted by vertical columns. Between any two columns, the fractions are ordered from earliest to latest, and these are considered to form a passage (hence the title of the show). In the top row, for example, a fraction from the first thousand is placed to the extreme right. To its immediate left is a fraction that was produced roughly one thousand fractions later, to that fraction's left is one produced a thousand fractions later still, and so on. In the bottom row, the order is reversed, so the earliest fraction is at the extreme left.
This is not to suggest that viewers shouldn't treat the passages as units and test their own experience of viewing the show as it was intended to be viewed. Furthermore, whatever the result, Larry Bell would be happy to hear about it. According to him, one of his reasons for putting up this show is to get feedback from the public. He wants to find out people's reactions to a project that's been going on now for four years. He also admits to wanting to establish a local collector base and accordingly has priced the works to be affordable ($1,000 a fraction).
Bell, as he says himself, loves to talk about his work, and he does it well. He is friendly and plain spoken, and he should be taken at his word when he says he will be around and available for discussion during most of the official run. The opportunity to view a new series of works by a major American artist and to talk freely with him about his intentions and your reactions is one that should not be dismissed easily. Take my advice: go see the show, allow yourself to have an honest response, and tell the artist what you think. Then listen to what he has to say. There simply isn't a better way of coming to an appreciation of this body of artistic work.
Some of the mirage works he produced were considered successful by Bell, others not. Four years ago Bell starting ripping up the rejects for disposal. In the process, he discovered that some of the "shards" were "aesthetically interesting," especially when placed in groups. He began playing around with them, seeing what effects he could achieve through various arrangements.
Once Bell had produced a stack of 10"by- 10" fractions, he decided he should keep track of the works he was creating by dating and numbering them. At some point, he also decided that he would aim for a total production of 10,000 (yes, that's a one followed by four zeroes). In other words, he began to see the production of the fractions as a project with an endpoint. The number of curated fractions (i.e., those dated and numbered) is now around 8,500, so the provisional end is in sight.
Even though very different from his other work. in part because of their small size, the fractions fit with what seems to be Bell's career-long interest in unusual perceptual effects. Odd color juxtapositions, stark tonal contrasts, and ambiguous structural forms (interpretable one way and another) combine to pull the viewer's attention in. Bell talks about the fractions as exhibiting a language of feeling, but he is not referring to the standard emotions most people have in mind when they talk about feeling - joy, for example, or desire or anguish. And in fact the fractions, like much of his other work, are emotionally unexpressive. By that I mean that one is not tempted to use adjectives like joyful or brooding or happy or sorrowful or even powerful when describing individual pieces.
According to Bell, in moving from one end of a passage to the other he experiences what he calls a pulse - some "message" that comes from the ordering. That's a kind of message, if message there be, that the average gallery goer is unlikely to be attuned to, for most of us are used to psychologically bracketing the individual art piece we are looking at.