This group show of D Berman Gallery artists brightens the beginning of 2010
Reviewed by Wayne Alan Brenner, Fri., Jan. 8, 2010
D Berman Gallery, 1701 Guadalupe,
Through Feb. 6
Congratulations, friend. You've breached the abstract membrane between one decade and another, successfully piloted your aging ship of self into a hangar of possibilities called The Rest of Your Life, and now it's time to chill. Now it's time for "Chill," to be precise, although that winter group show of visual art opened at D Berman Gallery in December of this past year. It's time for "Chill," because nothing quite becomes a hangar of possibilities as original artwork that delights the eye, that dazzles or soothes or sparks deeper cogitation in the mind, that does any or all of those things. It's time for "Chill," because the show is up for another month and because it's never not time to witness the beauty and ingenuity and documentation of reality, objective or otherwise, as rendered by artists as talented as the ones represented here.
(Maybe you've been to D Berman before, if only in your better opium fever-dreams, and so the huge room bisected by a freestanding wall is familiar to you. Maybe some of the works displayed are familiar, too, as this is a sort of retrospective of some of the best the gallery's offered in the recent past.)
In any case, behold: Cynthia Camlin's delicate watercolor renditions of icebergs, the parts we always see and the parts normally occluded by icy brine, their myriad facets defining and redefining what we mean by the words "blue" and "green" and "shadow" and "translucent."
Behold: Steve Wiman's arrangements of natural litter and humanity's abused and discarded everyday objects, laid out with the compelling precision of a Dorling Kindersley volume on material waste.
Behold: The sublime sculptures that Jennifer Maestre, inspired by sea urchin forms, builds from pencils – simple, yellow pencils – to achieve a divinity of curves and depths you'd think were beyond such quotidian instruments.
Behold: The modern sculptural landscapes that Leslie Mutchler has wrought toward illustrating the dovetails of human architectural order and relentless worldly chaos.
Behold: Sara Frantz's beautiful graphite renditions of sere and serene vistas marked by human shelter in Iceland and West Texas, Raychael Stine's photorealistic dogs hounding among and confounded by wild swaths of paint, Sydney Yeager's turbulent abstractions like stills from a horror movie about a hardcopy inbox possessed by Freddy Krueger.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say, and it's also in this fine exhibition at D Berman Gallery this winter, offering you an opportunity to brighten the beginning of 2010 with art while you simply, as the title slyly suggests, "chill."