| Expectation is seldom a good idea. I arrived at John Alexander’s retrospective at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts without prior knowledge of his work except for a few five-inch-sized reproductions I’d seen on Artnet.com. (True to my generation, I am an unabashed participant in the magical method of “just google it.”) Online I saw an explosive image of a splayed monkey body embedded in a mass of decisive floating brushstrokes. The theme was a precarious apocalyptic crucifixion. I also saw a few images of closely cropped clusters of reeds, flowers, and grass. The work looked good. The next Google search result was a promising review by Michael Brenson in the New York Times, from 1985. He described Alexander as “…a true painter. He has found a way to realize a goal shared by almost all painters inspired by Abstract Expressionism—making the search for composition and the exploration of thoughts and feelings inseparable. When Alexander throws down a line to stake out his space, it can have meaning on several thematic levels.” Naturally, I was excited to see the show on my upcoming trip to Houston. | 
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Nathlie Provosty
John Alexander: A Retrospective was on view in June at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston.
John Alexander, Mother and Child, 2001. Watercolor and colored pencil. Private Collection, Houston.Expectation is seldom a good idea. I arrived at John Alexander’s retrospective at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts without prior knowledge of his work except for a few five-inch-sized reproductions I’d seen on Artnet.com. (True to my generation, I am an unabashed participant in the magical method of “just google it.”) Online I saw an explosive image of a splayed monkey body embedded in a mass of decisive floating brushstrokes. The theme was a precarious apocalyptic crucifixion. I also saw a few images of closely cropped clusters of reeds, flowers, and grass. The work looked good. The next Google search result was a promising review by Michael Brenson in the New York Times, from 1985. He described Alexander as “…a true painter. He has found a way to realize a goal shared by almost all painters inspired by Abstract Expressionism—making the search for composition and the exploration of thoughts and feelings inseparable. When Alexander throws down a line to stake out his space, it can have meaning on several thematic levels.” Naturally, I was excited to see the show on my upcoming trip to Houston.
What a tragic story this retrospective at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston turned out to be. The work began with an earth-toned palette. Alexander set in place a dark transparent ground upon which he drew large abrasive glowing brush strokes. These early paintings have a horror vacui unabashed love of paint. Their energy is explosive, potentially influencing any number of contemporary artists currently blowing up form, such as Barnaby Furnace’s splattering Lincolns or Julie Mehertu’s dissected architectural blueprints. Alexander’s drawings, too, were especially strong—open to chaos, figure/ground ambiguity, and humor. Looking was slow and absorbing.
But oh, as the exhibition stretched out its legs, that youthful exuberance drained into politely painted images of lobsters and flowers. Now, I’m no stickler for subject. “Dramatic,” “tough,” “challenging,” etc., are words reflecting the art world bias of our time. I believe the bones of a painting really can embody the content, regardless of the subject. A lobster really can hold its space as a painting worth being made. And I believe in love in painting. Love, transferred through the senses, is apparent on an intuitive level. It usurps taste. Alexander’s story is one of love not disappearing, but subduing into a safe salable realm. He got comfortable. The brushstrokes tightened up, attaching themselves to the form. The subject became mildly political for a while, then haphazardly naturalistic. Perhaps he needed to drain out what he may have viewed as an effect—the expressionistic brushwork—or even rid himself of the influences of the neo-expressionism of his time. Perhaps he came to a place where he no longer worried about his relevancy or what anyone else thought. Admirable. To his credit, the ocean paintings and some reed paintings really held up well from across the room, with sharp light very reminiscent of Courbet’s ocean series recently up at the Metropolitan Museum.
Still, a friend of mine with whom I viewed the show said if the exhibition had been hung reverse-chronologically, he would have left feeling excited and inspired, instead of the opposite. (What is better than leaving a show feeling all filled up—especially for us painters.) Alexander’s bar was set so high. I left feeling the tragedy of the whole situation. What effort it is to tell the truth, keep telling it, and keep searching within the telling. Hey, perhaps he has, or better, perhaps I have no place to pass judgment. What a bummer to be so negative. Ah well, to each his own. From here onward I am anti-expectation and pro-love. Time will tell what happens next.
