| When the atom was split in the early 20th century, it changed the way humans intellectually perceived the world. The indivisible element upon which we understood the universe was shattered into infinitesimal oblivion. Painting radically shifted away from depictions of narrative and landscape to a Cubist fracturing of perception. Pioneered by Cézanne, Modernist painting did not subscribe to abstraction as a means to an end. Rather, reality itself became abstracted. |  |
James Gillispie
Alexander Ross’ work was on view at Marianne Boesky Gallery in April.
Alexander Ross, Untitled, 2007. Oil on canvas, 90 x 150 in. Courtesy of Marianne Boesky Gallery.When the atom was split in the early 20th century, it changed the way humans intellectually perceived the world. The indivisible element upon which we understood the universe was shattered into infinitesimal oblivion. Painting radically shifted away from depictions of narrative and landscape to a Cubist fracturing of perception. Pioneered by Cézanne, Modernist painting did not subscribe to abstraction as a means to an end. Rather, reality itself became abstracted.
On the cusp of a post Post-Modernism era, our notion of reality has shifted again. Technological advances in DNA and stem cell research have shattered our biologic and anthropologic understanding of this world. As a civilization, we are clamoring to reconcile what it means to be human, and to test the limits of our mortality. Our concept of humanity itself has become obsolete, and our greatest existential questions need new answers.
Alexander Ross asserts the futility of virtuosic abstraction and political commentary. Contemporary abstract painting is not an arbitrary identity politic, nor is it an exercise of slapdash mark-making. Rather, for Ross, abstract painting addresses our loss of humanity.
I am undeniably seduced by these luscious artworks. Each of these large-scale photorealist paintings of abstracted shapes oozes with a visceral materiality. Nonetheless, they maintain a color dissonance that prevents them from becoming too beautiful. For instance, the color play of cerulean, turquoise, teal, and Veronese green is usually disrupted with a rim shot of cadmium red.
Rather than relying on Modernist tropes, Ross’ detached, workman-like paint handling defies the term “gestural,” and retains a crisp hard-edge. He also defies contemporary convention with the gestalt of the work. The opacity of paint entirely blocks out the ground of the canvas, preventing any light from emitting from its surface. The paint is quite heavy, but not overworked. Like bacteria, consistency infects the work. Even so, there are still isolated moments in which the cerulean ground gets messy. As if painted wet on wet atop an earthen base layer, the blue appears to have been mixed directly on the canvas surface rather than in his palette. Such an approach exposes a kind of odd vulnerability in Ross that begs the question: why would he let down his guard for something so inconsequential?
The answer is evident in the work. Take Untitled, 2007, for example, the strongest painting in the show, in which a cluster of green, blue, and white Plasticine blobs radiate around a single tiny red nub and float atop a sky blue background. Here the blue ground is essential, enabling a sensuous retinal trace of the contours of the sculpted forms in the foreground. In concert with his haptic brushwork, and his deft recreation of his hand-sculpted forms, this approach results in a truly sublime image. Resisting the urge to seduce us with special illusion, he instead flattens space completely, relying on the forms alone to shift the syntax of the painting to a more pure abstraction.
These large paintings could easily be read from 100 feet away with their commanding size and mammoth-scale anthropomorphic shapes. A close inspection reveals that the forms are rendered like pixilated jpegs, undulating in controlled gradations. In some works, such as Untitled, 2008, depicting a close-up view of striated, snake-like forms, Ross zooms in his focus, engendering us with a sensation akin to being abandoned in the belly of Moby Dick, or the womb of an alien life form. Within the context of the larger works on blue grounds, however, such works read very differently. Our anthropomorphic relationship to the forms is heightened, and with it, our anxiety with mortality. Ross’ mastery of abstraction as it relates to the biologic manifold shakes the foundation of what it means to be human, and how strange it sometimes feels to stand in front of a painting. This renews my faith in painting as it relates more to humanity than it does to self-serving platitudes in contemporary trends.
