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ART
WEEK
THE SENSUALITY OF STONE
by
Michael McManus, February 1987
Stone carving
is more than a technique. Direct and manual it is inseparably intertwined
with the prehistoric production of hand-axes and spearheads--those
primal extensions of tooth and claw that divide the human realm
from the other seamless entirety of nature. Stone carving obsesses
an immense metaphysical dimension. It is an emblem of agonistic
character of art-making, of the struggle to remold a hard, resistant
material (and my analogy, the world) into a personal expression
of good and true adn beautiful. Stone carving is also an anachronism,
an activity that was beginning to look faintly quixotic even in
Michelangelo's time, when the visitation of the stucco angel signaled
the dawn of the age of mechanical reproduction. But like Don Quixote,
many people today find no satisfying substitutes for goodness, truth
and beauty in simulations, digital logic and coded reassurances
of neo-Berkelian hyperrealists that everything is relative (to the
system) and that the real and the simulated are categorically interchangeable
(if being understood that the simulation is somehow more "interesting"
this season).
Those dinosaurs
in the viewing audience who still prefer "the real thing"
to its simulacrum, who scrutinize the work's edges to the banked
flares and faint illuminations of its aura (however whithered),
may find the traditional object of their ritual pleasures in the
stone carvings of Doron Rosenthal on view at the Natalie Bush Gallery
through January.
Rosenthal is
young. This is his first one-person gallery showing and it is a
formidable debut--shot through with intrigue, novelty and sensual
enjoyments that evoke in many a profound meditation on the preconditions
and ends of modern sculpture. Alabaster is the artist's metier,
locally indigenous alabaster for which he sours the Anza-Borrego
and the wild lands around the San Bernardion mountains. He carves
these interestingly colored slabs of hard, compact calcite to play
the slight translucency of the stone against its beautiful banding
and layers. In two formally related works, Medusaand and
Maelstrom (both 1986), Rosenthal takes the sort of plate-tableau
motif that Giacometti developed in The Palace at 4 A.M.
(1932-33) returns it to the geological realm of the tectonic plate.
Medusa turns the stone plate at a right angle to set the
arrangement of the surfaces before the viewer, like a low relief.
Unlike classic low-relief, however, the work's vertical faces, giving
the eye a sense of panoptic omnipresence--an illusion of examining
something very large and being immeasurably larger oneself.
Maelstrom
plays a similar game with a horizontal flow of stone facing that
bears an irregular raised X surrounding a funnel hole. There is
in these works and old-fashioned modernist sort of subtlety elaborately
polished detail that is set against a simplicity of overall shape
(the shard fragment) thus generating an excruciating contrast. The
alabaster of Medusa is dark, cold gray faced with veins
and pools of rosy white. The stone of Maelstrom is an even
middle gray with homogeneous salt-and-pepper flecks set in fine
layers like magnetized iron filings. Individual features and articulated
areas of Rosenthal's works evoke ground-down mortars, glacial grooves
carved in northern bedrock, dolmens and menhirs and the Venuses
of Lespungue and of Willendorf.
In Stone
Shell (1985) the artist has fashioned a massive, irregular,
organic, spiral shape. Ponderous and improbable, the piece balances
on its small, flat base. The open mouth of the spiral reveals a
rounded U-shape similar to the yoni form that signifies
the feminine principle in Tantric Buddhist art. A western European
equivalent, "the delta of Venus," characterizesI saw
bone like that once (1986). In this piece, the form is roughly
an isosceles triangle, point down. The work is posted at eye level
on a tall, slender steel cylinder. An inverted teardrop-shaped hole
is cut through the center of the stone triangle. Even ridges, like
the knuckles of a clenched fist, radiate downward from the upper
side edge of the hollow. The work is at once closed and open. The
pale multicolored banding of the stone is fascinating, and much
of the shape and orientation of the carving aims to reveal this
banding to best advantage.
As battle lines
are being drawn in late twentieth-century art between technological
critial-media artists and authenticists/auta object artists. Rosenthal
has clearly positioned himself in the latter camp. This show of
stoneworks is a strong opening gambit. |