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I don't have a clue what Ugo Rondinone's confused installation at Marks' 22nd Street space is about, although I liked the jet-black zodiacal masks. But I was floored by his 2000 video exhibition in this space, and my rule is, if an artist does one thing I like, I'll follow him or her forever. This show makes me rethink that. Regardless, I love that Rondinone is willing to fail so flamboyantly. This is in stark contrast to the wimpy way so many other artists fail these days. For example, Gary Simmons's anemic Metro Pictures show of cast sculptures and smeared paintings. There are free-floating ideas here, and as always Simmons displays a caustic touch. But it's time artists learned to tell dealers, "I'm not ready to show right now." As for Amie Dicke, her cut-up fashion magazine pages at D'Amelio Terras are undeniably alluring. The problem is, they're all alluring in the exact same way. This reduces them to merchandise, or worse, shtick.
Hernan Bas's paintings at Daniel Reich, while obviously earnest and stylish, are way too indebted to Karen Kilimnik, Elizabeth Peyton, and Henry Darger. Bas has a nifty sense of narrative, surface, and color. But this is only a beginning. Meanwhile, at Anton Kern, the promising Brian Calvin certainly has a look, but he needs to experiment with it more, not just paint the same slacker figures in the same slacker way.
- jerry saltz, "critical call," artnet october 5/2004
posted October 05, 2004 in art. 20032001