In General – dArt International Magazine

June 8, 2024

Jaan Poldaas: 2018 The Last Picture Show

by Steve Rockwell

At the heart of his practice, Jaan Poldaas was a painter, albeit one with a rigorous conceptual bent. Whatever the systems and rules he may have set in the execution of the essentially minimalist geometries, his application of the paint alone was far from perfunctory. Patrick Barfoot’s 2020 documentary film Jaan Poldaas: New Work makes this evident. Shot in the artist’s studio in October 2013, Poldaas is seen at work remarking, “Part of the pleasure here is the anticipation…. I’ll get to see how these [yellows] look with the reds on them.”

Jaan Poldaas, 1800 Series (1), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm — Jaan Poldaas, *1800 Series* (1), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm

Poldaas held strong views on representation in art, even on a symbolic level. “There is almost something morbid about dead pigment trying represent something alive.” Yet, the artist’s E.G. Series (1978–2011) suggests at least a nuanced qualification of what is meant by representation, if not an outright contradiction. The hinge of distinction appears to be colour as material extension. By matching the type of paint and its application, say of the Metro Police Security Yellow, or the Green of Metro Parks, palpable aspects of our lived environment are made concrete, the caveat here being their verbal tag. The designation of the hues in the E.G. Series were precise. If blue, it’s a Via Rail Blue, if red, it’s a Coca-Cola Red.

Paint allotments to Poldaas established their frame through language. To cite Barfoot’s documentary again, “Generally, I’ll try to represent as broad a range of yellows as can be comfortably accommodated by the word. There is a linguistic limit.” If the colour in question fell to chrome yellow, for instance, its import drew more from its public use as road and parking lot markers than the personal and emotive. It’s a colour philosophy in stark contrast to one held by Kandinsky, who saw yellow as “warm, cheeky, and exciting.”

Jaan Poldaas, 1800 Series (3), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm — Jaan Poldaas, *1800 Series* (3), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm

The artist’s reductionist impulse led him to delve deep into life’s foundational principles. Poldaas held the conviction that, “If we weren’t here to see it there would be no light. So the natural condition of things is darkness.” A pioneering minimalist work that addresses this theme directly is light artist Dan Flavin’s 1963 The Nominal Three (To William of Ockham). I learned in an 1998 interview with Poldaas that it’s a piece that had intrigued him for many years. Ockham’s Razor theory resonated with the artist: “Entities are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.” Poldaas liked Ockham’s “minimalism,” but not his theology.

The 12 paintings in the 2018 Poldaas Last Series measure 60 by 60 centimetres. That they frame just beyond shoulder to shoulder and head to chest is significant. Each seem to demand a sequenced close view as if standing at a crosswalk. We wait for the vertical band to change colour before crossing. Put alternatively in the artist’s own words, “On a T-surface lines do not cross; they might be said to stop when meeting, and start again in passing each other.” As verticals we stop. The traffic passes, and we continue walking.

The passage of time may be extrapolated in the Last Series paintings from the 60 centimetre ticks of their square measure. There are 3,600 seconds in an hour that matches the number of centimetre bits in each painting. It can also be seen as ten 360 degree rotations of a circle, or ten 24 hour periods. It’s a bit of a stretch, but there are seven distinct painted areas in each work corresponding to the days of a week. Of course, if a month is assigned to each of the 12 paintings, it’s a year. The variations in colour of each painting has a precedent in Monet’s Haystack series, where the artist repeated the same subject with differences in light and atmosphere at different times of the day through the seasons in different types of weather.

Jaan Poldaas, 1800 Series (2), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm — Jaan Poldaas, *1800 Series* (2), 2018, enamel on canvas, 60 x 60 cm

The equatorial belt that binds each painting in the Last Series teases out at least a hint of geodesy as it cleaves its meridian. As Poldaas liked to tie specific things and places to his hues, I’m tempted to link our local Greenbelt as an association, aware that it may never have crossed the artist’s mind. It’s rather an application of the colour designation method that Poldaas practiced over his career. It might just as well have been one of the several colour belts required before reaching the Karate Black Belt. This later reference has the advantage of signalling the rigour and mental discipline we have come to know of the artist’s work habits.

The legacy that Jaan Poldaas left to the arts community was a model of integrity to a vision that survived the fluctuations of fads and fashions, not only of decades past, but very possibly ones to come.

Jaan Poldaas: 2018 The Last Picture Show and Anniversary: TTC Commission Proposal Studies: April 25 – May25, 2024 at Birch Contemporary, 129 Tecumseth Street, Toronto, Ontario, M6J 2H2 Canada

May 23, 2024

Delhy Tejero: Mysterious Geometry

by D. Dominck Lombardi

When first entering the exhibition Delhy Tejero: Mysterious Geometry, one observation you will most likely make is the diversity of styles the artist engaged in. From folkish traditional, illustrative and playful to Modernist, non–representational and fantastical, she endeavored them all. Never a forerunner in any particular movement, Tejero clearly contributed to many of the popular movements of her day and in her own distinct way, often combining disparate approaches such as abstraction and surrealism. This was her way of visually responding to the art world, putting her own spin on things as if to say “I am here too.”

There is also a great sense of pride in the works of Tejero, a sureness that can be seen in lively to illusive colors and a passion that comes through in the believability of her subjects. This is the eclectic energy one experiences when walking through this delightful and comprehensive exhibition in one of the more elegant and impressive settings in the whole of Valladolid, Museo Herreriano Patio.

Delhy Tejero, Self Portrait (1950), oil on canvas, 29 x 23 ½ inches — Delhy Tejero, *Self Portrait* (1950), oil on canvas, 29 x 23 ½ inches

The one common thread that runs through all of Tejero’s art is a wonderful, and at times rather unpredictable sense of color combined with a striking command of media. Take for instance Self Portrait (1950), where we see the artist in repose seated at a table. The soft lighting and compelling color theory, the consistent and seamless handling of paint, the geometry of the interlocking – yin yang-like ‘L’ sections of the background and how that is mimicked in the gesture of the right hand tells us much of the artist’s thoughts and tendencies at the time. This preference for inter-responsive forms is further investigated in an abstract way in The Music (1952-53) where highly stylized figures twist and intertwine presumably inspired by spirited music. Working again with a somewhat limited palette, Tajero composes with strong diagonals in streaks of light and dark, a dynamic space that highlights the larger figures on the left, resulting in their elevation of importance. Perhaps these two are seasoned performers, possibly Flamenco dancers turning the three or four forms to the right into admiring onlookers.

Delhy Tejero, The Music (1952-53), oil on panel, 43 x 43 inches — Delhy Tejero, *The Music* (1952-53), oil on panel, 43 x 43 inches

Then there are the paintings that have that soft, Beat generation style with overtones of a cool 1950’s Madison Avenue aesthetic that I love seeing, which probably has a lot to do with my being born in the same decade. Mussia (1954) is right in the wheelhouse of that genre, and it speaks very specifically about the artist’s public persona that was poised and progressive. More importantly, this painting shows a willingness to reflect what interests the artist with regard to the contemporary art scene. I say this because the faux painted vertical cuts in the canvas are a direct reference to Lucio Fontana, who would have been very well known by the mid 1950’s. Then there are the shadows or ghost features that surround the main subject that suggest movement, impatience or even changes made to the pose that are monochromatically painted in and emphasized. Being a painter myself, sometimes it is easier to multiply gestures than trying to restore a background that consists of a thinly applied wash, which can take several attempts and likely ruin the surface of a painting.

Delhy Tejero, Mussia (María Dolores) (1954), oil on linen, 73 ¼ x 35 ½ inches — Delhy Tejero, *Mussia (María Dolores)* (1954), oil on linen, 73 ¼ x 35 ½ inches

In a surprisingly different direction are Rabina, Taruja and Pitocha (1929-32), handmade dolls referring to three of the six ‘witches’ that Tejero sees as her little helpers during the creative process. There are a number of drawings and gouache paintings here as well, that show how engaged the artist was with these six distinctive, elf-like characters, revealing a very personal and playful side of Tejero, who was most often thought of as being rather exotic and mysterious in her self designed attire that enhanced her uncommon manners. Seeing these designs, which are far more cartoon-like than realistic, I wonder if Theodor Seuss Geisel (Dr. Seuss) may have stumbled upon one or two of these characters. If this is so, I can clearly see how they may have inspired his famous children’s books, especially the stories with the now famous, or infamous Grinch.

Delhy Tejero, Rabina, Taruja and Pitocha (1929-32), fabric, chrome metal, felt, paint, stitching, 11 x 1 ¾ x 2, 12 x 7 x 2, 10 ½, 2 ¾, 2 inches — Delhy Tejero, *Rabina, Taruja and Pitocha* (1929-32), fabric, chrome metal, felt, paint, stitching, 11 x 1 ¾ x 2, 12 x 7 x 2, 10 ½, 2 ¾, 2 inches

Delhy Tejero: Mysterious Geometry, Museo Herreriano Patio, Spanish Contemporary Art Museum, Valladolid, Spain

May 22, 2024May 31, 2024

In Conversation With Herb Tookey

by Roy Bernardi and Jennifer Leskiw

When you enter the home of art collector Herb Tookey, you are overwhelmed and dazzled by what you see. From floor to ceiling in almost every room of this charming abode is a collection of art works, sculpture and textiles, currently some 200 pieces. Herb, with the help of his wife Paula, meticulously curated the placement of each piece. You see and feel the relationship of one work to another and can only admire the energetic vision of this collector.

Herb Tookey is an entrepreneur and obviously, a passionate lover of art. He was once a former partner of the Cameron House, an establishment in downtown Toronto known for being an intimate, bohemian bar with ceiling murals and nightly performances. This funky place is where many creative minds and personalities hang out. Artists, writers, performers and musicians all sharing creative thoughts and ideas.

Herb’s first recollection of acquiring an art piece was a portrait of himself painted by his Godmother and given to him when has was quite young. He feels that gift led him to a lifelong journey of collecting with a curiosity and interest that has grown and intensified over the years. Collecting has been in his blood since birth.

Herb Tookey in front of a large scale "Bunny-Man" by John Scott, above a small flower painting by Lorne Wagman and a print by indigenous artist Carl Ray. — Herb Tookey in front of a large scale “Bunny-Man” by John Scott, above a small flower painting by Lorne Wagman and a print by indigenous artist Carl Ray.

Entrance hallway into the home of Herb Tookey (left) featuring several artworks meticulously curated and placed. The kitchen (right) with several works surrounding a larger centrepiece painting by Rae Johnson titled “Mud on the Kitchen Table." — Entrance hallway into the home of Herb Tookey (left) featuring several artworks meticulously curated and placed. The kitchen (right) with several works surrounding a larger centrepiece painting by Rae Johnson titled “Mud on the Kitchen Table.”

What is your favourite art work in your collection?
My collection is like a large family. It’s like being asked which one of my children I like the best. I can’t say as I love them all. I’ve a relationship with all of my art. In that vein of thought, I’ve created a relationship with many of the artists in my collection. I find art interesting and powerful. For instance, I’m so connected with the paintings by Rae Johnson that I can feel Rae in every one of the paintings I own by her. I think I connected with Rae the most. I do have connections with other artists in that most of my collection has been acquired directly from my interactions with the artists I have met over my lifetime. Art pleasure is an interaction with the art work.

Herb in his library living room in front of one of his master works, by Rae Johnson an untitled painting of the interior of the apartment that Rae and her husband Clarke Rogers lived in on Queen Street West before moving to Flesherton, Ontario.

What is the highlight for you when collecting? Is it the search or the acquisition?
Neither as it’s the experience of living with the art works. Collecting is extremely personal. It’s educational because it’s an ongoing learning process with fascinating stories and anecdotes. It’s not only the creative element in each piece but of life itself. We human critters are hunters and gatherers looking for attention in craftsmanship and attention to meaning.

Herb has never collected art as an investment in money. It’s not the search or acquisition. For him, collecting art is a profound pleasure in the interaction with the work itself. He feels privileged to be able to surround himself with his collection and enjoy living with it.

If you had unlimited funds which artist or artists would you like to own?
That’s the easiest question of the lot. There were several paintings that made me weak in the knees when I first saw them at a museum exhibition years ago. The McMichael Gallery had a David Milne retrospective where there was a room of “en plein air” works that Milne painted in 1936 at Six Mile Lake near Georgian Bay, Ontario. When I looked at those paintings I felt that Milne had painted the face of God. Those paintings were of sheer air and glorious light. Another artist that touched me is Tom Thomson’s flower paintings from 1916-1917. And lastly, American artist Ralph Albert Blakelock whose intimate romanticist landscape paintings related to the atonalism movement which he developed into an idiosyncratic somber melancholic mood. Blakelock who was institutionalized in his later life was able to capture and create paintings of true personal intimacy.

Herb sitting in front of an emotional work by Rae Johnson, a painting titled “Madonna at the Moment of Immaculate Conception” with paintings by Derek Caines (lower left) and J. Mac Reynolds (upper left).

The Tookey Collection features art works by Rae Johnson, Lorne Wagman, Andy Fabo, John Scott, Robert Markle, Shary Boyle, Sybil Goldstein, Derek Caines, David Buchan, Randy Trudeau, Fiona Smyth, Tom Hodgson, Brian Burnett, Carl Ray and John MacGregor, to name a few. A short video of Tookey speaking about a Rae Johnson painting may be accessed here.

April 17, 2024April 18, 2024

Rodney Dickson: Paintings

by D. Dominick Lombardi

Born in Northern Ireland in 1956, the young Rodney Dickson would one day learn first hand about violence, destruction and sacrifice. “The Troubles” (1968-98) was a very dangerous time in Northern Ireland, an indelible experience for Dickson that will often tinge his art in some palpable way. Over the past several years I have come to know him as a passionate and caring individual who is always digging deeper to find meaning through his art, often expressing those findings as acute emotion through color, or the capturing of individual souls through his stirring approaches to portraiture.

Rodney Dickson, 17 (2023) (foreground), oil on board, 96 x 60 inches, all images courtesy of Martin Seck

His current exhibition Rodney Dickson: Paintings at Nunu Fine Art, features those two distinctly different series. On the main, street level of the gallery are thickly painted, abstract works that attempt to defy gravity with their massive amounts of paint, as opposed to the lower level space that features numerous, overlapping, life-sized portraits of individuals that he has come to know during his times mostly in Asia, Great Britain and his home since 1997, Brooklyn, NY.

Upon first entering the gallery I was struck by the frenzy of paint applications in 17 (2023), an eight foot tall painting filled with a patchwork of colors and textures that are suggestive of rivers, rivulets, mountains and no-man’s land. Like an earth mover, Dickson pushes, scrapes, applies and piles up paint in obsessive and reactive ways churning up medium in such a frenzy that the paintings become energized and somehow personified. With this powerful physical presence and something of an implied nervous system, the residual energy in the paint twitches, ripples, and coagulates in voluminous swathes and layers that conspire for our attention. This raucousness of color and texture is balanced by the absolute boldness of technique, while the great variance in the thickness of the paint reminds us of the dynamism and focus of the artist.

Rodney Dickson, 17 (2020), oil on board, 24 x 24 inches

Down a hallway toward the back of the gallery hang smaller, more intimate, but no less tactile paintings that present a chorus of challenging visual crescendos. If there is one common thread throughout these smaller works, it is their general tendency of vertical movement, while some have much more disrupted, scraped areas that wrangle the downward action. In one, 17 (2020), the entire surface of heavily applied oil paint has been disturbed, giving it a more dystopian, scorched earth effect. Perhaps this in one dark memory of the aftermath of an IRA bombing close to home.

Rodney Dickson, 8 (2020), oil on board, 48 x 60 inches

Considering all the above, I do not mean to imply there is no hope here. There is, and it is clear in some of the larger works in the big room in the rear of the gallery, where the paintings tend to give the impression of something akin to weightlessness despite the thickness of the paint. In 8 (2020), the predominantly yellow composition set horizontally suggests a landscape, a combination that may remind some of Van Gogh’s Wheat Field with Crows (1890) sans the foreboding flying silhouettes. With Dickson’s 8, it’s more about flow and how we perceive wind, how we receive visual cues and information both directly and indirectly that are right in front of us, without the addition of the minutiae that seeps in from the periphery. Dickson appears to be saying here; find a focal point depending on your immediate needs, take in the extremes and avoid the in-betweens, go back to your easels, your blank pages, your instruments or your computers and filter the flow down to something malleable and promising.

Rodney Dickson, 18 (2022), 96 x 60 inches

We see this awareness again in 18 (2022) where Dickson primarily pairs the color opposites of red and green, which are largely moderated by black, white and yellow, as they float atop a white ground. Some may also note here that the artist sometimes cleans his paint scraping tool on the edges of the panels, which in turn subtly defines the borders while unconsciously redirecting our attention back into the center of action. In addition to the two main combating colors, Dickson adds small dollops of white and yellow right from the business end of the paint tubes, carefully punching up certain points in the composition that tacitly draw our eye to certain points of color confrontation.

Rodney Dickson, Lower Level Installation View (detail)

Moving down a flight of stairs to the lower level, there hangs countless mystifying representations of individuals Dickson has come to know over the years, each staring right back at us with their soulful eyes. Some portraits are buried almost entirely beneath other paintings, while a few can be seen in full view, all painted on the sheerest of fabrics. The delicacy of the material, the watered down paint, the representational subjects and the way they are installed could not be more different from the paintings on wood panel upstairs. Yet there is that same depth of meaning, the same unique sort of passion that Dickson’s work always emanates. It is a truth, an unrelenting drive to project the intensity, the fleetness and the frailty of living everyday in a world that is so rapidly changing and all too often disappointing. But the artist must find their own sort of understanding, of finding and releasing the thoughts that are the hardest to keep unspoken. This is when the magic happens and Dickson attracts and amazes us with tantalizing directness.

Rodney Dickson at his exhibition, Nunu Fine Art, 2024

Rodney Dickson: Paintings. March 23 – June 1, 2024 at Nunu Fine Art, 381 Broome St, New York, NY 10013

April 5, 2024

dArt Magazine Curated Content #4

by Steve Rockwell

Hirst's Anatomy, Burning Man, The Pharmacist and Miami Flurry. 2024, dArt magazine pulp and paper, variously mounted on canvas, 8.5 x 7 inches. Citing the work of Damian Hirst, Matthew Ritchie, Micah Lexier, and Chris Scarborough. — **Hirst’s Anatomy, Burning Man, The Pharmacist and Miami Flurry**, 2024, dArt magazine pulp and paper, variously mounted on canvas, 8.5 x 7 inches. Citing the work of Damian Hirst, Matthew Ritchie, Micah Lexier, and Chris Scarborough.

Panel One in dArt Magazine Curated Content #4 depicts a tiny figure gazing up to a 20-foot colossus. Though Damien Hirst’s Hymn sculpture appears here with green grass and blue sky, it is in fact an installation view of Damien Hirst’s 2000 exhibition at Gagosian’s New York Chelsea gallery, the white disk and colors having here been added in oils. The full exhibition title was on the wordy side: Damien Hirst: Theories, Models, Methods, Approaches, Assumptions, Results and Findings. The review of the exhibition was covered for dArt by Clayton Campbell.