ARTISTS
Plane.Site
“Plane.Site” explores the dynamic exchanges between drawing and sculpture, in the work of artists from the modern post-war period to the present day. To that end, each participating artist is represented by a work in both two and three dimensions.
In an essay to accompany the exhibition, John Elderfield observes “Moving from the boundaries of two dimensions into free space, artists may feel an obvious thrill of escape,” while noting that there is also “the less obvious but equally liberating escape from open space, with its grip of the literal, for the spontaneity of movement and freedom of illusion attainable in the haven of the two-dimensional.” Consistent with his observation, many modern and contemporary artists have evaded the dictate of the rectangular frame, allowing the drawn line to exist on different planes, and eventually, to descend from the canvas into three dimensions. In stepping away from the drawn line on paper and into the heft and mass of three-dimensional sculpture, such artists continued to negotiate the rectangular plane, even when composing in open space.
Spanning multiple generations, “Plane.Site” reveals the shifting grounds of correspondence between two and three dimensions. Duchamp's readymade strategy by which an everyday object can attain the status of art object predicates Joe Bradley's life-size cast-bronze vintage television set (2016) and Jasper Johns's lumpen Flashlight II (1958) modeled in papier-mâché and glass, one of nine iterations of a single motif that he generated using approaches as diverse as bricolage and bronze-casting. In contrast to the deadpan quiddity of their sculptures, both artists exhibit a vivid quickness of touch in their drawings. Giuseppe Penone's Foglie di pietra (Leaves of stone) (2013) and Tatiana Trouvé's I tempi doppi (Double time) (2014) create surreal new zones of uncertain physical space, where line also becomes a measure of time passing.
Richard Diebenkorn's untitled construction of 1968 binds the pictorial plane of two dimensions to the third, merging what sculptor William Tucker referred to as “the grasped and the seen.” This work, presented in correspondence with a gouache on paper of 1975, was on view in Diebenkorn's Healdsburg studio during his lifetime; this is the first time that it will be shown outside of his original working environment. Helen Frankenthaler's Heart of London Map (1972), from her first substantial body of sculpture, was made in Anthony Caro's London studio, where Frankenthaler traveled, stepping out of the role of painter to focus on making three-dimensional works. Incorporating some materials Caro had inherited from David Smith, and then sourcing more in a London junkyard, this variety of welded-steel sculpture is unique to her brief London sojourn; subsequently, she moved on to ceramics. In 1977, Frankenthaler reflected on the process, stating, “Whatever the medium, there is the difficulty, challenge, fascination and often productive clumsiness of learning a new method: the wonderful puzzles and problems of translating.”
Cy Twombly's Untitled, Lexington (2009) represents perhaps the most intimate, intuitive aspect of his oeuvre. Composed with a painter's eye, the sculpture compresses thousands of years of dialogue between the object and its drawn representation. A unique wood, plaster, and cardboard construction, this sculpture has never been shown before. Like Frankenthaler, Twombly employed found materials in his three-dimensional work, commenting that his sculptures contain references to “crossing over.”
Just as drawn outlines expand the surfaces on which they are made, sculptural contours, both imaginary and real, generate entirely new spatial relationships. “Plane.Site” maps some of the mutually generative interactions of drawing and sculpture, as lines drawn on paper extend to touch those described in space.
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“Plane.Site” explores the dynamic exchanges between drawing and sculpture, in the work of artists from the modern post-war period to the present day. To that end, each participating artist is represented by a work in both two and three dimensions.
In an essay to accompany the exhibition, John Elderfield observes “Moving from the boundaries of two dimensions into free space, artists may feel an obvious thrill of escape,” while noting that there is also “the less obvious but equally liberating escape from open space, with its grip of the literal, for the spontaneity of movement and freedom of illusion attainable in the haven of the two-dimensional.” Consistent with his observation, many modern and contemporary artists have evaded the dictate of the rectangular frame, allowing the drawn line to exist on different planes, and eventually, to descend from the canvas into three dimensions. In stepping away from the drawn line on paper and into the heft and mass of three-dimensional sculpture, such artists continued to negotiate the rectangular plane, even when composing in open space.
Spanning multiple generations, “Plane.Site” reveals the shifting grounds of correspondence between two and three dimensions. Duchamp's readymade strategy by which an everyday object can attain the status of art object predicates Joe Bradley's life-size cast-bronze vintage television set (2016) and Jasper Johns's lumpen Flashlight II (1958) modeled in papier-mâché and glass, one of nine iterations of a single motif that he generated using approaches as diverse as bricolage and bronze-casting. In contrast to the deadpan quiddity of their sculptures, both artists exhibit a vivid quickness of touch in their drawings. Giuseppe Penone's Foglie di pietra (Leaves of stone) (2013) and Tatiana Trouvé's I tempi doppi (Double time) (2014) create surreal new zones of uncertain physical space, where line also becomes a measure of time passing.
Richard Diebenkorn's untitled construction of 1968 binds the pictorial plane of two dimensions to the third, merging what sculptor William Tucker referred to as “the grasped and the seen.” This work, presented in correspondence with a gouache on paper of 1975, was on view in Diebenkorn's Healdsburg studio during his lifetime; this is the first time that it will be shown outside of his original working environment. Helen Frankenthaler's Heart of London Map (1972), from her first substantial body of sculpture, was made in Anthony Caro's London studio, where Frankenthaler traveled, stepping out of the role of painter to focus on making three-dimensional works. Incorporating some materials Caro had inherited from David Smith, and then sourcing more in a London junkyard, this variety of welded-steel sculpture is unique to her brief London sojourn; subsequently, she moved on to ceramics. In 1977, Frankenthaler reflected on the process, stating, “Whatever the medium, there is the difficulty, challenge, fascination and often productive clumsiness of learning a new method: the wonderful puzzles and problems of translating.”
Cy Twombly's Untitled, Lexington (2009) represents perhaps the most intimate, intuitive aspect of his oeuvre. Composed with a painter's eye, the sculpture compresses thousands of years of dialogue between the object and its drawn representation. A unique wood, plaster, and cardboard construction, this sculpture has never been shown before. Like Frankenthaler, Twombly employed found materials in his three-dimensional work, commenting that his sculptures contain references to “crossing over.”
Just as drawn outlines expand the surfaces on which they are made, sculptural contours, both imaginary and real, generate entirely new spatial relationships. “Plane.Site” maps some of the mutually generative interactions of drawing and sculpture, as lines drawn on paper extend to touch those described in space.
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