3 Art Gallery Demonstrates to See Right Now

By means of Sept. 11. Rosenberg & Co., 19 East 66th Road, Manhattan, (212) 202-3270, rosenbergco.com.

This beguiling solo exhibition of four sculptures and nine will work on paper by the artist Dorothy Dehner (1901-1994) is supplied context by a interesting if marginally piecemeal team demonstrate titled “A Foreseeable future We Begin to Truly feel: Women of all ages Artists 1921-1971.”

An energetic artist given that 1925, Dehner did not commence to present her perform right until 1950, right after the close of her 23-year marriage to the sculptor David Smith, who observed no have to have for one more sculptor in the spouse and children. The performs in wood are the primary draw made in the mid-1970s, they nod toward Brancusi and Giacometti but keep their individuality. Even far better is a minimal bronze elegance titled “Garden at Evening,” which has an ease that Smith seldom achieved These sculptures’ delicacy of line becomes dominant in the watercolor and ink is effective on paper from 1949 to 1953, the place starbursts and washes of shade normally coalesce into constellations on the webpage.

The group exhibit “A Future” presents paintings, collages and watercolors, typically from the 1950s and ’60s by 22 artists (Dehner bundled). Most ended up born all-around 1900, and labored abstractly in the United States. A person interesting outlier is the Russian Constructivist Natalia Goncharova (1881-1962), whose village scene from about 1950 evinces a softened version of the slashing fashion of Rayonism, a Russian form of Cubo-Futurism. One more surprise is the work of the Turkish artist Fahrelnissa Zeid (1901-91): summary paintings on paper whose good hues peek by means of nets of black strains drawn in ink. There is a great deal to see in this article, together with uncharacteristic functions by Alma Thomas, Charlotte Park, Sonja Sekula, Esphyr Slobodkina, and Eileen Agars’s smooth fusion of Surrealism and geometry. These two displays dovetail effectively: The Dehner operates remind us that each piece in the team display signifies a job that deserves bigger visibility. (Rosenberg & Co. will be closed from Aug. 28 to Sept. 7.)


As a result of Aug. 27. Nathalie Karg Gallery, 291 Grand Avenue, fourth flooring, Manhattan (212) 563-7821, nathaliekarg.com.

Shell out plenty of time on social media these times and photographic self-portraiture can start off to look banal. The group demonstrate “Mirror, Mirror” is a rebuttal and reminder that this continues to be a fruitful, fascinating artwork sort.

Just take the artist Tommy Kha’s “Guise Like Me” (2021). In the biggest of three visuals, what appears to be like like a cutout of Kha lies with his back to the camera, holding a mask of his face. In a lesser photo, the facial area reappears over the shoulder of Kha’s mother, who looks haunted by an previous image of herself. Kha employs playful artifice to get at an psychological reality: the fractured layering of id.

Ilona Szwarc requires a similar approach, with pictures that depict her appear-alike turning into a werewolf-style creature. The woman seems in vibrant, lavish options, and it is unclear if she’s initiating the transformation or if it is going on to her. In “She was unsexed as a doll” (2019), the woman’s expression difficulties a form of challenge: Is this a nightmare or a fairy tale?

Paul Mpagi Sepuya’s pictures are additional authentic but not additional straightforward. He captures himself and mates in the studio, usually nude and intertwined, with faces hidden or obscured by cameras. There’s a press-pull involving casualness and formality, what is concealed and shown — a rigidity that Whitney Hubbs also appears to be to aim for, despite the fact that in the two parts below, her conceptual grounding feels missing.

What makes these operates so striking is that they withhold as properly as reveal. They deny the legibility typically affiliated with photography (and selfies), rather providing deftly staged riddles.


Through Sept. 11. Michael Werner, 4 East 77th Street, Manhattan, (212) 988-1623, michaelwerner.com.

Major, brooding landscapes unfold out in Markus Lüpertz’s 13 latest paintings at Michael Werner’s Upper East Aspect gallery. The reference to European artwork and history and literature is overt: His wobbly trees, daubed skies and unnatural lights pay back homage to the postimpressionist art movement in France. The mood of the paintings recall Paul Gauguin’s oeuvre — especially his perform in Tahiti, which Lüpertz can make specially obvious by which include a recurring feminine figure related in gesture to those in Gauguin’s she is also current in other Lüpertz functions like “Nymphe Märkisch,” “Idylle” and “Fisher und Nymphe,” generally with her back to the viewer. Mythological figures from Greek legends like Jason also look in paintings this sort of as “Jasons Abschied.”

But Lüpertz, immediately after spending tribute, veers off immediately on his individual path. Not like Gauguin, who worked with brilliant, energetic hues evoking a feeling of from time to time problematic exoticism, Lüpertz takes advantage of colours that are darkish and weighty and recommend a sense of longing. He sheds off the sleek pores and skin in Gauguin and embraces a rocky, blocklike body composition for the people today in his paintings, as though they were being sculptures interrupting the landscape.

Now 80, Lüpertz’s hand is certainly strong, well-qualified, and knowledgeable — he skillfully transports his influences into his personal totally formed landscape, his own universe. One wonders: in what environment did this painter do the job? Did his exercise as a sculptor inform his selection of these extra fat strokes and thick swabs in producing folks with stony flesh? Why is it night in all the paintings?

In 2010, Lüpertz’s “Pastoral Thoughts” confirmed at this gallery, buoyed with themes like heritage, abstraction and his signature landscape motifs. A decades afterwards, in “Recent Paintings,” he sheds off abstraction but moves further into history. It is as if he’s dreaming backward — albeit clearer now, leaning after all over again toward what it may experience like to be there in the beginning, at the garden of Eden.