'The main thing wrong with painting is that it is a rectangular plane placed flat against the wall...it determines and limits the arrangement of whatever is inside it'.
That was how Donald Judd described the limitations of painting in 1965.
The works in 'Fieldwork' all operate within these limits, and within many others; and if they are defined by them, then they are incisively, expansively, contrarily so. Individually and specifically so. Collectively so.
Within their many rectangles fall many (almost inevitable) shapes, and shapes of thought. Window-shaped, frame-shaped, shop-front, sail-boat, basket-shaped; building-shaped, room-shaped. Yet defiantly non-rectilinear forms and thoughts fall there too; spheres, handwriting, people, jagged triangles, amorphous marks and gestures, water, wind, skin, hair. But even these are understood within the rectangle. Partly for practical reasons. But partly because, by this point in time, painting has come to understand its countless subjects as things simultaneously defined-by and evading a never-ending series of ever-expanding, ever-contracting 'frames'.
This is not my review, which can be read on The Drouth.
