By Show and Tell
By Bree Davies
By Bree Davies
By Cory Casciato
By Emilie Johnson
By Robin Edwards
By Bree Davis
By Josiah M. Hesse
Now, with August here, these shows are opening at galleries right and left. However, it's obvious that most of the members did not take to the idea as wholeheartedly as some might wish, or to the extent of the city's flagship, Robischon Gallery.
Among the offerings at Robischon is the spectacular Stefan Kleinschuster, which introduces a young Colorado painter of obvious talent and vision. The exhibit is large and sprawls over three of the four rooms up front; Kleinschuster needs every inch of the space, because his oils on muslin are monumental in size.
life, death and
Through August 30
William Havu Gallery, 1040 Cherokee Street
Considering the high quality of these paintings -- I daresay that Kleinschuster may now be ranked among the best figural artists working in the state -- it's strange that he's an unknown. He lives close by, in Loveland, but this is the thirty-something painter's very first Denver solo.
So how did Jim Robischon, co-director of his namesake gallery, find out about him? Well it turns out that Kleinschuster came in the back door. He's a former Colorado State University classmate of Jason Blamey, one of the gallery's assistants. Kleinschuster earned both his BFA and MFA in printmaking from CSU, but as this show demonstrates, he's also proficient in painting.
His works here are closely associated to one another, depicting nude or partially nude men, including Kleinschuster and his brother. The men are shown either resting or wrestling, but there's a certain pictorial ambiguity to some of them. Kleinschuster's style is expressionistic, with a frenzy of brush strokes used to convey the figure and the background. The resulting surfaces look virtually abstract-expressionist, which means that viewers need to step back from the paintings to make out the details; up close they're a riot of smears, splashes, drips and runs. In other words, gorgeous. Some of the paintings have a hallucinogenic quality with one figure transparently laid over another, but others are straightforward figure studies, such as "Man with Overturned Chair," in which a young man is seen seated in an old chair.
There's no denying that these Kleinschusters are erotically charged, and, despite their great size, there's a definite sense of intimacy. That theme continues with the two other exhibits now at Robischon, Jack Balas and Wes Hempel, which are obviously not meant to be part of DADA's "Introductions" series, because Balas and Hempel are practically household names. The neo-pop mixed-media paintings by Balas -- which are fabulous, incidentally -- also feature semi-nude young men. But instead of painting them, Balas represents them in altered photos. Hempel's elegant show is on exhibit in the Viewing Room in the back of the gallery, and it reprises a number of paintings that were exhibited in his solo here last season. Like Kleinschuster and Balas, Hempel's subjects are mostly handsome young men, but he carries out his in a hyper-realistic style set in jarringly surrealistic backgrounds.
The William Havu Gallery, another of the city's top-drawer contemporary art spaces, is also participating in DADA's "Introductions" series, but instead of presenting a solo, gallery director Bill Havu organized a museum-sized group show, life, death and in-between, in which unknowns and well-knowns mix together.
As suggested by the title, a lot of this work is disturbing or, at the very least, thought-provoking. Laurel Swab's beautifully painted female nudes are edgy because the women's heads are draped in scarves. Her sculptures are beautifully done, as well, especially "Leonardo's Wings," a funky metal female torso with skeletal bat wings. The effect is striking, and the piece has a much bigger presence than its diminutive size. Swab has been around a while, but she is not well known in Denver and thus qualifies as one of Havu's "Introductions" artists.
Another way to interpret "Introductions" is with new art by established artists, such as the group of unsettling female figure studies by James McElhinney, who lived in Denver but now resides in upstate New York. McElhinney is not interested in doing beautiful paintings, instead he focuses on a confrontational quality. The women, like the one in the oil-on-canvas "Portrait of Chelsea Cooksey," seem naked and ashamed as opposed to nude and natural. In these paintings, McElhinney completely communicates, in his stilted style, his simultaneous sexual attraction to the models and his repulsion by them.
McElhinney's naked young women aren't the only disturbing images here. Irene Delka McCray's explorations in oil paint of the impending deaths of naked senior citizens, both male and female, are really over the top. McCray's been a professional artist for more than thirty years, exhibiting widely both here and in Santa Fe, and from a technical standpoint, these pieces are incredibly accomplished. The same can be said for the nudes by Scott Parsons, another artist who's locally well known.