MICHAEL GREENSPAN
PROCESS ARTIST
LISA HARRIS GALLERY
THROUGH MARCH 7


Michael Greenspan's encaustic paintings on monolithic tablets of plaster reflect a contemporary ambivalence over modernist strictures while acknowledging the impact of the formalism prevalent in the '60s and early '70s. Striving for sculptural effect and intrigued with the process of construction and repair, Greenspan forms part of a new species of non-representational artist, occupying a position somewhere between the formal repertoire (if not the ideals) of Minimalism and humanism of assemblage. The eclectic nature of his mixture of traditional and more unusual materials tends to blur the line between the modern and the post-modern, and does not lend itself to facile pigeon-holing.

Greenspan completed his schooling in art during the heyday of the Minimalists. His early fascination with wall-mounted boxes (which figures in the evolution of this present work) parallels Donald Judd's preoccupation with the metaphors of security and mystery in boxed space. Unlike Judd, Greenspan has rejected the tight, slick look, opting instead for a less regimented, funkier mode of artmaking. As a result, Greenspan's painted, wood boxes are more like artifacts than precise, machine-tooled objects d'art. While Greenspan has remained committed to the power of monolithic forms, his working methods suggest the more random, chaotic, and intuitive approach of Abstract Expressionism rather than the regimentation of Judd and his ilk.

One series of works in Greenspan's current show represents a reversal of the constructive process in his art. In Crosswinds and other pieces, Greenspan unfolds boxes made of plaster on wood into juxtaposed color fields. The surfaces have been smoothed and eroded by the subtractive techniques of the artist to suggest the impact of natural forces. Mounted on the wall they retain a three-dimensionality and betray an appreciation for Diebenkorn's dry, sun-baked palette and monumentality. Greenspan's studies are meditations on the deconstructive properties of time and the elements. Though the works are uneven in quality, they move the viewer to examine art born of the canons of later modernism as a relic of an ancient culture. Today's post-modern marvel is tomorrow's Pompeii.

The evolution of Greenspan's art to date culminates in his plaster tablets. Dubbed "paintings," these are in fact multi-media pieces incorporating various types of plaster, encaustic paint, slate, wax, epoxies, and such exotic materials as Bondo. The constructive approach is once again given prominence, but the notions of decomposition and aging remain significant as well. Exuding weightiness and permanence, these non-objective constructions are informed by neo-Constructivist devices of kinetic space and rhythm that serve as a counter point to formal design. However, rather than addressing the social/industrial concerns of Archipenko or Tatlin, Greenpan's Malevichean imagery is inspired by his experience of the geometric shapes and patterns, climatic extremes, monochromatic presence, and the hidden colors of the Nevada desert from which he comes. He casts, then randomly breaks and reassembles the monolithic tablets to create a "canvas" whose surface he further erodes to expose the lower layers. The result is a work of art which freezes in the present a landscape that appears to have weathered the ravages of geological time.

South of Blackrock, one of several pieces in the show capturing the desert landscape from air (Greenspan is a gliding enthusiast), is the most sophisticated of the tablet works. A subdued, almost monochromatic piece with a soft slate gray dominating the center, this painting shows Greenspan can be a sensitive colorist whose affection for uneven, imperfect surfaces sets him apart from the obsessive slickness of neo-minimalist Joseph Goldberg. The mid-section has been worked over with a wire brush, leaving dramatic, glacier-like scars, exposing the plaster ground to the eye, and reinforcing the sense of terrene heaviness. The allusions to chaos and the expressive thrust and movement of the forms reveal much about Greenspan's roots.

Other tablet paintings are less successful. When Greenspan uses brighter colors he seems to lose his touch, resulting in garish hues which are out of character with the mood of these works. Their artificial, plastic look fails to fit with the softer, earthier tones that dominate. The show has other weaknesses as well. A third series of works are a throw-back to Greenspan's days of minimal boxes. Compositions of assembled rectilinear sections with smooth, painted surfaces are encased in rubbed, worn black frames. These literal constructions are far less interesting and lack the forceful presence of pieces like South of Blackrock and Downwind Leg. They are a step backwards in what has otherwise been a steady progression in his work.

The quiet development of Greenspan's work has been grounded in a faith in process, an interest in artifact, and a view of form as metaphor for experience. That his art needs maturing there is no question, but this recent exhibit suggests Greenspan is an original creative talent.


--Chris Schnoor, Reflex March/April 1989.


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