TM Davy TM Davy paints the intimate moments and relationships
In Portrait of Darkness (2012), a candelabra illuminates a
of his life. In a traditional style, he paints friends and
hanging sheet which fills the width of the picture. The light
fellow artists. He paints his husband, Liam. He paints their
of the flames creates dramatic shadows in the folds and
cat and an array of meaningful domestic objects. But
wrinkles of the material. In this expanse of white, a large
what Davy really paints is light. He paints the glow of
circle cut out of the fabric frames the deep, lush darkness
candles, cigarettes, sunlight, and moonlight, and, more
behind it. This strange black hole provokes a number of
specifically, he paints what the light looks like when it
associations, from an orifice to an eclipse of the sun.
bounces off skin or glass or fabric. When artist A A Bronson
In contrast to this black orb, the moon of Davy’s
asked Davy in an interview what he sees when he looks
monumental Fire Island Moonrise (2018) seems nearly as
in a mirror, he tellingly responded, “I see light, gradients
bright as the sun itself. Looking up at the canvas, you can
and rainbows…all the light that streams into the room…
almost feel the light on your face and sense the domed sky
frequencies passing through the skin and back, intensities
above your head. Light bounces off the clouds that ring
and hues separated by distance to bone and density of
the moon, the ocean below, and creates a halo around
blood, brighter shapes where the light hits most directly,
the artist’s figure kneeling next to his husband lying on
values shifting with turning away, all those angles of
the beach. Liam’s striped caftan and the ukulele next
incidence, patterns of shadow….” Davy also naturally
to him are direct references to Henri Rousseau’s The
paints the shadows, the dark. It is the perfect foil for the
Sleeping Gypsy (1897) which depicts a lion standing over
light. You can hardly see one without the other.
a sleeping woman and is similarly charged with both eroticism and angst.
Fire Island Moonrise, 2018; oil on canvas; 132 × 132 inches; courtesy of the artist and Van Doren Waxter
Wilhelm Neusser Wilhelm Neusser looks to the legacy of German
of supernatural phenomena, in which two long-lost lovers
Romanticism in his enigmatic landscapes which seem
find each other with the help of two moons. Neusser’s
to be as much a psychological terrain as a specific
painting is an image that is both past and future at once,
geography. Growing up outside of Cologne, Germany, in
referencing nocturnes by artists including Caspar David
an agricultural area which strip-mining has transformed
Friedrich, Joseph Wright, and Charles Innes, along with
into something less than picturesque, Neusser is drawn
science fiction fantasy. The intense, green glow of the
to the notion of disrupted paradise. He emphasizes
painting adds to its futuristic feel while reminding us that
the tension between the ideal and the real in the way
at night it is the light with the shortest wavelengths—
he makes his paintings, which, despite their convincing
green—that can be seen best.
representations, assert their physical surfaces and
A collection of small nocturnes is also on view.
materials. Neusser often takes a sander to his carefully
Neusser paints them with John Constable’s cloud studies
rendered paintings, or adds Gerhard Richter-like streaks
and the Romantic painters’ nature studies in mind.
and crusts of paint to their surfaces, inserting what he
The largest in this grouping pays homage to Beethoven’s
calls “a beautiful kind of rip in the illusion.”
melancholic Piano Sonata 14 from 1801, subtitled Quasi
His painting Nocturne/Doublemoon (2017) includes
una fantasia. The piece’s colloquial title (Moonlight Sonata,
another kind of subtle disruption. In what might otherwise
like the painting) was inspired by the German Romantic
be mistaken for an 18th- century depiction of the German
poet Ludwig Rellstab’s review of the composition’s first
forest, Neusser has depicted two uncanny moons. He has
movement which he likened to a boat floating in the
merged the mysterious atmosphere of Romantic painting
moonlight on Switzerland’s Lake Lucerne. Neusser’s
with elements of Haruki Murakami’s novel 1Q84.
painting imagines the clouds covering and exposing the
Named for George Orwell’s dystopian vision of 1984,
moon brought to life in Beethoven’s music.
Murakami imagines a parallel and distorted reality, full
Nocturne/Doublemoon, 2017; oil on linen; 57 × 67 inches; courtesy of the artist
Sam McKinniss Sam McKinniss bases his paintings on images he sources
McKinniss also paints his friends and lovers with
online, from celebrity portraits to animals and flowers.
the same eye for the sacred and the profane. With Night
Although he faithfully renders the originals without any
Texter (Violet Oliver) from 2015, McKinniss captures the
of the expected cynicism or irony, he also reveals his
warm glow of his subject’s cell phone and the reflective
subjects’ hidden complexities, drawing out their romance
stripes of his running pants in a manner reminiscent of
and theatricality—along with a hint of alienation.
Georges de La Tour’s candle-lit religious scenes from
McKinniss’s deep engagement with art history lends his
the 17th century. A series of small portraits originally
portfolio of pop-culture subjects the gravitas of a range
painted for the erotic magazine, Adult, provide an even
of historical paintings that influence him, from Fragonard’s
more intimate look at a number of the men in McKinniss’s
Rococo confections to Caravaggio’s moody dramas. His
circle. Half-hidden in shadow, a man wearing a thick woolen
recent portrait of singer Lana Del Rey captures the
sweater is as seductive as the figure in a more advanced
starlet’s nearly heavenly stature (worshipful fans can buy
stage of undress.
prayer candles with her likeness online). The painting is
The various moments of performativity and
influenced by an aquatint of a set design for an 1816
anticipation McKinniss paints perhaps culminates with
production of “The Magic Flute.” In the print, the Queen
Northern Lights (2017). Like his other subjects, the image of
of the Night is enveloped in a glittering dome of stars. In
the Aurora Borealis can easily slide into the trite and
a similar fashion, in McKinniss’s operatic portrait, Del Rey
saccharine, but in McKinniss’s network of images the acid
is engulfed in a shimmering halo of confetti, emphasizing
greens and purples of the spectacular natural phenomenon
the intersection of religion and show business.
suggest the ecstasy of technicolor light displays and druginduced hallucinations of urban nightclubs.
Night Texter (Violet Oliver), 2015; oil and aqua-leaf on canvas; 60 × 48 inches; collection of Stephanie LaCava and Bryan Weiss
Shara Hughes Shara Hughes’ vibrant paintings pay homage to a
Hughes painted Like Night and Day (2009) during a
pantheon of early 20th- century painters. The influence
turbulent time in her life, and the living space suggests
of Henri Matisse and the Fauves, Vincent van Gogh,
the feeling of being torn in two. A large skylight looks
Ernst Ludwig Kirchner and the German Expressionists
out onto both a blue, cloud-filled sky and an expanse of
are all seen and felt, along with a connection to American
stars. The zigzags of the floor below and the impossible
modernists such as Marsden Hartley and Arthur Dove.
web of beams add to the sense of disorientation. A river-
In addition to the array of art historical references that
like carpet of glitter cuts through the space, cleaving it
Hughes combines to create her own fantastical visions,
in two. A snake-like form lies on the floor, its stripes
she uses an expansive vocabulary of painterly materials
reminiscent of the coral snake native to Hughes’ Georgia
and marks. In many cases, a single canvas might include
home, while an owl, a natural predator, looks out from
all of them: transparent washes of dye, thick applications
its perch on a bench. A small peace sign offers a hopeful
of oil, fluid ribbons of enamel, dizzying repetitions
respite from the implied conflict.
of brushstrokes, stippled dots of color, and airy bursts
While the domestic interior depicts both night and
of spray paint. Together these varied languages express
day simultaneously, in other works Hughes conflates them,
the complex terrain of emotions manifested through
allowing confusion between the illusion of moonlight
her subjects, both in her dream-like landscapes and her
or sunlight. Deep Dark Fall (2015) features an orange-red
more psychologically agitated interiors and figures.
moon that might be mistaken for a blazing sun. Evoking both fear and desire, the pitch black water cascading into roiling white foam appears like an impassable gulf between the viewer and the enchanted landscape on the far shore. A calmer pool of water below the tall cliff glows with purple and yellow from the reflected moonlight, almost beckoning us for a romantic nighttime swim. Hughes calls her images “invented’ landscapes, and the framing device on each side of Deep Dark Fall adds to the impression that we are looking at a place from elsewhere. Spins from Swiss (2017) is unusual in its connection to a particular memory of the artist driving through mountains in Switzerland. Moving in and out, up and down, between dark and light, the painting of the circuitous roads up the soaring peaks suggests both the awe felt in the face of the dramatic topography, but also the vertigo that the artist often contends with in daily life.
Spins from Swiss, 2017; oil and dye on canvas; 78 × 70 inches; private collection
Jeronimo Elespe Jeronimo Elespe paints dreamlike scenes that often begin
Elespe works in various vocabularies that draw on
with autobiographical details from his studio and home
a wide range of inspirations from symbolist literature to
life. Letting memory and imagination take over, the artist
Japanese prints to the visionary paintings of Charles
creates enigmatic images that linger in a liminal space
Burchfield, among others. The small format of his works,
between myth and the mundane. In Fine (2015), a dog-like
with their condensed, jewel-like marks, gives them the
creature stands at the bottom of a staircase floating in
quality of private or sacred objects. Elespe’s process is a
an atmospheric sea of shimmering blue. Invitaciones
cumulative one of addition and subtraction, and he can
peligrosas (2017) transforms a simple box into a portal to
take months and even years to complete a work. His dense,
another world. Both of these paintings suggest the magic
repeated marks somehow veer toward the immaterial,
and the danger of night, with figures and objects unmoored
like the figures in Hesperides (2017) who emerge like ghosts
from the day and its familiar architecture. Walls and floor
from the crepuscular mist. In Elespe’s version, the maidens
transform into in an endless, starry ether. The artist’s
of the evening from Greek mythology wear head scarves
pointillist-like application of paint adds to the illusion of
and carry wine goblets.
night, creating hazy images that suggest the fog-like pixilation of night vision.
Hesperides, 2016; mixed media on panel; 39.37 × 25.59 inches; collection of Sally and Tom Neff
William Binnie William Binnie makes paintings that confront the American
Southwest imagines a contemporary iteration of Manifest
mythos, providing a darker, more complex portrait of
Destiny, while a melting ice shelf reminds us of the urgent
the nation. Source images he has collected for years that
need to care for the land.
reference art, film, politics, and history, along with
The most disturbing images in Binnie’s index evoke
everyday moments, become interconnected in a single
the racial terror associated with the night. Burning churches
canvas, or in the cluster of paintings that make up Atlas I
confront us with a common act of violence against
(2016). Leaving much of his canvases exposed, Binnie
black communities. Ku Klux Klan hoods speak to the grim
paints hyperrealist scenes in swatches that assert the
persistence of white supremacy. In The Vine that Ate the
power of art to create alternative worlds while functioning
South (2018), Binnie engages the myth surrounding
much like the windows on a computer which bring together
kudzu, an invasive species from Asia which lives large in
disparate subject matter in non-hierarchical relationships.
the Southern imagination as a monstrous weed capable
The constellation of paintings in Atlas I suggest many
of darkening millions of acres under its tangled web
of the ideals and contradictions in our heroic notion
and even of creeping into homes at night. The truth is
of “America.” Rugged landscapes and majestic animals
much less daunting, of course, and this misinformation
collide with imagery suggesting the racism and intolerance
illustrates the power of such popular mythologies. A
that plagues our past and present. A lone stag conveys
burning torch on the same canvas evokes the frightening
power and masculinity, while two female deer in an intimate
images of the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville
kiss propose a symbol of modern love. A cross framing a
and the chants of “You Won’t Replace Us.” Paired with
woman’s bottom addresses the ongoing fight to control
the kudzu, the message is clear that the fear of the other
the female body in the name of religion. Renderings of the
is stoked by untruths and misrepresentations.
moon’s surface convey a spirit of exploration, while flags hint at the dangers of nationalism. A Martian landscape that could be mistaken for the red rocks of the American
Atlas I, 2016 (details); oil, acrylic, and gesso on canvas; 28 works of varying dimension; overall dimensions variable; collection of Beth Rudin DeWoody
Cy Gavin Cy Gavin often paints the night. Drawn to the darkness
Gavin painted Idyll (Eclipse) (2017) following a
when color is difficult to discern, he lets his imagination
pilgrimage to North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains to view
take over. His fantastic hues—acid greens and fluorescent
the total eclipse. Picturing the moment when celestial
oranges—are inspired by the vivid colors of Bermuda,
bodies align and day briefly turns to night, Gavin presents
his father’s homeland: pink hibiscus, green ferns, turquoise
the moon as a red orb, with the sun visible as a bright ring
water, and the purple iris-like Bermudiana flower. They
behind it. A dusky green pall darkens the sky and
also impart the intense emotions embedded in the land.
mountains, while electric pink foliage conveys the strange
Gavin has visited many times, researching his family
light and intoxicating effects of the astronomical event.
history as well as the history of slavery on the island. He
Gavin describes the painting as a picture of the self and
has painted local sites that are metaphorically colored by
the earth unified in a spiritual whole. He imagines our
a tragic past—from Jeffrey’s Cave, named for an escaped
place—and those who have come before us—in a
slave who found refuge there, to Tucker’s Point, the
continuous recycling of energy that changes material form
location of a historic cemetery which was covered over
but remains constant over eons.
by a golf course.
Gavin has recently made a number of paintings in
Gavin’s high-key colors are often rooted in a dark
black and white or monochrome, mimicking the limited
ground, painted on a black and blue denim. The
palette visible at night when he ventures out into the
unusual dimensions of his works are determined by the
woods near his studio outside Poughkeepsie or makes
eccentricities of his studio. Hanging his canvases directly
the trek to Bish Bash Falls. He is drawn to the waterfall
on the wall, they fit between beams or between the low
(the subject of a monumental new painting) for its
ceiling and a line of conduit. His largest works he paints
impressive size, but also because the park is often
on the floor, letting the outlines of the floorboards become
frequented by people of color. He visits after dark,
part of the composition. In doing so, he merges the
when the park is closed to the public, to study its dramatic
sites of his painting and the site where they are painted,
textures under the moonlight. In these New England
mingling his past and present.
nocturnes, the silhouetted conifers take on a sinister quality, evoking the unease a black man feels in the country at night.
Idyll (Eclipse), 2017; acrylic, gesso, ink, oil on denim; 56 × 134 inches; collection of Carole Server and Oliver Frankel
Alexandria Smith Alexandria Smith’s paintings tap into memories of
paintings makes a nod to the dual role that night plays
coming-of-age experiences. The pigtails, wide eyes, and
in a young person’s imagination—a time that can be both
sprawling limbs and body parts seen throughout her
magical and mortifying.
works are both familiar and unsettling. They suggest
Inspired by Titian’s Venus of Urbino, Between Delight
moments of self-discovery that can be both delicious
shows an obscured figure in pigtails reclining on a bed.
and awkward, if not traumatic. While Smith’s cartoon-
Set against a dark background of glitter that suggests a
like images suggest a child’s point of view and imagination,
starry sky, the image replaces a traditional representation
they also evoke the images from childhood stories—
of idealized female beauty and desire, with the image of
from nursery rhymes to fairy tales. These seemingly
an African-American girl too shy (or ashamed) to reveal
innocent but often dark morality tales articulate social
her face. In contrast, with the The Skin We Speak (2017)
expectations and taboos that twist the formation of identity
the night seems to offer a refuge for two young women
and ideas about race, gender, sexuality, and difference.
(or the self and a reflection) to explore a language spoken
In many works Smith frames the body as something
by the body, undeterred by the narratives of others.
slightly wild and unruly—a foreign terrain to be explored
Smith is influenced by the idea of doubling prevalent
like the night. The long rows of black hair in Up From
in Yoruba religion and African-American folklore,
Eden (2017) and We have never been modern (2017),
as well as the dramatic mix of illusion and reality in the
for example, suggest the out-of-control growth of Jack’s
representation of space in Baroque painting.
beanstalk. The dark tone of these and other Smith
The Skin We Speak, 2017; acrylic, oil and enamel on canvas; 84 × 60 inches; courtesy of the artist
Kenny Rivero Kenny Rivero paints stories from the Washington Heights
Ominous images of fire also repeat in Rivero’s works.
neighborhood where he grew up. Evoking the chaos of
A vestige of a vivid childhood memory of a burning
New York, sidewalks and architectural fragments collide
kitchen, the flames are both beautiful and frightening,
with partial figures in nearly cubist compositions that
like the artist’s recollection of the event itself. A more
mix flat planes of color with decorative pattern and
brutal image from Rivero’s urban upbringing is manifested
Paul Klee-like drawing. His impossible spaces suggest
in It Happened on the Corner (2014). A figure is crumpled
the imperfections of memory, while the enigmatic letters
on the sidewalk, the victim of some unspecified violence.
and numbers embedded in the scenes recall the initials
An evil spirit seems to hover over the body, while
or phone numbers of friends and family. The Dominican-
disembodied heads—friendlier ghosts of deceased loved
American artist often conjures the atmosphere of the
ones—float nearby. A skull wearing a baseball cap is
streets at night, with a sense of freedom and adventure
a reference to Rivero’s father who died when the artist
as well as fear. The light from streetlamps, cars, and
was in high school. References to spirits, Santeria, and
apartment windows punctures the intimidating darkness
Dominican vodun are peppered throughout his canvases.
and provides a sense of the magic of the nocturnal city.
In Ask About Me (2017) a face emerges from the pitch black.
In The Church is Empty (2014), the colored glow emanating
A third eye in the middle of his forehead symbolizes
from stained-glass windows looks warm and welcoming.
the ability to access spiritual planes or other levels of consciousness. The giant head towers over the small objects and vignettes below like an omniscient spirit, the worlds of the living and the dead intersecting in the night.
It Happened on the Corner, 2014; oil, acrylic, and collage on canvas; 60 × 84 inches; courtesy of the artist
Noah Davis Noah Davis made a huge impact in his life which was
Davis created Painting for My Dad (2011) in the wake
cut short at age 32. His skillful paintings depict everyday
of his father’s death. Carrying a lantern into the dark,
moments in African-American lives, while his
a figure is perched on the edge of a cliff or cave, peering
Underground Museum in Los Angeles provides a space
into the infinite starry night sky. Night has long been
for art in the everyday lives of many residents of the
associated with death—the sleep that does not end. Davis’
city. In his paintings, figures are often set against a dark
moving painting is even more poignant in the wake of his
or barren backdrop, creating a sense of isolation or
own death in 2015. Mera Rubell, the painting’s owner,
alienation. Many of the simple scenarios have a hint of the
once remarked that “it captured this fading-away, into a
surreal. With relatively few elements, Davis’s paintings
place that no one could follow,” but only a few short years
suggest a complex psychological narrative, bringing to mind
later Davis indeed followed into that dark night, as we all
the work of a number of artists he has been compared
someday will.
to, including Peter Doig, Balthus, Marlene Dumas, and Neo Rauch.
Painting for My Dad, 2011; oil on canvas; 76 × 91 inches; Rubell Family Collection
Josephine Halvorson Josephine Halvorson works en plein air, making paintings
night, and despite their similarities, each is different. The
out in the world in locations that have included northern
gray-green hue of the window frame varies from canvas
California, Tennessee, and Iceland (she travels with a
to canvas—perhaps with shifts in light—as do the
portable French easel). She notes that she is usually
position of the nails, evidence of the subjectivity and
within an arm’s length from the objects that she chooses
personal perceptions inherent to even the most direct of
to paint, which range from defunct mining equipment
representations. The paintings are titled with the date on
in Death Valley to the trees she encounters on her walks
which they were painted, a reminder that each is a
in the Berkshires where her studio is based. Her sensitive
unique portrait of a particular experience. Together they
observations produce images that are full of detail—
provide a study of time and a record of the incremental
exacting likenesses—that draw attention to the subtleties
changes in the night sky. Halvorson commented that
that we often overlook and hint at what she describes as
to paint a view of Rome under the cloak of darkness is
“the invisible yet perceptible feelings in the physical world.”
perhaps a response to the psychological weight of such
The artist created her “Night Window” works during
an undertaking—when the likes of Ingres may have
a residency at the French Academy at the Villa Medici
painted from that very same Villa Medici apartment. Ingres
in Rome between 2014 and 2015. Each painting is an
and others surely must have also pondered a similar night
iteration of a single view of the window in her atelier and
sky. Like the night itself, Halvorson’s “Night Windows”
the night sky beyond. Working in series for the first time,
captures the intimate and universal at once.
the artist painted each work over the course of a single
Night Window, April 25 – 26, 2015; Night Window, May 27 – 28, 2015; Night Window, August 5 – 6, 2015; 2015 oil on linen; 31 × 22 inches each; courtesy of Sikkema Jenkins & Co., New York; Photos: Daniele Molajoli
Dana Powell Dana Powell makes small-format paintings of everyday
In Ghost Drive (2017) a strange haze on the road
objects and vignettes. She often paints them on her lap,
suggests the apparition of the title. Yet the ambiguous
and they convey a sense of the intimacy of their making.
image suggests the uncertainty that we feel in the face of
Reminiscent of photographs in their visual directness
the unknown. Did we really see that? With Brass Eye,
and stripped-down subject matter, they are purely products
Powell transforms what at first appears to be a gray
of the artist’s imagination. Trained as a photographer,
monochrome into a door with a peephole. Conjuring the
Powell likes to suggest a complex narrative with a single
fear provoked by an unexpected knock at the door at night,
image, and her series of moody night drives are filled
the painting positions the viewer as the visitor under
with the suspense of an Alfred Hitchcock film. Painted
scrutiny. Rather humorously emphasizing the notion of a
on linen, the works are full of atmosphere and mystery,
space existing behind the flat surface of the picture plane,
the texture of the material adding to the play of light and
Powell puts a twist on the traditional metaphor of painting
shadow. The images of dark roads are lit with the glow of
as an open window.
headlights which pierce the blackness and bounce light off the asphalt. The desolate highways invite any number of imagined scenarios as we wonder what might be waiting around the next bend. Powell began these dark works in the wake of the 2016 election, and they convey the anxious tenor of the day.
Brass Eye, 2017; oil on linen; 12 × 9 inches; collection of James Fuentes
Cynthia Daignault Cynthia Daignault has said that she paints love and death.
For Daignault, the night is inextricably entwined
She also paints light and time. Perhaps they are the same
with the emergence of selfhood and the milestones of
thing in the end. Her serial meditations on light document
adolescence—including the first taste of sex, drugs, and
the sky as a constant in our lives while it records its
rock and roll. Night Walk (2015) was inspired by the many
constant changes. Daignault’s works propose life as a
nocturnal strolls the artist took as a teenager when she
string of ephemeral moments—moments she wants us to
would sneak out of her childhood home in Baltimore
pay attention to. She painted 40 Days and 40 Nights (2014)
while her parents were sleeping. She retraced her steps
outside a small, remote cabin in nearby Stockport,
with the same 35mm camera that she used in high school,
New York, where she spent a winter alone, painting.
and used the resulting photographs to make the series of
(Perhaps the title is a nod to the Genesis Flood and the
twelve paintings back in her studio. Her images of empty
destruction and recreation of the world). Working en
yards, glowing streetlights, and rather ominous-looking
plein air, Daignault painted two paintings each day over
trees evoke both the quiet side of night, but also its
the course of 40 days. She spent four to six hours painting
strangeness and what Daignault has called its “buzzing
a view through the trees in daylight and then, after a
brutality.” She imagines the “vicious insects, nocturnal
break, spent another four to six hours painting the view
predators, serial killers, incurable drunks, night terrors,
after the sun went down. Painting the same patch of
adulterers” that populate the night. Though Daignault’s
forest and sky night after night, she beautifully captures
many associations with night may elicit fear as much as
the dramatic changes in light and color—from both
illicit pleasure, she imagines the night not so much as
the pinks and oranges of sunset and the deep blues and
sinister but primal, its savagery tied to a certain kind of
blacks of the witching hours.
freedom. Painting the works in black, white, and gray, the artist recreates the limited palette that the eye is able to see at night, while making a nod to the history of blackand-white photography and the work of photographers such as Henry Wessel.
40 Nights, 2014 (details); oil on linen; 40 parts, 12 × 9 inches each; collection of Shelly and Neil Mitchell
Patrick Bermingham Patrick Bermingham has been painting the night for over
of foliage, become more clearly defined with patient
two decades, both inside his studio and outside under
viewing. Patches of light scattered through the wooded
the moonlight in locations as varied as Ontario’s Dundas
landscape also become increasingly brighter and more
Valley, the Georgian Bay archipelago, and rural Guatemala.
apparent. This moonlit path leads the viewer’s eyes across
His evocative nightscapes translate both our emotional
the surface of the painting in a rather unusual trajectory
responses to night and the perceptual, conveying the
from the bottom right and up to the left instead of taking
experience of how we see in the dark.
us into receding space and out the back of the painting.
The muted palette of Bermingham’s monumental
Titled after the first canto of Dante’s Inferno, in which
work, Midway on our path in life (2017), approximates the
Dante finds himself lost in a dark wood, the painting
limited gray, black, and white hues that we see at night
suggests the less obvious path—though still guided by the
(the eye’s cones, which allow us to see color, require
light. Midnight in the Clearing (2017) also plays with
bright light). The shift that occurs as night vision and the
usual expectations. The grassy ground of the painting
rods take over—when objects that at first appeared as
glows with the light of a full moon, but the bright orb is
general outlines reveal themselves in more detail—also
nowhere to be seen. Only the radiance it casts on the
happens with Bermingham’s paintings. The rather
ground below is visible. A small spark of light in the night
sketch-like appearance of the large painting, for example,
sky is the glimmer of the planet Venus.
with its silhouetted trees and expressionistic bursts
Midway on our path in life (2017); oil on canvas; 96 × 192 inches; courtesy of the artist
Caspar David Friedrich Two Men Contemplating the Moon, (1825–30)
The Lure of the Dark: Contemporary Painters Conjure the Night For centuries, painters have been drawn to the mysteries and marvels of the night. Literally and metaphorically altering our perceptions, the dark transforms the world around us. The hours between sundown and sunup are rife with promise, full of the wonder of dreams, but also a time when we are at our most vulnerable, fending off nightmares real and imagined. Thus the night invites a myriad of associations: sex, death, romance, magic, terror, alienation, and freedom, among them. Nearly every generation has produced a nocturne that lingers in our individual and collective memory, from Caspar David Friedrich’s Two Men Contemplating the Moon (1825–30) to Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks (1942). These works speak to the universal emotions provoked by the night but also to the particular tenor of their time. The diverse group of artists in The Lure of the Dark are part of this long tradition, plumbing the depths of night and its poetic possibilities.
The Lure of the Dark Patrick Bermingham • William Binnie • Noah Davis • TM Davy Cynthia Daignault • Jeronimo Elespe • Cy Gavin • Shara Hughes Josephine Halvorson • Sam McKinniss • Wilhelm Neusser Dana Powell • Kenny Rivero • Alexandria Smith On view starting March 3, 2018 Major exhibition support is provided by the Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation, the Barr Foundation, and the Massachusetts Cultural Council.
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