SLIP INTO ABSTRACTION

BY TERRI PROVENCAL

Art Ball’s ’60s theme coincides with DMA’s timely exhibition.

Through painting, sculpture, and performance, the Dallas Museum of Art’s Slip Zone: A New Look at Postwar Abstraction in the Americas and East Asia, mines key contributions to artistic innovation in the mid-20th century. Through the lens of Slip Zone, we reconsider the influence of international movements such as Gutai and Mono-ha, Dansaekhwa, and Brazilian neo-concretism, and essential Black and women abstract artists who questioned abstract expressionism, minimalism, and color field movement perceptions in the US. Curated from the DMA’s contemporary holdings and loans from local private collections, the exhibition is on view during the museum’s signature fundraiser TABLEAUX: 60 Years of Art Ball (1962–2022).

“Slip Zone celebrates everything that makes the DMA special… inclusive in nature, international in vision, and a reflection of the generosity of Dallas,” says 2022’s Art Ball chair Brian Bolke. Choosing a ’60s theme, he adds, “This Art Ball is a love letter to the DMA, a look back at an institution that has always looked forward.”

Here we asked patrons to select favorites from the show.

BRIAN BOLKE “The rawness of this photograph…a testament to the passion of creation…spoke to me. Seeing the scale and the intensity as well of the physical nature of the painting method reinforces that behind even the most simple-seeming work is true technique and craft.”

Kiyoji Ötsuji, Gutai photograph, 1956–1957, printed 2012, black-and-white photograph. Overall, 14 x 11 in. Mat dimensions 20 x 16 in. The Rachofsky Collection and the Dallas Museum of Art through the TWO x TWO for AIDS and Art Fund. SHERYL AND GEOFF GREEN Sam Gilliam’s Leaf feels like a visual expression of a jazz song. The artist’s canvas drapes, pleats, and expressively reaches out into our space. The rhythmic array of colors melodically swirl and dance. We also love that Gilliam employed abstraction as a means of supporting change and growth on the heels of the Civil Rights movement. Leaf is uplifting, inspirational, and if you look close enough, you may just get swept up in it.

Sam Gilliam, Leaf, 1970, acrylic on canvas, 121.75 × 186 × 12.50 in. Dallas Museum of Art. Gift of Timothy C. Headington.

Helen Frankenthaler, Myth, 1973, acrylic on canvas, 55 x 106 in. Private collection of Jennifer and John Eagle.

SHARON YOUNG It was so difficult to select only one piece from this amazing show! Abstract painting is my favorite form of art, which made it almost impossible to choose a favorite. In the end, I settled on Helen Frankenthaler’s Myth from 1973. I tend to walk around an exhibit quickly the first time, but this stopped me in my tracks. The opacity of the paint, the blurring of the edges of the pale colors with the red paint, the sliver of white canvas in the middle—all of this and more rooted me to the spot. It’s the kind of painting I would want installed in my bedroom—the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing at night. I also love the installation of the Lynda Benglis piece, Odalisque (Hey, Hey Frankenthaler)—made me laugh and appreciate our great curators!

GOWRI SHARMA I experienced Lee Ufan’s From Point in two distinct ways when viewing it at the DMA. When I initially encountered it from across the gallery, the brushstrokes seemed to have a quick energetic quality to them, as if they were painted fast from left to right. In contrast, if the dark blue brushstrokes are seen as objects, then they seem to be moving through space from right to left, leaving shadow tracks in their wake. The image reminded me of the sensation of passing through a tunnel on a fast-moving train. When I stood closer to the piece, I experienced it quite differently; it was much calmer. The meditative and intentional brushstrokes slowed down the experience of time as the artist repeated the same movement until the paint wore thin. From this vantage point, I was able to connect with the artist’s methodology and sense of time. The act of painting and the finished work are concurrent. This would mean that the artist could not rework any paint after it is applied, therefore everything is as it should be.

Lee Ufan, From Point, 1978, glue and stone pigment on canvas, overall, 71.50 x 89.37 in. The Rachofsky Collection and the Dallas Museum of Art through the TWO x TWO for AIDS and Art Fund

GONZALO BUENO Two of my favorites are Mark Rothko and Louise Nevelson. I think the abstract paintings that Rothko created are so amazing and with such depth into the emotions. This painting in orange and yellow definitely captures the essence of basic human emotions as he intended in his art. We are so lucky to have a piece from Rothko at the DMA.

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1952, oil on canvas, 97.75 × 67.25 in. Dallas Museum of Art, gift of the Meadows Foundation, Incorporated.

AMANDA SHUFELDT My mother-in-law first introduced me to Robert Rauschenberg. She has always had a special fondness for his work that she instilled in me. I especially like how in his Hoarfrost series, he is using a traditional printmaking technique in an unexpected medium. The result is a work that moves and changes, interacting with visitors to the museum in a way that a typical work on paper does not. I also love that whenever I see a Rauschenberg, it gives me a reason to think of my mother-in-law and give her a call!

Robert Rauschenberg, Night Hutch (Hoarfrost), 1976, ink on unstretched fabric, 49.50 x 42 in. Dallas Museum of Art. Gift of the artist. JENNIFER EAGLE

Ed Clark, Intarsia, 1970, acrylic on canvas, canvas dimensions: 119 x 215.50 in. Dallas Museum of Art, TWO x TWO for AIDS and Art Fund. I get lost in an Agnes Martin work. So obsessive yet so elegant. It’s almost like she is speaking directly to you. So small yet holds the room all by itself. Meditative, calming. An exhale moment where all else fades away for a bit. Beautiful.

Agnes Martin, Untitled, 1960, oil on linen, 12.56 x 12.62 x 1.25 in. Collection of Marguerite and Robert Hoffman.

PATRON PICK Experimenting early with the shaped canvas, Ed Clark was a pioneer of the New York School. Since the 1950s, his decades-long exploration of vibrant color, abstract form, and the materiality of paint made him a pivotal artist of American abstraction, extending its language in ways that few artists have. Intarsia beautifully demonstrates Clark’s adept handling of a push broom as a performative process to create the pulsating effect.