Art: Focused Abandon

“Rebecca VII,” oil on canvas

“New Paintings”
Through Nov. 28
Gallery 616
616 S. 11th St.

The colorful, vibrant abstract art of Terry Rosenberg has been described as “action paintings” and “gestural renderings.” That they are visual interpretations of dance and athleticism would suggest too that Rosenberg’s drawings and paintings are his poetry in motion.
This is true of past art that concentrated on group effort such as baseball, wrestling, ballet and indigenous dance from Mexico. Recent work, including a late 2008 show at Creighton University’s Lied Gallery, revealed another side of Rosenberg. Reviewing that exhibit, this critic wrote, “while his dance imagery is both remarkably fluid and energetic, his more meditative, singular work, such as his yoga drawing, is just as graceful and expressive.”

Rosenberg continues in this vein with his recent exhibit at the newly opened and renovated space named after its address at 616 S. 11th St. “New Paintings” offers seven medium oils on canvas,  which continue through this Thanksgiving holiday until Nov. 28. Though he could give each piece conceptual or symbolic titles, Rosenberg simply names them after the model that performed in front of him, thus revealing the true genre of his art.

Despite the interpretive performances, Rosenberg presents Rebecca, Meredith and Alexandria as portraiture. “Portraits, yes,” Rosenberg says, “but not of individuals in the traditional sense. I’m painting dance, not dancers, yet I do put names on these.” As usual with his “portraits” there is the temptation to look for the figure in the painting and to even claim to see it. But that is rather pointless much the same way some appreciate clouds only when they form something familiar, never appreciating the forest for the trees, so to speak.
Rosenberg says he paints with “highly focused abandon,” that he provides a transparency between subject and viewers which allows them to see with their imagination; not forms and shapes so much, but a “life-force” of energy and movement. In other words, to experience the work the way he did, in the moment.  Poet Beth Ann Fennelly describes this experience as “learning to forget,” when self-consciousness disappears and one is open to freedom of thought and expression without prior conditioning or bias. Only then is anything possible.

Connecting with the intangibles rather than concentrating only on the tangibles can be as difficult for an artist as the viewer. Rosenberg needed a technique by which to capture the essence and the energy of his ephemeral art. It came naturally with his drawings as charcoal and oil pastels lend themselves to gestural rendering. Oil is another matter, for he says, “very few paintings are that rhythmic in their mark-making.” How then to transfer such a technique to paint?

“I dreamed about what it would take,” Rosenberg said. “What if you made a tool that acted like a piece of charcoal. Instead of just using its tip the way most do, I use the edge across big areas and go back and forth in micro-seconds.” To incorporate this in his oils, he uses paint rollers and other objects of his own device. As a result you would be hard pressed to distinguish between Rosenberg’s paintings and drawings so readily does he match line, texture, palette and tone in such sweeping abstract form.

The 616 Gallery, with its combination of bare wood floors, low, open beam ceiling, white-washed back walls and new drywall, does justice to “New Paintings” via the sophisticated setting and dramatic key lighting. Because the middle of the venue is relatively dark, it feels like a dance recital hall with the “figures” pulsating and rotating around the viewer. This effect is further enhanced by the similar motifs of color and style.

Because Rosenberg primarily paints on a white background it seemed redundant placing them on white walls and panels. Would the work pop more on a colorful backdrop? Yet a second viewing reveals that this strategy creates its own effect. By placing each work on a broader white background each subject seems more animated and less like a painting, fairly flying off canvas and wall. Rosenberg’s palette is dominated by reds and yellows, and though they overlap, they don’t blend or dilute. The colors remain brilliant, burning with passion, however fleeting. These dancers aren’t subtle, mostly; they are graceful and spontaneous. They achieve an asymmetrical balance within their movement that is more interpretive than precise and calculated. Of the seven works in the show, the most effective and individualistic are numbers 1, 4, 6 and 7.

The first painting, “Rebecca V,” isolated on the left, is the show’s signature piece as it encompasses all of Rosenberg’s style, technique and POV. It is a proper intro to the variations that follow around the venue from left to right. This is Rosenberg’s impression of Rebecca in various stages of motion and maybe even at rest. You may think you see a figure in the frame, but it’s not important as the image appears to change every time you observe it. Yes, there is something tangible, but Rebecca defies form as well as gravity as this acrobatic dancer whirls and tumbles to the floor.

Think of “Rebecca,” no number designation, as the reverse image of Rebecca’s V, VII, XII and VIII as this will-o-the-wisp, ghostly figure wafts her way across a transparent black background. Since Rosenberg customarily paints only what his models create in the moment in front of him, one assumes Rebecca is wearing a diaphanous costume as she dances in and out of sight. The scenario is just as exotic as in other paintings here, but this one is more seductive and enigmatic rather than merely expressive.

As for “Rebecca VIII,” this may be the most expressive and unified piece in the show by virtue of its composition, texture and point of view. The most overtly figurative in this group yet there is no sense of isolation either from the artist and viewer. Instead Rebecca and artist are in perfect unison as she swirls across the canvas counterclockwise, arms and legs akimbo and Rosenberg has all he can do to keep up. Yet he does, and it is hard here to imagine one without the other so integrated is their movement. The energy source is more focused and thus more intense. Rebecca has reached the climax of her dance, and the viewer instead of trying to follow each move is caught up in the vortex. “Rebecca VIII” is so hypnotic that once absorbed the eye returns to it inwardly the way a sound echoes long after we stop hearing it.

Other works in this exhibit are more abstract, but none more so than “Alexandria.” Rosenberg has acknowledged a de Kooning and Pollock influence in his art, and this more minimalist piece may mark a renewed interest in this direction. Unlike his more sensual “Rebecca’s,” the portrait of “Alexandria” is as regal and elegant as her name, but no less kinetic. If “Rebecca VIII” is similar to the martial arts figure of Flying Snow in Zhang Yimou’s 2002 film, “Hero,” then Alexandria’s moves may be that of a jazz dancer in any of Bob Fosse’s films.

In this portrait, dancer and artist embrace improvisation and move as one in free association. Despite the colorful passion displayed each appears to create totally within themselves. Of all his “New Paintings,” “Alexandria” is the most mature example of Rosenberg making his mark with “focused abandon.”