May 29, 2003

Zoe Leonard at Paula Cooper Gallery

In a moment marked by hyperinflated production budgets and space-consuming installations, it is refreshing to see an exhibition by an artist devoted to the everyday, the banal, and the humble. Zoe Leonard has mined this territory for years, and it is her dedication to her subject matter and consistent ability to evoke quiet beauty that prevents her art from coming across as affectation. Part artistic venture, part documentary, her oeuvre has traced the residue of time on human existence and our environment.

This show presented eighteen recent photographs and one sculpture. The sculpture, made from forty-two vintage blue suitcases, seems an orphan in this exhibition. Set side-by-side perpendicular to the wall for half the length of the gallery, it is more closely related to Carl Andre’s art than the photographs on view.

Neither matted nor framed but pressed to the wall by Plexiglas, the photos depict derelict buildings, gum stains on the sidewalk, solitary trees bearing fruit but no leaves, and boarded-up windows. One evocative image presents a moment in what must be a drawn-out battle: the trunk of a tree flops over a concrete sidewalk like a large belly overcoming a waistband, expanding despite attempts to rein it in. The reward for careful attention to Zoe Leonard’s art is an ability to pay more careful attention to life outside the gallery.

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The lack of entries is due lately to my seeing too much art to have appropriate time to report about it. In the next few days I will post a few more brief reviews and perhaps a summary of what I saw while in Chicago for Art Chicago 2003 and The Stray Show. Progress continues on the journal, which will be ready by the June 15 launch date. I hope all is well with my family and friends scattered across the globe who might come across this. I've been below the radar while attending to my work, but will be in touch soon.