PAINT CRUSH

From one perspective, the bulky physicality of paint belies its use as an optically transformative medium. The flawlessly smooth paintings of Rembrandt and Vermeer epitomize the perfection of the painted surface as an illusionary skin, invisible as a mirror.

 But from Post-Impressionism on, the physical reality of paint
has provided another means for artists to register information on
canvas. Veteran Cleveland-based painters Randall Tiedman and Douglas
Max Utter clearly know this; their outstanding joint exhibition at the
Arts Collinwood beautifully demonstrates how paint can be used to
record a kind of psychosocial complexity beyond the visual realm.

Tiedman has made a major breakthrough in recent years with his
brooding, multifaceted landscape paintings, which he calls “inscapes.”
He produces the works purely from his imagination, which opens up
endless possibilities for rendering the landscape as a metaphorical
minefield. His densely layered landscapes invite viewers to mentally
drift in and out of dimly lit pockets within seemingly boundless
vistas. If these were real spaces, they would be difficult to traverse
on foot. In the mind, it’s easy to imagine floating over them, pausing
to investigate each little world.

In Tiedman’s dreamlike places, the laws of physics have been
suspended. Broken and fallen structures merge with visions of
landfills, chemical plants, sports stadiums and office towers. Like
Piranesi’s famous 18th-century etchings of imaginary prisons, they can
be seen as epic visions of the apocalypse. And yet, some details
— like what appears to be a series of crisp red and white banners
— suggest an enduring world in which life goes on.

Up close, Tiedman’s newest paintings reveal that his loose and
expressive use of paint has been deftly carried from his figurative
works into his landscapes. Surprisingly long lines hold the brash
imprint of a straight edge, lending gritty energy to already rough
terrains. Rough patches of black and umber seem to bear actual weight
as they simultaneously depict shadowy recesses in his strangely
beautiful world.

Utter is represented here by pieces painted over the past 25 years,
including some of his strongest works: “Clinamen” from 1988, “Cleveland
Rain” from 2000, and “Mother and Child” from 2002. Collectively, they
show the tremendous range and nuance of his ongoing forays into
unconventional paint applications.

Whether poured, puddled, sprayed or splattered, the paint in Utter’s
work is neither passive nor gratuitous. Often coupled with delicate
brushstrokes, his bold blobs of cracked paint bring his figures into a
realm of pure psychological drama. While the subjects themselves are
often friends or family members, they become mythical figures,
poetically entangled in life’s emotional thickets.
     

“I look for ways to produce images that are like the imprint of real
things on physical materials — like photographs or footprints
— in order to explore the perception of psychological presence,”
writes Utter in a statement for the show. Such imprints bring tactility
into the equation of how his works so eloquently communicate.
Unfettered by the limitations of a purely optical form of
representation, he creates paintings in which a sense of touch is
powerfully evoked as a passageway into a distinctly sensual form of
human experience.

arts@clevescene.com

This article appears in Sep 23-29, 2009.