Showing posts with label 90s art scene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 90s art scene. Show all posts

December 26, 2015

morphopolis – new paintings by Robert Egert


Robert Egert – Bleeding Hearts and Distraught Souls Cannot Prevail
Against Economic Systems Designed by Non-Human Constructs
oil, acrylic, tempera on canvas 60 x 48 in. 2015
Catalog essay by Laura J. Padgett
with an afterword by Ethan Pettit

Oct 3 – Dec 19 – 2015

with Guest Artists Chris Fiore and Tobias Tak

Oct 3 | 7–9:30 PM | Opening Night
Performance by (NOS) (a genre-fluid mental health tribute band)

Andrea Egert LSW – vocals
Jack Schwartz PhD – guitar
Billy Paige CpD – drums

Nov 14 | 8:00–10 PM | Movie Night
with Eva Schicker and Chris Fiore

Dec 19 | 7–10 PM | Closing Party



Shapes have a memory of their own, a life of their own. The creator of a particular shape conjures a life force within the shape. Not a life force recorded by the process of painting but rather inherent in the shape itself by using line and form to bring a shape with agency into being. — RE


The Paintings of Robert Egert

Laura J. Padgett

Let’s have a look at this. Let’s observe closely. When we regard any kind of artwork today we can identify a plethora of references: art historical, cultural, societal, some visual. How can we contemplate what an artwork is about while at the same time see what it is? How do non-visual references influence, not what an artwork looks like, but how we see it? How do we know what something is about? How do we inform ourselves as viewers to be educated enough to know what we are comprehending when viewing an artwork?

These are questions that immediately run through my mind when I look at art, especially Robert Egert’s — and I have been looking at his work throughout his entire career. Is what we see a story, a satire, a microscopic enlargement, an analysis of DNA or patterns taken from a satellite view?

Robert Egert is an artist who thrives from the confluence of many arteries. When I met him during foundation year at Pratt Institute. I was impressed that he was born and raised in Brooklyn. Still, I don’t know if I was more impressed by his knowledge of Greek and Roman myths, I think they kind of balanced each other out.

This is important. This is important to be able to see Robert Egert’s work. He is grounded in the here and now, with a knowledge that runs through antiquity to contemporary science fiction. I don’t want to be too specific, but we can talk about rhizomes, fracking, Pan, the Loreley, Russian cinema, the Golden Age, artificial intelligence and gun control.



Robert Egert – We Need a Working Session
acrylic, dyed glue, tempera on canvas • 30 x 34 in • 2015
collection of Sean Briski


Robert Egert – 26 Females – oil on canvas 28 x 36 in. 2015

All kinds of things are in his head when he paints. He thinks a lot when he works. He doesn’t make it easy on himself. The arteries that nourish his system can contradict each other, can almost cancel each other out, only to join together to strengthen each other. His work has evolved from narrative to abstract to abstract narrative. It is fluid in an overlapping viscous kind of way.

Robert Egert’s fluidity develops from a concept. This is no flimsy use of the word. At Pratt in the seventies we enjoyed a rigorous education in minimalist and conceptual art, both in theory and practice. This underlies Robert Egert’s work no matter what it looks like. His early painting moved from constructed spatial objects to new takes on Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

In the early 1980s when the East Village was hip and dangerous, I saw his exhibition at Civilian Warfare. His paintings were large oil canvases, vernacular objects floated amidst a color field ground, weird perspectives generated a sense of insecure place. These works referenced the uncertainty of the times, a change in value systems, a world drifting towards an ambivalent future.

Years before artists like Neo Rauch appeared on the scene, Robert Egert was making paintings that collaged the mundane with the historical in a mix that said something about contemporary politics. Manifesting duplicity by referencing nostalgia, his work pinned down the eclecticism of the time, making images that were complex and unapologetic. Since then Robert Egert’s work has evolved to be more pondering, while reductive, dealing with questions that go beyond the contemporary. The years following the heady days of New York in the eighties took him in many directions.




Robert Egert – Exogenesis
dyed glue, oil, acrylic on canvas 28 x 36 in. 2015


Robert Egert – Short Palindromic Repetitions
oil on canvas 24 x 30 in. 2015
collection of ethan pettit gallery

Robert Egert went on to study philosophy and sociology, founded a family, wrote for art journals and has had a good look at corporate America. Inevitably, his approach to painting has become more encompassing as he incorporates experience gained outside the hermetics of the art world. His work revolves around questions like: What is life flow? What is humanity?

The sense of searching to make humanity palpable without obvious visual cues is a quest that Robert Egert has set out upon. When we look at the shapes in his paintings we see patterns interlocking and overlays of color. Sometimes we become aware of a figure. Is it human? Put simply, Egert’s paintings can be seen as a cartography of humanity. The body is ephemeral, fleeting and appearing, drifting and separating.



Robert Egert – Quarantine Summary
oil on canvas 22 x 28 in. 2015


Robert Egert – Tautology
pigmented glue, crayon, acrylic on canvas 24 x 28 in. 2015

The interchange of foreground and background is reminiscent of mutating cells. Yet there is also an all-encompassing skin. Is this a view from a petridish? Once again we see the flux from macro to micro, an interweaving of space in which scale becomes a nonissue.

If scale is a nonissue, we are directed to specific ideas that are important to Egert by his use of titles. Concepts that Octavia Butler developed in her trilogy “Lilith’s Brood” have occupied Egert while completing his most recent work. Writes Egert on his blog, “Her books posit interbreeding between an alien society and humans in the wake of a nuclear holocaust that essentially wipes out humans and destroys the earth. The aliens that come to save the few survivors on earth interbreed to create a new hybrid species.”



Robert Egert – We Will Be Reassembling at 5PM
mixed media on canvas 24 x 32 in. 2015
collection of Owen Berkowitz

Interbreeding, an attempt at rescuing while eliminating the original. All these thoughts connect Robert’s new work to his past work in regard to his concerns with dystopian society.

Perhaps we could call Robert Egert’s painting contemporary action painting, however not the kind of action painting by which the body directs the artist’s movements and marks made on the canvas. In Egert’s paintings the gesture is removed from the maker; it becomes a kind of meditative, autonomous painting, a kind of painting that is more related to the European tachism than American action painting.* The German “informel” artist Bernhard Schultze comes to mind with his figures wavering between human and animal forms.

And so we return to the questions one asks oneself when looking at an artwork. When does the decorative become something else? How can an artist translate the complexities of our being into paintings that are not just to be looked at? It comes down to the fact that we understand very little when we first look at an artwork. Therefore, if we see what we know, isn’t it better to know a little more? This is what makes us human. Or is it? This is the question that Robert Egert will continue to pose and continue to offer, at least partial, answers to.



Laura J. Padgett is an American-born artist, photographer, filmmaker, and educator currently based in Frankfurt/Main, Germany. Since 1991, Padgett’s work has been featured in numerous solo and group exhibitions, and her films have been screened at the Centre Pompidou in Paris, the House of World Cultures in Berlin, and at the Städel Museum in Frankfurt. Her photography has been widely published. Since 1994, Padgett has held appointments as a lecturer on art theory and criticism at the Bauhaus-Universität in Weimar, the Hochschule für Gestaltung at Offenbach, the Hochschule-Rhein-Main at Wiesbaden, and at Paderborn University. Padgett also writes about film, art, and aesthetic theory. Since 2000 she has been a contributing editor of the film journal Frauen und Film.


* Tachism: a style of painting adopted by some French artists around the 1940s, involving dabs or splotches of color, a process of action and reaction.



Behold. Morphopolis. Transfigured City. Synthetic Turn.

Ethan Pettit

Robert Egert’s career coincides with the transfiguration of New York. He and I knew each other in Williamsburg back in the 90s. We renewed our friendship when he joined the gallery three years ago, when we were located in Bushwick. In the intervening years we witnessed the morphopolis, the city that morphs with impunity. The city that swells and balloons with in-filled and up-zoned urbanity.




Robert Egert – Pendulum
conté on printmaking paper 14 x 21 in. 2012
This work is not on display in the show morphopolis

Though we may decry this event, the early Brooklyn art scene anticipated it. Unwittingly, but certainly, the Brooklyn scene anticipated the hyper-gentrified, neo-liberal accretion that marks our times. For it was a creed of the scene that things should morph. Toward the end of the last century, when “downtown” migrated to Brooklyn, the mode of artistic production began to shift as well. The postmodern art of the 1980s gave way to the unearthly formalism of Brooklyn in the 1990s.

The “immersive” environments of the warehouses as well as a recrudescent abstraction in the plastic arts were emblematic of Brooklyn art. And this was an art given to formal inventiveness, to transforming space, to unknown instead of known culture. It was a “synthetic mode of production,” as distinct from the “analytic” mode of the 1980s that was as yet more astringent, allegorical, and seated in a downtown avant-garde of a hundred years standing.

We might call it “the synthetic turn.” And in its enthusiasm for synthesis, for the breeding of forms and systems, Brooklyn art comported with the transformation of the borough, guided it even, lent to it a utopian zeal, even as the art itself struggled to stay in Brooklyn.

Hence the morphopolitan experience that gives the name to our show. Robert Egert’s career spans the whole of it. He began as an exemplary East Village painter, with the keen reflexive instincts of that school. Those instincts, analytic in nature, in time found expression in singular

shapes that are redolent of the synthoid moment of Brooklyn. His is a rare and vital passage to which people have tended to pay attention. Robert Egert is a draw, of that there is no doubt, and for that we are lucky to have him on board. He resonates with a generation that belongs to the morphopolis.



Robert Egert – Knot
oil on canvas 56 x 48 in. circa 1986
This work is not on display in the show morphopolis

October 7, 2012

When We Were Ancient


Teddy's Bar and Grill celebrates 25 years of solidarity
with the avant garde!
As part of the celebrations of their 25th anniversary, and also of 125 years since Peter Doelger opened a tavern at this location, Teddy’s Bar and Grill is proud to present
WHEN WE WERE ANCIENT
a history of the Williamsburg scene
Opening Reception: Saturday, October 20, 9pm to Midnight
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Teddy's Back Room
96 Berry Street, at the corner of North 8th Street
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
(L Train to Bedford Avenue)
718.384.9787


•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a project of ethan pettit gallery
347.578.3041
An exhibit of archives from the artist and bohemian migration to Williamsburg and Greenpoint in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s. Zines, posters, photos, weeklies, artist literature of all kinds from 3 decades.
And featuring Ward Shelley’s "Williamsburg Timeline"
Loren Munk’s "Williamsburg Strip" and photography by Mara Catalan.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Minor Injury • The Nose • Flytrap • Cat's Head • Lizard's Tail • Keep Refrigerated • Lalalandia • El Sensorium • Organism • They Might Be Giants • The L Cafe • Mustard • Brand Name Damages • Waterfront Week • Worm • Tony Millionaire • Medea's Weekend • The Curse • The Can Man • The Ten Dollar Man • Test-Site • Open Window Theater • The Pedestrian Project • Nerve Circle • The Astro Zombies • Colored Greens • Hit & Run Theater • Wild Child Productions • Lex Grey • The Ship's Mast • and piles of other ephemera and detritus from the days of $300 apartments in the heart of the Northside

From the archives of ethan pettit contemporary and Eyewash gallery
Special thanks to Larry Walczak
Curated by Ethan Pettit
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
If you know who you are ... you will not want to miss this

Exhibit runs through November 15, daily

Photo: the Northside waterfront, circa 1990. © Eva Schicker 2012




October 21, 2009

Sidewalk Intervention Williamsburg 1989


In 1989 I opened and "projected" my storefront on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg out into the street for a day or two. Twenty years later, I repeated the photos I had taken of the same views of the street. The contrast is striking.

facebook note: Sidewalk Intervention Williamsburg 1989

flickr album of photos from this project


June 4, 2009

Jelena Tomic


Jelena Tomic arrived in Williamsburg in 1993 from Paris, ostensibly to study at a college somewhere in Queens. But it was I who ended up writing most of her papers. And in return she introduced me to the very scene of which I was supposedly a fixture. Experience counts for little in a youthful art scene. The ones who start the movement turn 30, and then they must be guided through their own invention by newcomers in their 20s.

Such was the case with Jelena and me. I had been in Williamsburg for a decade when she arrived. I met her at one of the illegal exotic restaurants that sprang up in the wake of the many illegal exotic nightclubs that had put the neighborhood on the map. And from that night onward, and for the year she was in New York, Jelena essentially re-awakened me to the neighborhood I thought I had invented. The music, the clubs, the fashion, the attitude. It was all new, a Williamsburg I did not know.

Only the year before I had been featured in New York Magazine as "Medea," queen mother of the hip new hood in Brooklyn. I ran the weekly paper, I mc'd the shows, I knew all the bartenders and politicians. And then, like an oblique turn in a film noire movie, I found myself being pulled into a side of Williamsburg I had not seen before, and by a beautiful young woman who had just arrived from Paris.

The soundtrack to this episode is undoubtedly "Crazy" by Seal. Jelena changed my life profoundly, and the change moved upon me with stealth, very much the way the opening grooves of that rapturous track by Seal slide up into the song.

I write about the history of the Brooklyn Renaissance, basically, and the afflatus of gentrification, and how art plays into it. And the matter of who started it all, when, and where, is interesting. Much more interesting, though, is what happens when the newer and larger numbers of young artists come to the neighborhood.

This opinion may be counter-intuitive. We look for the heavies, the giants who "pioneered" the place. But in real history, as distinct from the narrative of it, the opposite obtains. The scene gains in intensity and depth. The newcomers are frequently more intense than the veterans. A certain stark realism enters the picture, perhaps because the coziness of the old scene has been breached. And as a result, passion and energy actually increase.

The newcomers annoy the old guard to some extent, because they have an air of being motivated by a force that comes from before, from after, and from outside the scene into which they enter. It is not that the old scene is parochial, it really is not. But even so, the newcomers expand the scene. They cause it to darken and tremble. In any case, I write it down to a certain way of looking at history, and a lesson I first learned from Jelena.

Photo by Eva Schicker, 1993

June 3, 2009

Tina Helisten



Tina Helisten was the dancing diva of Williamsburg. The Finish hottie performed at venues throughout Brooklyn in the early 90s, and she performed at Gargoyle Mechanique and other venues in Manhattan. She was a local celebrity, and a poster girl for the new sensibility that was emerging on the Brooklyn waterfront at the time. This was a turn toward organic forms and weird environments, and away from the didactic allegories and imagery of the postmodern 1980s.

I was mesmerized by Tina Helisten one night at El Sensorium, a truly dystopian, Bladerunneresque club fast by the Williamsburg Bridge. The place was set low, in a semi-basement, and it was large and deep, and tricked out like a cross between a submarine and a rain forest. A throbbing bower of weirdness the likes of which I've never seen before or since.

Tina was dancing completely naked, in a flood of unearthly light and vapor. The club was full of water, in all phases of composition — from ice to waterfalls to rain to vapor. Clumps of wet moss covered the bar. And threaded throughout was a great ganglia of electrical circuitry to feed audio and lighting effects of every concoction. It was a city cabaret inspector's wet dream (pun intended). Sensorium was a slightly later and more evolved species in the netherworld of illegal nightclubs in Williamsburg in the 90s. (Galapagos was another, but because it was legal, it had a slight competitive disadvantage.)

Tina was sexy as hell, and there was not a trace of irony or sleaze about her. And that was something quite new in an underground nightclub at that time. She was heathen grace. And feisty too. Nor was it just a rarefied clique of hipsters who drank her in. The place was packed, raucous, full of homeboys, club kids, wayward preppies, and bohemians. It was hardcore. But it was also imbued with a kind of urban code for which the word "chill" would have been an understatement.

This special mood and environment had been cultivated to near perfection by a few dozen visionaries. Though it is often associated with Williamsburg, the "warehouse" or "immersive" aesthetic evolved simultaneously at a few locations on the Lower East Side as well, notably at Gargoyle Mechanique and The Collective Unconscious.

The wizards of the movement were audio and installation artists, and guerrilla cultural activists. Performing artists came to the scene a little later, and they did not always "get it" at first. Tina got it. She and a handful of performers understood the movement implicitly. Dina Emerson, Ken Butler, Andrew Hampsas, Dan McKerreghan, Yvette Helin, Lauren Szold. And Dina was probably the first dancer to embody the scene, literally and metaphorically. A real goddess, with a way of engaging the weirdness of these environments that was vulnerable and captivating.

Ethan Pettit

photo by Eva Schicker 1993


June 7, 2006

Dennis Del Zotto's Starry Night



Dennis Del Zotto, Starry Night
polystyrene with holes and back-lighting



Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt!
Brüder - über'm Sternenzelt*
Muss ein lieber Vater wohnen.


— Schiller, Ode to Joy, 1785



* Sternenzelt: literally, star tent


This sculpture by Dennis Del Zotto has a good story to tell. An inflatable was installed outdoors on the street at a neighborhood festival on South 11th Street in 1996 (The Human Fest). A crowd of local children entered the inflatable and were dancing. The groundsheet portion, between the dancing feet and the coarse pavement, incurred little holes.


The next day Del Zotto installed the same sheet of plastic at his studio in Greenpoint. This time he installed the piece "upside down" — that is, as a canope´ rather than as a drop cloth — and consequently "discovered" the pin holes. A night sky was caused by the small punctures now back-lit from above. Even the slight undulation of the plastic, from the oscillations of the fan keeping the plastic aloft, was an uncanny effect. The sculpture imparted the feeling of being out under the night sky. It is a characteristic of Del Zotto's work, the immersive experience that they create. It is well known that accident is often a crucial part of authentic works of art. The "stars" in this sculpture were an authentic accident. The result was riveting and uncanny.

Two years later the piece was installed as the ceiling of the chapel in the Inflatable City at the Federation of Ongolia on North 11th Street. And so this sculpture progressed from South 11th to North 11th, first as a floor, then as a ceiling.

The piece is to the Williamsburg Immersionist movement what the Duomo in Florence is to the Renaissance. No less inflated a comparison will really make the point. For like the Duomo it is a patchwork of different events from a certain span of time. Not, for example, a single coherent work such as Brunelleschi’s Basilica of Santo Spirito in Florence, or for that matter one of Del Zotto’s many inflatables conceived and built for a single place and time.


Del Zotto's Starry Night originated on what was once a tucked-away corner of industrial Williamsburg, on a street already known for some bizarre events (hurling live TV sets off of rooftops and such). The banal sheet of plastic, whose aesthetic value is nil by many standards, contains the stamp of a time and place in the history of a local artistic movement. That is, the history of a certain demimonde. But it also contains literally the stamp of the feet of children, of innocent "locals" from the culture that precedes the artists.


In this way Del Zotto is a natural storyteller in material, who maneuvers a slice of social history through a sheet of polystyrene. Later he unfolds the damage that the local children have done to his sculpture, and even grumbles as he does so, with his famous testiness that endears him to his fellow artists. He now exposes the substrate for a second time to a different social chemistry, a nightclub. And the stars come out.


Allegory is a "sticky" attribute of concrete art; it has long vexed concrete and conceptual art. The argument has been made that the “allegorical impulse” of postmodernism began in the work of earth artists such as Robert Smithson ruminating on the meaning of ruins and other features of landscape.


Local children dance upon the shrine of bohemia, mocking it, puncturing it. And then, when the sheet is unfolded later in a nightclub, the same children laugh at us again as "stars.” They mock our hubris, our own aspirations to stardom. They turn the scene upside down, as it were.


But it is also possible to dismiss any corny story in connection with a work like this; that is, we don't have to receive the piece as symbolic. It is a concrete work, and as such also lends itself to the modernist suppression of allegory. Who are we to say it tells a story. We should appreciate it in the stoic spirit of minimalism, and not impute a narrative to the piece. For in essence it is a plastic sheet processed by an event, and revealed to another event. Orientation is involved, up and down, the floor and the ceiling, and the light and darkness of space.


Ethan Pettit, June 2006

Also see Dennis Del Zotto and the Williamsburg Scene





The Inflatable Man


Dennis Del Zotto and the Williamsburg Scene


Del Zotto in Organic TV: a New York Moment Galapagos, 1997
Screen grab from Japanese TV

Dennis Del Zotto is an artist of pitch-perfect economy and timing. He is one of the most well-liked and respected artists to come out of Williamsburg in the early 90’s, where his work was a fixture of the warehouse culture of new media and immersive art. Production outfits in the neighborhood at the time were Lalalandia, Keep Refrigerated, El Sensorium, Hit & Run Theater, The Lizard's Tail, Organism, and many more. Del Zotto collaborated with “illbient” electro-pioneers Gregor Asch (aka DJ Olive), Ignatio Platas, and Lloop Manalog (the three of whom comprise the band called We. He has worked with Jeff Gompertz at fakeshop and Ongolia, and with Robert Elmes at the first incarnation of Galapagos, the iconic Williamsburg nightclub now located in Dumbo.