Altoon Sultan blogs about the exhibition John Zurier: A spring a thousand years ago at Peter Blum Gallery, New York, on view through June 22 2013. Sultan writes: "Within these minimally painted, sensitively brushed paintings there is a sense of boundless space, of light shimmering through thin veils of color… The paintings are paradoxically both […]
When John Zurier was a boy growing up with his father’s art collection, he used to watch...
When John Zurier was a boy growing up with his father’s art collection, he used to watch...
John Zurier
A Spring a thousand years ago, 2012; glue tempera on cotton, 72 x 44 in. Within these minimally painted, sensitively brushed paintings there is a sense of boundless space, of light shimmering through thin veils of color. In his exhibition at Peter Blum Gallery, John Zurier presents paintings which were inspired by a visit to Iceland, as can be seen in the titles (none of which were translated). The title of the show is the same as the painting above, and comes from a poem by an Icelandic poet, Stefán Hördur Grimsson: The night shed its blue tears on grass and woods and the earth grew cool and deep beneath my feet and I felt for a moment as though a pallor struck my breat and my bones were rotting and I was seized by fear. Then I thought I heard a low whisper like that of a closing flower: You are a spring a thousand years ago. Standing in front of this painting, I felt swept into a space of time and mists, so similar to the feeling of Chinese landscapes. Sorgin, 2013; oil on linen, 21 x 15 in. The paintings are paradoxically both rich and hardly there. I sense great care in the making of the work, and yet there's a feeling of freedom in its brushwork, freedom that comes from practice and from close attention. Sorgin, detail In this detail you can see how Zurier uses the dry brush and thin paint to make subtle layers of depth, all illumined by the light coming from the canvas beneath. I am made more aware of his attentiveness by the edges of many of the paintings; in Sorgin there is a very light line at the left edge. It seems that Zurier deliberately folded the corners of the canvas to have them expand outside the rectangle, little dips of irregularity. This is why I photographed all the paintings on the wall and did not crop them close. Hellnar, 2012; distemper on linen, 108 x 75 in. Even though it's a vertical painting, Hellnar has a strong sense of a landscape space, like A Spring above. It is a soft and distant landscape, one just out of reach. Another interesting aspect of Zurier's paintings is that even his larger work feels very intimate; it is enveloping and meditative. Hellnar, detail In this detail, you can see that Zurier again calls attention, subtly, to the edge. All his paint is subtle: thinly applied so that the texture, and often the color, of the linen canvas shows through. Some of the paint he works with is an ancient technique of distemper, which is pigment mixed with a glue size as a medium. The paint tends to be thin, which suits Zurier's sensibility well. Mosfellsbœr, 2012; distemper and oil on linen, 26 x 21 in. In this small, very different composition, small black bars dance on the grayed surface, marking places but ready to move and shift. The unpainted right edge of linen is puckered from the shrinkage of the painted portion; veins run across the surface, the paint is there as if to indicate an aerial landscape. Oblaka (for Mark), 2007; oil on linen, 38 x 31 in. One of the things I admired about this show was the variety of approaches to making a painting; Zurier explores paint and surface, with each painting having a character of its own. Oblaka is like something hidden, with time-worn abrasions poetically revealing color. Vonin, 2012; distemper on linen, 18 x 22 in. Within a simple band of blue, some shapes: islands? clouds? or simply irregular forms floating, but bound to the unpainted linen ground. Vonin, detail The distemper paint puddles and catches on the texture of the linen, the brush gently indicating forms, varying the transparency of blue. Hӓrnevi, 2013; distemper on linen, 75 x 108 in. Each painting in the show, whether big or small, is the right size for what it has to express. That is also true of Hӓrnevi, the largest painting in the show. Across the large expanse of dark linen white paint is brushed on in varying degrees of transparency, creating a shifting cloud-like space that is seemingly endless and deep. Within this field three irregular green rectangles float, beings in nothingness. Zurier again calls our attention to the edge, with thin painted green lines: the atmosphere has a boundary, it is not infinite. In this beautiful exhibition, these seemingly thin and fast paintings are truly deep and thoughtful and slow.
The Berkeley Art Museum’s curators have set the light level noonday high in a large...
John Zurier Exile, 2007 distemper on linen 20" x 24" Night 29, 2008 distemper on linen 30" x 20" Night 28, 2008 distemper on linen 30" x 20...
John Zurier
John Zurier
A Spring a thousand years ago, 2012; glue tempera on cotton, 72 x 44 in. Within these minimally painted, sensitively brushed paintings there is a sense of boundless space, of light shimmering through thin veils of color. In his exhibition at Peter Blum Gallery, John Zurier presents paintings which were inspired by a visit to Iceland, as can be seen in the titles (none of which were translated). The title of the show is the same as the painting above, and comes from a poem by an Icelandic poet, Stefán Hördur Grimsson: The night shed its blue tears on grass and woods and the earth grew cool and deep beneath my feet and I felt for a moment as though a pallor struck my breat and my bones were rotting and I was seized by fear. Then I thought I heard a low whisper like that of a closing flower: You are a spring a thousand years ago. Standing in front of this painting, I felt swept into a space of time and mists, so similar to the feeling of Chinese landscapes. Sorgin, 2013; oil on linen, 21 x 15 in. The paintings are paradoxically both rich and hardly there. I sense great care in the making of the work, and yet there's a feeling of freedom in its brushwork, freedom that comes from practice and from close attention. Sorgin, detail In this detail you can see how Zurier uses the dry brush and thin paint to make subtle layers of depth, all illumined by the light coming from the canvas beneath. I am made more aware of his attentiveness by the edges of many of the paintings; in Sorgin there is a very light line at the left edge. It seems that Zurier deliberately folded the corners of the canvas to have them expand outside the rectangle, little dips of irregularity. This is why I photographed all the paintings on the wall and did not crop them close. Hellnar, 2012; distemper on linen, 108 x 75 in. Even though it's a vertical painting, Hellnar has a strong sense of a landscape space, like A Spring above. It is a soft and distant landscape, one just out of reach. Another interesting aspect of Zurier's paintings is that even his larger work feels very intimate; it is enveloping and meditative. Hellnar, detail In this detail, you can see that Zurier again calls attention, subtly, to the edge. All his paint is subtle: thinly applied so that the texture, and often the color, of the linen canvas shows through. Some of the paint he works with is an ancient technique of distemper, which is pigment mixed with a glue size as a medium. The paint tends to be thin, which suits Zurier's sensibility well. Mosfellsbœr, 2012; distemper and oil on linen, 26 x 21 in. In this small, very different composition, small black bars dance on the grayed surface, marking places but ready to move and shift. The unpainted right edge of linen is puckered from the shrinkage of the painted portion; veins run across the surface, the paint is there as if to indicate an aerial landscape. Oblaka (for Mark), 2007; oil on linen, 38 x 31 in. One of the things I admired about this show was the variety of approaches to making a painting; Zurier explores paint and surface, with each painting having a character of its own. Oblaka is like something hidden, with time-worn abrasions poetically revealing color. Vonin, 2012; distemper on linen, 18 x 22 in. Within a simple band of blue, some shapes: islands? clouds? or simply irregular forms floating, but bound to the unpainted linen ground. Vonin, detail The distemper paint puddles and catches on the texture of the linen, the brush gently indicating forms, varying the transparency of blue. Hӓrnevi, 2013; distemper on linen, 75 x 108 in. Each painting in the show, whether big or small, is the right size for what it has to express. That is also true of Hӓrnevi, the largest painting in the show. Across the large expanse of dark linen white paint is brushed on in varying degrees of transparency, creating a shifting cloud-like space that is seemingly endless and deep. Within this field three irregular green rectangles float, beings in nothingness. Zurier again calls our attention to the edge, with thin painted green lines: the atmosphere has a boundary, it is not infinite. In this beautiful exhibition, these seemingly thin and fast paintings are truly deep and thoughtful and slow.
The Berkeley Art Museum’s curators have set the light level noonday high in a large...
With The Future of Ice, John Zurier manages to reduce each painting to what is essential only, yet he maintains an incredible specificity in each.
Hearadsdalur 3, 2014-15; oil on linen, 22 1/16 x 24 13/16 in. This has rarely happened to me, but when I saw John Zurier's show " W...
Several of them have a veil-like lightness of presence - of material and of hue - as if...
Hearadsdalur 3, 2014-15; oil on linen, 22 1/16 x 24 13/16 in. This has rarely happened to me, but when I saw John Zurier's show "West of the Future", currently at Peter Blum Gallery, my awed reaction wasn't just "I love these paintings", but "I want to make these paintings". Their quiet attentiveness, simplicity, attention to surface and materials, their qualities of light and mood, led to a physical longing on my part: a longing to feel the paint, whether distemper (glue size and pigment) or oil; to make the marks; a longing to mix the colors and spread them on fine or coarse canvas. In Hearadsdalur 3, the blue ground is a translucent dark, as of a luminous evening. Each line, each small mark of white, although looking casual, feels carefully considered, and very alive. Hearadsdalur 3 detail You can see different qualities of light in each element: line, thicker white irregular dots of paint, the blue expanse. Zurier has spent time in Iceland; the landscape and culture has influenced his work. Some of the titles in this show are Icelandic. His last show, which I wrote about here, was very much influenced by his visits to that starkly beautiful country. At Havalsnes, 2014; distemper on linen, 24 x 28 in. There is a deep sense of naturalness in the paintings, as if Zurier quietly observed the surface and found what was there. At Havalsnes detail The small rectangles of blue paint in At Havalsnes are bright bits of light, perfectly balanced, in a mysterious fog. Four Times, 2015; distemper on linen, 21 5/8 x 29 5/8 in. On surfaces that look almost unworked, are simple lines, crossed..... Hearadsdalur 13 (Avalanche), 2014; distemper on linen, 27 1/2 x 19 5/8 in. ....or floating horizontally.... Where Time Sleeps, 2014; distemper and oil on linen, 78 x 48 in. ....or at slight angles. There is something so poignant about these minimal marks: they speak of much more than line and color; in their understated way they touch on life, on decisions made, on paying attention, on being open. Afternoon (S.H.G.), 2014; distemper on linen, 28 x 35 in. The thin whitish paint settles to the lower right, as atmosphere swirls above. Lines––one darker and more present, one sinking into the air of the painting––move forward and back, adding structure. Afternoon (S.H.G.) detail I love the way this line touches the top of the rounded canvas edge and makes a little angle back down again; it disrupts the expectation of regularity; it becomes a personnage. Hearadsdalur 21, 2014; distemper on linen, 17 3/4 x 21 5/8 in. A field of painterly blue is broken by white shapes, and by corners of canvas. The delicate handling, the seemingly casual yet carefully placed shapes, the importance of materials, reminds me of the Japanese 20th century craft movement, Mingei, and especially the paintings of Lee Ufan. There was a show of this work last year at Pace Gallery, which I wrote about here. Before and After Summer, 2014; oil on linen, 78 x 48 in. Zurier sees the world as a poet does, distilling experiences into essences of color and light, touch and air. Before and After Summer detail Although his brush is always fluid, it doesn't call loud attention to itself. Untitled (Spring), 2014; oil on linen, 25 x 16 in. The seasons, the landscape, are evoked by color, and by the light that flows through the color as it moves from dense to translucent. Like in the works of Joan Mitchell, the landscape is a poetic reference, not a representation. Northern Morning Light, or Dalalaeda, 2014; oil on linen, 22 x 29 in. The pink glow of morning as the sun rises, the cool pale blue behind: a beautiful memory of light, a touching and surprising painting. Who wouldn't want to make work as sensitive, quietly graceful, and alive as these paintings?
John Zurier
mellabrown: John Zurier Night 25, 2007-2008. distemper on linen, 42 x 26 inches
A Spring a thousand years ago, 2012; glue tempera on cotton, 72 x 44 in. Within these minimally painted, sensitively brushed paintings there is a sense of boundless space, of light shimmering through thin veils of color. In his exhibition at Peter Blum Gallery, John Zurier presents paintings which were inspired by a visit to Iceland, as can be seen in the titles (none of which were translated). The title of the show is the same as the painting above, and comes from a poem by an Icelandic poet, Stefán Hördur Grimsson: The night shed its blue tears on grass and woods and the earth grew cool and deep beneath my feet and I felt for a moment as though a pallor struck my breat and my bones were rotting and I was seized by fear. Then I thought I heard a low whisper like that of a closing flower: You are a spring a thousand years ago. Standing in front of this painting, I felt swept into a space of time and mists, so similar to the feeling of Chinese landscapes. Sorgin, 2013; oil on linen, 21 x 15 in. The paintings are paradoxically both rich and hardly there. I sense great care in the making of the work, and yet there's a feeling of freedom in its brushwork, freedom that comes from practice and from close attention. Sorgin, detail In this detail you can see how Zurier uses the dry brush and thin paint to make subtle layers of depth, all illumined by the light coming from the canvas beneath. I am made more aware of his attentiveness by the edges of many of the paintings; in Sorgin there is a very light line at the left edge. It seems that Zurier deliberately folded the corners of the canvas to have them expand outside the rectangle, little dips of irregularity. This is why I photographed all the paintings on the wall and did not crop them close. Hellnar, 2012; distemper on linen, 108 x 75 in. Even though it's a vertical painting, Hellnar has a strong sense of a landscape space, like A Spring above. It is a soft and distant landscape, one just out of reach. Another interesting aspect of Zurier's paintings is that even his larger work feels very intimate; it is enveloping and meditative. Hellnar, detail In this detail, you can see that Zurier again calls attention, subtly, to the edge. All his paint is subtle: thinly applied so that the texture, and often the color, of the linen canvas shows through. Some of the paint he works with is an ancient technique of distemper, which is pigment mixed with a glue size as a medium. The paint tends to be thin, which suits Zurier's sensibility well. Mosfellsbœr, 2012; distemper and oil on linen, 26 x 21 in. In this small, very different composition, small black bars dance on the grayed surface, marking places but ready to move and shift. The unpainted right edge of linen is puckered from the shrinkage of the painted portion; veins run across the surface, the paint is there as if to indicate an aerial landscape. Oblaka (for Mark), 2007; oil on linen, 38 x 31 in. One of the things I admired about this show was the variety of approaches to making a painting; Zurier explores paint and surface, with each painting having a character of its own. Oblaka is like something hidden, with time-worn abrasions poetically revealing color. Vonin, 2012; distemper on linen, 18 x 22 in. Within a simple band of blue, some shapes: islands? clouds? or simply irregular forms floating, but bound to the unpainted linen ground. Vonin, detail The distemper paint puddles and catches on the texture of the linen, the brush gently indicating forms, varying the transparency of blue. Hӓrnevi, 2013; distemper on linen, 75 x 108 in. Each painting in the show, whether big or small, is the right size for what it has to express. That is also true of Hӓrnevi, the largest painting in the show. Across the large expanse of dark linen white paint is brushed on in varying degrees of transparency, creating a shifting cloud-like space that is seemingly endless and deep. Within this field three irregular green rectangles float, beings in nothingness. Zurier again calls our attention to the edge, with thin painted green lines: the atmosphere has a boundary, it is not infinite. In this beautiful exhibition, these seemingly thin and fast paintings are truly deep and thoughtful and slow.
The Berkeley Art Museum’s curators have set the light level noonday high in a large...
John Zurier
A Spring a thousand years ago , 2012; glue tempera on cotton, 72 x 44 in. Within these minimally painted, sensitively brushed pai...
