Yvonne Thomas: New York Paintings From the 1950s
Paintings like Barnett Newman’s huge, deceptively simple 1968 Anna’s Light (now part of a retrospective at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, continuing through July 7) can feel preternaturally powerful, even overwhelming. Its field of red with vertical white zips on either side seems almost cosmic–an aspiration confirmed by many of Newman’s other titles and his essays.
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In light of such achievements, it’s no surprise that the work of many second-tier abstract expressionists has been underexposed. Indeed, critic Clement Greenberg–the movement’s prime advocate–told an interviewer in 1991 that “in abstract painting in the 40s and 50s, unless you were great you were lousy.” But the eight paintings each by Yvonne Thomas and Robert Richenburg at Thomas McCormick reveal there was some wonderful work made by supposedly minor figures. The point isn’t so much that they weren’t up to the standard of Newman, Rothko, or Pollock. Thomas and Richenburg don’t even attempt to dominate the viewer by supplying a substitute universe, and thus they achieve a more gentle engagement–a modest articulation of forms and themes curiously more in keeping with the work of artists now than are mind-shattering iconic masterpieces.
Magnesium is split between its apparently improvised skein of colors and its imposing, almost harsh shape. But the shape–which looks as if it were copied from an architecture or engineering book–lacks iconic power. John Cage and Zen Buddhism were Richenburg influences, Grad says, so it’s possible he meant to leave space for the viewer to discover color effects or imagine associations or meanings.
