Skip to main content

Basil Beattie @ Jerwood Gallery

Above and Below by Basil Beattie


From the Press Release:


Basil Beattie RA is a major figure in the British avant-garde of the late twentieth and twenty first century. Celebrated for his powerful, large scale abstract works, Beattie has become one of Britain’s most respected abstract painters. Beattie was short-listed for the Jerwood Painting Prize in 1998 and 2001. This awe-inspiring exhibition, guest curated by the art historian and critic Mel Gooding, puts into focus Beattie’s most recent work, largely unseen, which shows the continuing influence of American painting from the late fifties, particularly Mark Rothko and Philip Guston.
Many of the paintings in the exhibition feature step motifs, Beattie says of these, "The staircases do not touch the top of the canvas and they don't touch either side. That for me is intriguing, that [there are] ways that look as if one can be optimistic - there's always perhaps the possibility that they don't lead anywhere."

Read John Bunker's review @ Abstract Critical here.

Basil Beattie: Promises, Promises
Through January 8, 2014
Rock-a-Nore Road
Hastings
East Sussex
TN34 3DW

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Retrospective: Sylvester Stallone - Paintings 1975 - 2015

Sylvester Stallone, Untitled (Michael Jackson) , 2010 Real Love: Paintings 1975 - 2015 Opened on May 16th Musée d'Art Moderne et d'Art Contemporaine Place Yves Klein 06364 Nice cedex 4 For more information visit artnet news .

Franz Kline: In Color

Franz Kline (1910-1962) is often pigeonholed as a "black and white" painter. Above is a selection of work by the Ab-Ex master in which color merges with gesture and at times takes center stage.

After Lorca By Ted Hughes

Arshile Gorky, Dark Green Painting , ca.1948, oil on canvas, 43 3/4 x 55 1/2 in. © 2009 Estate of Arshile Gorky/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. AFTER LORCA by Ted Hughes The clock says "When will it be morning?"   The sun says "Noon hurt me."  The river cries with its mouthful of mud  And the sea moves every way without moving. Out of my ear grew a reed   Never touched by mouth.  Paper yellows, even without flame,  But in words carbon has already become diamond. A supple river of mirrors I run on   Where great shadows rise to the glance,  Flowing all forward and bringing  The world through my reflection. A voice like a ghost that is not   Rustle that dead in passage  Leaving the living chilled,  Wipe clear the pure glass of stone. Wipe clear the pure stone of flesh. A son...