Naomi Fisher - Chris Vasell
10 Dec 2005 - 07 Jan 2006
Naomi Fisher - Chris Vasell
10/12/2005 - 07/01/2006
Naomi Fisher
Over the last several years, Naomi Fisher has been trafficking in images of women in highly personal and very particular ways. Uneasy at first, her photographs and drawings have slowly come to inhabit the space they created, as Fisher developed a vocabulary of relations between her female protagonists and the ferns, flowers and other floral wildlife they struggle with and are teased by. Fisher’s women slowly, over the span of five years, began to liberate themselves from the vegetation and the earth they at first seemed to be grounded in or bounded by. In her earlier photographs from 2000 onward, Fisher showed women strangely passively entangled, tied and almost captured by the flora they were seen with. Often presented from the torso down, almost always seen from the back and never revealing the head and face, Fisher’s women squatted, laid on their backs, sat on their rears or posed on all fours as though incapable of elevating themselves onto their feet and legs. But although these images often seem to contain an air of violence akin to that known from the images of sexually based crimes, it was neither the nudity nor the fragmentation that was disturbing about them, but the inability of the protagonists to erect themselves and stand above the level of vegetation they inhabited. Upright stance, it seemed, could not be achieved by these floral dwellers. Rather, the warm earth on one woman’s bare buttocks, the horse-mounted bamboo trunk, or the soft embrace of effacing flowers seem to present an elemental force impossible to overcome.
Fisher’s subsequent series of ink drawings of women shifted the focus of the image toward a frontal view of her subjects. While the background and surroundings of these drawings still suggest vegetation, the focus of the artist’s renderings clearly fall on the figures, which are now seen from the waist up, with a clear, sometimes partially covered view of the face. The close tonal range of h and legs. But although these images often seem to contain an air of violence akin to that known from the images of sexually based crimes, it was neither the nudity nor the fragmentation that was disturbing about them, but the inability of the protagonists to erect themselves and stand above the level of vegetation they inhabited. Upright stance, it seemed, could not be achieved by these floral dwellers. Rather, the warm earth on one woman’s bare buttocks, the horse-mounted bamboo trunk, or the soft embrace of effacing flowers seem to present an elemental force impossible to overcome.
Fisher’s subsequent series of ink drawings of women shifted the focus of the image toward a frontal view of her subjects. While the background and surroundings of these drawings still suggest vegetation, the focus of the artist’s renderings clearly fall on the figures, which are now seen from the waist up, with a clear, sometimes partially covered view of the face. The close tonal range of her drawings, mostly executed in different shades and layers of bright reds, still unites the figures with their floral background, but the shift to frontal view reveals another shift in the narrative development of Fisher’s women: Suddenly, the faces of Fisher’s heroines have taken on the expressive weight of the suffering formerly only inferred. Bright red clouds of tears surround their eyes, their mouths often agape from cries, and when partially covered, their faces are shielded with the palms of their hands. A decisive shift was set by the work Untitled (Ocean) (2004) [title check]. The dense vegetation of the tropical garden has given way the blue expanse of the ocean at dusk, uninterrupted except the torso of a lone, nude female figure, seen from the back, with a machete in her right hand. Holding the machete high above her head with her outstretched arm, ready to slash her enemies at once, the female protagonist of Untitled (Ocean) has not simply taken back her fate in a role reversal of actions, but has entered, as if for the first time, a stage of upright stance.
In her most recent body of work, both photographic and hand-drawn, Fisher builds on this newly gained evolutionary development of her protagonists with narrative abundance. A pivotal role is given to the photograph Untitled (Camo), which presents a self-portrait of the artist, set against the familiar floral landscape, grinning mischievously while holding a machete. Every other photograph sets out from this fundamentally changed relation between figure and flora. Although the woman in Untitled (Twigs) has her face covered with hair, the figure in Untitled (Pink Shirt) still squats on the earthen ground and the protagonist of Untitled (Ferns) appears still in thrall of the thick leaves of the palm tree, all are presented whole and capable of defense, their interaction with the vegetative enemy playful, if not outright cocky. And in Untitled (Vines) and Untitled (Rope), the female protagonist has clearly taken the lead, toying with the planted opponent more than battling it, teasing, licking, caressing it in ways that clearly show that the powers have changed. The drawings also have changed their mood in subtle ways that suggest a dramatic change on a different level. Vaguely based on scenes from the photographs, the ink drawings continue formally the parameters of earlier work, showing frontally drawn women, often cropped at the chest, with open mouths and widened eyes, their color ranging still from shades of bright red to violent pink. But the expression has changed completely. Rather than giving way to a previously interiorized emotion of fear and suffering, their faces have taken on a mask of aggression; their mouths are not agape by cries, they are opened from the pure scorn of anger; their raised arms no longer shield their face but are ready to strike. Fisher’s most recent series of works has completed a narrative turn of events several years in the making and has liberated its protagonists of the setting they evolved from. Their actions have taken control of their environment, and their bodies appear whole. Let’s welcome them. – Christian Rattemeyer
Chris Vasell
Chris Vasell works in a very aquatic, trippy, stain-happy mode of painting, with the flamboyant chromatic filigree or 1960s’ psychedelia tones down for a more sombre age. Skeins of translucent, drenching pigment drift across his pictures like heavy-hued cloudbursts opening up on a clammy summer day (Bereshit, 2004), or boil with the caustic effervescence of acid poured over the bonnet of a brand new car. But Vasell isn’t just making pretty, refined messes : tucked into the coagulating, dried-up eddies of a paint are frequent figurative references – a lip, a flared nostril, a floating pair of staring eyes – that suggest a disconsolate unease with what painting can summon out of the ether. – James Tainor
Image: Naomi Fisher in her studio
10/12/2005 - 07/01/2006
Naomi Fisher
Over the last several years, Naomi Fisher has been trafficking in images of women in highly personal and very particular ways. Uneasy at first, her photographs and drawings have slowly come to inhabit the space they created, as Fisher developed a vocabulary of relations between her female protagonists and the ferns, flowers and other floral wildlife they struggle with and are teased by. Fisher’s women slowly, over the span of five years, began to liberate themselves from the vegetation and the earth they at first seemed to be grounded in or bounded by. In her earlier photographs from 2000 onward, Fisher showed women strangely passively entangled, tied and almost captured by the flora they were seen with. Often presented from the torso down, almost always seen from the back and never revealing the head and face, Fisher’s women squatted, laid on their backs, sat on their rears or posed on all fours as though incapable of elevating themselves onto their feet and legs. But although these images often seem to contain an air of violence akin to that known from the images of sexually based crimes, it was neither the nudity nor the fragmentation that was disturbing about them, but the inability of the protagonists to erect themselves and stand above the level of vegetation they inhabited. Upright stance, it seemed, could not be achieved by these floral dwellers. Rather, the warm earth on one woman’s bare buttocks, the horse-mounted bamboo trunk, or the soft embrace of effacing flowers seem to present an elemental force impossible to overcome.
Fisher’s subsequent series of ink drawings of women shifted the focus of the image toward a frontal view of her subjects. While the background and surroundings of these drawings still suggest vegetation, the focus of the artist’s renderings clearly fall on the figures, which are now seen from the waist up, with a clear, sometimes partially covered view of the face. The close tonal range of h and legs. But although these images often seem to contain an air of violence akin to that known from the images of sexually based crimes, it was neither the nudity nor the fragmentation that was disturbing about them, but the inability of the protagonists to erect themselves and stand above the level of vegetation they inhabited. Upright stance, it seemed, could not be achieved by these floral dwellers. Rather, the warm earth on one woman’s bare buttocks, the horse-mounted bamboo trunk, or the soft embrace of effacing flowers seem to present an elemental force impossible to overcome.
Fisher’s subsequent series of ink drawings of women shifted the focus of the image toward a frontal view of her subjects. While the background and surroundings of these drawings still suggest vegetation, the focus of the artist’s renderings clearly fall on the figures, which are now seen from the waist up, with a clear, sometimes partially covered view of the face. The close tonal range of her drawings, mostly executed in different shades and layers of bright reds, still unites the figures with their floral background, but the shift to frontal view reveals another shift in the narrative development of Fisher’s women: Suddenly, the faces of Fisher’s heroines have taken on the expressive weight of the suffering formerly only inferred. Bright red clouds of tears surround their eyes, their mouths often agape from cries, and when partially covered, their faces are shielded with the palms of their hands. A decisive shift was set by the work Untitled (Ocean) (2004) [title check]. The dense vegetation of the tropical garden has given way the blue expanse of the ocean at dusk, uninterrupted except the torso of a lone, nude female figure, seen from the back, with a machete in her right hand. Holding the machete high above her head with her outstretched arm, ready to slash her enemies at once, the female protagonist of Untitled (Ocean) has not simply taken back her fate in a role reversal of actions, but has entered, as if for the first time, a stage of upright stance.
In her most recent body of work, both photographic and hand-drawn, Fisher builds on this newly gained evolutionary development of her protagonists with narrative abundance. A pivotal role is given to the photograph Untitled (Camo), which presents a self-portrait of the artist, set against the familiar floral landscape, grinning mischievously while holding a machete. Every other photograph sets out from this fundamentally changed relation between figure and flora. Although the woman in Untitled (Twigs) has her face covered with hair, the figure in Untitled (Pink Shirt) still squats on the earthen ground and the protagonist of Untitled (Ferns) appears still in thrall of the thick leaves of the palm tree, all are presented whole and capable of defense, their interaction with the vegetative enemy playful, if not outright cocky. And in Untitled (Vines) and Untitled (Rope), the female protagonist has clearly taken the lead, toying with the planted opponent more than battling it, teasing, licking, caressing it in ways that clearly show that the powers have changed. The drawings also have changed their mood in subtle ways that suggest a dramatic change on a different level. Vaguely based on scenes from the photographs, the ink drawings continue formally the parameters of earlier work, showing frontally drawn women, often cropped at the chest, with open mouths and widened eyes, their color ranging still from shades of bright red to violent pink. But the expression has changed completely. Rather than giving way to a previously interiorized emotion of fear and suffering, their faces have taken on a mask of aggression; their mouths are not agape by cries, they are opened from the pure scorn of anger; their raised arms no longer shield their face but are ready to strike. Fisher’s most recent series of works has completed a narrative turn of events several years in the making and has liberated its protagonists of the setting they evolved from. Their actions have taken control of their environment, and their bodies appear whole. Let’s welcome them. – Christian Rattemeyer
Chris Vasell
Chris Vasell works in a very aquatic, trippy, stain-happy mode of painting, with the flamboyant chromatic filigree or 1960s’ psychedelia tones down for a more sombre age. Skeins of translucent, drenching pigment drift across his pictures like heavy-hued cloudbursts opening up on a clammy summer day (Bereshit, 2004), or boil with the caustic effervescence of acid poured over the bonnet of a brand new car. But Vasell isn’t just making pretty, refined messes : tucked into the coagulating, dried-up eddies of a paint are frequent figurative references – a lip, a flared nostril, a floating pair of staring eyes – that suggest a disconsolate unease with what painting can summon out of the ether. – James Tainor
Image: Naomi Fisher in her studio