The word “baroque” kept returning to my mind as I walked
through the exhibition “Jim Morphesis: Wounds of Existence” at the Pasadena Museum of California Art. In part, it’s
the sheer, intense, sometimes massively over-the-top materiality of many of these
“paintings,” with their surfaces of nailed broken planks that might have been
rescued from a demolition site, or the ooze of concrete and magna (acrylic
resin paint), the sparkle and gold and glitter. In part, it’s the purposefully broken quality of composition,
line and texture. In part the
physically explicit passion for the fleshy human body, both male and female...
Morphesis has been exploring such things for a good
number of years now, and it’s good to see that dedication rewarded with a solo
museum exhibition. (My only wish
is that it could have been a more extensive one than this...) Even at a time when it ran counter to
the mainstream, his art was unafraid to take up the challenge of those issues
that confront us simply at the level of our existence as mortal human beings:
such things as pain and vulnerability, love and sex, the metaphysical struggle
between belief and disbelief, religion and existential doubt; and, eventually,
between the light side of our nature and the dark. If we can bring ourselves to gaze with sufficient attention into
its disquieting depths (and this is sometimes, truthfully, no easy task) his
work is powerful enough to overcome any reserve we might bring to it. The artist’s process requires him to
look fearlessly within; it invites us to look with equal fearlessness into our own inner lives.
Emotional intensity aside, Morphesis is an artist who pays serious attention to the work of those who preceded him, and who grounds himself firmly in the authority of tradition.
In the series of crucifixion paintings in which he addresses his childhood associations with the Greek Orthodox church, for example, he evokes the images of Matthias Grünewald
and Velasquez...
Jim Morphesis, No Sanctuary, 1981. Oil, acrylic, wood, nails, wire, tape, and gold leaf on wood panel, 26 1/2 x 29 inches, Collection of Ray Mnich. |
The raw impasto of his wounded, sometimes tortured naked human
figures recalls the disturbing paintings of Chaim Soutine. He mines the deep well of archetypal images from the history of art and poetry—the rose, the skull...
memento mori, the pietà...
memento mori, the pietà...
Jim Morphesis, Destiny, 1982. Oil, magna, alkyd resin, and wood on wood panel, 68 x 64 inches. Collection of Laifun Chung and Ted Kotcheff |
... that have for centuries resonated in the human consciousness, creating a powerful subtext of cultural reference that enriches these paintings with echoes from the past. Similarly, the written words and texts that lie half-buried in their surfaces bear witness to the artist's restless inquiry into the ageless philosophical questions they address.
The seriousness and profundity of this inquiry is what sets Morphesis's work apart from that of many of his contemporaries. In a culture that often seems content to skirt the surface of those things that affect our inner lives, I find his work to be not only emotionally provocative and intellectually engaging, but also remarkably courageous.
The seriousness and profundity of this inquiry is what sets Morphesis's work apart from that of many of his contemporaries. In a culture that often seems content to skirt the surface of those things that affect our inner lives, I find his work to be not only emotionally provocative and intellectually engaging, but also remarkably courageous.
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