Holland Cotter
“Art in Review: Suzanne Mcclelland,” The New York Times (October 31, 1994)
Suzanne McClelland’s floor-to-ceiling abstract paintings
have been memorable for their scale, their incorporation of
words, and the unsettling organic effect produced by the thick
opaque gels that seems to ooze from their surfaces. Their implications
of both distressed, inarticulate speech and physical decay
made them seem very much at home in the charged environment
of the last Whitney Biennial.
Reduced is size, as they are in the this show, Ms. McClelland’s
paintings look more ordinary, but they still hold the eye.
The broad-gestured, slightly crazed dishevelment of the earlier
work has been replaced by a more concentrated layering of textures
and patterns. Intertwined clusters of loops and letters drawn
in charcoal peek out from beneath pigment. Earth colors are
shot through with pink and metallic copper paint. Bodily imagery
shows up in the form of brown modeling clay applied to the
canvas, suggesting both fecal matter and brittle vertebrae.
Ms. McClelland draws upon the past (Arshile Gorky and Jackson
Pollock riffs are everywhere), and despite her continued engagement
with building surfaces, she is capable of delicate effects,
as in a case of calligraphic skeins of black paint dripped
across a white canvas. In many ways, this is basically postwar
gestural abstraction with attitude: rougher, grosser, possibly
less romantic, but with similar expressive ambitions. |