
‘There's so much beauty': artists celebrate California in the wake of tragedy
The California artist Dashiell Manley had been at work for over a year on the paintings he was to exhibit at Marianne Boesky Gallery's elegant new show California Is Somewhere Else when fate intervened. In early January, he set the works to dry in his studio in Altadena – and two days later nearby Eaton Canyon was engulfed in flames, part of recent California wildfires. 'My sense of security was shattered around 11pm on January 7th,' Manley told me via video interview. 'I went in the studio and it was smoky, and all the paintings were wet.'
That night, Manley's thoughts were more preoccupied with protecting his family and grabbing on to what precious mementoes he could take with him as he fled the fires. His studio was ultimately spared, but the paintings were not: smoke and other particles embedded into the still-wet surface, ruining the pieces. 'I don't know that I've processed that these 10 paintings that I've spent a year working on are gone,' he told me. 'They smell like a camp fire, and there's lead particles in the surface – I don't want to touch them. It's weird how they're gone but they're not.'
In lieu of those works, Manley is showing a suite of vibrantly colorful, intricately layered oil pieces, in which he uses a palette knife to painstakingly carve innumerable overlapping objects resembling a folding fan into the paint. Using the back of his hand for a palette, Manley works quickly, layering up color upon color on to the linen canvass.
'I go back into them multiple times, it's a very additive and layered process,' he said. 'It's largely muscle memory and intuition at this point. I could duplicate the painting but I couldn't tell you how.'
The resultant pieces have a structural quality reminiscent of the layered paintings of Jay DeFeo. There are many points for the eye to access them, pleasurably wandering around throughout the intricate networks of color and texture. 'I've always wanted to make work that has as many entry points to the viewer as possible,' Manley said.
The colors comprising Manley's paintings are analogous to those that encompass the tones of a southern California sky from dawn to dusk: a range of blues, reds, oranges and yellows. Flecks of green are mixed in, along with veins and pops of black that provide structure and weight to the overall composition. 'I've been struck by beauty being a counterpoint to grief,' he said. 'Working on these paintings has become a kind of routine, in a good way. I noticed how meaningful that routine was for me after the Eaton fire, and how this is something I can never really stop doing.'
The Haas Brothers' gorgeous, art nouveau Moon Towers sit comfortably alongside Dashiell Manley's paintings in the exhibition. Nikolai Haas and his twin brother, Simon, have always felt deeply influenced by the southern California landscape and way of life. Together, they create dreamy, tactile sculptures informed by a lifelong connection to the California way of being.
'It's just like, things come from nothing here,' Nikolai told me while musing on the feeling of being a Californian. 'There's something about the landscape and the vibe and the energy here. There's something about California being so geographically removed from rest of the US historically, it being so difficult to get here. It's its own kind of place.'
The Moon Towers are inspired by actual streetlights that were a common part of cityscapes throughout the 1800s but that went into decline around the turn of the century. A few such streetlights still existed in Austin in the 1990s, where the Haas Brothers spent several youthful years. Once they returned to California, they brought memories of the towers with them and began working on their own takes on the structures. 'In the 90s, Austin was at the top of its alt moment,' Nikolai said. 'It was a very 90s, grunge stoner culture. For us the Moon Tower is the hero of that moment in our upbringing. Going back home, we wanted to make something that signified our creative growing up.'
Simon added: 'If I could city plan Los Angeles, I'd do a lot of things, and one would be to install Moon Towers. They're so big that they light up whole neighborhoods, but the lighting is low-key, moonlike. We're trying to capture that feeling and pay homage to this different perspective. Moodwise we're leaning into this dreaminess, the safety and fantasy and sheer LA of it.'
Inspired by snowbells, the pieces rise up in lithe, sinuous columns of jade green, then droop over at the top, where a lightbulb is inserted, casting a carefully chosen hue. Some of them rise up to almost 9ft in height, while others would fit comfortably on to an end table. The brothers worked carefully to find just the right temperature of lightbulb to give their sculptures a transportive glow for any who stand within their light. 'We want to create an experience,' said Nikolai. 'Something to take someone a little out of their reality.'
The show is rounded out by Anthony Pearson's minimalist sculpture, whose seeming simplicity belies an exacting technique that leaves the surfaces of his pieces covered in networks of densely worked texture. These are deeply meditative works that draw in a viewer's eye with their beguiling plays of light, and that reward careful, lengthy examination. As Taney Roniger put it in The Brooklyn Rail: 'the strongest unifying thread here is the sense of mystery and wonder that these works exude … [T]hese pieces encourage a shift away from discursive reason toward deeper, more intuitive reflection, and the effect is a rich contemplative experience.'
What makes California Is Somewhere Else such a remarkable success is how its works so effortlessly showcase the sublimity that lives in California – both in its landscape and its cityscape – and that is a key ingredient in the psyche of the Golden state. A place of excesses and enormities, it nonetheless inspires a sense of safety and familiarity that gives rise to fantastic flights of artistic fancy. As Manley put it: 'When I feel like I'm out of my body, I go to the mountains, I have this hike with these giant rocks. I lay on these rocks, and everything that is so monumentally large in those moments becomes small. I feel small, everything becomes small. There's so much beauty in this experience.'
California Is Somewhere Else is now on show at the Marianne Boesky Gallery in New York until 19 April
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The Guardian
13-04-2025
- The Guardian
Max Romeo was a great social commentator, railing against inequality and discord
Max Romeo, who died on Friday aged 80 from complications related to a heart condition, was one of Jamaica's most celebrated vocalists; critiquing the island's pervasive class divides and wealth disparities with a distinctive tenor, he denounced punitive US foreign policy and detailed the turbulence of world affairs. Best known for War Ina Babylon, a playful commentary on the factionalism that blighted Jamaican society during the mid-1970s, and Chase the Devil, on which he vowed to banish Satan to outer space, Romeo enjoyed repeated chart success in Jamaica during his long and varied career. Collaborating with the Rolling Stones in the early 1980s, he later opened a recording studio at his home in the Jamaican countryside, helping a younger generation of artists to come to prominence, including his daughter Xana and son Azizi. Born Maxwell Smith in 1944 in Alexandria, a hillside hamlet below Browns Town in northern Jamaica, he moved to Kingston at 10 years old to live with his father following his mother's emigration, but clashed with his stepmother and absconded; moving between the disparate homes of extended family members, he was partly raised by strangers after enduring periods of homelessness. In the rocksteady era he began working as a record salesman for Ken Lack's Caltone label and made his first set of recordings for the label fronting the Emotions harmony trio, the love song I'll Buy You a Rainbow reaching the Jamaican Top 10 in March 1967. His determined courtship of a local girl earned him the nickname Romeo and after the Emotions disbanded, he got his first taste of international fame through the ribald Wet Dream, produced by Bunny Lee, which hit the UK Top 10 in November 1969, despite a BBC ban for its suggestive lyrics. The saucy hit brought Romeo to London for his first overseas performances, including at the Caribbean Music Festival held at the Empire Pool with Desmond Dekker and Johnny Nash, the bulk of Romeo's innuendo-laden debut album A Dream recorded in London with the Rudies backing band. Back in Jamaica, Romeo began focusing on social commentary, sometimes setting his lyrics to adapted folk songs or spirituals. Macabee Version referenced his newfound Rastafari faith and Black Equality attacked the Eurocentric mindset of postcolonial Jamaica; Chi Chi Bud used coded metaphors to decry the island's pervasive inequalities. Appearing on the bandwagons that helped bring Michael Manley of the leftist People's National party to power in 1972, Romeo recorded songs like Let the Power Fall and Press Along Joshua to signal his support for Manley's vision, but when change was slow to come after Manley took office, Romeo responded with the critical No Joshua No. After working on the Revelation Time album with arranger Geoffrey Chung at Lee 'Scratch' Perry's Black Ark studio in 1975, Romeo began working more concertedly with Perry, the single War Ina Babylon attracting Chris Blackwell's interest; the resultant album of the same name was released by Island Records overseas, introducing Romeo to a broader international audience. The follow-up, Reconstruction, was self-produced, with the censorious Melt Away its most outstanding number, but the album was rapidly deleted after financial disputes and the momentum further interrupted when Romeo moved to New York to star in a musical called Reggae, which flopped at the box office. He was an uncredited backing vocalist on the Rolling Stones' album Emotional Rescue in 1980 and Keith Richards subsequently appeared on Romeo's Holding Out My Love To You, a crossover attempt that broadened his fanbase in Japan, but failed to ignite in the US. Sign up to Sleeve Notes Get music news, bold reviews and unexpected extras. Every genre, every era, every week after newsletter promotion I remember him appearing in London in the late 1980s, where he had a galvanising effect on Lee 'Scratch' Perry. It was a fallow period for each of them and the meeting sparked a new determination to get back on track. Romeo abandoned the courier service he had run in New York for several years to make ends meet and returned to Jamaica shortly before the sensational success of the Prodigy's Out Of Space, which sampled Chase the Devil, sparking renewed interest in his work; a decade later, Kanye West mined Chase the Devil for Jay Z's Lucifer, cementing Romeo's original in the global consciousness. In the interim, albums for Jah Shaka, Mafia & Fluxy and Mad Professor made him a regular on festival stages throughout Europe and North America; the studio he opened at his home in Treadways, near Linstead, enabled his children to launch their own musical careers. Max Romeo undertook his final tour in 2023, performing in 56 cities throughout Britian and Europe, shortly after he filed a $15m lawsuit against Universal Music Group and Polygram Publishing for unpaid royalties (the companies later sought to have it dismissed). I remember Max as pragmatic, politically engaged and open minded, a thoughtful person with a strong sense of humour whose obvious intelligence and drive belied a lack of formal education. He is survived by his wife, Charm, and several children.


The Guardian
09-04-2025
- The Guardian
‘There's so much beauty': artists celebrate California in the wake of tragedy
The California artist Dashiell Manley had been at work for over a year on the paintings he was to exhibit at Marianne Boesky Gallery's elegant new show California Is Somewhere Else when fate intervened. In early January, he set the works to dry in his studio in Altadena – and two days later nearby Eaton Canyon was engulfed in flames, part of recent California wildfires. 'My sense of security was shattered around 11pm on January 7th,' Manley told me via video interview. 'I went in the studio and it was smoky, and all the paintings were wet.' That night, Manley's thoughts were more preoccupied with protecting his family and grabbing on to what precious mementoes he could take with him as he fled the fires. His studio was ultimately spared, but the paintings were not: smoke and other particles embedded into the still-wet surface, ruining the pieces. 'I don't know that I've processed that these 10 paintings that I've spent a year working on are gone,' he told me. 'They smell like a camp fire, and there's lead particles in the surface – I don't want to touch them. It's weird how they're gone but they're not.' In lieu of those works, Manley is showing a suite of vibrantly colorful, intricately layered oil pieces, in which he uses a palette knife to painstakingly carve innumerable overlapping objects resembling a folding fan into the paint. Using the back of his hand for a palette, Manley works quickly, layering up color upon color on to the linen canvass. 'I go back into them multiple times, it's a very additive and layered process,' he said. 'It's largely muscle memory and intuition at this point. I could duplicate the painting but I couldn't tell you how.' The resultant pieces have a structural quality reminiscent of the layered paintings of Jay DeFeo. There are many points for the eye to access them, pleasurably wandering around throughout the intricate networks of color and texture. 'I've always wanted to make work that has as many entry points to the viewer as possible,' Manley said. The colors comprising Manley's paintings are analogous to those that encompass the tones of a southern California sky from dawn to dusk: a range of blues, reds, oranges and yellows. Flecks of green are mixed in, along with veins and pops of black that provide structure and weight to the overall composition. 'I've been struck by beauty being a counterpoint to grief,' he said. 'Working on these paintings has become a kind of routine, in a good way. I noticed how meaningful that routine was for me after the Eaton fire, and how this is something I can never really stop doing.' The Haas Brothers' gorgeous, art nouveau Moon Towers sit comfortably alongside Dashiell Manley's paintings in the exhibition. Nikolai Haas and his twin brother, Simon, have always felt deeply influenced by the southern California landscape and way of life. Together, they create dreamy, tactile sculptures informed by a lifelong connection to the California way of being. 'It's just like, things come from nothing here,' Nikolai told me while musing on the feeling of being a Californian. 'There's something about the landscape and the vibe and the energy here. There's something about California being so geographically removed from rest of the US historically, it being so difficult to get here. It's its own kind of place.' The Moon Towers are inspired by actual streetlights that were a common part of cityscapes throughout the 1800s but that went into decline around the turn of the century. A few such streetlights still existed in Austin in the 1990s, where the Haas Brothers spent several youthful years. Once they returned to California, they brought memories of the towers with them and began working on their own takes on the structures. 'In the 90s, Austin was at the top of its alt moment,' Nikolai said. 'It was a very 90s, grunge stoner culture. For us the Moon Tower is the hero of that moment in our upbringing. Going back home, we wanted to make something that signified our creative growing up.' Simon added: 'If I could city plan Los Angeles, I'd do a lot of things, and one would be to install Moon Towers. They're so big that they light up whole neighborhoods, but the lighting is low-key, moonlike. We're trying to capture that feeling and pay homage to this different perspective. Moodwise we're leaning into this dreaminess, the safety and fantasy and sheer LA of it.' Inspired by snowbells, the pieces rise up in lithe, sinuous columns of jade green, then droop over at the top, where a lightbulb is inserted, casting a carefully chosen hue. Some of them rise up to almost 9ft in height, while others would fit comfortably on to an end table. The brothers worked carefully to find just the right temperature of lightbulb to give their sculptures a transportive glow for any who stand within their light. 'We want to create an experience,' said Nikolai. 'Something to take someone a little out of their reality.' The show is rounded out by Anthony Pearson's minimalist sculpture, whose seeming simplicity belies an exacting technique that leaves the surfaces of his pieces covered in networks of densely worked texture. These are deeply meditative works that draw in a viewer's eye with their beguiling plays of light, and that reward careful, lengthy examination. As Taney Roniger put it in The Brooklyn Rail: 'the strongest unifying thread here is the sense of mystery and wonder that these works exude … [T]hese pieces encourage a shift away from discursive reason toward deeper, more intuitive reflection, and the effect is a rich contemplative experience.' What makes California Is Somewhere Else such a remarkable success is how its works so effortlessly showcase the sublimity that lives in California – both in its landscape and its cityscape – and that is a key ingredient in the psyche of the Golden state. A place of excesses and enormities, it nonetheless inspires a sense of safety and familiarity that gives rise to fantastic flights of artistic fancy. As Manley put it: 'When I feel like I'm out of my body, I go to the mountains, I have this hike with these giant rocks. I lay on these rocks, and everything that is so monumentally large in those moments becomes small. I feel small, everything becomes small. There's so much beauty in this experience.' California Is Somewhere Else is now on show at the Marianne Boesky Gallery in New York until 19 April


The Guardian
05-02-2025
- The Guardian
Configurations in Black: a stateless Rwandan refugee makes art out of his experience
Artist Serge Alain Nitegeka became a refugee of the Rwandan genocide in 1994 at age 11, when he began a years-long odyssey through multiple African nations, eventually arriving in South Africa, where he remains to this day. During his years in transit, Nitegeka began to create art – first while attending high school in Kenya, where he learned to 'make do', as he put it, a theme the rings throughout his artistic output, and then later though higher education in South Africa. Nitegeka engages singularly with the genocide, using almost completely abstract, minimalistic means to do so. His paintings and sculptures are dominated by just a few colors – he started with just black, white and red, eventually adding others such as blue, teal, green and gold. These hues are poured into mostly textureless, abstract shapes, making for art that can come across as quite flinty yet also fluid and even dreamlike. They are works that are hard to pin down. Audiences can now linger over these fascinating pieces at Marianne Boesky Gallery, which hosts Configurations in Black, showcasing Nitegeka's latest visual evolution. The fifth exhibition in the gallery's decade-plus relationship with the artist, it is a show that rewards patience and repeat viewings. Through Nitegeka's many years of traveling among nations – as well as in his years-long wait to attain valid citizenship in South Africa – he has learned to work with what is at hand, an ethos that has very much seeped into his art. 'When I first studied art in Kenya,' he told me, 'it wasn't a well-off school, so we had to make do. That point of making do has been a part of my work, going through university and beyond. It's a theme, I kind of make do.' This can be seen in the shipping containers that Nitegeka frequently paint his pieces on, as these were one of the few objects in ready supply to the artist. (Audiences can frequently see the word 'Fragile' as stamped on the crates in certain pieces.) Likewise, he has learned to make do by staging exhibitions from afar, as his legal status in South Africa makes it largely impossible for him to attend his own shows. As Nitegeka started to make art about the genocide in Rwanda, he found himself working with abstraction almost as a self-protective gesture. 'It was comfortable, something I could control,' he told me. 'Control was something I kept coming back to, I wanted to say a lot with so little. I didn't want to use things that people could outwardly connect to and say: 'Oh, this is a story about this and this.' I wanted to create something that could stand on its own and didn't need the artist.' Throughout his years of producing art, Nitegeka has proven himself to be methodical and deliberate in how he advances his style. Starting out working with just black, white and red, over the course of years he slowly added to his palette, color by color. He recalled that the birth of his daughter was a watershed moment that urged him to greatly expand his color choices: 'I felt an affinity to get more colors in my work,' he said, 'and I went to a hardware shop and looked at what colors I could get. I had them for a long time but never felt comfortable or ready to use them until my daughter was born.' In the studio, he will sit and stare into his pieces, in conversation with them, carefully trying to discern what color and shape he should apply next. 'I'm making decisions based on how things are looking on the surface,' he told me. 'There's no reference material. I'm just working with the colors, how they sit on the surface. Slowly, what is happening, the surface is revealing itself to me.' Earlier work of Nitegeka's greatly involved the gallery space itself. He would place enormous networks of long, black pieces of wood that he would build up into intricate obstacle-course-like constructs that audiences navigated through while viewing his art. For a previous show at Marianne Boesky, titled Black Migrant, the artist used soil, firewood and objects to create a large installation dominating the center of the gallery space. By contrast, Configurations in Black is much more straightforward, limiting itself to Nitegeka's paintings and sculptures. Largely gone from the paintings themselves are the long, black lines that typified much of his art – these pieces rely much more on blobs of color and sinuous human forms. As to the latter, audiences will see human figures, mostly in two-dimensional black, taking on a variety of poses, including standing straight up, reaching, bending, squatting, reaching, possibly even dancing. Some of them, depicted in brown with more texture and dimension, seem huddled together toward some purpose, their bodies partially hidden by other forms. These figures give the art at times a Kafkaesque feel, these bodies seeming as though they are lost in a maze or shuffling through the gears of a gigantic machine. On one level, the figures are representative of the journey made by those forced to flee war and repression, the paintings offering a sense of the confusion and ordeal of the journey away from danger. From a more purely aesthetic standpoint, they tend to draw the eye toward nodes scattered across the art works, creating a feeling of busyness and motion that does not exist in the purely abstract pieces in this show. As much as he has become a celebrated artist, Nitegeka remains stuck in a bureaucratic purgatory, still not legally a citizen of South Africa and so largely unable to travel outside of the country. (He did manage to make it out for a New York City residency in 2015, where he got 'a temperature of the streets' in the Big Apple.) The prospect of yet another exhibition that he cannot be at is one that he is, at least for now, resigned to and prepared for. 'At the end of the day the show must go on regardless,' he said. 'But it's not going to be like this forever. It's just a kind of phase I'm going through.' Serge Alain Nitegeka: Configurations in Black is on display at Marianne Boesky Gallery in New York until 8 March