Ellen K. Levy
Physics in Architectural Settings
There is no science without fancy and no art without facts.
Vladimir Nabokov
Ellen Levy's new paintings are send-ups of various Natural History displays with an
arrangement of things that is more enigmatic than functional. She has long created images
that witness a genuine fascination with how scientific logic can augment the mystery and
beauty of art. Levy's preoccupation with the "Two Cultures" (to paraphrase C.P.
Snow's expression) brought first a series of black-and-white drawings that
"documented" a hypothetical evolutionary link which she modeled after
morphologist D'Arcy Thompson's topological transformations of forms based on Cartesian
coordinates. With these works, she pushed a scientific method to an illogical end. She
staged her reaction" in an architectural setting-a stand-in for human presence.
Subsequently, Levy "documented"thelaunchingoftheSpaceShuttle"Atlantis"
for NASA by painting SpaceChrysalis, 1985, a portrayal of the vertiginous interior of the
Vehicle Assembly Building at the Kennedy Space Center. Responding to the
"Challenger" disaster that occurred two months later, she re-enacted the
processes of collapse and reconstruction of specific architectural sites in her art, again
using twisted topological forms. In the nineties, she has returned to an examination of
relationships between architectural and organic forms. She engages in a playful
investigation of how a shifting context produces a sense of wonder and challenges notions
of progress and evolution in art and science.
Levy's passionate and informed attitude toward science is dialectic-al. She stresses the
irrelevance of classic dichotomy between art and science as the subjective versus the
objective, pointing out their striking similarities. However, in an increasingly
technological art world, she treats painting as a medium for expressing the mysterious,
sensual, and fluid. With a tongue-in-cheek attitude toward sub . ect matter in her current
art she engages in a freeplay of visual signifiers. Viewing her works one confronts, in
fact, a painterly sensibility, passion, or perhaps even a creative "madness"
that brings to mind the expressions of Wassily Kandinsky and Hans Hoffman. If we agree
that art often springs from some sort of "madness", and we accept a Platonic
topology, then Levy's limadness" embraces four ancient categories: it is poetic,
prophetic, initiato , and erotic.
With this new body ofworks, Levy has once again entered into an encyclopedic dialogue with
visual tropes of various traditions. To her previous interests in the work of Charles
Darwin and Denis Diderot, she has added images borrowed from, or related to, photographer
Karl Blossfeld, caricaturist Grandville, and naturalists Louis Agassiz and George Louis
Buffon. As in her previous paintings she invents visual puns: cranes (birds) transform
into construction cranes, living plants into industrial plants, bird beaks into pliers and
other sharp tools, etc. Art references abound: Agassiz's statue upended in the 1906
earthquake in San Francisco is supplied with a head taken jointly from paintings by Edvard
Munch and Georg Baselitz; a shark in one of her works resembles the one used in Damien
Hirst's The Physical Iinpossibility ofdeath in the Mind of Soineone Living, 1991; Marilyn
Monroe, stencilled in another painting, is taken from a famous film-still with the actress
standing on a subway grid with her dress blown up. This referential "bestiary"
can be fully legible to the artist only, yet the viewer can easily derive pleasure from
the constant accumulation of visual components equipped with a wealth of information.
Admiring this imaginary world, one cannot resist recalling the taxonomy of a "certain
Chinese encyclopedia" that inspired Michel Foucault to write "The Order of
Things." Foucault delighted at Jorge Luis Borges's tale of the discovery of "the
exotic charm of another system of thought" that contains the following categories of
animals: "(a) belonging to the Emperor, (b) embalmed, (c) tame, (d) sucking pigs, (e)
sirens, (O fabulous, (g) stray dogs, (h) included in the present classification, (i)
frenzied, (j) innumerable, (k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush, (1) et cetera, (m)
having just broken the water pitcher, (n) that from a long way off look like flies."
Charles Willson Peale's The Artist in His Museuin, 1822, is, perhaps, the most directly
cited artwork in this exhibition. The famous painting depicts the artist in front of the
museum he founded in the 1780s to show "the beauties of Nature" indoors. Peale
painted himself lifting a curtain in a theatrical gesture, to reveal the content of his
bizarre collection of art, science, natural history and technology, housed under one roof.
As has been noted, the painting witnesses the Enlightenment's drive for collecting as a
mean of studying Nature's general laws, while conveying the philosophical idealism of
interpreting reality in cognitive terms. For Levy, however, it is, above all, another
fascinating "record" of how culture has been employed to frame and display
Nature.
In Levy's Display of Wonders, 1997, Peale's painting is scraped in the background,
suspended in the airabove an open drawercontaining a mask. In the middle of this picture,
a "soft" rib cage hangs like Peale's curtain. Then, there is another mask-like
shape in the right-center, functioning abstractly, perhaps, as a reminder of the work's
painterly quality. An adjacent abstract form, based loosely on an electron micrograph of
plant cells, alludes to current technological developments. In Display of Wonders visual
referents proliferate, filling the labyrinthine interior of schematized ramps, staircases
and shelves with narrative possibilities. Placed in a gallery context, it is a Cabinet of
Wonder in a Cabinet of Wonder.
Although each work in this exhibition possesses unique characteristics, they share a
nonlinear quality of being woven along fractal paths of self-similarity. They convey
Levy's interest in the aberrant, many-sided, and disjunctive. On the other side, she is
obviously disinterested in referential mimetic aesthetics.
Thus, she replaces a traditional "cool" representative approach to art with a
more polemical personative one realized in an act of channelling action through desire,
humor and intellectual selfrealization. In Levy's predominantly large-scale paintings
geometry is without dimensions, scale shifts, colors are usually arbitrary. (She explains,
for instance, that the greens she uses are paradoxical tropes for Nature, for they are
often artificial colors). The perspective is usually distorted, destroying certainty about
the viewing position. The contrast of overlaid, abstracted, serpentine wrought-iron forms
to a depicted interior expanse sets up active figure-ground relationships. Cleared of a
rigid spatial orientation, the parts push and pull to form an irregular pattern that-as we
know todaydefine our physical and psychological environments. Every moment in the
paintings is a product of an intense labor of working and re-working (building and
excavating) the surface until it achieves a quality of a sensitive palimpsest with
multifarious textural and textual inscriptions. In the end, the provocative
"chaos" in Levy's works turns into a holistic order with a striking painterly
command.
Marek Bartelik
Marek Bartelik, an art critic and art historian in New York,
writes frequently for Artforum