Robert Stuart – Light Gets In
Reynolds Gallery Richmond November 10 to December 22
“The problem of a painting is physical and metaphysical, the same as I think life is physical and metaphysical.“1
– Barnett Newman
On the crisp evening of November 10, I ventured toward a personal favorite haunt, Reynolds Gallery in Richmond. As dusk cloaked the city and faint sunlight filtered through the grey clouds, it set the stage for my encounter with Robert Stuart’s “Light Gets In.” Crossing the gallery’s threshold, I was greeted by a sudden shift to vibrancy. The gallery burst into life with light and color, a stark contrast to the dimming day outside. Wading through a sea of chattery visitors, a sequence of striped paintings caught my gaze, compelling me to navigate through the crowd toward them. Their colors cut through the murmurs, seizing my full attention with their pulsating lines and the play of light that seemed to breathe life into each canvas.
As my eyes adjusted to the gallery’s ambiance, I noticed how “Cloud Cover” and “Stack, Blue & Silver” appeared to radiate an ethereal glow, thanks to the softly blurred paint around their rectangular forms. The paintings emanated a palpable energy as if the light they held extended into the space around them. In “Nimbus,” the careful progression of lines shifted from the deep orange of the background to a lighter, less saturated orange at the center. This gradient gave the impression that the stripes were moving toward the viewer, a visual effect echoed in the red lines of “Peppermint.” In this piece, the transition from light to dark red values drew my gaze deeper, creating an illusion of depth and dynamism. Additionally, “Peppermint” displayed a striking break from uniformity with its dark red spots. These spots, rather than following a straight line, curved gracefully, interrupting the verticality, and injecting a sense of fluidity into the work. This intentional deviation prompted me to pause and reflect on the balance of continuity and disruption, highlighting Stuart’s nuanced play with color, value, tone, line, shapes, texture, and surface within our moment of perception. Each aspect of Stuart’s creations in the exhibition synergized to challenge and captivate the senses, inviting the observer to delve further into the complexities of the painted experience.
Stuart’s painting “Ashes” stands as a pivotal piece within the collection, its allure far surpassing the mere visual. The canvas itself seems to emit a soft glow from its core, drawing viewers into a sphere of deeper contemplation. Among the wandering guests, I overhear snippets of conversation circling the inevitable inquiry, “What do I see in this painting?” This question becomes a gateway to broader discourse that stretches well past the boundaries of the canvas, embracing tales of travel, encounters with diverse cultures, and personal anecdotes of light—all reflections of the vast tapestry of human experience and perception. “Ashes” does more than capture the eye; it sparks a chain reaction of philosophical reflections and introspective dialogues among its observers.
The hidden intricacies of Stuart’s artistic process unveil themselves upon closer inspection of “Ashes,” which, at first glance, presents a monochromatic grisaille. Yet, a keen eye discerns the canvas’s deeper narrative, where scattered splatters of color mark the physical journey of its creation. As I weave through the crowd of visitors, the air is ripe with their musings on the artist’s methodology. They speculate on the layers beneath the surface, debating the histories of paint that might be concealed or revealed over time, a testament to the artwork’s evolving nature.
The physicality of Stuart’s process is further evidenced by the sides of the paintings, where one can glimpse the strata of color that lie beneath. “Nimbus” is particularly revealing, with a thick underpainting of vermillion red that resurfaces only as a small blob at the top right section of the canvas, hinting at a resurgence. This peek into the artist’s layered approach sparks a curiosity about the manifold layers of meaning and the dialogue between what is seen and unseen within his work. Each of Stuart’s paintings, thus, becomes an archaeological site, inviting viewers to unearth the sedimented narratives embedded in their creation.
Notably, in contemplating Stuart’s work, the concept of lines versus bands emerges as a thought-provoking enigma. I find myself pondering the point at which a line ceases to be just that and instead morphs into a band. Stuart’s use of collage often bestows upon these elements the characteristics of bands rather than lines. This ambiguity is compounded by the medium; collage might suggest a band, yet the application of paint obscures this distinction, casting doubt on how these elements should be categorized. This observation ignites a compelling discourse I have been grappling with—At what thickness does a line transition into a shape or surface? And why are bands of identical size perceived as lines when they extend beyond the frame, but as rectangles when contained within it? The fine line between a line and a shape becomes a profound subject of contemplation, especially when the same form shifts from being perceived as a line or band to becoming a distinct shape, a rectangle. Moving between the paintings, Mark Rothko’s color fields persist in my thoughts, prompting me to question the connection.
My attention is then drawn to the rectangles in “Cloud Cover” and “Stack, Blue & Silver” that blend into a blurred color field. Yet, the pronounced thickness of the paint and wax on the rectangles brings them into relief, creating an edge that allows us to still perceive them as rectangles—a figure against a ground. Contrary to Rothko’s color fields, which elevate beyond the visual to the auratic and emotional, Stuart plays with perception, crafting a painterly illusion that is sharply juxtaposed with the tactile materiality of his work. While Rothko invites us to feel, Stuart compels us to see, offering a visual encounter that beckons the light to ‘get in,’ stimulate our retinas, and awaken the mind.
In delving into the depths of Robert Stuart’s Light Gets In, one is struck by the intricate dance of illusion, memory, and imagination that permeates his works. Stuart’s paintings are not just visual encounters but are imbued with layers that invite the viewer to navigate the realms of the remembered and the envisioned. This interplay of the seen and unseen, the tangible and the imagined, sets the stage for a deeper appreciation of the visual stimuli we often take for granted. As we immerse ourselves in the vibrant world Stuart creates, we become acutely conscious of our act of seeing—something typically relegated to the subconscious. His art makes us aware of how we perceive the world, revealing the complex layers of our visual experience. The exhibition, thus, transforms into a journey that heightens our sensory awareness, challenging us to see beyond the surface. In this vivid exploration, Stuart underscores that seeing is far from a passive act. It is a dynamic engagement with our surroundings, a continuous interplay of questioning and imagining, a daring venture into the realm of perception. This powerful realization lingers long after leaving the gallery: Seeing is not merely receiving; it is actively, relentlessly engaging with the world around us.
1 Barnett Newman, ‘From Exhibition of the United States of America’ [1965], in John O’Neill (ed.), Barnett Newman: Selected Writings and Interviews, Berkeley 1990, p.187.
