ART REVIEWS : Flimsy Baroque Abstractions From Robert Longo

New York Times art critic Roberta Smith recently referred to artist Robert Longo as “Robert Long Ago.” It’s a cruel joke but an apt one because Longo has come to symbolize the ‘80s boom in American art that everyone agrees is pretty much over. However, Longo’s career crisis isn’t so much symptomatic of the vagaries of the art market as it is a result of his naivete in regards to the press. Though Longo fancies himself a savvy media manipulator, his understanding of public relations isn’t so hot. Longo served himself up to the press on a silver platter--the only thing missing was the apple in his mouth--and every time a journalist gave him the opportunity, he blew a big gust of hot air.

The subject of an exhibition on view at the Linda Cathcart Gallery in Santa Monica through Feb. 23, Longo came out of the gate like a wild stallion, but he didn’t pace himself for the long haul. No project was too grandiose for him, no canvas too large, and his unbridled ambition led to a premature traveling retrospective (it came to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in 1989) and an embarrassingly empty multimedia theatrical extravaganza that played UCLA the same year. Like his fellow Neo-Ex superstar David Salle, Longo’s been trying to make a deal to direct a major motion picture. Perhaps that will be the proper milieu for him--Longo’s heart has always seemed to be more in show-biz hucksterism than in fine art.

Longo’s derailing is too bad because for a minute there he was actually on to something. He has an intuitive understanding of corporate bombast, of the overweening bullheadedness of a culture in the process of devouring itself, and the best of his muscle-bound mixed-media pieces offer a frightening portrait of the American dream pumped up on steroids. Somewhere along the way, however, the artist became the thing he was attempting to indict in his work.

It seems Longo might be aware of this because his new work is uncharacteristically subdued. Seven American flags cast in bronze and painted black, this somber work seems an attempt to recapture the simple, iconic power of his early and best work, “Men in the Cities,” a series of stark drawings of yuppies in contorted poses done in 1979. The flags don’t quite cut it though--they feel burned out and enervated, like charred remains. Frozen on the wall, yet furled and folded as if whipped by a brisk wind, the flags come across as flimsy baroque abstractions--the lack of an underlying foundation of meaning robs them of weight.

The flag is, of course, a heavily loaded symbol, and at this unfortunate juncture of history it’s a particularly potent one. Longo’s flags were first exhibited last March in Paris, so one assumes they were conceived in response to the recent censorship controversy. However, in light of developments in the Persian Gulf, one thinks of war when one looks at them. One also comes away wondering what Longo will do next to get his work back on track.

Linda Cathcart Gallery: 924 Colorado Ave., Santa Monica; to Feb . 23; (213) 451-1121. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

Past Perfect: An exhibition at the Michael Kohn Gallery is nostalgic and lyrical in the extreme: The paintings of New York artist Mark Innerst exist in a state of perpetual reverie and longing. A staunch traditionalist, Innerst seems radical by virtue of the fact that his work is so unabashedly conservative--he paints his landscapes, portraits and still lifes with fastidious care and clearly wants them to be beautiful. And that they are.

Though Innerst’s work has been selling like hot cakes in New York for several seasons, this is his first one-man show in Los Angeles, and the selection at the Kohn Gallery is a good cross section of work that reveals where Innerst has been and where he is going. Included are a few landscapes (this is the work that launched his career), several crisply abstracted cityscapes and a few recent pieces. The strongest of the new work is a portrait of an athlete painted from an image on a baseball card (there is a heartbreaking innocence to this picture), and a sinfully robust still life of cherries that is executed with an idealizing soft focus evocative of Wayne Thiebaud.

Seen from a distance, Innerst’s pictures appear to be tightly painted, but examine them close up and the pictorial illusion breaks down. What reads from across the room as a long view of a small town of twinkling lights under a gorgeous night sky is in reality a horizontal band of white dots on a blue field. With the most modest of means, Innerst prods the viewer’s imagination to flesh out the scene. His intuitive understanding of the critical cues in a picture--and his ability to distill an image down to its essence--is central to his talent.

Michael Kohn Gallery: 920 Colorado; to Feb . 28; (213) 393-7713. Closed Sundays and Mondays.