The kindest thing that it is possible to say about Knowing What You Know—Anna Glantz’ most recent show at Chris Sharp—is that it’s hard to know what the point is. A stray reference to early American folk art in regards to her work on the gallery’s website provides some insight but not much. So these are awkward on purpose? Not charmingly so—and a white table (is that a table?) rendered in perspective (is that perspective?) hardly has the pathos of would-be-bourgeois colonial posing for the least talented portrait artist they could afford so as to be recognizable in a time before photographs. It is understandable that Ms. Glantz might not want to copy her influences and therefore look like a Columbia grad imitating less-privileged talents, but that leaves these paintings seeming quite intentionally to eschew not only charm but basically any visual characteristic that any viewer might find desirable—superficially or otherwise.
They avoid bright colors, they avoid being large, they avoid illusion, they avoid depth, they avoid conspicuous displays of skill, they avoid inconspicuous displays of skill, they avoid anecdote, they avoid humor, they avoid sexiness, they almost avoid recognizable imagery but not so much that they might be seen as intentionally free and flat compositions. Occasionally one object is rendered with more detail than the others but not to a degree where its impressive or even jarring—the only effect is to remove the obtuseness of the painting as an object of contemplation. The only intention at all appears to be to make paintings that appeal in no way, while still showing and selling them.
There is, one might suppose, a certain home-made, unvarnished, antislickness about them which, these days might be seen as a rejection of digital and commercial imagery—buy homely little paintings with nothing special about them—have been coin of the realm since at least the 90s. Luc Tuymans is perhaps patient zero for this kind of strategically talent-free painting, eschewing all attempts to excite, including even the energetic earnestness of the most hack neo-expressionists. What’s confusing here is not just that anyone is still doing this but that Anna Glantz has other options. As recently as 2023 she was showing paintings that had every indication of attempting something—using a broad palette of juxtaposed painting techniques to experiment with depth, reference, characterization, surrealism, and, yes, even charm. She is allowed to give up on all that. The next authentic step in her studio practice may very well be a creative askesis that requires abandonment of every weapon in her arsenal; we cannot begrudge her that—but until she finds some new dimension of painting to explore there isn’t any reason for anyone else to be asked to watch.
Image: Staff