Voluntary Complexity

In contrast, Pittman’s new body of work seems almost serene. There’s a preponderance of browns, oranges and pinks — a queasy but comforting palette of poo and Pepto-Bismol. There are landscapes, bits of architecture, and many pieces of ugly-ass as-is furniture commingling with less recognizable forms and areas of pure pattern (Pittman is easily the most formidable contemporary inheritor of the Pattern & Decoration mantle). And there is the return to compositional coherence and density. But in eliminating the words and pictures, what Pittman has managed (and it’s about time) is to kick away the critical crutches by which his work has been widely misunderstood — most annoyingly as some kind of agenda-driven queer agitprop. Catch phrases and pictograms are all well and good, but they provide people with a far too easy escape from the profound doubt and anxiety (not to mention the sheer pleasure and lessons in spatio-temporal simultaneity) generated by Pittman’s virtuosic formal instincts.

This is not to say that the content has been removed, only the uppermost patina of frantic semiotics. The ambiguities of meaning have been allowed to sink down and merge with the visual ambiguities of Pittman’s shifting, perilous spaces. Furthermore, these works possess a new sobriety. As much of the frenetic energy and narcissism of the intervening work has been linked to the artist’s personal epiphany of violence (when he was shot by a burglar in 1985), so this new body of work seems to be confronting the burgeoning culture of violence in post-9/11 America. Soothingly dumpy color schemes and relatively sane illusionistic spaces aside, these paintings address violence relentlessly, with knives, swords, battle-axes and numerous other militaristic flourishes popping up throughout the shattered and bedraggled domestic detritus. At times over the last decade, it has seemed as if Pittman was struggling to find a vocabulary that could resolve his sense of personal and political isolation. Perhaps he discovered the obvious: Sometimes you just have to wait until everyone is as paranoid as you.

ROB CLAYTON & CHRISTIAN CLAYTON: SIX FOOT ELEVEN, mixed-media installation | La Luz de Jesus Gallery, 4633 Hollywood Blvd., Los Feliz; (323) 666-7667 | Through November 30

LARI PITTMAN: NEW WORK | Regen Projects, 633 N. Almont Drive, West Hollywood; (310) 276-5424 | Through December 20