Matthew Offenbacher at Howard House

Having rendered myself a little embarrassed by my gushy post about Matthew Offenbacher before even seeing his show at Howard House, I thought I’d give it another go and try to articulate things a little better— even though I’ll probably be repeating stuff that’s already been said.

My tiny worry that the CAT paintings wouldn’t be as amazing in person was assuaged the instant I walked through the door yesterday. I do think Jen Graves hit the nail on the head when she said “art is embarrassing” in her review of Matthew’s show.  He is painting things we contemporary artists aren’t supposed to want to paint: vases of flowers, cats, impressionistic brushwork. I believe his desire to paint these subjects is entirely sincere; but also, his license to paint them is granted partly by irony.  So maybe in a critical utopia where irony is dead, then this is its afterlife.

Matthew Offenbacher, Untitled (detail), 2009, oil/acrylic/distemper on stainguard cotton

The paint is like light that seems to be barely touching the surface of this weird, unprimed yet stainguarded cotton. The colors and shapes have a fuzzy glow, and look like they could move and bounce off at any moment.

Laura Owens: Untitled, 2003, oil and acrylic on canvas, 165 x 147 cm; courtesy Douglas Hyde Gallery

There’s something that reminds me of Laura Owens— maybe it’s the fleeting sensibility. Often in the world of painting, the surface is worked and re-worked so that in the end the viewer is beholding this track of mark-making that made the painting what it is. Layers of history are evident. But with both Owens and Offenbacher, the history is somewhere else and all the viewer has is this one moment that was captured. What’s different is that Owens’ paintings often feel uncannily still, and Offenbacher’s are buzzing.

Matthew Offenbacher

{Matthew Offenbacher, Untitled, 2009, from the series “Some new paintings of my cat and other things.”}

When I see a piece of [good] art, I’m usually struck by an excitement of ideas. I’m noticing that I think it’s good, and wondering why that is. I ponder the intent of the artist, and consider the way the piece is presented. I make connections between the work I’m studying and those of other artists.

Sometimes though, something entirely different occurs when I look at art. It happens very rarely, and when it does happen, the objects of my attention tend to be paintings. What happens is: I can not formulate a single cohesive thought, nor can I articulate anything. All I can do is look at the thing/painting and cuss like a teenager. Because it’s so good.

So, Matthew Offenbacher. DAMN.

{Matthew Offenbacher, Medium Owl, 2006, from the series “God, sex, the great outdoors.”}

The thing with Matthew Offenbacher is that when I look at the sheer variety of his creative endeavors, my excitement over an individual work multiplies. In addition to painting, he also writes. Well. In addition to painting and writing well, he gathers artists and writing artists together in a unique and meaningful way. Most amazingly, all of his various projects are top notch.

{La Especial Norte, Second Issue, 2008}

I’ve been thinking about something Regina Hackett said on her blog post about Robert Yoder: “Not all artists can be as successfully chameleon as Bruce Nauman. Many best serve themselves by mining a single vein. Life is short. Art’s best chance of being long is internal coherence.”

Yeah, maybe if an artist is looking to secure the cultural memory of their career with the linearity of an ad campaign. Art that reproduces itself over and over (and over and over and over), simply out of habit on behalf of the artist and the audience, is boring. It beats you over the head with its self-proclaimed preciousness until you submit or run away. If I ever turn into that kind of artist, someone take my paints away and put me to work in a bakery. The best art is that which the artist simply had to do; not because it was the right career move; not because it’s consistent with past choices in materials and methods.  Offenbacher’s varied work breathes the crisp air of necessity, whether it’s a painting or a community project or piece of writing.

{Matthew Offenbacher, Painting With Picture of Its Own Construction, 2005, from the series “Constructivist beavers.”}

This month Offenbacher begins Gift Shop at the Henry.

He’s also a finalist for the Betty Bowen award. And he has a show coming up at Howard House.

And last but not least (and probably unrelated, yet not considered insignificant here at this blog called “Getting To Know You Better”), Matthew Offenbacher is a really nice person. I haven’t really met him; I only attended the Klatch that hosted him on the panel. As soon as he started talking, I was like, “WHO is this sweet guy??” He’s not fakey-polite; he just seems like a genuinely good person who looks for the good in people. It’s refreshing and unexpected, just like his work.