Modern Painters, review by Stacey Allan
2007
Josh Smith is best known for murky, expressionistic canvases covered with the twisted letters of his own name. This riff on “signature style” is carried out most often in the quintessentially expressive medium of painting, but also in prints, collages, and artists’ books that tease out issues of authorship through devices of mechanical reproduction. Much of his work follows a humorous and puzzlingly simple formula through which endless repetition of the artist’s own name and references to his exhibition history prompt art-critical buzz about authenticity, signature, biography, mythology, and genius. The new works, collectively titled “Abstraction,” are deliberately clumsy “archetypes of abstract painting” that place no premium on aesthetic appeal. The familiar letters of his name, while now considerably more difficult to find than in the past, are lurking there nonetheless. There is a discernible s in every squiggle, an m in every peak, an o in every circle, and several appearances of a bold, unmistakable j. Of course, this sort of decryption could also be a function of the imagination, a matter of seeing what one expects to see. This is the moment—when we are caught in the act of looking for familiar forms, grasping for meaning, and trying to find the artist in his work—that Smith’s paintings begin to shape-shift into something much better. The alphabet itself may be the best archetype of abstraction—a meaningless set of lines and shapes that, when arranged in a certain order, convey meaning. But communication occurs only for those who have access to the language, and the exclusive language of abstract painting can be bafflingly complex and remote. By reducing it to a few simple elements and switching focus to the framework through which meaning is created—from basically nothing—Smith's first solo show in Chelsea hit the mark.