clint metcalf, painter
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June 3 — July 15, 2011
There is no shortage of abstract painters in the art world. Perhaps second in number only to photographers, abstract painters pop up in hoards, perhaps out of people’s desire to experience the romantic idea of being an artist while lacking the willingness to learn how to paint figuratively or realistically. The result is a complete glut of meaningless, emotionless arrangements of pigment on canvas that, over time, dulls the viewers' sensibilities to the point of their mentally passing over any abstract work, automatically regarding it as visual gibberish.
This is why it is so refreshing to find an artist who can use abstraction well, such as Clint Metcalf. His work is on display at Apex Art Space (a part of Crossroads Dentistry). Metcalf’s paintings are effective by his use of contrasting marks and structural elements in creating the work. Some of the compositions are dominated by large, quick, sweeping brushstrokes that activate the space with energy, while others are predominantly filled with a loosely rendered grid of squares and rectangles that might resemble an aerial view of a city layout. These visually and conceptually different elements present a vision of duality and conflict, which in a certain perception of the world are principles that lie at the core of existence. In any given situation, two opposite forces can be identified that through their conflict or interaction create a part of our world. Man and woman create a child, night and day create plant life, past and future create the present, protons and electrons create atoms, and so on.

Clint Metcalf, “Gun,”oil on canvas, 30” x 40”. Working in a style that has been heavily used since the 60s and 70s, Metcalf manages to create unique, thought provoking abstract compositions. Image: photo Matt Kuhlman
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Clint Metcalf, “Jefferson,” oil on canvas, 48” x 72". Among the largest paintings in the show, this painting exemplifies the full range of qualities can be found in Metcalf’s work. Image: photo Matt Kuhlman
Duality is a powerful muse because it offers so many potential outcomes, and each painting in Metcalf’s exhibition, Tensionism, offers the viewer a unique structure to consider rather than a rehashed presentation of the same idea to glance at while walking past. Some of the compositions are completely filled with geometric shapes, while others sprinkle a few of the rectangular forms amid a flurry of brushstrokes. What is also nice about the paintings is their varied color palette. Oftentimes an artist will get stuck in a rut and reuse the same shades over and over, but Metcalf manages to change the tone of each piece through different color mixtures while instilling a sense of unity among the works by consistently using bright, saturated hues.
Perhaps the most common trap that abstract painters can fall victim to is the false belief that "anything goes." This attitude creates in a lack of consideration on the artist’s part and results in work that lacks purpose and intent. Metcalf’s paintings expose the fallacy of this notion by including a distinct amount of certainty in everything he does. Even when he applies the large sweeping strokes to the canvas, there is a sense of structure to the marks because they appear to be done in one shot. It doesn't look like he nonchalantly slapped down layers of paint, but as if he executed a vision that involved allowing the bold strokes to stand alone as part of a planned composition. This level of intention translates into every aspect of the work and communicates the idea that despite producing non-representational images, there are some very concrete ideas that inform Metcalf’s paintings. As a result, the viewer is instilled with a desire to actively consider each piece, with the added curiosity of seeing what comes next.

Clint Metcalf, “Chief,” oil on canvas. This is an excellent display of some of the bold, daring brushwork that Metcalf allows to stand in his paintings.
Forward Movement: Clint Metcalf
Clint Metcalf
Tensionism
It's a question artists of all sorts face, over and over: How can one develop a trademark style without becoming predictable or even devolving into self-parody?
Some don't care, because what they do works and sells (see also: Norman Rockwell and AC/DC). Most, though, strive to advance and refine their art while still staying true to their core strengths and ideals.
All of which is preface to saying that if you think you know just what you're going to see at Clint Metcalf's most recent show ... you're only partially right.
Yes, it's loaded with gesture, with energy, with bold sweeps and carefully placed blocks and lozenges of color. The works can be delicate, aggressive or a finely balanced mix of the two.
In that, and in much of the subject matter — abstraction emerging from a black background which simultaneously grounds and highlights the colors — Tensionism, which runs through mid-July at Apex Gallery inside the Crossroads Dentistry office, could be called a "typical" Metcalf show.
Nothing wrong with that at all, from the viewer's standpoint or the artist's.
I am a process man. I find that all new work comes from the work that came before, Metcalf writes. Through the use of strokes, scrapes and dots, I pull images of vibrant color and movement out of the black void of my canvases.
But just when you think you know exactly what to expect ... you run into a piece such as Thor, pictured above.
And if you're surprised ... well, so was he at first.
"I just started doing the process, the same things I always do," he said at the First Friday opening earlier this month, "and it turned into Thor."
Everything is there: the colors, the gestures, the black foundation, the meticulously arranged structural elements — and all that energy.
But in this and other more representative works, Metcalf draws on his background as an illustrator to create works which not only invite contemplation, but also prod a viewer's inner storyteller to take up the narrative thread and begin weaving.
Is the hero reaching to save someone, or to grab a bad guy? Is this a climactic moment, or a bit of rising action to move the plot along?
It's up to each viewer to supply the story and decide what happens in the next panel. The constant is Metcalf's evolution as an artist, continuing to grow while working from the solid foundation he has worked so hard (and so well) to establish.
By Steve Brisendine May 7, 2009
If we’re going to talk about chaos today (and we are) it would probably help to delineate which sort we’re talking about.
There’s the popular concept-- chaos as utter randomness and uncontrolled possibility -- which, to be blunt, is a load. There’s no such thing. Every process follows certain laws, even if science still hasn’t figured out all the fine print. Otherwise, the world would be a terrifying place where nothing could ever be predicted with the tiniest degree of certainty.
(Sort of like freshman gym class, followed by refrigerator cleaning day ... only exponentially worse.)
Then there’s the scientific principle: basically, that tiny, almost imperceptible fluctuations in a system can have wide-ranging consequences. Butterfly in China, Kansas thunderstorm ... that sort of thing.
Then there’s the concept of creative chaos -- the unruly spark of inspiration that drives poets and painters, composers and collagists, sculptors and storytellers and stand-up comics.
Visually, Clint Metcalf’s work at The MOJO Collection holds dual residency in the latter two territories. The Abstract Expressionist paintings in Organica are alive with color, curve and form, the elements seemingly one moment away from running riot over the canvas -- and perhaps not stopping there.
The piece above, Getting Out of My Way, leads the show in several ways. It’s the biggest piece, for starters, at five feet high and six feet wide. The multihued megatsunami cresting and sweeping from left to right isn’t the only area of turbulence; check out the sweeps and swirls in the black portion of the canvas. That seemingly empty space is more than capable of holding its own against the onrush of pigment.
Organica doesn’t let up, either. Each piece conveys an impression of being barely controlled -- and that’s an effect Metcalf works long and hard to achieve.
I’m a process man and find that it all comes through work, he writes. Through the use of strokes, scrapes and dots, I pull images of vibrant color and movement out of the black void of my canvases. Bold strokes and generous use of color mask the meticulous planning that goes into each painting. I journal copiously, filling pages with observations, research, and detailed sketches for each of my works. With these foundations in place, I paint purposefully, letting each dot and stroke be a reaction to those that came before, but denying the accident.
Metcalf doesn’t sit around waiting for a creative spark, either. He paints each night, following the edict of Chuck Close:
Inspiration is for amateurs, the rest of us just show up and get to work.
There’s still plenty of room for chaos to happen in and through this show, though. No matter how carefully Metcalf shapes his art and the words he uses to describe it, no artist can control viewers’ reactions and responses. Each look is another tiny fluctuation in the system.
Each of Metcalf’s bright, bold, vibrant paintings is a butterfly waiting for the right moment ... the right angle of light ... the right person at the right time ... to flap its wings.
By Adam Crowley March 23, 2010
Underground Gallery
Kansas City Artists Coalition
Kansas City, Missouri
March 5 — 26, 2010
Growing up in Chicago, artist Clint Metcalf remembers the graffiti emblazoned on the walls of the city. It was partially from these memories that the paintings shown in his exhibition Tensionism derive. An illustrator whose focus was watercolor paintings of western sense and cattle drives, Metcalf has only been painting abstractly for five or six years, and he has only been willing to exhibit these paintings within the last two.
Aside from his childhood memories of the graffitied Chicago streets, Metcalf cites two schools of art as influential to his own work. He speaks about his affinity to Jackson Pollock, Brice Marden, and the New York School artists as particularly engaging. It is easy to spot parallels between the Abstract Expressionist aesthetic and Metcalf’s use of the paint. Long, sweeping lines that spin in maelstroms of color on such canvases as everist ascent and longboat are indicative of the writhing, fluid movement evident in many of the canvases by the New York Artists.
Yet there is a graphic quality to Metcalf’s paintings. Many of the canvases are composed of small rectangles, all vibrant in color, but all applied with great control. Even tiny dots on paintings like Wicked Quick, which at first seem to be nothing more than fine droplets accidentally flicked from the end of a brush are actually pre-meditated applications of paint dabbed on with the head of a pin.
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Clint Metcalf, “passata-sotto,” acrylic on canvas, 24” x 24”. Image: courtesy of the artist
This seems to be where the artist’s experience of graffiti can really be seen. Similar to graffiti, which in some cases can at first seem like simple experiments in formal composition and color until upon closer inspection text is revealed, so do Metcalf’s paintings at first sight belie the meticulousness that reveals itself when given longer meditation.
These calculated details can pull the canvases together with a balance of controlled attention to detail and creative abandon in some, but can leave others a bit stifled. The 2009 painting, rubles, seems stiff, its composition awkward. Yet others achieve an almost ethereal experience. Paintings like sugar sky sunday achieve an all-over composition, and a subtle color variation that gives the canvas a hazy, airy feel. The warm choice of palette and liberal use of white throughout adds to the vaporous effect on the eye.
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Clint Metcalf, “sugar sky sunday,” acrylic on canvas, 36” x 36”. Image: courtesy of the artist
Metcalf also references gutai in several of his paintings. Gutai was an art movement that began in Japan around the same time that Abstract Expressionism was gaining speed in the United States. Metcalf speaks of these artists’ philosophies and their ideas of creating art, and then covering the canvas with black paint, only to remove the paint immediately in an attempt essentially to make the canvas ugly. This is where Metcalf says the use of black in his work comes from. There is not much “ugly” to his work, however, and one wonders if Metcalf isn’t drawn to the energy of these two separate, yet equally motion-based artistic movements.
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Clint Metcalf, “epigraphic canopy,” acrylic on canvas, 30” x 30”. Image: courtesy of the artist
Overall, these paintings are quite fun to look at. The epic swirlings and churnings of thick, palette-knifed canvases keep the eye bouncing from one side of the canvas to the other, until the viewer moves on to one of the calmer, though no less energetic paintings.
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