The knowledge that we are all born alone and must ultimately die alone makes the human figure in isolation a powerful subject ­­one which resonates deep within the communal psyche. This seems especially true when the artist who depicts this subject appears as innately empathetic as Luzerne Odell, a native of Phoenix, Arizona, who studied at the California Institute of the Arts, earned a graduate degree from Hunter College, and has exhibited in galleries in Southern California, Paris, Belgrade and New York.
On view at Agora Gallery, 530 West 25th Street, from April 10 through May 1, with a reception on April 12 from 6 to 8 PM, Odell¹s oils on canvas possess a haunting presence. Seen in desolate, desert-like dreamscapes bathed in surreal chemical light, they loom amid sparse, stunted vegetation, under overcast skies.
One could speculate endlessly on the environment in which Odell¹s figures find themselves: Is this a post-apocalyptic terrain ­­as indicated by one figure with shredded arms standing before a bare window, gazing out at emptiness­­ or symbolic of some more ironic miasma, as the title ³Window of Opportunity² seems to suggest? The sense of irony is even more clearly defined in another large canvas called ³Mission Accomplished,² where the figure slumps forlornly under a deep purple sky, seeming to embody a world of weariness and disillusionment.
One would be in error, however, to interpret the paintings of Luzerne Odell as political or moral statements, for their ramifications are far more universal, seeming to encompass the thwarted aspirations of all humankind. Surely, the monumental quality of Odell¹s figures is closer in spirit to Leon Golub¹s early paintings of ravaged warriors derived from classical sculpture than to Golub¹s later, more specific images of mercenary soldiers torturing prisoners and brutalizing other hapless victims.
For while one would never wish to suggest that only suffering can ennoble us, there is a great, melancholic grace to Odell¹s figures, a dignity that prevails in the face of their apparent existential angst. Ideally nude and well formed, they cannot be said to belong to any recognizable period of history, just as the spaces they inhabit give no hint of geographical location. And although some of these figures evince a palpable solidity, others appear as ethereal as phantoms, even transparent, with portions of their anatomy fading into their surroundings. Yet others are cast in deep shadow, appearing silhouetted against the acidic, iridescent red, green, or violet atmospheres of the environs to which they have been exiled, forever strangers in a strange land.
The mood of Odell¹s paintings is overwhelming. One is drawn into them as if into a dream. But while their subject matter is haunting, it is never grotesque or nihilistic, as in the paintings of Francis Bacon or others who traffic in a kind of generic ugliness. On the contrary, there is a heroic beauty to these monumental male figures that harks back to Greek antiquity. For all the adversity that they face, there is the sense that they will prevail by sheer dint of the indomitable human spirit. And it is this, abetted by their considerable formal attributes, that makes the paintings of Luzerne Odell ultimately uplifting.