Agostino Bonalumi, Untitled (Rosso), 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 130 x 220 cm. Image: Courtesy of Vedovi Gallery.

When Lucio Fontana published his Spazialismo series in the 1940s, a fundamental reiteration of this theory was that matter should be transformed into energy to invade space in a dynamic form. In essence, only the conceptually abstract offered the freedom within linear space to explore ideas about movement and time in art. Fontana’s slash series went on to demonstrate this idea, where linear slashes and the sharp holes were made through the sacrosanct surfaces of the canvas. The tears and holes in the canvas are as much philosophical as they are destructive physical rends on the material, meant to force the viewer’s gaze beyond the surface planes of the painting into an opening that Fontana termed ‘free space’ that existed without boundaries.

Lucio Fontana, Concetto spaziale, 1960, and Attese, 1966. Fondazione Lucio Fontana, Milan. Image: Courtesy of the Fondazione Lucio Fontana, Milan and Gagosian Gallery.

Heavily influenced by Fontana’s concept of Spazialismo, the modulated surfaces (superficies moduladas) within Agostino Bonalumi’s (b. 1935) canvases situate themselves within this conceptual discourse of demolishing the illusionistic plane to create new pictorial forms. Bonalumi’s oeuvre, now on view at Partners & Mucciaccia in a retrospective exhibition called The Glass of Shadows, is dedicated to demonstrating that the dimensions of a canvas can consist of a dynamic blend of form, colour, shadow, light and strategically-conceived space.

Lucio Fontana, Concetto spaziale, La fine di Dio, 1963. Oil on canvas, 70-1/8 x 48-3/8 inches. © Fondazione Lucio Fontana. Image: Courtesy of Gagosian Gallery. Private Collection. Photography by Robert McKeever.

But unlike Fontana’s punctures on the canvas that attempt to access metaphysical space behind the picture, Bonalumi confines himself to the physical limitations of the frame. His works – which he called ‘estroflessioni’, or picture-objects – articulate perceptual, repeated patterns, or flat surfaces that are interrupted by undulating, three-dimensional bulges and convex renderings that are a result of stretcher bars with specially-made relief elements pushing against the back of a taut canvas.

Agostino Bonalumi, Untitled (Bianco), 2011. Acrylic on canvas, 120 x 190 cm. Image: Courtesy of Vedovi Gallery.

Recalling in addition, Enrico Castellani’s varied configurations of relief objects that are predicated on the dichotomous interplay between light and shadow, Bonalumi’s geometric shapes and grids arch or curve towards the viewer. Their penumbras are found at the edges or at the sides of each contour, becoming starkly visible only under certain lighting conditions to yield a shadow-play effect that both shrouds and illuminates. Consequently, by operating through the specific incidence of light, Bonalumi’s three-dimensional forms that take shape within the bounds of the canvas reside in the discursive slippage between painting, installation and minimalist sculpture, his self-referential (and ultimately reductive) protrusions exist almost like actualities in space. Yet, if contextual and physical relation to space is of particular importance to sculpture and installation works, Bonalumi’s canvas abrogate rather than assert this notion, confining audience interaction and interpretation – just like his work-process – to the limitations of the frame.

Agostino Bonalumi was born on July 10, 1935, in Vimercate, Milan and studied technical and mechanical design at the Instituto Tecnico Industriale. Between 1957 and 1958, Bonalumi frequented Enrico Baj’s studio in Milan, where he met Piero Manzoni and Enrico Castellani.

The Glass of Shadows will be on show at Partners & Mucciaccia at the Gillman Barracks until 24 February 2013 and is a retrospective of Bonalumi’s oeuvre of works.

Chris McCaw. "Sunburned GSP#420 (Arctic Circle, Alaska)," 2010. 12 x 20 inches. Unique gelatin silver paper negative. Courtesy of the Artist and Stephen Wirtz Gallery.

In the 1960s, the Italian artist Lucio Fontana created Concetto Spaziale, a series of paintings that challenged established notions of the pictorial plane by slashing and poking holes in the canvas. Fontana explained, “I make a hole in a canvas in order to leave behind the old pictorial formulae, the painting and the traditional view of art, and I escape, symbolically, but also materially, from the prison of the flat surface.”  Visiting Ride Into the Sun, Chris McCaw’s new exhibition at Stephen Wirtz Gallery, I could not help but compare the striking gesturalism punctuating McCaw’s photographs to Fontana’s. Aside from the evident formal similarity in the two artists’ works, it is interesting to note how both respond to the changes wrought by technology, despite their use of different materials and the forty years dividing their practices. Impressed by the dawn of the space age, Fontana felt strongly that art should dynamically alter the space by which it was defined, an interest that led him to try and combine architecture, sculpture, and painting into a new aesthetic language. In an era when analog photography is languishing on the heels of perpetual innovations in the field of digital technology, McCaw’s use of traditional photographic materials to unparalleled effect suggests that perhaps we have prematurely discounted the potential of these tools.

Chris McCaw. "Sunburned GSP#485 (North Slope Alaska/ 24 hours)," 2011. 14 prints, each 4 x 10 inches. Unique gelatin silver paper negatives. Courtesy of the Artist and Stephen Wirtz Gallery.

These photographs are produced through an elaborate process that relies on both calculated finesse and unadulterated chance. McCaw works with various hand-built view cameras of sizes up to 30 by 40 inches, which are equipped with vintage military optics designed to let in a lot of light. Rather than using film negatives, he shoots directly onto a variety of expired silver gelatin papers, a decision that further highlights the sense of immediacy intrinsic to this work. Extended exposures ranging from several hours to a full 24-hour period overexpose the photographic paper, resulting in an effect called solarization – a reversal of tonality due to excessive light.

Additionally, the concentrated strength of the sun entering the camera can literally burn the surface of the paper, resulting in beautiful marks that embody both fragility and brute force, or creation and destruction. The remarkable control evinced in these photographs is a testament to McCaw’s meticulous refinement of this process over the past eight years. While the sun may be considered a collaborator in this process, his sophisticated understanding of materials and environment is evident in the controlled, wide-ranging results: from singular, precise crescents to ostensibly violent gashes. Beautiful wisps of orange peek through the dark background and feather the bold lacerations in Sunburned GSP#467 (Full day/Puget Sound, WA), a consequence of the gelatin in the paper literally being cooked. Yet despite the complexity of this approach, McCaw’s photographs retain a beautiful sense of effortlessness and quietude, resulting in an elegant amalgam of abstraction and landscape.

Chris McCaw. "Sunburned GSP#493 (Sierras)," 2011. 30 x 40 inches. Unique gelatin silver paper negative. Courtesy of the Artist and Stephen Wirtz Gallery.

The significance of time and place in these photographs cannot be discounted. A number of the works in this exhibition were taken during two recent trips to the Arctic Circle during the summer when daylight lasts 24 hours. Sunburned GSP#485 (North Slope Alaska/24 hours) is a seamlessly stitched together sequence of 14 prints that map the sun’s undulating path across the horizon with only a subtle nod to the landscape through the faint impression of mountains. With just the information conveyed by the sun’s angle and its trace on the paper, in conjunction with minimal indicators of environment, one can garner a sense of where and when the photograph is made. At the same time, these works engage with more conceptually-driven notions of the immensity of the universe and the Infinite, a concern shared by Fontana, who stated, “[t]he discovery of the Cosmos is a new dimension, it is the Infinite: so I make a hole in the canvas, which is the basis for all previous art, to search for an infinite dimension.” McCaw’s work offers a lens through which to consider these interests in the context of the twenty-first century society.

Chris McCaw: Ride Into the Sun is on view at Stephen Wirtz Gallery in San Francisco through December 22, 2011.