"Swinging stick at thrown object so as another can run" by Lance Dehne
"Lance Dehne's Delivery" NYArts Magazine Vol. 8 N. 6-8 (June-August 2003) pg.64.
I don't need much from an image: bold color, a unique sense of form and
light, and something that revives my purpose to make paintings. Lately I've craved
it more and more. Maybe it's the war. Maybe it's the spring that is still winter here in
New York. Whatever the case my needs were met and exceeded in Lance Dehne's
show at 473 Broadway Gallery.
Lance created a poetic compromise between air and color, whimsy and
analysis, organization and discombobulation, gravity and weightlessness. The pieces
were handled with the sensibility of a sky writer on acid. I ran into the work of Miro's
grandson in Carroll Dunham's Math class. Seeing his work was like looking at Swiss
cheese creatures covered in Mardi Gras beads at the county air show. And I wasn't
Metaphors aside, I'm always seduced by the successful duplication of light
pouring through space. The "quick way out" vogue for pulling this off since the
days of Monet has been an absence of forms. But Lance pulls it off with a cacophony.
Congealing on flat fields of neutrality or resting above maps, his shapes dance
around with a choreographed openness that allows rather than crowds.
What's more his systems of progression animate the madness methodically
and maniacally. He creates audacity despite modesty in scale. And his sense of
messiness is tempered by an intuitive perfectionism given only to scientific method
I don't know how he does it. I'm envious and inspired.