Page 65 - Studio International - April 1970

Both Brener and Evison owe much to Caro.
They owe even more to their individual under-
standing of the problems involved. Evison at
26 is probably still taking them too literally.
Evison showed three pieces from 1969-70.
Close colour relationships, see-through con-
struction and multi-directional organization
make them seem like three clumps of the same
plant—or two clumps and a little one. Their
names are Patagonia and Levels Three; the little
one isn't called anything. The scale is above
human height but the component parts are
slim, materials not visibly heavy, textures
retiring, working more towards a play of trans-
parency and opacity.
One doesn't tend to think of flat pieces of steel
in heaps, but this is rather how these things
work. Evison's approach has always been one
of construction by addition. Now he is also
using the bendable, foldable qualities of steel
and wire netting, so a plane can be tall and
vertical or run along flat, hang down like a
table cloth or lean delicately against another
one.
The bent bits work—like the colour of the
panels—to hold a piece together on its way
through various levels of construction. Some-
times with a slightly snakes and ladders effect.
But in Levels Three you are swung up again
and rhythmically across into a system of pauses
which really takes Evison beyond his materials.
The tall, almost gawky panels seem to be held
together simply by propping them against
space. Things are hooked, slung and balanced,
more like cardboard than metal. Very properly
elements get smaller towards the top of the
pile. There is an elegantly disciplined casual-
ness about the way the bits are thrown together
in Patagonia.
Anyone who has seen David Evison's work will
probably know what I mean if I say I find it
slightly gothic. It's to do with the uprightness,
the hand-madeness, the faintly ecclesiastical
creams and browns and purples working
against galvanised steel. There is also some-
thing gothic in the wrong sense about the
amount of detail that gets into these things, so
that sometimes they become difficult to read.
Too much is discussed at once. The idea of
different levels is not a new preoccupation, but
I feel Levels Three is too visually ambitious.
(Though it's here Evison gets furthest from
Caro.) I think this may be partly due to the
fact that he has set himself to deal with such
very multi-faceted structures. In fairness it
could also be that the gallery isn't large
enough to see the works sufficiently separately.
ANNE SEYMOUR q