Untitled 1, 2007
From The Brooklyn Rail:
Educated in both the art school and the radical squatter movement of Hamburg, Germany in the 1980s, and subsequently working as an itinerant punk rock graphic designer, Daniel Richter developed a reputation in the mid-1990s for his small, intense, and beautiful conceptual abstractions. Richter began making anarchic, highly expressive figurative paintings in the late 1990s, often on a massive, mural-like scale. These are the works for which he is best known and are represented both at The Power Plant survey and in the current exhibition at David Zwirner, Richter’s first solo show in New York. In interviews, Richter has described himself as reviving classical history painting, and this is an intriguing if perhaps half ironic idea. History painting, from David’s "Death of Marat" to Goya’s "The Third of May" to Manet’s "Execution of Maximilian" has always concerned itself both with the depiction of events and the evocation of larger historical forces—revolution, insurrection, imperial adventures. The advent of photographic images, and their proliferation in media of every kind, from newspapers to product advertisements, means that our relationship to the history of the present is principally a relationship to an avalanche of deceptively imminent, fragmented images. This is perhaps why Leon Golub constructed his politically charged paintings of soldiers and mercenaries from a personal archive of magazine photographs, and why Gerhard Richter’s masterpiece, October 18, 1977, seems to use official photographs as a way of exploring our degraded, confused historical memories. Yet compared with the current context, the premises of both Golub’s and Richter’s earlier work are almost quaint. We now live in a continuously shifting sea of images and information, on television, on billboards, on computers, on cell phones, where pornography, politics, and private communications flow one into the other. History painting now is impossible in part because no single image can carry authentic, representative weight.
Like Golub and Gerhard Richter, Daniel Richter uses photographs as source materials, but in a way significantly different from his predecessors. In Daniel Richter’s work, images culled from what one might call our collective photographic unconscious are lost in complex, fractured, hallucinatory compositions whose bright, seeping surfaces are both psychedelic and toxic.