This small exhibition is the result of a fragment of a conversation that circles around the topic of artists reverting to means other than “drawing” when drawing, because they find words or numbers are more efficient and accurate. Mindful of the space constraints, David took pruning shears to the idea, and what resulted is a focused group of drawings made between 1965 to 1972 by New York based (more or less) artists labeled “minimalists” or “post–minimalists.” Each of the selected works addresses the issue of alternate language.

Grouped this way, the artists demonstrate a radical questioning of the nature of drawing, and in particular, the nature of creating a “working drawing.” My suspicion is that the issues were raised, more than anything, by accident in discussions around issues such as process, non–hierarchical structure, and site/non–site distinction. I write “by accident” because little is mentioned with regard to what they were doing. Also, with the exception of Lee Lozano, all of these artists reverted to more traditional forms of drawing later in their careers.

Chronologically, the first two are calculation drawings by Sol Lewitt and Donald Judd. Lewitt’s drawing is a calculation for an early open cube piece made in 1967 and Judd’s is the first idea for the Whitney Progression. The drawing is dated 1965 on the verso, the piece was constructed the year after. These are both almost ephemeral sheets: casual, almost destined for their real use in effectuating the piece and eventually being discarded. Yet they are both signed, changing greatly their status and therefore beginning an afterlife as works of art. Equally significant is the fact that these works are not just measurements for constructions but are entire calculations. The mathematics is the subject of the drawing in so much that the calculations are fundamental to the shape of the piece. The process of calculating, or math making, becomes art making. To some extent, these calculations also have a performance aspect, as this action of calculating is clearly located on these humble sheets.

How is the act of calculating more performance than an actual drawing? I think there is a nuanced difference because the making of a drawing, with the exception of Chinese calligraphy, has no implication of time. One can take years or two minutes to complete a drawn cube. One doesn’t take years to complete a relatively simple division.

Lastly, I am venturing to say that these small drawings usher in a broader definition of drawing, one that can be both a sheet of calculations and have at its core deceptively simple time–based action. For these reasons, I find that a sheet of paper seen this way becomes a “site” for something art–related with far broader boundaries than traditionally ascribed to “drawing.”

The following two works expand the notion of site. Heizer’s drawing clearly implies an earth project of immense proportions. Serra’s is filled with ambiguity. It is a signed drawing that outlines the installation of a piece yet it emphatically denies its role as a drawing. Then what is it — a sheet of paper or a site where the depiction of the shapes meet the instructions?

The last two drawings, by Lee Lozano, branch off into the language–based direction drawings took after the mid–1960s. The earlier of the two, “That’s It for Bumps and Waves,” is a study for the final paintings of her curve cycle now at the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford. The second, titled “Fish’in’the’Tank,” belongs to her language–based pieces. Together they capture some of the richness of Lozano’s use of conceptual ideas and sardonic humor. Lozano, being one of the pioneers of conceptual language–based pieces, transforms the page into a site based both in the mind and outlining a future action.

— Peter Soriano, June 2010