Joe Fyfe

Joe Fyfe is a painter and a writer who lives and works in New York.

This smallish, elegant museum in an old mansion on an Athens boulevard has an ongoing program of monographic exhibitions of internationally recognized artists. In every recent case, the artists received their first museum show in Greece here. In each the context afforded new insights into the artist’s output.

Installation view: Marlene Dumas: Cycladic Blues, the Museum of Cycladic Art, Athens, 2025. Photo: Paris Tavitian © Museum of Cycladic Art.

When I first moved to New York after art school in 1977 I was often asked who my favorite artists were. I said, “June Leaf and Lee Lozano.”

June Leaf, The Kick, 1976. Tinplate and wire, 7 x 6 3/4 in. Andrew and Ann Dintenfass © Estate of June Leaf. Photo: Brian Graham.

In the MoMA lobby, the painter Odili Donald Odita has taken on the difficult task of executing the first commissioned installation to occupy that underwhelming space. Titled Songs from Life, it will remain in place for a year. Exhibition didactics tell us that Odita sees the painted murals he has executed for this space as communal and “a gathering space for people from different walks of life confronting life’s challenges and finding redemption.”

 

Odili Donald Odita, Teardrop/Do It Good/Brand New Day, 2025. Digital rendering. Courtesy the artist.

This elegantly designed exhibition features contemporary artists and craftspeople of the Upper Midwest states, a region encompassing North and South Dakota, Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where the largest populations of Scandinavian descent in the United States live. The accompanying literature specifies that its focus is on those “whose practices are informed by Nordic traditional skills.”

Jerry Johnson, Green man, 2024 Paint on wood 18 x 18 x 3/4 inches. Courtesy the artist and Scandinavian House. Photo by E.G. Schempf.

This extensive exhibition celebrating the artistic and intellectual influence of the painter and writer Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe, contains approximately 250 individual pieces by nearly as many artists.

Installation view, Beauty is a Blast: for Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe, Art Cake, New York, 2025. Courtesy Art Cake. Photo: Vera Miljković

Other than myself, I know of two artists who are the sons of roofers. One is Watteau. The other is Theaster Gates.

Gary Kuehn, Bolt Piece, 1965 Wood, steel, synthetic straw 7 x 12 x 11 inches. © Gary Kuehn

David Diao’s current exhibition at Greene Naftali, Put to the Test, surveys his paintings from the early seventies through to the present. In December he sat down with painter and writer Joe Fyfe, who first met him in the early eighties and has kept up with him and his work since that time.

Portrait of David Diao, pencil on paper by Phong H. Bui.

Many years ago, the feisty, open, and unpredictable Cynthia Carlson was one of my teachers in art school (Philadelphia College of Art, as it was called then, now closed). Carlson (and Ree Morton, who was also teaching there, they were as thick as thieves) would blow in weekly on what felt like fresh winds from New York—which was made to appear as an exciting, accessible scene.

Cynthia Carlson, A Ruthless Policy, 2021. Acrylic on canvas, 27 1/4 × 48 × 4 inches. Courtesy the artist and Duane Thomas Gallery.

The artist Stephen Dean, who has installed a remarkable temporary artwork there, quotes Suger’s description of this sacral effulgence: “lux mirabilis et continua”: wonderful and continuous light. Entitled Crescendo, Dean’s sculpture, a fifteen-meter-long ladder inset with variegated panels of dichroic glass that change color depending on viewing conditions, hovers at an angle above the heads of the visiting pilgrims and tourists.

Stephen Dean: Crescendo
David Kettner’s retrospective exhibition is a lost opportunity to present a remarkable body of work for lack of a meaningful edit. It is claimed in the accompanying literature that Kettner made more than two-thousand collages since 2013. The best are those in which there is a standoff taking place between the found images from coloring books crayoned by children and the artist’s cutting and affixing.
David Kettner, The Mirror, 2023. Cut and altered 19th century steel engraving, 16 x 14 inches. Photo: Courtesy the artist.
This past week I have been collaborating with the painter Frédéric Dialynas Sanchez, whom I met originally after one of my visits to Vietnam, where I have lived, exhibited several times and met with Vietnamese and returning Vietnamese (Việt Kiều 越僑)artists and produced writing on their work.
Installation view: Frédéric Dialynas Sanchez: Nhật Minh, 8 Boulevard Raspail, Paris,  2023. Courtesy the author.
in my final year of art school in the mid-seventies I was a miserable, wiseass painting major who had been in good shape previously but was again totally lost and confused then one day my assigned painting teacher Warren Rohrer asked us students who we might like to have as a visiting artist and soon after he said he invited the painter Jake Berthot down to Philadelphia and I said to him, yeah, you asked everybody and then you just got who you wanted anyway
Jake Berthot, Grief For That Past, 1992-94. Oil on linen, 22 x 20 inches. Courtesy the artist and Betty Cuningham.
Out of step with these vitalists is a survey of the career of Walter Sickert (1860–1942) at the Petit Palais. Drawing comparatively negligible attendance, Sickert is one of the most famous yet equally perverse British painters of the late-nineteenth through mid-twentieth century. Thank God he’s here.
Walter Richard Sickert, Rehearsal, The End of The Act. The Acting Manager, ca. 1885-1886. Oil on canvas. UK, London, Private Collection. Photo © Christie's Images / Bridgeman Images.
In Alix Le Méléder’s current exhibition, only her second solo in New York, there are the types of big, commanding, difficult abstractions that are not so common these days. All the better to see them freshly, and this work is of the first order.
Alix Le Méléder, Untitled, 1.11.03. Oil on canvas, 78.75 x 78.75 inches. Courtesy the artist and Zürcher Gallery.
In one of the more instructive passages in Minima Moralia, Theodor Adorno observes that well-made texts are like spider’s webs, “Metaphors flitting hastily through them become their nourishing prey”: When things begin to click with your subject, everything of use that gets near it gets stuck in it. One afternoon, reading The Waterfall by the English writer Margaret Drabble she described a real place in England called the Gordale Scar, a roofless cave with an interior waterfall, “a lovely organic balance of shapes and curves, a wildness contained within a bodily limit.” I thought of my ongoing research project on John Coplans (1920–2003). His life and work was very much a wildness contained within a bodily limit.
John Coplans, Upside down No. 1, 1992. Gelatin Silver Print. © The John Coplans Trust.
Whistler to Cassatt illustrates the story of the changes in American art that took place after the Civil War. Many artists turned away from the methodology of the Hudson River School, and it became the norm for literally hundreds of them to train in Paris, with its superior art academies and the Louvre’s masterworks available to study and copy; the entrance to the exhibition includes a wonderfully evocative photo mural of the Eiffel Tower under construction.
Mary Cassatt, Baby in Dark Blue Suit, Looking Over His Mother's Shoulder, ca. 1889. Oil on canvas. Courtesy Cincinnati Art Museum, Ohio. Photo: John J. Emery Fund/Bridgeman Images.
I hadn’t thought of Larry Day or his work very much in the previous fifteen years. This innocuous streetscape in the reproduction was airily peaceful, classicized; Arcadian, even. The workaday Philadelphia I had known might look that way to someone who had served in Iwo Jima (I knew he did, getting through the pauses in battle reading The Magic Mountain). It was evidence of what Day wrote in one of his notebooks: “How we dreamed of the ordinary as ideal when we were in the army.”
Larry Day, Poker Game, 1970. Oil on canvas, 60 1/2 x 72 1/4 inches. Courtesy the Woodmere Art Museum.
Did Liz Diller really say that? I am not sure if anyone starts out with the idea that they are going to make something that is idiosyncratic. The character of the intellect is the determining factor.

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