William Brickel’s elongated, sometimes contorted, often intense figures, possess an ambiguous beauty that are bluntly modern, nod to 16th-century mannerist styling, and offer a whiff of Paul Cadmus, Lucian Freud or even Egon Schiele. Mostly though they hold your eye with their strong and distinctive presence, crackling with feeling, pulling you in with their mysterious sets and clothes in colors fit for a Prada moodboard.
With a new solo show, “Was It Ever Fair,” having just opened at Michael Kohn in Los Angeles (following last autumn’s “Not the Whole Truth, but Only a Bit of It” at The Artist Room in London), there is buzz and momentum circulating Brickel. At just 29, the artist looks genuinely agog—and rather like the characters in his paintings—as he recounts the fact that several works sold right in front of him at the opening.
Karl Puchlik
This latest body of work, a mix of large meaty oil paintings—such as the gloriously pink “The Pink Room”—and a series of more intimate but striking works on paper in charcoal or watercolor, were all created specifically for this show. “Once they’re in the space, the work removes itself from me,” says Brickel, whose paintings evolve from his own memories, “which I like because then people can reflect their own feelings or narratives onto it.”
Not that it isn’t complicated to part with the work, he acknowledges. But once you do, “you can’t then really remember all the in-depth-ness that went into them, so you have to try and do another one to work it all out again,” he says. “For a while, I toyed with the idea of them just living their own lives when they’ve been sold. I imagine in the night, the characters might jump out of the paintings and start walking around.”