Edinburgh
Viewing the work of Barry Le Va (1941–2021) requires a lot of looking down. While that may seem an obvious point to make regarding an artist for whom the gallery floor was a site of exploration, and a performance space for staging sculptural dramas, it also applies, metaphorically at least, to his beautifully minimal drawings. Le Va initially trained as an architect before studying for a BA and MFA at Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles, and his drawings are perhaps best understood when considered as architectural plans, their expressively precise pencil and ink lines describing the floor-based sculptural arrangements for which he is best known.
The relationship between Le Va’s drawings and installations is a key theme in “Barry Le Va: In a State of Flux” (on view through February 2, 2025), a survey exhibition that focuses on works from the late 1960s and 1970s. (Also featured are woodcuts and collages from the 1980s, a felt and ball bearings floor piece from 2010, and a series of drawings made in 2020 that reference the molecular structures of antibacterial agents but could equally be plans for never realized sculptural installations.) The Fruitmarket presentation has been scaled back from the original staging at the Kunstmuseum Liechtenstein to fit into two floors. The result is a pleasingly busy show that, while featuring only seven space-filling sculptural floor works, nevertheless fizzes with the energy and intellectual restlessness that typified Le Va’s practice.
In some instances, the drawings are exhibited next to a restaged sculpture, revealing Le Va’s process and emphasizing the control that he exerted over works that, at first glance, might appear chaotic or random. On Center Shatter-or-Shatterscatter (Within the Series of Layered Pattern Acts) (1968–71), for example, consists of five large sheets of glass placed one on top of the other—four of them shattered by a sledgehammer, with a final, intact sheet placed on top. A tense mix of controlled aggression and careful planning, the broken glass acts like glistening evidence of choreographed violence. On a nearby wall, a large oil crayon and pencil drawing with the same title explains the execution of the installation (though it, in fact, depicts another version of the work, featuring six rather than five sheets of glass).
Upstairs, a more literal example of a Le Va “plan” comes to life on the floor (and walls). Accumulated Vision: Series II (1977) consists of an arrangement of various lengths and geometric shapes of machined wood. On the wall at the edge of the space, there’s an ink and graphite “installation study” made for when the piece was shown at the 1977 Whitney Biennial. It precisely plots the work with an array of lines radiating out from a series of projection points that are both within and outside the designated installation space. As you pace the room, the feeling that you have somehow stepped inside the drawing—and in turn, into Le Va’s mind—is uncanny.
Le Va was a fan of detective fiction, particularly Sherlock Holmes, and he liked the notion of his works providing a series of clues that viewers could, if so minded, piece together to better understand the gaps and absences. Here, his drawings and texts go some way toward addressing the biggest absence: that of the artist himself. While the sculptural works, including Tangle II (Double Join) (1968), made of felt and twine, and Right Angular Section (On a Diagonal) (1969), with its floor-scattered white chalk powder, still communicate some of their original mischief and intrigue, the drawings—as well as a series of typed and handwritten documents that include the original text for the 1969 performance work Velocity Piece (Impact Run – Energy Drain)—brilliantly embody Le Va’s rigorous approach and intentions. Crucially, they remind us of the thinking and process behind the landmark works of this historically important artist.
