Jordan Belson: ‘The Cosmic View’

Opening A Door to Profound Meaning

A few years ago YouTuber, Dan Go Thoughts, uploaded a video describing a phenomenon he observed while experimenting with hallucinogens. Apparently, if you project a 650mm diffracted laser on a wall and then look at the projection while under the influence of DMT, you will see, beyond the wall and on a convincingly distinct spatial plane, infinite lines that appear to be a cross between computer code and something like a cuneiform or pictographic language. This video went viral, and subsequently several hundred people repeated the process, all claiming to have seen the same code.

If you’ve never had a psychedelic experience, it’s conceivable you might be inclined to dismiss such stories entirely. On the other hand, if you’ve been to that place and are familiar with the incredible, often overwhelming sense of meaning such experiences tend to transmute, you will likely be able to relate to those people’s attempts to describe and share something so powerful, yet so far beyond words, attempts that mostly highlight how feeble our verbal and written languages really are.

Target, c. 1955, Pigment on Masonite, 12 × 12 inches; 31 × 31 cm.

This could apply to Jordan Belson’s current exhibition, The Cosmic View, at Matthew Marks Gallery. Consisting of 31 modestly sized paintings, collages, and works on paper made between 1950 and 1970, the show reflects a deft handling of color and light that make for meticulous compositions characterized by the coupling of a near clinical precision and a charming softness. The strongest of these images incorporate a surprising depth, a near pictorial space, as seen in Explosion (Allures), circa 1961. I say “seemingly” abstract because, what we learn from the artist’s own words is that he did not consider his work to be abstract at all, but instead, at least a portion of his imagery was an attempt to produce a faithful depiction of an altered psychic state. To that end, Belson often relied on the word “picture” to describe his paintings and works on paper.

This subtext provides a surprising, near photographic dimension to the work: in a sense, these are documentary paintings. This locates Belson’s practice in an era prior to photography supplanting other forms of imaging as the global record-keeping medium, when the artist’s role was often complicated by the responsibility beyond simply producing art. Belson’s approach, which could be described as making representational paintings, transcends limitations, producing pictures that function across multiple visual dimensions. Indeed, his was a completely unique voice, clearly ahead of his time, and unencumbered by the trappings of what we’ve come to expect even from psychedelic art of the period.

Explosion (Allures), c. 1961, Oil and pastel on panel, 7 × 7 inches; 18 × 18 cm.

But what is it that truly sets this work apart? The experience of abstract imagery is difficult to put into words, with Belson himself having been quoted about his mistrust of such attempts along with his desire to subjugate aesthetic judgment to pure intuition, arguing that it would be tedious to even attempt an explanation of the universal knowledge he intends to communicate through images. But could not the same be said for a painting’s potential to capture the profound experience of a psychedelic trip?

Untitled,c. 1959, Casein and tempera on board in artist’s frame, 24½ × 16½ inches; 62 × 42 cm.

Indeed it could, and by pushing against that limitation with a genuine intent and sincerity, Belson finds a way to make paintings that sing in registers that other abstractions never achieve. They aren’t the product of an “anything goes mentality,” but instead represent an individual’s sincere interest in not only having his own profound experience, but in also sharing it with others. Viewing these works now, when so much of what we see, hear, and read is characterized by a predictably negative outlook, feels revelatory, even transgressive. And in this way, Belson may be a north star to a younger generation of artists, or anyone struggling beneath the existential weight of infinite possibility, by showing us how an embrace of limitations within one’s practice, rather than a rejection of them, may open a door to profound meaning.

Cover image: Untitled c. 1970, Paper collage and mi×ed media mounted on board, 9 × 12 inches; 23 × 31 cm; all images courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery.