The Illusion of Change

When asked what he studied at Middlebury College in Vermont, Painter Alan Gussow answers: "American literature and the Vermont landscape." Now 30, Gussow still majors in landscapes and seascapes, and he achieves a rare blend of strength and delicacy. At times he seems to be rough with his subject. He dissects the land, shreds the sky, churns up the sea; yet instead of seeming shattered, his images take on new life. Gussow's first Manhattan show, at the Peridot Gallery, is one of the freshest of the season.

A winner of the Prix de Rome at 21, Gussow learned in Europe "not how to paint, but how to love art. When I went over," he confides with some embarrassment, "I hadn't even heard of Botticelli." He stayed in Europe two years, devouring the museums, but it was not until he got back home that his own work seemed to take on meaning. Gussow found his inspiration in the countryside most familiar to him--the hills and valleys around Congers, N.Y., where he bought a house, and the sea around Maine's Monhegan Island, where he spends his summers. "I guess I'm really a provincial painter." he says. "I don't need to travel. I paint best right here."

Gussow makes a distinction between an object and a subject as a theme for a painting. "An object," he says, "is something separate, like a Chinese urn, to be held up, inspected, admired, but nothing more. A subject implies something subservient, something that the artist can control but is also responsible for." Gussow's special responsibility is to show his favorite subject, nature, in action. He succeeds admirably. Though his design stays firm, his spontaneous brush strokes make his canvases seem fluid. The effect is just what Gussow is after: "The idea of something happening, the illusion of change."

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