David Hornung’s whispered secrets

Contributed by Natasha Sweeten / There should be a word for the glorious sensation you get when you realize the art in front of you is better than you’d expected, having initially seen it on a screen. You may scoff, “Isn’t everything better in person?,” but I beg to differ. These illuminated contraptions we carry around everywhere are remarkably good at turning life to 11. When I’m rewarded with this aforementioned word-I-don’t-yet-have, I chalk one up for being there. 

So it was when I stepped into David Hornung’s “New Work,” the inaugural exhibition at JJ Murphy Gallery on the LES. The work – thirteen abstract oil paintings on paper or canvas mounted on panel, all 30 x 24 inches or smaller – hums with a vibrancy akin to a whispered secret, the method hushed but the message direct. The surfaces are matte yet rich, frequently evoking a hint of caramel. Most often the palette is Morandi-muted, and the subtle juxtapositions could only come from a dedicated eye. Playful forms jockey for attention, elbowing one another and sliding along edges, at times hovering closer, then farther away from view. 

Trane measures a modest 16 x 20 inches and seems to capture a propellered aircraft as it’s about to disappear from view. The notional fuselage is a row of four connecting diamonds in blacks and greens that zip through the middle of the painting. Thin lines branch out below, offering an abandoned landscape, while two shapes recalling musical notes hover within the yellow-tan background, suggesting an accompanying soundtrack. The vertical State of Play shows a curved rectangle made of periwinkle, plaster white, cadmium red dark and muddied Naples orange, nestling itself into the northwest corner. Its body, solidly situated in the picture plane, takes up nearly the whole of the painting, reminding me of those accidental photos we shoot when reaching for our phones.

The oddest painting to me is Beserker. It looks like a fleshy shoulder balancing an overhead shot of a black balcony with partial railing that is itself balancing an unfolding origami of red, pink and peachy facets hemmed in by red geometric outlines. A form resembling a slab of ham or a loaf of bread snuggles its entire right border against the coupled origami-balcony. Beyond the railing, a watery abyss swallows a third of the painting, and in its blue-gray expanse a lone green rectangle floats, tethered to a less-than symbol. In the opposite corner, wispy lines flutter like loose threads, providing a delicate counterweight. There’s a lot of information to take in, and the painting is at once frenzied and frozen in time. 

There are moments when bits of heightened pink poke out from behind scaffolding, when a wedge of thick paint unexpectedly plops itself down, and when drawing fuses itself into the painting’s structure. Lingering here are specters of Paul Klee, Arshile Gorky, and early Robert Motherwell and Mark Rothko. Tom Nozkowski, another painter of intimate scale but vast range, also comes to mind. However, these paintings strike a different chord, one particular to Hornung’s own inner workings and experience, and it’s not difficult to untangle him from these giants. I learn the artist lives upstate, keeping a pied-à-terre in the city, and instantly sense a parallel with the palette’s earthiness playing host to a buzz of activity. There is variety in every composition, and I imagine each painting is the result of a multitude of decisions. What is evident in this show is Hornung’s joy in getting there.

“David Hornung: New Work,” JJ Murphy Gallery, 53 Stanton Street, New York, NY. Through March 9, 2024.

About the author: Natasha Sweeten is an artist who sometimes writes.